Lynda Robinson: Murder at the God's Gate

Shaking his head, Meren walked around the pool to join the vizier as a guard escorted a treasury official out to meet Maya. He was still shaking his head as he met the vizier under the baldachin.

"Ay, Ay, Ay."

He'd known Ay all his life. The brother of the king's mother, the great Queen Tiye, wife of Amunhotep the Magnificent, the vizier was famed throughout the Two Lands for his skill in government. He was even more renowned for surviving the reigns of Amunhotep the Magnificent, Akhenaten, Smenkhare, and now Tutankhamun. His eyebrows slanted upward along with his eyes, giving him a startled appearance.

In Meren's opinion he hadn't been surprised since the age of the pyramids. The knuckles on his hands were swollen and ached, and his back curved like a scythe. The vizier's body moved slowly, except for his eyes, which never rested. His gaze skittered across Meren now, then darted back to the place where his royal nephew had vanished.

Ay's aged voice grated out his words. "He's too young, and the little cock knows it." Ay stopped talking and lowered his skeletal frame into a chair as servants righted that of the king. When they'd gone, he continued. "And sometimes I wish he was still young enough to require a regent."

"The quarrel would be the same," Meren said as he leaned against one of the support poles of the baldachin. "When you and Horemheb were vice regents, you always favored caution, like the oryx on the plain, while Horemheb favored action, like the lion who hunts the oryx."

"But at least he listened to me, young one."

"The divine one still listens, but he's growing into a man. If you don't let him test himself, he'll cast aside all your counsel and do something even more dangerous than usual."

Ay scowled at him. "Then you don't think he's too young for battle?"

"Of course he's too young."

"By the womb of Isis, then why do you chastise me for telling him so?"

"Ay, where is your fabled diplomacy? The king is an untried youth in need of experience and all too aware of a kingdom watching his performance. His mistakes and embarrassments are discussed from the delta to Nubia, over every morning cup of beer, in every tavern, stable and cattle pen. Offer him something else besides opinions about his lack of prowess."

Ay sighed and lowered his chin to the palm of his hand. "I'm too old. I forget what it was like to be so young. That's why I'm glad you're here. He needs you young ones about him."

"Like Tanefer?"

"Tanefer? That wild colt? Half the responsibility for this quarrel lies upon his shoulders."

"We have to do something, Ay."

"I know. I know. Now go away and let me think, young one."

Meren returned to a chair at his shaded place on the opposite side of the pool, only to find Maya in a fit of irritation. His hollow jaws worked, and his mouth slanted down even more than usual while he ranted at his aide.

"Why must you disturb me about so inconsequential a matter when I'm in counsel with his majesty? Handle the matter yourself."

"But the overseer of stonemasons is upset," the aide said. "And you always told me that master craftsmen can create much havoc if they're disturbed. And after all, the priest did fall off his majesty's image right in front of the temple of Amun."

Meren had been downing a cup of water when he heard this. He wiped his mouth. "What's this?"

Maya threw up his hands and said, "Some priest has fallen to his death from the scaffolding around the colossus of the king in front of the temple of Amun. An accident about which I don't wish to know and don't care."

"What priest?" Meren asked before gulping down more water.

The aide consulted a scrap of papyrus. "A pure one, my lord. The pure one in charge of the supplies of precious stones and metals to be used on the statue. His name was, hmmm, his name was Unas."

"I don't care what his name was," Maya said. He sat down, crossed his legs at the ankles, and glared at the aide. "Go away."

The aide turned, but Meren held up his hand so that the man paused.

"Maya, I think I understand why the matter was brought to your attention. If you will recall the delight the king takes in this brilliant image of himself, its monumental size-and its strategic position in front of the temple?"

Maya groaned and rubbed his temples. "His majesty will be furious. By the staff of Ptah, he's already angry, and now… I don't want to add to his frustration."

"You're right," Meren said lightly. He glanced at Maya out of the corner of his eye and went on in as negligent a tone as he could produce. "However, if he knew the matter was already being taken in hand?"

"Ah!" Maya's pained look vanished, and he sat up. "You'll investigate? I know it's an insignificant matter, one you'd hardly touch yourself if it weren't for the king. Could you?"

"If you like."

"Excellent." Maya waved his aide away and beamed at Meren. "My thanks, Falcon."

As Maya chattered on, Meren nodded and smiled while he thought furiously. He'd recognized that name. Unas. Unas was the name of the informer paid by his aide, Abu. Only a few weeks ago he'd seen him in the temple of Amun when investigating the murder in the place of Anubis. His informer among the priests of Amun was dead. Now he remembered. Yesterday he'd seen the little man with the pointed skull staring at him from the base of the statue, and now he'd fallen off it.

Meren didn't like the conjunction of events. He didn't believe in accidents, not ones that happened to his informers. And yet it could be a simple accident. He'd been too long among courtiers who would murder their own husbands and wives to gain power. After all, Unas was one of thousands of pure ones in the service of Amun. Still, he had to be sure the death was an accident. Which was why he'd maneuvered to take charge of the investigation, an easy task, considering how much Maya disliked upsetting the king.

Maya was almost as protective as Ay. Tanefer was right when he accused them of holding the king back, of nursing him like a sick calf. One had to be careful and suspicious if one wanted the king to live to reach manhood. Pharaoh lived with too many enemies-even his own wife. No, it was better to be suspicious than foolishly trusting. He would inform the king of the priest's death, but he wouldn't be able to investigate himself. His presence might arouse the hostility of the high priest. He'd send Kysen.

Having decided his course of action, Meren closed his eyes and listened to Maya's analysis of the risks to the king in warfare. He was nodding his agreement for the third time when a familiar voice spoke from somewhere above his head.

"Wake up, cousin."

Meren's eyes flew open, and he stared into the face of Ebana, so like his own except for the scar that arced across it. His cousin stood over him, an elegant and regal figure in gold, lapis lazuli, and transparent robes. Wide of shoulder, as fit as any charioteer, and as deadly, Ebana raked him with a black, black gaze.

Meren clamped his hands on the arms of his chair, every sense awake, his body thrumming with the beat of alarm. Ebana, who hated him, who served the powerful high priest of Amun.

Ebana gave Meren a cobra's smile. "Prepare yourself, cousin. Your spy in the temple is dead."

Meren shook his head, leaned back, and loosened his grip on the arms of his chair as he smiled. "Ah, cousin, we've just heard of this accident at the temple. My spy?" He gave Maya a glance that held both amusement and resignation. "Why is it that everyone at court believes that I have spies in their households and in every temple in the kingdom?"

"Because you do," Maya said calmly.

Meren would have liked to cuff the treasurer on the ear, but Ebana interrupted.

"I saw your man speaking to him only a few weeks ago. It's not like you to expose your minions so carelessly, but I had him watched after that." His eyes glittered and fixed on Meren's face. "And now he's fallen to his death from the top of the king's statue. No doubt the good god avenged himself upon his traitorous servant."