Lauren Haney - Path of Shadows

“Through the years, he’s made no secret that he hopes to find gold or precious stones. Now his wife is ill and he has a need in addition to an obsession. He’s one of the few men who knows this desert almost as well as I, and I’d wager he’d need no guide should he plan a deed he’d want no other man to witness.”

“I think you err.”

“Senna suspected that you believe someone in the caravan murdered the man found dead north of Kaine. Who else but

User? Who but he could’ve kept in constant contact with the nomad you call the watching man, the man Senna believed took the lives of all who’ve died since you left that first well.”

Minnakht seemed exceedingly sure of himself, but Bak had heard no proofs, nothing but a few generalities. Also,

User’s skepticism about the possibility of finding gold seemed very real.

He glanced at the two Medjays. Both men had relaxed to an extent, but neither had laid his weapons aside. Both ap peared to be absorbed by Minnakht’s tale, and both exhibited a healthy mistrust.

“Why did you choose to make yourself known to me?”

“You’ve been wasting your time searching for me.” Min nakht flashed a smile. “I thought to set you on a right and true path.”

Bak eyed this man, essentially a stranger. He thought him arrogant, but he might merely be overcompensating for his fear of an unknown enemy. His tale was well rehearsed, but would it not be after so long alone in the desert? For a man who had been described as close to the nomads, why had he not gone to them for help?

“Did you follow me when I was abducted by the nomads?”

“Senna told me later that you’d been taken. I’d gone on ahead of the caravan, so I knew nothing of your absence un til I saw you with the child.” Minnakht eyed Bak narrowly.

“What did they say of me?”

“I was threatened with death if I didn’t help find you. Does that not tell you in what great esteem they hold you?”

Minnakht’s brow wrinkled in thought. “They might wish your help so they can slay me. Or are they, like User, looking for gold?”

Bak decided to assume the question rhetorical. “I’d planned to cross the sea and go to the mountain of turquoise, but with your father so eager to see you, we must return to

Kemet without delay. I suggest we travel south along the coast and go back by way of the southern route. At this time of year, with caravans coming and going, transporting sup plies for the mines and carrying ore to the land of Kemet, we should be able to travel in complete safety.”

“Will User remain with you?”

“I believe he will.”

“If I were to travel with you, I’d be placing my life in his hands.”

“Maybe,” Bak said doubtfully.

“I can see that you’re unsure of me, and I don’t blame you.

We’ve barely met.” Minnakht gave him an understanding smile. “You need more time to reconcile yourself to the fact that I still live. I suggest you go on to the mountain of turquoise, and I’ll meet you upon your return.”

“You wish me to drag out your father’s agony? No. We’ll travel to Kemet immediately.”

Minnakht stared at him, unhappy with what amounted to a ultimatum. “I’ve two donkeys hobbled north of here, far from food or water. I must go get them. I’ll follow you to the sea, and meet you there before day’s end.”

“Kaha and Nebre will accompany you.”

“You trust me so little?” Minnakht’s laugh carried a hint of bitterness. “Trust goes two ways, Lieutenant. If you send them with me, I’ll slip away and you may never see me again.”

“What would you do?” Bak jeered. “Slink off into the wilderness and hide forever, living like a frightened animal?”

“I do miss the land of Kemet,” Minnakht said with a rueful smile. “I’ll meet you, that I promise. If not today, then tomorrow.” He must have noticed the lack of conviction on

Bak’s face. His smile faded. “If for some unaccountable rea son, I fail to do so, I’ll follow you wherever you go. Senna told me you were a man of your word, one who never fails to do his duty. If I’m ever again to see my home and my father, you’re the man who’ll keep me safe.

“All I ask is that you watch User and wait for him to reveal himself as a slayer. I grant the possibility that the guilt lies elsewhere, but I think the likelihood small.” Minnakht leaned forward, as if to physically impress Bak with his plea.

“Whatever you do, you must tell no one I live. Ahmose van ished nearly a year ago and other men have since been slain.

I’d not like to follow them to the netherworld.”

Bak studied the man seated before him, letting the silence build. He found him to be likable in spite of what he sus pected was an irrational fear. He could not and would not en tirely trust him-Minnakht or not, he was a stranger-but he saw no reason to spread the word that the young explorer lived. “I’ll say nothing, that I vow.” He glanced at Nebre and

Kaha and added, “My men will also remain silent.”

“The nomads have gone,” User said, stating the obvious.

Bak scowled at the empty fishing camp, built on the shore of the Eastern Sea. “They’ve avoided us throughout our jour ney. Why should this place be any different?”

He was thoroughly irritated with Nefertem. He did not know for a fact that the tribal chief had told his people to stay away from the caravan, but he strongly suspected such was the case. Why could the man not help rather than hinder?

He and the explorer led the caravan into the camp, where men and donkeys gathered on the beach between two rough huts and the water’s edge. The shelters could not have been more basic. Spindly acacia branches supported roofs covered with brush held in place by rocks. They would not provide much shelter during a storm, but would suffice for men wish ing to sleep through the heat of the day. A larger, rectangular hut farther along the beach showed signs of occupation by animals-donkeys and goats, Bak guessed.

He strode to an unpainted wooden boat lying on its side well above the waterline. It and three similar vessels had been overturned and left in a row to dry in the hot sun. He squatted to feel the sand beneath the small craft.

“They’ve not been gone for long,” he said, standing up and brushing damp sand from his hands.

Bak’s Medjays and the other men, long deprived of baths, eyed the sea with eager anticipation. Wensu abandoned his fellows and ran into the water, which splashed around his legs.

“Not so fast!” User growled, wading in to grab his arm and usher him back to the shore. “The donkeys must come before your pleasure.”

Wensu had the grace to blush.

Bak stood at the water’s edge, where the tiny swells washed over his feet. The beach was a long, empty stretch of pale sand curled around a bay whose waters were a deep blue green. The sand was soft, stirred up all around the huts and boats by the nomads, and in one place he noticed a gridlike pattern where a net had been stretched out to dry. For as far as the eye could see to north and south, not a tree or bush inter rupted the shoreline. Seabirds were everywhere: soaring overhead, diving for fish, standing on the beach to dry their wings.

“I don’t see any of my boats,” Amonmose said, striding up beside him and staring out to sea.

“How best can we raise a signal?” Bak refused to think that help might be slow to come.

“Let me show you.”

The merchant walked slowly along the line of boats, studying the wooden masts resting on the ground. He stopped at the tallest and called to Nebenkemet, who was poking around in a basket tied to the back of a donkey. The carpenter pulled a roll of whitish fabric from the container.