Lauren Haney - Curse of Silence

Nebwa fought alongside Commandant Nakht when the wretched man was defeated and when he and the remnants of his tribal army were chased far into the desert.”

Bak was no longer surprised that the inspector knew of past activities in the Belly of Stones. He was surprised by the depth of that knowledge. Amonked had clearly read more than “a few reports.” “Yes, sir. That’s why Nebwa’s worried, why he believes we must prepare to hold off a fighting force. He knows from experience what to expect.”

“You agree with him, I see.”

“Wholeheartedly.”

Horhotep dropped back to Amonked’s side and gave Bak a cool look. “Aren’t you raising an alarm when no alarm is warranted, Lieutenant? Or are you using the presence of a few pathetic nomads to sway our decision about the future of the fortresses along this segment of river?”

“Sir!” Bak swung around to face Amonked; his voice hardened. “If the army is torn from the Belly of Stones, no man will be safe whether he be farmer, trader, drover, or royal envoy. Hor-pen-Deshret is a criminal, plain and sim ple, and he and his followers will have free rein.”

Amonked looked from Bak to Horhotep and back again, as if uncertain in which of the two he could place the most confidence.

“I suggest you speak with Nebwa, sir,” Bak said, “and with Seshu. He also has firsthand knowledge of the desert raiders.”

“Yes,” the inspector said thoughtfully. “Yes, I shall. I understand the troop captain is presently taking inventory of men and equipment. I’ll see him when he’s finished and has the time to speak freely.”

Horhotep’s mouth tightened, sealing inside whatever comment he wished to make.

“Oh, Thaneny, stop patronizing me!” Nefret’s words cut through the air, sharp with impatience. “I can’t help being afraid! I don’t care what you say or what Horhotep says or

Amonked or anyone else, those men frighten me!”

“First it was the men along the river, and now this!”

Amonked expelled a long, irritated sigh. “I can understand her anxiety-I also am concerned-but will she never learn to suffer in silence?”

You don’t know how fortunate you are, Bak thought, that

Thaneny so often stands between you, taking the brunt of her wrath.

“She’ll not be content until we return to Kemet, that she’s made clear, but I suppose I must make an effort to soothe her.” Amonked looked at the concubine for a long time, as if he dreaded going to her. “Do you share your life with a woman, Lieutenant?”

“No, sir.”

“You’re a most fortunate man.”

Bak walked back along the caravan in search of Captain

Minkheper. Horhotep had once made a passing comment he hoped the seaman could enlarge upon. He spotted the tall figure walking toward him about halfway along the line of donkeys.

“Captain Minkheper,” he said, smiling. “For one who’s supposed to be studying the river, you’re a long way into the desert.”

“Why I ever accepted this accursed mission, I’ll never know.” The seaman bent to shake the grit from a sandal.

“I’ve just talked with a drover, a former sailor who plied the waters in this area. He said, and I quote: ‘If our sov ereign thinks to build a canal through the Belly of Stones, she’s got more rocks in her head than the lord Hapi has deposited in the river between Semna and Buhen.’ ” He paused, letting a smile spread across his face. “Needless to say, she’ll hear nothing of the sort from me.”

Laughing, Bak fell in beside him. “I’ve heard she has a sense of humor, but I wouldn’t want to test the fact with a statement like that.”

Minkheper’s good spirits faded and he gave Bak a frus trated look. “I don’t doubt your drover, but I should be on the river, studying its flow firsthand.”

“Would that you could. I’d be by your side, enjoying a cool breeze and a swim. But until I lay hands on Baket Amon’s slayer, I can’t guarantee that any man in the in spection party, walking alone and unguarded, would be safe from some irate farmer.”

“Can you guarantee our safety here, on this dry and bar ren trail?” Minkheper asked, looking pointedly toward the distant figures of the desert tribesmen.

“There are few absolutes in life, sir.”

A hint of a smile touched the captain’s lips. “From what

I hear, Hor-pen-Deshret is more of a threat to the local farmers than Amonked is. I’d think they’d be grateful we’re here, deflecting his attention from them.”

“When we get closer to Askut and the river, I mean to speak with a man influential in this area. Perhaps I can convince him it would be to the people’s advantage to help us. Until then, we must wait. I dare not leave the caravan now lest the tribesmen attack out here in the open desert.

In that case, every man and weapon will be needed.”

“Can I help?”

“Speak with Nebwa. He can best tell you what needs to be done.” The captain nodded and swung around, but be fore he could get away, Bak said, “Someone suggested that

Baket-Amon patronized the houses of pleasure near the wa terfront in Waset. As you’re a seaman, I assume you visited the same establishments.”

Minkheper gave him an odd look, then chuckled. “I keep forgetting that I, along with everyone else in Amonked’s party, am suspected of murder. Each time you come to me with questions, you set me back on my heels.”

“If you’re innocent, you’ll take my queries in stride.”

Bak smiled, cutting the sting from the words.

“If?” Minkheper asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve surely no reason to believe I took his life.”

Bak ignored the implied question. He disliked having men fish for information while he was seining. “If you also frequent the harbor-side houses of pleasure, you must’ve bumped into him in one or another.”

“I’ve been happily wed for years, Lieutenant, and I have three concubines in various ports of call. I’ve no reason to look elsewhere for entertainment or pleasure.”

Bak recalled his recent conversation with Amonked and had trouble holding back a smile. The inspector would be appalled to learn of the captain’s many female attachments.

“You never stop for a beer or a game of chance?”

Minkheper laughed. “I must admit I’m sometimes tempted by a game of throwsticks or knucklebones, and at times I feel a need for masculine company. Not often, mind you. I get plenty of that aboard ship. But often enough that

I’ve heard tales of the prince’s exploits.”

“You never met up with him during one of those…”

Bak smiled. “… domestic lapses?”

The captain acknowledged the jest with a quick smile.

“If so, I didn’t know at the time who he was.” He paused, added, “I moor my ship more often in Mennufer than in

Waset. Its harbor is bigger, its facilities better, and its trad ing establishments more lucrative. My wife dwells there with my firstborn son and three daughters I adore.”

To a man who sailed the Great Green Sea, a preference for the more northerly port made sense. “Did you ever hear of anything Baket-Amon did in Waset that could’ve brought about his death?”

“Jokes were made that he might one day run up against an enraged husband. Otherwise, I don’t recall a thing.”

An irate husband, Bak thought glumly. Once again, the only man who came close was Amonked. Why did all signs have to point to Maatkare Hatshepsut’s cousin? Yet he seemed such an unlikely slayer, and Nefret as a reason for murder seemed more unlikely each time Bak saw them ar guing.

“Other than Lieutenant Bak and me, only Sergeant Dedu and his twenty archers are well-armed,” Nebwa reported,

“and they have a limited supply of arrows.”