Lauren Haney: Path of Shadows

“Sir…”

Thuty raised a hand, staving off objections. “You’ve no wife or family to care for, no responsibilities other than to me. You won’t be leaving any task undone and, upon your re turn from the Eastern Desert, your new task will be awaiting you in Mennufer.”

“How many times must I remind you, sir? I don’t know the

Eastern Desert.”

“A problem easily solved, Lieutenant.”

Bak could have continued his plea, but the futility of argu ing-and, though he hated to admit it, an urge to know the truth-silenced him. Against all reason, in spite of the excite ment of a new task at a large and important garrison, in spite of the difficulties of seeking a man in an unfamiliar and for bidding landscape, he wanted to know what had happened to

Minnakht-and to see the Eastern Desert and the turquoise mines. He noticed Imsiba watching him, saw the hint of a smile on the Medjay’s face. His friend had read his thoughts.

Thuty strode to the gangplank to speak with Inebny. After a brief discussion, the commandant beckoned Bak and the sergeants, walked down the gangplank with his friend, and headed across the grass toward Senna. The trio looked at each other, not sure what to expect, and hurried after them.

As the five men descended upon the nomad, he scrambled to his feet and eyed them uncertainly.

“Lieutenant Bak has agreed to go into the desert to search for

Minnakht,” Thuty told Senna. “He’ll take you as his guide.”

“Sir?” Senna asked, startled.

Bak was equally surprised, but should not have been. The choice of guide must have been obvious to a man as open and straightforward as the commandant.

Thuty plowed ahead, allowing for no objection. “You’ll follow the path you took on your eastbound journey to the turquoise mines, searching all the while for signs of the miss ing man.”

The nomad shook his head vehemently. “Sir, I want noth ing more than to take my due and go home. I’ll not lead a man who has no knowledge of the desert to what might well be his death.”

“You lost my son,” Inebny snapped, “now you’ll help

Lieutenant Bak find him. I won’t give you the goats and sup plies I promised until after you return.”

Senna’s eyes darted toward Bak and flitted on toward the animals penned on the deck of the commander’s vessel.

“They’re mine, sir. Minnakht promised and so did you.”

“They’re not yours-make no mistake about that-and they never will be if you don’t guide the lieutenant through the desert.”

Bak felt certain Thuty had suggested the ungodly bargain, but even he seemed shocked by his friend’s malevolence.

“How will I know you’ll give them to me when we re turn?” Senna asked. “Will you find another reason to keep them from me?”

“You’ve no choice but to trust me,” Inebny snarled.

The guide’s face closed down, shielding from those who watched the mistrust and helplessness he had to have felt.

The impotence of a poor man facing a man of wealth and power.

Bak sympathized with the nomad, who had come to Kaine expecting payment for a task performed. Instead, he had to accept the promise of a man who had failed to live up to his word and also must repeat the task. “I’ll see that you receive fair return, Senna.”

“I’m grateful for the thought, sir, but how can you help me if something should happen and you perish in the desert?”

“I don’t intend to perish.” To Imsiba Bak said, “I wish to take along the four men in our company who best know the desert: Rona, Minmose, Kaha, and Nebre.”

“If you must go, my friend, and I see that you must, you couldn’t have chosen better men.” Imsiba flashed a wry smile. “I’m bound to admit my knowledge of the desert is limited, but I’ve some talent in the use of weapons. I’d like to go with you. You might need a man with a spear more than one who can read footprints in the sand.”

Bak clasped the sergeant’s wrist. “I’d be more than pleased to have you, Imsiba, but someone must take charge of our men. They’ll be entering a new garrison and taking on new tasks. They’ll need a man they like and trust to stand at their head. I can think of no one who can fill my sandals bet ter than you.”

“Take me, sir.” Psuro, who knew Bak almost as well as Im siba did, flashed a smile. “I’ve a strong desire to see the East ern Desert.”

Bak, suspecting he would need someone to watch his back, accepted the offer. Other than Imsiba, he could think of no man more loyal and devoted than Psuro, no man more dependable.

Thuty stared at the nomad guide, his face grim. “A word of warning, Senna. If my men vanish as Minnakht did, you’d better vanish with them.”

Bak and the five Medjays bade goodbye to their friends and stood at the water’s edge, watching them sail away. Feel 26

Lauren Haney ing rather like children cast aside by their parents, they turned their backs on the vessels they had thought would carry them to Mennufer and strode into Kaine. The garrison tokens Inebny had given Bak to purchase whatever they needed eased their path. In no time at all they had seven don keys, one for each man, the minimum they would require for the trek across the desert. They bought food and supplies, the large jars in which they would carry the water they would need, and a few sheaves of hay for the animals.

Bak was standing at the village well, watching Senna and his Medjays fill the water jars and goatskin waterbags, when

Psuro called from across the small sandswept square. “Lieu tenant Bak! You must hear what this man has to say, sir.”

Veering around a dirty white dog scratching its fleas, Bak hurried to the sergeant’s side. Psuro stood before a grizzled old man sitting beneath a sycamore tree, weaving reeds with gnarled hands to form a sandal. A matching sandal lay beside his skinny thigh.

“This man’s name is Huy,” Psuro said. “He’s told me of a rumor that may have something to do with Minnakht’s disap pearance.”

Bak knelt before the three pairs of sandals lined up in front of their maker. “Tell me, old man, what have you heard?”

“A rumor, no more, but one that might cause a man more trouble than he bargained for.” Huy gave Bak a sly smile, re vealing stained teeth worn down almost to the gums.

Bak well understood the pause and the suggestive smile.

“Your knife is old, I see, its blade pitted. You look in need of a new one. One with a fine bronze blade.”

The old man nodded, pleased. “They say he found gold.

Somewhere in the Eastern Desert.”

“I’ll need more. Details.”

“That’s just it, sir. Rumors abound. Tales that bode ill for the young explorer, none with any substance. Each is built upon the one before, created late in the evening in the house of pleasure by men besotted by beer and a longing for riches.”

“To earn that knife I promised, you must tell me all you’ve heard, each and every rumor no matter how unlikely. I must judge for myself what’s worthy of belief.”

The sandal maker obliged, repeating one tale after another.

Most hinted at the discovery of gold; none pointed the way to finding it. Bak would have taken none seriously-except for the danger they posed to Minnakht.

As soon as he had rewarded the old man, he hurried to the well. “Senna, have you heard the rumors that Minnakht found gold?”

“How could I not have heard? From the moment I set foot in Kaine, I was besieged by men demanding that I tell them what I knew. Nothing, I swore, yet they refused to believe me.” The guide gave a derisive snort. “Rumors fly through this village as bubbles in the air, and have as much substance.”

Late in the day, they walked away from Kaine. To their left, the river and its cultivated plain turned to the west and disappeared, hidden by high limestone escarpments. Ahead lay the first wadi in a series that Bak fervently hoped would lead them to Minnakht.