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Authors: Lauren Haney
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binds them. Something more than the mere fact that they all earned their bread in the governor's villa."
"Where shall we begin, sir?" Kasaya asked.
Psuro scowled at his younger companion. "You can start by laying out our sleeping pallets and unpacking the rest of our gear. Unless we hear tonight of another death, l, for one, mean to eat my fill and sleep like a babe held close to its mother's breast."
Bak drew Kasaya into the front part of the house, a single room with an open stairway to the roof, where a spindly wooden frame was all that remained of a lean-to. Two stools, a small table, and a reed chest, all provided by Amethu, stood near a door that opened onto the lane. Scattered around were the baskets and bundles they had brought from Buhen and jars of grain and other foodstuffs the Medjays had drawn from the garrison stores at Abu. Spears, shields, bows and arrows, and smaller hand weapons had been stacked against the wall. One side of the room held a mudbrick sleeping platform on which lay bedding the steward had provided. A wall niche, empty of the image of the household god it once had held, broke the starkness of the opposite wall.
Bak lifted one of four large, heavy water jars, carried it out to the kitchen, and leaned . it against the wall beside a round oven, long unused from the look of it. Going back inside, he said, "Tomorrow, Kasaya, you must go to the governor's villa, familiarize yourself with the grounds and buildings, and make yourself useful to the servants. The sooner they accept you as one of them, the sooner they'll feel free to speak with an open and frank tongue."
"Yes, sir." Kasaya pulled the sleeping pallet off his shoulder, shook it out, and laid it on the floor. "Would it suit your purpose, sir, if I took special pains to befriend the guards? We may need men we can trust."
"Good idea." Bak clapped him on the shoulder and crossed the room for another jar, which he carried outside to stand with its mate.
"What am I to do, sir?" Psuro asked, looking up from ,fis cooking.
"I know of no better measure of the man than the way his people think of him. Walk first around Abu, getting to know the city and befriending its residents, both military and civilian. When you feel you've gleaned all you can-by the end of the day tomorrow, I hope-take the skiff Amethu loaned us and sail across the channel to Swenet. There, too, you must learn the streets and lanes and get to know the people."
Psuro gave him a dubious look. "This city is small, I know, and Swenet smaller yet, but to befriend everyone would take months. Can you not narrow the task to the possible?"
"Do what you can, Psuro, that's all I ask. If Hatnofer was meant to die today, as I think she was, we've only a week before the slayer strikes again."
"Yes, sir."
Bak resisted the urge to smile at the Medjay's gloomy countenance. "As you go about your task, you must seek out a man named Pahared. He once was a merchant in Wawat, one who traveled from village to village, trading the small objects needed by men and women who have close to nothing. I met him once in Nofery's house of pleasure. He'd just wed a woman of Kush and was giving up the life of a wanderer to return to Kemet. I last heard they'd settled here, but whether in Abu or Swenet, I don't know."
"He's a man we can trust?" Psuro asked, a flicker of hope shining through the gloom.
"We talked and drank long into the night. He seemed a man of good sense and honor."
Looking none too pleased with so vague an answer, the Medjay nodded. "If he's here, I'll find him."
Bak walked inside for the third jar of water.
Kasaya, immobilized by thought, knelt beside a second sleeping pallet he had just spread out on the floor, a folded sheet in his hand. "I know we're not far from the governor's villa, sir, but do you think it wise to spend the night here?
What if someone else is slain? From what you say of Djehuty, he'll be the first to lay blame-if he's not the one to die."
Bak gave the
"Where shall we begin, sir?" Kasaya asked.
Psuro scowled at his younger companion. "You can start by laying out our sleeping pallets and unpacking the rest of our gear. Unless we hear tonight of another death, l, for one, mean to eat my fill and sleep like a babe held close to its mother's breast."
Bak drew Kasaya into the front part of the house, a single room with an open stairway to the roof, where a spindly wooden frame was all that remained of a lean-to. Two stools, a small table, and a reed chest, all provided by Amethu, stood near a door that opened onto the lane. Scattered around were the baskets and bundles they had brought from Buhen and jars of grain and other foodstuffs the Medjays had drawn from the garrison stores at Abu. Spears, shields, bows and arrows, and smaller hand weapons had been stacked against the wall. One side of the room held a mudbrick sleeping platform on which lay bedding the steward had provided. A wall niche, empty of the image of the household god it once had held, broke the starkness of the opposite wall.
Bak lifted one of four large, heavy water jars, carried it out to the kitchen, and leaned . it against the wall beside a round oven, long unused from the look of it. Going back inside, he said, "Tomorrow, Kasaya, you must go to the governor's villa, familiarize yourself with the grounds and buildings, and make yourself useful to the servants. The sooner they accept you as one of them, the sooner they'll feel free to speak with an open and frank tongue."
"Yes, sir." Kasaya pulled the sleeping pallet off his shoulder, shook it out, and laid it on the floor. "Would it suit your purpose, sir, if I took special pains to befriend the guards? We may need men we can trust."
"Good idea." Bak clapped him on the shoulder and crossed the room for another jar, which he carried outside to stand with its mate.
"What am I to do, sir?" Psuro asked, looking up from ,fis cooking.
"I know of no better measure of the man than the way his people think of him. Walk first around Abu, getting to know the city and befriending its residents, both military and civilian. When you feel you've gleaned all you can-by the end of the day tomorrow, I hope-take the skiff Amethu loaned us and sail across the channel to Swenet. There, too, you must learn the streets and lanes and get to know the people."
Psuro gave him a dubious look. "This city is small, I know, and Swenet smaller yet, but to befriend everyone would take months. Can you not narrow the task to the possible?"
"Do what you can, Psuro, that's all I ask. If Hatnofer was meant to die today, as I think she was, we've only a week before the slayer strikes again."
"Yes, sir."
Bak resisted the urge to smile at the Medjay's gloomy countenance. "As you go about your task, you must seek out a man named Pahared. He once was a merchant in Wawat, one who traveled from village to village, trading the small objects needed by men and women who have close to nothing. I met him once in Nofery's house of pleasure. He'd just wed a woman of Kush and was giving up the life of a wanderer to return to Kemet. I last heard they'd settled here, but whether in Abu or Swenet, I don't know."
"He's a man we can trust?" Psuro asked, a flicker of hope shining through the gloom.
"We talked and drank long into the night. He seemed a man of good sense and honor."
Looking none too pleased with so vague an answer, the Medjay nodded. "If he's here, I'll find him."
Bak walked inside for the third jar of water.
Kasaya, immobilized by thought, knelt beside a second sleeping pallet he had just spread out on the floor, a folded sheet in his hand. "I know we're not far from the governor's villa, sir, but do you think it wise to spend the night here?
What if someone else is slain? From what you say of Djehuty, he'll be the first to lay blame-if he's not the one to die."
Bak gave the
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