Lauren Haney - Path of Shadows

He shook it out, revealing a long-sleeved tunic that was none too clean, and hastened to Amonmose’s side.

Bak helped the merchant tip the boat, raising the mast off the sand so Nebenkemet could tie the tunic to the upper end of the long, straight pole. Curiosity drew the other members of the caravan, who stood close by, watching. The merchant demanded rocks. While the men scattered, he, Bak, and Nebenkemet scooped out a shallow hole and set the vessel upright, its flat bottom resting in the cavity. The men returned with enough stone to anchor the hull in its sandy berth. The northerly breeze caught the fabric, making it blossom out and flap in the sun.

Smiling his satisfaction, Bak asked the men standing around, “Who wants fresh fish for our evening meal?”

They all raised their voices in eager anticipation.

Bak held out what looked like a bundle of loose, knotted cords he had found tucked into the prow of the upright boat.

“Have you ever fished with nets, Psuro?”

“I can learn, sir.”

“I have,” Wensu said, surprising them all. “My father has an estate a short way inland from the Great Green Sea. As a youth, I sneaked away with the men who fished its waters.”

A half-hour later, two boats were sailing out to sea. From the foremost, with Wensu in command, Kaha was paying out the net between his craft and that of Psuro and Nebre.

“I hope they don’t get lost out there,” User said, scowling at the vessels.

Bak flung off his filthy tunic, kilt, and loincloth and waded into the water. Nebenkemet was settling the donkeys in the shade of the elongated hut, while Minmose was excavating a shallow pit for a fire. Ani and Amonmose had finished their tasks and were enjoying their first real bath in days. “Wensu vowed they’d never lose sight of the shore.”

“He’s better than he was at the beginning. At least now he tries.” User stripped bare, as Bak had, and waded into the wa ter beside him. “But he’s just about the most useless man I’ve ever met.”

Bak smiled. “Psuro will see that they return safely.”

The explorer followed him into deep water. “You usually know what you’re doing, Lieutenant. I hope you do this time.”

About three hours before nightfall, after a long swim and a rest, Nebenkemet and Minmose led a half-dozen donkeys up onto the coastal plain in search of fuel and forage for the ani mals. The sun was hovering over the western horizon when

Bak spotted the men and the laden animals returning to the sea.

He walked out to meet them. As the trio trudged into camp, they saw three fishing boats sailing toward the bay, the northerly breeze driving them along at a fast pace. The two smaller vessels had to be those Psuro and Wensu had taken out.

The third was considerably larger, a seaworthy fishing boat.

“That’s one of mine, Lieutenant!” Amonmose was practi cally dancing with excitement. “Wensu and Psuro must’ve hailed it.”

Joy-and relief-flooded Bak’s heart. He could not be lieve how glad he was to see that boat, how much he looked forward to leaving this wretched desert.

“I suppose I could take one or two of you with me.” The master of the fishing boat, a short, muscular man of thirty or so years, eyed the men standing around him, burned by the sun, their clothing stained, their hair unkempt.

Amonmose ignored what was patently an insincere offer.

“If you sail at daybreak tomorrow, how long will it take you to find one of our sovereign’s cargo ships?”

“Ten or fifteen days if we sail north and have to go all the way to the port across the sea. Four or five if we sail to the southern trail, where they may even now be loading supplies brought across the desert from Kemet. A lesser time if we’re fortunate enough to intercept a vessel along the way.”

“I suggest you sail south-and I pray you meet a north bound ship. We can’t remain here for long.” Amonmose pointed toward the animals standing in their shelter. “We need a vessel with enough deck space for all those donkeys. I’ll not condone abandoning a single animal, you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Minnakht’s not coming, is he, sir?” Psuro kept his voice low so no one else would hear.

“He said today or tomorrow. We’ll see.”

They stood near one of the huts, while the other men sat on the sand, encircling the shallow pit in which a fire glowed.

The fishermen sat among them, enjoying the company of men who had, little more than two weeks earlier, trod the streets and lanes of Waset, a city they had not visited for months. The odor of cooked fish came and went as a chill breeze fanned the air around the cooking pot. The nomads’ vessels lay beached nearby, while the larger fishing boat was anchored offshore.

“If he doesn’t show up?” Psuro murmured.

“We should have time to go back to the place where we met him. With luck and the favor of the gods, we can trace his path from there.”

“You’re not thinking we should stay in this wretched desert!”

Bak laughed at the horrified look on the sergeant’s face.

“If he meets us here as he vowed he would, or if we can find him, we’ll take him back to Kemet without delay. Otherwise, we’ll leave him to his own resources and go on to the mines across the sea.”

“The mountain of turquoise?” The sergeant gave Bak a puzzled look. “Why? Surely not to satisfy Nefertem. We’ve seen Minnakht. We know he lives and can tell him so.”

“Our brief meeting yesterday left many questions unan swered, and many new questions have come to me since we spoke. If Minnakht fails to join us, fresh questions will arise.

Questions related to him as a man and to his integrity. A jour ney to the mines might well answer those questions and at the same time help us snare the man who slew Rona.”

The fishermen bade them goodbye at sunrise, weighed an chor, and sailed away, driven south by a stiff wind. The ten men stood at the water’s edge, watching the vessel vanish over the horizon. From the looks on their faces, each and every man felt cast adrift, as Bak did. He prayed fervently that a ship would soon come with plenty of space on its deck, that they would not have to return to the pools where Rona and Senna had been slain.

Throughout the day they busied themselves with the small tasks of camping in the desert. User sent men out in search of additional fuel and forage. Wensu had caught considerably more fish than they needed and had left the net in the sea, thinking to keep them close and alive. They pulled the net in, let the smaller fish swim away, and killed the larger. They cleaned those they kept, gave a few to Minmose for the cook ing pot, and laid the rest out to dry. They repaired torn cloth ing and rope halters, cared for the donkeys’ hooves and medicated their sores, swam and rested. Bak looked often to ward the wadi down which they had come, but Minnakht failed to appear.

At day’s end, he leaned against a pole supporting one of the huts, watching what appeared to be an idyllic scene. They had an abundance of food and would never starve with fish so plentiful. They were getting the rest they needed. Water was the problem. In two more days, they would have to send men and donkeys back to the gorge to refill the jars.

Psuro suggested they walk along the beach. When they reached a point where no one would hear, he said, “I’m dis appointed in Minnakht, sir. I was hoping we could go home.”

“You’d think a man like him, as accustomed to the desert as he is, would take advantage of our offer to help him.” Bak did not bother to hide his irritation. “If he won’t trust the no mads, we’re his next best alternative.”

“Did he not tell you he fears User?”

“An unrealistic fear, I’m convinced. User’s been striking out at the least provocation since Dedu was slain. He’s as an gry about the guide’s death as we are that Rona’s life was taken.”