Lauren Haney - Path of Shadows

Bak and the sergeant had found milling restlessly within the rough stone walls, had begun to settle down. The lamb was safe among them.

“If we don’t find him, if he didn’t follow us as he vowed he would, I must still meet with Nefertem. We alone can never hope to find one man in an area as vast as the Eastern Desert.

We need the help of a tribal chieftain, one whose people can sweep across the landscape, letting no one and nothing slip out of their grasp.”

“They didn’t find him before, sir.”

“They didn’t know what they were looking for.”

“You vowed to tell no one that he still lives. Now you plan to tell Nefertem. Is that wise, sir? What if he’s right and the nomads wish him dead?”

“You’re staying behind?” User, shaking the dust from his tu nic, eyed Bak with suspicion. “Did you not vow to snare the man who’s been prowling the Eastern Desert, slaying first one man and then another?”

“I will snare him,” Bak stated.

He stood at the edge of User’s camp, studying the men scattered around. He had caught them filling the time with small tasks while they waited for Nebamon’s order to load the donkeys for the short trek to the copper workings and the longer journey to the port. His Medjays were similarly occu pied in their own camp. The sun hung low over the western peaks and the day was beginning to cool, so their departure was imminent.

“Clearly, he followed us across the Eastern Sea,” Amon mose said, looking up from several unusual barbed harpoon points he had received in trade with a nomad. “His ambush on the mountainside left no doubt that he wishes you dead.

Would you not be safer if you remained with us?”

“Four men have died within a few paces of your camp site,” Bak reminded him.

“And yours,” Wensu muttered.

“If the slayer follows us rather than you, more may die,”

User said in a grim voice. “We’ve neither the means nor the ability to protect ourselves, as you well know.”

“Your trek to the port with Lieutenant Nebamon should be safe enough,” Bak said. The cargo ships moored there will sail as soon as they unload the remaining supplies and load the copper and turquoise he’ll deliver to them. I suggest you cross the sea on one of those vessels. If you remain on board all the way to the southern trail, you can cross the Eastern

Desert with the soldiers who’ll transport the stones and cop per to Waset. Any caravan carrying so precious a load is bound to be well guarded.”

“I say we do as the lieutenant suggests,” Wensu said. “I, for one, have had enough of sand and rocks and death.”

“Yes, that would be best.” Ani looked resignedly at the three small bags of stones he had collected since leaving

Kaine. “I feel I’ve seen very little of what I came to see, es pecially in the Eastern Desert, and-for the very practical reasons Lieutenant Bak long ago pointed out-I’ll not return to the royal house with many stones, but I’ve no wish to see other men slain to satisfy my desires.”

User studied the two men he had led into the desert. His face wore no expression, but Bak could guess his thoughts.

In spite of his preference to travel alone, to seek gold and precious stones unencumbered, he had agreed to bring them along in exchange for payment in kind-and because he did not wish to vanish as had Ahmose and Minnakht. Better to return to the land of Kemet with nothing to show for the jour ney than to risk their lives and his.

“In many ways, this trek has been easy, but the toll on men’s lives…” The explorer’s voice tailed off in resigna tion. “I concur. Best we sail on one of our sovereign’s ships and cross the desert with the army.”

Bak thanked the lord Amon for the man’s strong sense of duty. “Will you go with them, Amonmose? Or will you re main with your fishing fleet on this side of the sea?”

The merchant spread his hands wide in a gesture of indeci sion. “Only when my men can safely return to their camp can Nebenkemet build huts and another boat. We could wait, but should we?” He flung a rueful smile at Bak. “If I thought you were close to laying hands on the slayer, Lieutenant…”

“I suggest the two of you cross the Eastern Sea with User,”

Bak said, side-stepping the question.

The merchant eyed him with open curiosity. “That sounds ominous, as if you think never to snare the vile criminal.”

Bak failed to rise to the bait. Instead he said to User, “Once our sovereign’s ships are loaded, they’ll not tarry. If they sail a day or two after your arrival, as I believe they will, I’ll not reach the port in time to board. I’ll need another way of crossing the sea.” His eyes darted toward Amonmose and he flashed a smile. “A fishing boat perhaps.”

The merchant grinned, acknowledging his failure to learn more. “How large a boat will you need?”

“One big enough to carry four or five passengers, the fastest in your fleet.”

“The moment we reach the port, I’ll speak with Nufer.

You’ll find his boat and crew awaiting you.”

User looked with a marked lack of enthusiasm toward

Bak’s camp, where Minmose and Kaha were packing their belongings, while Psuro and Nebre examined the three don keys on which they would carry weapons, water, and sup plies to the oasis where they hoped to find Minnakht. “You’re taking all your men with you?”

“Minmose will remain with you and will see that our don keys are transported back across the sea. Kaha has an errand that will take him to another destination. Psuro and Nebre will travel with me.”

User grunted, in no way comforted.

“I doubt we’ll be more than three or four days behind you,” Bak said. “I’ve been told there are wells at the near end of the southern trail and a village of sorts called Tjau. A con tingent of soldiers, their task to check all who come and go along that route, dwell there, along with a few nomads and camp followers. I suggest you wait for us there.”

“If we wait, we’ll lose the safety of the caravan.”

Bak realized that he had to give them an incentive to delay, had to rouse their curiosity. “With luck and the help of the lord Amon, I expect by then to have found the answers to all your questions and mine.”

The caravan set out at dusk. The trek to the copper mines was short and the donkeys, carrying nothing but the food and water needed for the return journey to the port, made good time in the cooler hours of night. What could have been a single load of turquoise was, for safety’s sake, divided up and concealed among the more mundane objects on the backs of a half-dozen animals.

A small forest of widely spaced acacias dotted the floor of the wadi that served as the center of copper production in the area. They camped a short distance from the trees and away from the well-to keep the donkeys out of the overseer’s gar den, Nebamon explained. Bak walked with him through the night to a grove of palm trees rising above a dark drystone hut. Along the way, they passed a cluster of interconnected stone huts in which the workmen dwelt and several slag heaps that marred the simple beauty of the moonlit water course. The cool night air smelled of dust and goats and of a tangy plant he could not identify.

Nenwaf, overseer of the copper works, roused himself from his sleeping mat and welcomed them with a broad smile and a gush of words. His nomad wife barely made an appearance and that not a happy one, but his five small chil dren leaped from their sleeping mats and rushed to Neba mon’s side for the treats they had come to expect each time he passed through. With faces and hands sticky from the honey cakes they quickly devoured, they hovered around, staring wide-eyed at the two officers talking with their father.