Bak smothered a smile. He had asked for that. “How close was he to the end of his task?”
“As far as I know, he’d almost finished.” User looked out into the courtyard, where four royal guards idled in the shade of a sycamore tree. Their officer had gone inside the building with two treasury guards and a priest. “Most of the overseers had come to whisper in my ear, ofttimes to complain that he exceeded his authority. I quickly set them straight, repeating
Hapuseneb’s order that we give him every assistance.”
“You never looked into what he was doing?”
“Why should I? He had his task and I have mine.”
“Were you not worried that he might find irregularities in the records?”
“Irregularities, Lieutenant? Someone counted wrong or transposed a number? Someone omitted a line when trans ferring amounts from a shard to the final scroll?” User snorted. “Everyone makes a mistake at one time or another.”
The Overseer of Overseers, equal in rank to Amonked but with not a shred of the common sense, was too self-satisfied for his own good. Bak was beginning to understand why
Amonked took such a strong interest in the large warehouses of the lord Amon outside the walls of the sacred precinct, those that housed the real wealth of the god: grain, hides, copper ingots. His title of Storekeeper of Amon had un doubtedly been intended as a sinecure, yet he toiled daily at the task, as would any conscientious man. If he, like User, had been responsible for the day-to-day operations of the storehouses, Bak had no doubt he would have known ex actly what the auditor did.
“Could Woserhet have uncovered a theft?”
“Who would steal from the greatest of the gods?” User scoffed. “Such an offense is unthinkable. No man would be so bold.”
“Given sufficient temptation…”
“Yes, yes, I know.” User waved off Bak’s objection. “But not here. Not in the sacred precinct of Ipet-isut.”
The man was insufferable. Offering a silent prayer to the lord Amon to give him patience, Bak glanced at the royal guards, who had begun to play with three fuzzy kittens whose mother watched from a safe distance. “Did Woserhet audit the treasury?”
“He began here. I assured him that I take personal respon sibility for the god’s most valuable possessions and can list from memory all the items stored here.” User scowled.
“Nonetheless, he insisted.”
Bak had never been inside this particular treasury, but its size alone told him no man could remember each and every object it contained. “How long ago was that?”
“A month, no more. The very day Hapuseneb told me to open all doors to him and his men.”
Too long ago, Bak suspected, to have anything to do with
Woserhet’s most recent worry. Unless fresh evidence had been found leading back to the treasury. “This building must contain more items of significant value than all the other storehouses added together. Would it not be logical for a thief to look here for the most worthy prize?”
“How many times must I repeat myself, Lieutenant?”
User pursed his lips in irritation. “I take considerable pride in the fact that the treasury falls within my realm of respon sibility, and I daily walk through its rooms. I frankly admit to being obsessed with beautiful objects, and where else can one find so many in so confined a location?”
“I understand the storage magazines in the block where
Woserhet died also contain objects of value.”
User laughed, disdainful. “Nothing worthy of offending the lord Amon, believe me.”
“Aromatic oils, ritual instruments made of precious met als, fine linen, and…” Bak broke off abruptly. The Over seer of Overseers was not listening.
User was staring hard at the royal guards, frowning. When he spoke, it was more to himself than to Bak. “That officer has been inside a long time.” He rose from his chair and took up his baton of office, which had been leaning against a col umn. “I must see what the matter is.”
Bak stepped in front of him, halting him. “I must ask questions within the sacred precinct, sir, and many of the men with whom I speak will be overseers of the storehouses for which you are responsible.”
“Question anyone you like. Ask what you will.” User stepped sideways and raised his baton, barring Bak from his path. “You’ll find everything in order. You’ll see.”
Bak stopped with Amonked just inside the door and stud ied the bejeweled, bewigged men and women circulating around Governor Pentu’s spacious reception hall. The odors of beer and wine, roast duck and beef, onions and herbs com peted with the aromas of sweet-smelling perfume and luxuri ous bouquets of flowers. Voices rose and fell; laughter rang out. The late afternoon breeze flowing in through high win dows failed to compete with the heat of bodies and human energy. A rivulet of sweat trickled down Bak’s breastbone, and he thanked the lord Amon that he had had the good sense to wear no wig. Amonked had groused all the way to Pentu’s dwelling about the need to wear the finery of a nobleman.
He leaned close to Bak, muttered, “We’ll stay an hour, no more.”
Bak, who saw not a single face he recognized, feared that hour might seem an eternity.
Pentu’s aide Netermose hastened to meet them. He ush ered them through the crowd to the slightly raised dais the governor shared with his spouse and Chief Treasurer Dje huty, and slipped away. Bak and Amonked bowed low to the trio, who were seated on chairs surrounded by bowls of fra grant white lilies floating on water. They murmured the cus tomary greetings and were welcomed in turn. After Pentu extended to them all the good things his household had to offer, they moved aside, allowing other newly arrived guests to take their place.
A female servant gave them stemmed bowls filled with a flower-scented, deep red wine and asked if they wished any thing else, relating a long list of food, drink, flowers, and perfumes. From what they could see on the heavily laden flat dishes carried through the hall by servants and on the low ta bles scattered along the walls, occupied mostly by women who chose to sit and gossip while they ate, her description could in no way prepare them for the sumptuous reality. Bak helped himself to the honeyed dates while Amonked sam pled a variety of spiced meats.
“Good afternoon, sir.” The priest Sitepehu bowed his head to Amonked and smiled at Bak. “Lieutenant.”
“Pentu has truly outdone himself,” Amonked said.
“We owe much of this bounty to Pahure, his steward. He traveled to Waset a few days ahead of us to prepare the dwelling for our arrival and to see that we had plentiful fresh food, drink and flowers.”
“Not an easy task at this time of year, with most of the fields flooded, the best cropland under water.”
Sitepehu chuckled. “Pahure is not a man to let a slight dif ficulty get in his way.”
“Do you not share some of the acclaim?” Amonked asked, smiling. “Did you not pray to the lord Inheret that he’d be successful?”
The chuckle turned into a wholehearted laugh, drawing the attention of the people around them. “Frankly, sir, I saw no need. If Pahure stumbles, it’ll not be over something as small as preparing for guests.” The priest glanced beyond them, smiled. “Ah, Netermose. Meret.”
The young woman welcomed the two of them to the gov ernor’s dwelling. Amonked hurried through the appropriate compliments, then immediately spotted an elderly priest he said Sitepehu should meet. He and Netermose rushed the priest off through the crowd.
Turning to Bak, flushing slightly, Meret smiled. “Your friend isn’t very subtle, is he, Lieutenant?”
He laughed. “Amonked seems to think I need a wife.”
“Do you?”
The question was so arch that for the briefest of moments he was struck dumb. “I’ve always thought myself capable of seeking out the woman with whom I wish to spend the rest of my life.”
“Seeking out? Are you trying to tell me you need no matchmaker? Or that you know of someone you plan some day to approach?”
Her thoughts were difficult to read, but he suspected the latter question was prompted by mixed emotions, a touch of concern that he might not be available mixed with relief that he might be committed.