Lauren Haney - Path of Shadows

Huy gave his opponent a cool look. “Your return journey to the port often takes an inordinate length of time, Neba mon. Puemre tells me that you stop at an oasis north of here, allowing your troops to play when they should be hastening to the sea with their valuable burden.”

Noticing the venom in Huy’s voice, Nebamon looked more closely at the board. He was clearly surprised by what he saw. “Often? No. Now and again, yes.” He placed a white cone in jeopardy, glanced at Bak, grinned sheepishly.

“There’s an open, running stream in the next large wadi to the north. The journey to the port is longer, but I sometimes return that way, giving my men an opportunity to bathe themselves and the donkeys. The water has an odd smell and we can’t drink it, but washing away the dust refreshes man and beast alike.”

He studied the game board as if trying to decide what he should do next. “A few nomads go there, but a man who wished to remain unseen could easily walk a short way up the wadi, where the stone has been carved by wind and water as if by the hand of a man.”

Bak watched him sacrifice another white cone. From the look on Huy’s face, he would soon be placated. “With no drinkable water, he couldn’t stay there for long.”

“There’s a larger oasis closer to the sea and to the south.

We get water there for use at the port. It’s frequented by the nomads, so a man couldn’t remain unseen for long, but he might slip in and out at infrequent intervals, taking only enough time to water his animals and fill his jars.” Neba mon moved another cone into the path of the spool Huy was driving toward the final square. “Do you think the man who attacked today might be camping at one of those oases?”

“Perhaps.” Bak shifted his position, waking the dog and the pain in his thigh. “You must remember that I’m also look ing for Minnakht.”

“He’s not been seen since he left the port,” Huy said, his disposition soothed. “Most men believe he sailed back to the

Eastern Desert.”

Bak stayed as close to the truth as he could. “I vowed I’d follow his path from the beginning of his journey to the end.

I know he visited the mountain of turquoise and the copper mines west of here. There’s a chance that he sailed away from the port, but returned to this barren land. A place with water would be a necessary destination.” Noting the doubt on their faces, he gave them a humorless smile. “Unlikely or not, I must leave no possibility unexamined. If I find no sign of him, I must return to the Eastern Desert and remain in that wretched land until I learn his fate. I prefer the company of men of Kemet to seeing nothing but footprints of nomads who vanish each time we draw near.”

Giving him a quick, sympathetic smile, Nebamon offered up his last white cone.

Huy made a final move. “You wish to visit those oases,” he said, his voice ringing with triumph.

“You’ll have to go by yourself,” Nebamon said, hiding a smirk from the victor. “I can’t take the caravan the long way around this trip. We’ve another load of supplies awaiting us on the vessels on which you crossed the sea.”

Bak thanked the gods. If the man he sought had indeed gone to one of the oases and if he saw an approaching cara van, he would slip away faster than a desert fox. “Can you give me a man to serve as a guide?”

“I can send a nomad with you,” Huy said. “One I often trust to carry messages to the port.”

“Such a man would serve me well.” Not merely because he would know the wadis better than any soldier, but because the man he hoped to find would have no reason to hide from one who wandered this land. “I’d like first to see the copper mines. When do you plan to move on, Nebamon?”

The caravan officer dropped his playing pieces into the drawer and smiled. “You’ve had enough of the mountain of turquoise, Lieutenant?”

“More than enough,” Bak said, glancing at his throbbing thigh.

“I thought to leave tomorrow before nightfall.”

“I’ll tell User and the others.” Bak stood up, yawned. “I wish them to travel to the port with you, not come with me. I trust you’ve no objection?”

Nebamon gave him a long, speculative look. The kind of look one man gives another when he suspects him of a hid den purpose. “User’s good company, and so is Amonmose.

I’ll keep them and the rest out of your way.”

“You understand what you must do.” Bak spoke softly so his instructions would not carry to User’s camp or to any soldiers.

He sat on his sleeping mat, his leg stretched out, trying again to ease the ache in his thigh. His Medjays sat around him, leaning close, faces intent. The yellow dog, which had followed him from Huy’s dwelling, lay at his feet. The sky was black, the multitude of stars resplendent, the moon large and luminous.

“I’d rather stay with you, sir.” As if seeking support, Kaha glanced at Psuro, sitting beside him on the sand. “Cannot

Minmose or Nebre deliver your message?”

Minmose squirmed, uncomfortable with the thought, and

Nebre grunted. The sergeant remained mute.

“They can’t speak the tongue of the men of the Eastern

Desert,” Bak said. “You can.”

“They understand no more than half of what I say.”

“As long as you can convince them that you must speak with Nefertem, the rest matters not. Once you reach him, you’ll have no trouble. He speaks our tongue as well as you or I.”

“What if I never get to him?”

Bak’s patience was coming to an end. He understood

Kaha’s reluctance to go off by himself into the wilderness, but an order was an order. “I told you before: seek out a fam ily of nomads, show them the pendant, and say you must go to Nefertem right away. Someone will take you to him.”

The Medjay, who could not have missed the impatience in

Bak’s voice, stared unhappily at the chunk of quartz in his hand. “If I manage to speak with him, what am I to tell him?”

“Tell him I’ll soon cross the sea, returning to the Eastern

Desert. I hope to be traveling with Minnakht. I wish Imset to meet us when we disembark at the quay where our sover eign’s cargo ships anchor at the eastern end of the southern route to the sea. The boy must take us to Nefertem, whom I hope to meet at the place where he found this.” Bak lifted the pendant from Kaha’s hand and held it up, letting the quartz dangle from the leather thong.

Several dogs began to bark, momentarily distracting them, and a sheep voiced alarm. The dog at Bak’s feet raised his head and cocked his ears to listen. Bak guessed a predator of some kind was lurking close by in the dark. A ewe had given birth to a lamb during the day. The fragile creature would be a tasty morsel for a large feline or a hyena.

Bak returned the pendant to Kaha and handed him a tight roll of papyrus. “Take this to Lieutenant Puemre. In it I ask that he rush you across the sea to the Eastern Desert. The traveling ship we saw at the port, which he uses to carry mes sages, is manned by soldiers and is fast. You should have plenty of time to contact Nefertem.”

“Am I to await you at the shore with the boy?” Kaha asked.

“You will stay with Nefertem.”

Kaha gave him a dismal look. “I’m to be his hostage.”

“I plan to give him what he wants. He’ll not harm you.”

“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself, sir?” Psuro walked with Bak around the walled pen in which the sheep and goats were kept. They looked to be the sole men awake in the warm, still night. “How can you be so certain we’ll find Min nakht at one of those oases?”

The yellow dog, lured by the other dogs who dwelt in the camp, had run off into the darkness, his voice merging with theirs. Their furious barking gradually faded away as they chased the predator away from the camp. The flock, which