Lauren Haney - Path of Shadows

Imset led him to the crude hut. The woman and children shrank away, fearful of the stranger. Inside, lying on a bed of goatskins, he saw a length of bright fabric, several bronze spear and harpoon points, and a jar that contained honey or some other desirable substance difficult to get in the desert.

“You traded with him?”

“Trade. Yes.”

“Is User your friend?”

The boy nodded.

“Enemy?”

Imset shook his head vehemently. User had apparently won him over.

Signaling the boy to wait, he hurried to the building the soldiers occupied and asked for papyrus and writing imple ments. None of the men could read or write, so they were slow to take the request seriously. He snapped out an order, convincing them his need was real. The sergeant hastened to cut a small piece of papyrus from an inventory of supplies delivered some months earlier and a soldier located a scribal pallet so long unused that a thick layer of dust had to be scraped off before the ink could be moistened. Bak wrote a quick message to Nefertem, rolled it tight, and tied it with a bit of string. Getting into the spirit of the task, the sergeant secured it with a daub of mud and impressed it with a seal he had never before had occasion to use.

Bak tucked the cylinder beneath his belt and went in search of Imset, who had returned to the tamarisks to gather more wood. After helping the boy carry his gleanings to the hut, he looked toward the campsite he had yet to visit. “User,” he pointed, “and you…” He touched Imset’s chest. “Walk west.” He pointed toward the place where the trail began.

The boy gave him an uncertain look. Either he did not recall the meaning of the word walk or he did not wish to remember.

“Walk.” Bak moved two fingers like a man walking.

Imset gave a reluctant nod.

“You walk with User to the well. To water.” Bak pointed again to the boy and toward the camp, placed the first two fingers of both hands side by side and made the walking mo tion, and pointed west. He cupped a hand and pretended to drink, reminding Imset of the meaning of the word water.

Imset shook his head. “I walk with you to water.”

“You walk with User. I follow.” Bak made the walking motion with his right hand followed closely by two fingers of his left hand.

A stubborn look settled on Imset’s face and he turned to walk away.

Bak caught his arm to halt his flight, withdrew the papyrus from beneath his belt, and held it out. “For Nefertem.”

Imset took the scroll and inspected the seal. He looked at

User’s camp, thought over what Bak wished him to do, and nodded that he understood: the message must reach Nefer tem ahead of Bak. “I walk with User.”

“You want us to travel on to the well without you.” User gave Bak a suspicious look. “What’re you up to, Lieutenant?”

Bak laughed. “I’ll be no more than a day behind you.”

“What are we to do when we get there?”

“Make camp and wait for me. The water is good, so the soldiers here say, and the man who dwells there is friendly.

I’m certain he’ll enjoy talking to someone new for a change, and his wife will appreciate the goods you have to trade.”

Bak had left Imset to gather his few belongings and had walked to User’s camp. Minmose had greeted him with a huge smile and Amonmose with the hug of a bear. The other men, though more restrained in their actions, were openly delighted to see him, but were concerned that his Medjays had not come with him. Upon learning that his men were alive and well, their smiles returned and they urged him to sit with them, share their beer, and tell them of his travels. He obliged, giving them a brief account of his journey. True to his word, he made no mention of Minnakht.

User, whom he had drawn away from the camp as soon as he decently could, looked across a stretch of sand toward the men packing up to leave in the cool of evening. “The trail is easy to follow and I know it well from my youth. Why is the boy coming with us? Not as a guide, I’d wager.”

“He wishes to go west with me. I prefer that he travel with you.”

User eyed him thoughtfully. “You’ve a reason, I suppose.”

“One that should become clear when you reach the well.”

The explorer scowled, not happy with the evasion. “Why did you not tell us to go on with the caravan? Now we’ll be alone and at the mercy of the man who slew Dedu and Senna,

Rona and the stranger. The one who’s tried more than once to slay you.”

“His attention will be focused on me. You’ll be safer with out me.”

Looking unconvinced and not at all happy, User growled,

“I pray to all the gods in the ennead that you’re right.” He re alized the import of Bak’s words, added, “And that you’ll stay safe as well as us.”

“The trek will be well worth your while, I assure you.”

From the soldiers, Bak obtained three donkeys to carry water and supplies westward. Twenty-four hours after User’s party moved on, he, Nebre, Psuro, and two armed sailors

Nufer had loaned them escorted Minnakht along the trail.

The explorer made no real attempt to slip away, but he con stantly tested the men who were guarding him. Bak guessed he did not know this part of the desert well, and was waiting to make his move when he came to a place he knew better.

Before sunrise on the fourth morning after striking out from the sea, they strode into a large valley whose flat ex panse was blanketed in golden sand. It was enclosed by brownish hills that appeared low at a distance but proved, as they walked forward, to be high and rugged, singularly un inviting. The sun, a sliver of gold, peeked above the horizon to the west, bathing the sky in red and orange, revealing near the center of the sandy plain a stand of trees. What appeared in the dim light of dawn to be squarish mounds of stone grad ually revealed themselves as three drystone buildings and a walled structure that Bak assumed was the well.

Minnakht walked slower, reluctant to approach the tiny, isolated oasis. When the growing light and a fresh perspec tive revealed twenty or more donkeys in a walled paddock, he stopped. “You vowed to keep me safe.”

“I’ve heard that the man who dwells here exchanges healthy donkeys for caravan animals that show a weakness or an ill ness.” Psuro, walking beside the explorer, had never ceased to remind him in some oblique way of the manner in which he had neglected his animals. “He cures them and sees that they get good food and water until another exchange is needed.”

Bak doubted such was the case, but the barbed comment seemed to ease Minnakht’s doubts-at least for a while.

They strode on across the valley floor, walking on the hard sand alongside multiple paths softened by the hooves of many donkeys. The sun burst above the horizon to glare into their faces. The oasis slowly came to life. A donkey brayed and a goose cackled. Dogs barked, setting to flight a flock of birds, black silhouettes against the brilliant sky. Bak expected the dogs to come running and soon they did, a dozen scruffy mutts barking bravely from afar but too shy to come near.

The closer the men came to the cluster of buildings, the more tightly strung Minnakht became. He was not the only man to feel the strain. Bak adjusted his hand on his spear, balancing it better for use. He had to force himself to keep his pace regular and unhurried. Psuro, Nebre, and the sailors continually scanned the land to either side. Nebre retrieved his bow and quiver from the back of a donkey.

Two boys left the largest building and took a donkey from the paddock. The dogs streaked back to the oasis and fol lowed them north up a broad subsidiary wadi. They had to have noticed the party of approaching men, but gave no sign of greeting. A short time later, a woman left the building to draw water. A small child followed and pestered her until she finished her task. As she turned away from the well, she looked their way, waved, and in a leisurely fashion, carried the heavy jar inside. A donkey brayed as if forgotten. Two others took up the plea.