"Troop Captain Antef," he said. "May I have a word?" "Lieutenant Bak," Antef said, aping the police officer's tone. "A word, — yes. I've no time for a lengthy discourse." Bak looked pointedly at the men on the outcrop, all going about their business under the expert direction of a half dozen chief quarrymen, and the men standing nearby, idling around what looked like a greater than lifesize, unfinished statue of the lord Osiris or, more likely, Maatkare Hatshepsut as one with Osiris. Details of face and figure had not yet been carved and it lacked the final polish, both of which would be done when it reached its final destination in faroff Waset.
Antef's mouth twitched, as if he realized how pompous he had sounded, but he maintained his cool and serious demeanor. "Djehuty has promised this accursed statue will sail today. I'm here to see that it does."
"One of your men suffered an accident, I was told. I assume it wasn't as serious as I was led to believe."
Antef glowered at the' statue. "This wretched image rolled onto him. Thanks to the lord Khnum, the sand beneath him was soft and he suffered only a blow to his pride and a bruise big enough to earn him softer duty in Abu for a few days."
Relieved the man was unhurt, Bak said, "My questions may distract you now and again, but they'll not keep you from your duty."
Again Antef's mouth hinted at a smile. Bak had a feeling he would enjoy this man's company under different circumstances.
"Ask what you like." Antef's eyes darted toward two men hurrying up the slope, carrying wooden shovels on their shoulders. "If I find you in the way, you'll leave, like it or not."
"As the man responsible for this garrison, would it not be to your advantage to see the scales of justice balanced as soon as possible?"
Without a word, Antef strode away. He slipped through the line of men encircling the statue and walked around the rough-cut head to meet the pair who had brought the shovels. Bak followed at a distance, staying outside the ring of men. A sledge, two low runners connected by sturdy crosspieces, lay on the far side of the statue. The fresh-worked granite had taken on the pinkish-red hue especially desired by the royal house of Kemet. Clear crystals embedded among the colored granite glittered in the sunlight.
"You know what you must do. You've done it often enough." Antef looked around the circle. "Move that thing out of the way…" He pointed at the sledge. "… and dig a long, shallow trench alongside the statue. Bury the sledge up to the crosspieces, and we'll drag the image onto it." He strode through the circle and drew Bak away, where they could speak without being heard. "Yes, Lieutenant, I am responsible for this garrison. 1, not you, should've been entrusted with finding the slayer."
"I've no doubt you're a worthy officer," Bak said, trying to balance tact and honesty, "but you've had no experience looking into the hearts of men who turn away from the lady Maat, taking what they will, including other men's lives."
Antef eyed him with scorn. "I've served in the army since I was a youth of fifteen years. I've spent my nights in the barracks and my days on the, practice field. If ever we should march off to war, I'd dwell in a tent on the field of battle. I know men, Lieutenant."
"Ordinary, god-fearing men have little in common with the vile criminals I've tracked and snared."
Antef's mouth tightened. "Men are men, I tell you." Bak could see that no amount of persuasion would convince him otherwise. "Did you give any thought to the ten-day intervals between deaths?" he demanded. "Or the progressively higher rank of those who were slain?" "No," Antef growled. "Too many of the deaths appeared accidental to add up details."
"Did it ever occur to you that two of those who died were survivors of the sandstorm that decimated the garrison five years ago, and two others were the sons of survivors?"
"I knew Montu and Senmut lived through the storm." Antef's expression grew thoughtful. "And Nakht's father… Well, yes, I knew he did, too." His eyes darted toward Bak. "Dedi's father as well?"
"He was a 13eutenant here in Abu." Bak went on to relate what he had learned from Simut's records.
"Troop Captain Antef!" the sergeant called.
Antef shook his head as if to clear it of all he had just learned and strode toward the men gathered around the statue. Bak stayed well back, out of the way of those who would shift the heavy stone figure.
A couple of men got down on hands and knees to clear sand from beneath the statue. They bared five wooden blocks that had been placed under the image as it was freed from the parent stone, leaving a gap through which they slipped four heavy ropes. These were tied around the statue and laid parallel to each other across the sledge and the sand.
The sergeant barked an order. The circle broke up and the men formed lines along the ropes, ten to each team, facing away from the statue. After checking to make sure no line would snarl, the sergeant called out another order.
The men pressed forward, muscles bulging, sweat pouring from bodies and faces. The ropes grew taut, the statue moved slowly across the blocks toward the sledge. A man slipped and fell, tripping those around him. Three ropes grew slack, while the fourth remained taut. The image began to twist on its axis. Antef snapped out an order to release the last line. The men let go as if their fingers burned. The rope, no longer under tension, writhed in the sand, sending men scuttling out of its path. The statue lay still, flat on its back on four of the five blocks of wood.
Antef gave Bak a quick smile of relief, muttered a hasty prayer of thanks to the lord Khnum that no damage had been done, and gave the men time to rest. A few dropped where they stood; the remainder trudged across the sand, heading toward a group of donkeys laden with goatskin water bags.
The troop captain leaned back against an irregular wall of granite, bruised by the dolorite mallets used to widen the space between it and the block of stone that had become the statue. "I've heard tales of men who lived through sandstorms or were lost in the desert for days an end without food or water. Journeys through the belly of Apep, they were, marking them for life. Why would anyone wish to slay men who suffered so much?" Apep was a serpent demon of the netherworld, representing the forces of chaos and evil.
"Why would anyone slay their sons, youths who had nothing to do with the storm or its outcome?" Bak asked, sitting down on the statue's legs.
Antef stared at his clasped hands, unable to find an answer. Then he looked up with narrowing eyes. "You've said nothing of Hatnofer, I notice."
"As yet, I've found no tie binding her to any who survived."
"Not surprising. She could be warm enough when she wanted, friendly even, but she held all who knew her at a distance." Antef gave Bak a wry smile. "If I were you, I'd not cling too tight to that theory of yours. She may well prove its undoing-and yours."
The thought rankled and so did Antef's smirk. "I know you were a stranger to Abu until you replaced Djehuty as commander of this garrison. I also know," Bak added, stretching the truth, "that you lost someone close in that storm."
Antef gave him a long, measuring look. "I wasn't aware that information so personal could be found in garrison or provincial records."
"I've the basic facts, but I need the details." Bak was not about to betray Khawet to this man he felt sure loved her. "Ah, yes. I begin to understand. You've gone a step beyond identifying the victims as men who survived the storm. Now you're out to lay blame on men close to those who died."
"I'm seeking the truth."
Antef gave a sardonic laugh and stood up. "You'll find many forms of truth here in Abu, Lieutenant."
"So I've noticed." Bak rose to face him. "Would you prefer I hear of your loss from someone else? Or from you?" Antef stared expressionless at the younger officer, betraying no hint of his thoughts, letting the silence grow between them. The muf led thud of mallets carried through the air, background to a chattering flock of swallows raiding an anthill built in the crack of a weathered boulder. A few of the troops had begun to straggle back, but most looked in no hurry to return to their task.