Lauren Haney - Path of Shadows

Ani’s description of Minnakht had been sketchy at best, but Bak doubted the man at the well had been mistakenly slain in place of the explorer. Minnakht had vanished two months ago. If the people of the Eastern Desert were any thing like those who dwelt on the southern frontier-and he assumed they were-news traveled faster than locusts laying waste to the land. All the world would have long ago known of the explorer’s disappearance.

Which meant that the unknown man’s death was a sepa rate incident-but was somehow related, he felt sure. That the dead man had carried no means of identification was not unusual, but was frustrating nonetheless. His appearance had been ordinary, his few personal items and clothing of reason ably good quality but not the best. His traveling supplies had been much like those Bak and his men had brought into the desert. His thick wrists and muscular arms looked to be those of an archer. He might have been a soldier, but could as eas ily have been a man who ofttimes practiced with the bow.

Nothing but the gold chain and pendant, both of fine quality and workmanship, had been noteworthy.

Shoving aside thoughts that led him nowhere, Bak crossed a stretch of sand whose grains sparkled in the sunlight and climbed a large reddish outcrop that angled upward until it was twice the height of a man. From the more elevated per spective, he looked up the wadi as far as he could see and scanned the clifftops to either side. He thought he glimpsed a figure on the southern rim, but the glare of sunlight made it impossible to be certain. Kaha and Minmose had slipped away from the caravan as they broke camp, and he assumed they were somewhere above. The figure might have been one of them.

User strode across the sand and climbed up beside him.

“You’ve kept to yourself much of the morning, Lieutenant.”

“I’ve been thinking about the dead man we sent back to

Kemet. Wondering who he was.”

“I pray someone in Kaine recognizes him. I, for one, wouldn’t want to be buried nameless.”

They stood in an uncomfortable silence, enshrouded by the thought. The loss of his name would doom the dead man to the destruction of his memory and would deprive him of existence in the netherworld.

“I’ve also been thinking of Minnakht,” Bak said. “I’ve come to realize I have no idea what he looks like.”

User smiled unexpectedly. “Never fear, Lieutenant. If you should come upon him while you’re with this caravan, the rest of us will recognize him.”

Bak had to laugh. “Are you so pleased with my company that you wish me to stay forever?”

“So far you’ve made no demands on me or my drovers or my animals.” User had become dead serious. “In fact, you’ve given more than you’ve taken. I’ve not the men to scout ahead, and that’s a task I’m beginning to think we sorely need.”

“Because the nomads are leaving the wells before we ap pear? Or because someone has been watching us from afar?”

User eyed the passing caravan, the men and animals trudg ing in an irregular line up the dry, sunstruck riverbed. “I’ve never known the people to be so shy, and I can’t explain it.

They usually come to talk, to hear news of other nomads, and they come to trade for items hard to find out here in this re mote land. Each time I enter this desert, I bring cloth, beads, honey, needles, and other small objects they need or desire.

They’ve come to expect them, so why has no one approached thus far to see what I’ve brought?”

“Could they believe you responsible for Minnakht’s disap pearance?”

“I don’t see why they would. I’ve not been out here since last he left Kaine.” User looked up the wadi toward Senna, marching at the head of the caravan. “I’m more inclined to believe they don’t trust your guide.”

Bak’s eyes followed User’s. Did the nomads hold Senna directly responsible for Minnakht’s disappearance, or did they simply consider him a man who had failed in his duty?

“What did Minnakht look like?”

User barked out a cynical laugh, as if he had guessed

Bak’s lack of confidence in Senna. “He looked a bit like the dead man, but may not have been quite as tall. He had a lot of straight dark hair and dark eyes, and his skin was ruddy from too much sun.”

Interesting, Bak thought. Ani, a short man, had described

Minnakht as tall. User was tall; therefore, he thought the young explorer short. One man remembered his hair as curly, the other said it was straight. The truth must be somewhere in between. After taking a final look along the clifftops, reassur ing himself that all was well, he walked down the sloping rock to the wadi floor. The older man kept pace with him stride for stride.

“He had a way of walking that struck me as an affectation, although I doubt it was,” User said. “I know his father was a military man, and I guess he taught him to move like that, but he marched rather than walked. Chin high, long strides, spine as straight as that spear you’re holding. It gave him the ap pearance of supreme self-confidence. A man invincible.”

“Did he wear any special jewelry that he never took off, something he wore even when traveling through the desert?”

User shrugged. “I seem to remember a chain with some kind of pendant. Exactly what, I paid no heed.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant, but I’m no good at guessing how tall people are.” Amonmose walked up the gradually narrowing wadi between Bak and a donkey, his gait rolling like that of the sailor he had been in his youth, his stride easy. “I judge a man by his actions. If he’s hard-working and honest, he’s tall in my eyes. If he’s indolent and a sneak, I think of him as small.”

Bak could not help but smile at so simplistic a way of looking at others. “Did you see Minnakht as tall or short?”

“Hmmm.” Amonmose probed his teeth with a sharpened twig, thinking. “Interesting. I thought him tall, but I recall standing before him, looking him straight in the eye.”

“What else do you remember?”

“He was well-formed in body and face. What more can I say?”

Bak eyed the trader at his side. As he had before, he mar veled that such a portly man could walk in the sun for hours on end without undue suffering from the heat. Too bad his powers of observation were not as powerful as his stamina.

“From what you told me yesterday, the man who vanished ten months ago was a stranger to this part of the desert.”

“So I assumed.” Amonmose frowned, thinking back. “If the people who spoke of him had known him, their voices would’ve held more warmth or chill. More sympathy for the man, more passion at his failure to return.”

“Did he know Minnakht, do you think?”

“No one said.” The trader took the twig from his mouth and threw it away. “No more than a half-dozen men explore this desert year after year, Lieutenant. The area between the southern trail that runs east from Waset and the northern trail that connects Mennufer to the Eastern Sea is vast. They might never come face to face, but they’ll surely have heard of each other.”

Bak looked back along the caravan, thinking to ask User if he had known the missing man. The explorer was standing off to the side of the line of passing donkeys, watching a drover reload an animal whose burden had shifted on its back. He would have to wait for a better time.

An hour or so before midday, they stopped beside a strip of shade at the base of a cliff on the south side of the water course. The wadi had narrowed to a quarter of its original width. After checking the welfare of men and donkeys, Bak thought to speak with Wensu, another man who might better describe Minnakht than had Ani or Amonmose or User. On the other hand, having seen the explorer as a heroic figure, his description might be as influenced as theirs by his feel ings about the missing man.