Antef clapped the young officer on the shoulder. "Your talents are wasted, Lieutenant, on this thankless task you have."
Khawet came through the door near the dais. Smiling, she walked toward the two men. Bak, preferring not to be thought an eavesdropper, strode in among the columns, heading their way.
She spotted him. Her eyes widened and she gasped. "Lieutenant Bak!"
The two officers swung around, stared.
"By the lord Khnum!" Antef exclaimed. "What happened to you?"
Bak considered passing off his injuries as the result of an accident, but decided the time had come to be candid. "I was standing at the top of the water gauge when I was struck in the back by a hard-flung stone. Fortunately, the lord Amon smiled on me, and I managed not to fall down the stairway."
Amonhotep muttered an oath. "Who would do such a thing?"
"The slayer." Antef's eyes narrowed. "Are you so close on his heels?"
Khawet's eyes were wide, horrified. "You didn't see anyone?"
"I assume the slayer struck, yes." Bak's eyes darted from Antef to Khawet. "And I saw no one."
"So you're to be the next to die while Djehuty lives on." Though seeming to joke, Antef looked none too happy at the prospect.
"Would the man you seek disrupt the pattern you found in the other slayings?" Looking chagrined at himself, Amonhotep answered his own question. "Of course he would, if threatened."
Antef gave Bak a cynical smile. "I'd better lend you a few spearmen as personal guards. Think of the impression you'll make. Lieutenant Bak and his retinue, marching through the streets of Abu and Swenet." The door near the dais opened, drawing the officer's eyes to Ineni, who stood on the threshold. For the newcomer's benefit, Antef added, "A dozen or more men marching down the halls of this villa and across the fields of Djehuty's estate in Nubt."
Ineni's eyes flashed anger, but instead of taking the bait, he backed up and let the door close between them. Bak hurried around the dais and followed him through the door. Ineni was some distance ahead, his hands balled into fists, walking rapidly toward the rear of the house.
Bak caught up with him outside, at the gate leading to the kitchen area. "Ineni, we must talk."
The farmer swung around, prepared to lash out in anger, but the bandages subdued him. "What happened to you?" His tone was grudging, like that of a man obliged to be civil.
Bak told him, then blurted, "Are your horses safe and well?"
The question was unexpected-to Bak as well as Ineni. Their eyes met in mutual understanding. They exchanged a conspiratorial smile.
"They are." Ineni glanced toward the house. The windows of the upper story were too high for a man inside to look through, but he grimaced, as if he thought Djehuty was watching. "Let's leave this place. Nebmose's villa should offer privacy."
Bak closed the gate behind them and they walked side-by-side across the barren sand in front of the kitchen. "When I saw you'd returned from Nubt, I thought maybe you and your father had reconciled your differences."
Ineni's voice grew caustic. "I went up to his rooms, but he wouldn't let me near him."
"He's banned everyone: the servants and guards, his staff, all except Amonhotep and Khawet. I saw him yesterday, but would he allow me close today?" Bak shrugged, instantly regretting the sudden movement. "Who knows?"
"He's never behaved well in a crisis, but this time…" Ineni snorted. "I ofttimes think we'd all have been better off if you'd never come to Abu, if you'd never pointed out that wretched pattern in the earlier slayings and the obvious goal at the end."
"The slayer's intent was to frighten him before striking in earnest. If I hadn't noticed the pattern, he'd have found another way to make your father see it." Not an easy task, Bak thought, considering Djehuty's proficiency in closing his heart to any truth he would rather not see.
They passed through the gateway to Nebmose's villa and sat on a mudbrick bench shaded by the stable. A flock of pigeons had settled on the sunny roof. The throaty cooing of mating birds softened the silence of the empty building.
Bak leaned back against the wall and stretched out his legs. "I've heard Djehuty plans to disinherit you-or has he already?"
"He'll let no one near him. Remember?" Ineni's smile dripped irony. "Before they were banned from his rooms, Amethu and Simut repeatedly told him he dared not drive me from the — state in Nubt, for it needs my guiding hand. Amonhotep has denied all knowledge of procedures he knows as well or better than anyone in the province. As for Khawet… Well, she's too busy playing mistress of the villa to concern herself with mundane matters like her husband's loss of his life's work."
"The daybooks." Simut pointed to several rows of shelves on which lay dozens of storage jars, most of them plugged and sealed. "You've been here before and know your way around, so I'll leave you to seek out what you want. I must finish that wretched inventory. My scribes are needed elsewhere."
Bak felt honored. Never before had a chief scribe trusted him to go through his precious records alone and unwatched. "I'll return each document to its proper place, never fear."
"I suggest you do," Simut said, hurrying from the room. Bak did not know whether to take the words as a threat or a jest. Best assume both, he thought, lifting the lamp off the tripod. Holding the light close, he moved along, the ranks of jars, reading labels inked on their shoulders. He soon found the container he wanted, labeled year five of the reign of Maatkare Hatshepsut, harvest season. Returning the lamp to the tripod; he broke the plug on the jar, found the daybook whose entries should include the deadly storm and, holding it near the light, began to unroll the scroll and read.
The storm had arisen in the desert, missing Abu and Swenet altogether, so no mention was made until the survivors began straggling in, first Troop Captain Djehuty and Sergeant Min and then the rest, one or two at a time. No mention was made of Sergeant Min leaving Abu. Not surprising. A soldier's departure for a new post would be entered in the garrison daybooks, not necessarily this one.
He read on, day after day, paying particular attention to the governor's audiences. The entries were clean and neat, with no one porting a finger at Djehuty or anyone else for the loss of so many men. The governor was, of course, Djehuty's father.
Slightly more than a month after the storm, the old man's death was noted and Djehuty himself sat on the dais. A week or so later, a brief note referred to the death at some earlier date of a nobleman named Nebmose. No kin had laid claim to his property, so Djehuty had confiscated for the royal house the adjoining villa and a good-sized plot of farmland at the north end of the island of Abu. Property of considerable value, Bak realized. Another, later entry mentioned Ineni's adoption contract and the marriage contract between him and Khawet.
Replacing the document in the proper container, he carried the lamp to another shelf and more recent daybooks. The jars here had not yet been sealed, making the scrolls more accessible. "Year ten of the reign of Maatkare Hatshepsut," he murmured, glancing at the dates, seeking first the daybook in which the murder of the child Nakht would be noted. "Here it is: fourth month of the inundation season."
He found mention of the boy's death, which was dismissed as an accident. So was Montu's death the following week. Senmut was slain plain and simple, and so it had been noted, the blame laid at the feet of a wandering band of desert tribesmen out to steal what they could find. Four days later, a tax inspector and several scribes had arrived from the capital. Djehuty had greeted them with appropriate ceremony and had entertained them in his home that evening. Early the following morning, the chief scribe Simut had accompanied the inspector north. Their mission was to estimate the size of the coming year's crop based on the amount of land that could be placed under cultivation after the floodwaters receded.