Lauren Haney - Face Turned Backward

What if the one Intef found is such a place, a house of eternity prepared by a man who longed for his home in faroff Kemet?”

“How many tombs have we seen over the past few days, my friend? Each and every one was shallow, dug within a hill or ridge, and none had secret chambers deep beneath them.”

“Have I come at a bad time?”

Sitamon stood at the door, wide-eyed and timid, looking as if she might at any instant turn around and flee. “Are you too busy to…?”

“Not at all!” Imsiba leaped to his feet, rushed to the portal to usher her inside, and offered her his stool.

Bak stood up, preparing to leave yet not sure he should go. He could not imagine what had brought her at such an early hour-or why she had come to the guardhouse, for that matter. Unless she had a purpose other than her friendship with Imsiba. Mahu’s death perhaps?

She raised a hand, palm forward, signaling they should remain where they were. “I can’t stay. I’ve left my son in the commandant’s palace, where he’s playing with Tiya’s children, and I must go next to the market.”

“Is something wrong?” Imsiba asked, his voice and manner solicitous.

“No, I…” She threw a glance at Bak that begged him to leave and gave Imsiba an uncertain smile. “I shouldn’t have come.”

Bak slipped around her and out the door, giving the pair a chance to talk. He joined the men on duty in the entry hall, took a crusty roll from a basket, and tore it apart. The dates inside were rich and succulent, the bread sweet and firm.

While he nibbled, he listened unashamed to Imsiba and Sitamon, his curiosity piqued by concern for his friend.

“You must tell me what’s wrong,” Imsiba said.

“Nothing. It’s just that…” She hesitated, wrung her hands.

“Well, I thought…”

“What?” Imsiba took her hands in his, stilling them, and smiled. “You thought what?”

“Userhet wishes to take me as his wife,” she blurted. “I…I haven’t given him an answer. I thought to wait a while until…Oh, I shouldn’t have come!” She jerked her hands free and swung around, racing out of Bak’s office and through the street door, so blinded by emotion she bumped into a soldier on his way in, sending him spinning.

“She loves you, I tell you. Do you think she’d have come so early in the day if she didn’t?”

Imsiba sat on the bench at the back of the room, arms crossed over his breast, his expression stony. “She’s a good, kind woman. She saw that I cared for her, and she wished to break the news herself, before I could hear it from someone else.”

Bak wanted to shake his friend. He hated seeing him so unhappy, so quick to give up. “She wants you to step in, to stand up and be counted as a suitor.”

“I’m a sergeant in the Medjay police, my friend, one who owns nothing but the clothing I wear and the weapons I carry. Now, because of Mahu’s death, she’s the mistress of a grand cargo ship, a woman of wealth and status.”

“Barely more than a week ago, she was a lonely widow with a child, a woman in need of a home with her brother.”

Imsiba closed his ears to reason. “Userhet has much to offer, while I have nothing. He can read and write and he knows the ways of ships and trading. He can see advantage when it arises and make opportunities for further advantage.

I know nothing but what I do-I’d not be able to write my name if you hadn’t taught me-nor would I enjoy a change.”

“Sir!” Hori stood in the doorway, looking from one to the other, puzzled by their intensity. He carried a heavy coil of rope on his shoulder.

Bak tore his thoughts from Imsiba’s plight, formed a smile.

“Your mission was successful, I see. What did Ramose have to say?”

“He heard me out and handed over the rope without argument, but…” The boy’s voice tailed off, he frowned. “His thoughts were elsewhere, sir. I’m not sure he took in all I had to say.”

“How could he not?” Imsiba demanded. “He’s surely heard the rumors that Nebwa’s men have gone out in search of Wensu. Was he not happy to be rid of the one he fears?”

“He was, yes.” Hori crossed the room to the lower end of the coffin. He bent over, letting the rope slide off his shoulder and the coils settle with a whisper around the projecting feet.

“But Commandant Thuty had newly come and gone, and Captain Ramose was too elated by his visit to give the Kushite more than a passing thought.”

Bak eyed the wooden toes projecting above the rope. The coffin was becoming altogether too familiar an object. It had to go-and soon. “Make your point, Hori. You’ve three more men to see.”

Hori’s cheeks flamed. “The commandant visited the captain specifically to invite him to his party for the vizier, saying he wished to praise him to one and all for the effort he took to salvage the wrecked ship and the merchandise on board.

Captain Ramose can think of nothing but what he’ll wear and how he’ll stand among some of the highest men in the land of Kemet.”

Bak raised an eyebrow. “I recall Ramose only two days ago sneering at the thought of attending the party.”

Hori, still smarting, allowed himself a faint smile. “I told him of your journey south, saying nothing but hinting at much, as I did with Userhet. He practically shoved the rope into my arms and pulled a tattered wig out of a chest, asking if I thought it too out of style to wear.” He glanced at Imsiba as if seeking an ally, and spoke again to Bak. “He wasn’t joking or putting me off. I think he’s as free of guilt as you are, sir.”

“I agree.” Bak stood up, took a turn across the room, and stopped at the door. “But if we err and he’s not the man he seems, the hints you dropped should make him act.” He laid a hand on the youth’s shoulder. “Go now and search out Hapuseneb and Nebamon, one after the other. According to Nebwa, they both have many donkeys standing idle at Kor.”

“Yes, sir.”

The boy hurried away and Bak turned to the big Medjay.

After spending the previous day upriver, the bandage on Imsiba’s arm was none too clean and needed to be changed.

He could think of no better time to get it wet. “Come, Imsiba.

Let’s go for a swim. You’re in need of cheering.”

Long, powerful strokes took Bak up the river and away from Imsiba, who lay on the surface of the water, clinging to a half submerged boulder to prevent the current from carrying him downstream. Their two kilts fluttered like white birds on the branches of a tamarisk tree, one of several growing along the bank at the base of the towering spur wall that barred desert traffic from the river terraces. Normally they would have gone farther afield to swim in a cove they especially favored, but with Hori reporting regularly, this was more convenient.

Reaching a point well above the spur wall, he rolled onto his back and let himself drift downstream. He wished with all his heart that he could help Imsiba, but other than urge him to swallow his pride and pursue Sitamon with a will, he could do nothing.

He turned his thoughts to Hori and the game he had created during those long, sleepless hours before dawn. Was he wasting time, as Imsiba thought? Or would one of his suspects break and run, hastening to the tomb Intef had found in hopes of salvaging what he could before Bak located it? Would the tomb contain an uncut elephant tusk? Or were the tusks being smuggled by some other person, one who had nothing to do with Wensu, Roy, and the headless man?

He thought not-if Wensu had indeed planted the tusk on Mahu’s ship, as he believed.

Water splashed into his mouth, rousing him. He glanced toward the fortress, where he saw Hori trotting along the lower terrace. Rolling over, he swam to the trees and pulled himself up on the stone revetment which held the bank in place. With the river still running high, much of the protective facing was under water. Imsiba abandoned his makeshift anchor and swam to him. The leaves whispered in a desultory breeze. A sparrow hopped from branch to branch, scolding a black and white cur sniffing the riverbank in search of rats.