Karoya may have been awed by such lofty company as
Amonked, his sovereign’s cousin, but he was not so im pressed that he could not speak up. “I’d wager he was slain exactly like them. Come upon from behind, his head jerked back, and his throat slashed.”
“I see.” Amonked turned away from them, placed his hands on the parapet surrounding the platform, and stared westward toward the broad canal that connected the lake to the river. Bak doubted he noticed the traveling ship pulling away from the quay or heard the beat of the drummer who kept the rowers’ movements in harmony.
Swinging around, Amonked raised his hand to shade his eyes from the bright early morning sun and gave the pair a speculative look. “The two of you have come to me with a purpose. Tell me.”
“As the three murders appear to be related… No! As we’re convinced they are, we feel they should be treated as one.” Without thinking, Bak slapped a mosquito on his arm.
“Many people have come from afar to participate in the fes tival, making merry and giving no thought to right behavior.
The harbor and market are much more difficult to control than usual, leaving Lieutenant Karoya with insufficient time to seek a slayer.”
“And since you’re involved with the other deaths, you wish also to look into Maruwa’s murder.”
“To combine all three would make sense, sir.”
Loud laughter rang out from among the trees and brush abutting the slightly raised path that surrounded the lake and lined both sides of the canal. A scantily clad man ap peared, splashing through water left behind by the receding flood. Though he was some distance away, they could see he carried a harpoon, and a long string of fish dangled from his shoulder. Another man, cursing soundly, sidled through the morass, thrusting his harpoon time and time again. Wa ter splashed, a fish trying to save itself in the too shallow backwater.
“Should not Mai, the harbormaster, have some say in the matter?” Amonked asked.
“We spoke with him earlier.” Karoya ignored a rivulet of sweat working its way down his breastbone. “He feels as we do.”
Amonked stared at the pair of them, thinking, then gave a quick nod of his head. “All right. You’ve convinced me. The three crimes we’ll now count as one, and Bak will investi gate them all.” He looked pointedly at Karoya. “I trust you’ll be available to aid him, should he need your help?”
“Yes, sir.
“Do you have anything else to report, Lieutenant?”
Amonked asked Bak.
Bak told him of his conversation with the stablemaster, concluding with Maruwa’s account that had led to the recall of an envoy. “Are you familiar with the incident, sir? If not, would you look into the matter for me? Commander Min nakht didn’t know the name of the envoy and he was never told what happened to the one who involved himself in Hit tite politics. I believe the knowledge would be most helpful.”
A long silence, a certain sign that this was not the first time Amonked had heard the tale. “In what way can that af fair possibly be connected to the three murders?”
From the unhappy scowl on Amonked’s face, Bak guessed the story had been sealed away in a jar and forgot ten. Now here it was, thanks to him, rearing its ugly head anew. “It may not be, but how can I eliminate it if I don’t know the facts?”
Amonked clasped his hands behind him and paced back and forth. “What to do?” he muttered to himself.
“You surely know you can trust me, sir,” Bak said.
“I can leave, if you wish,” Karoya offered.
“No, no. It’s just that…” Amonked stopped in front of the two of them and eyed Bak. “You know the parties involved,
Lieutenant. Thus you place me in an awkward position.”
Bak was mystified. “I do?”
A triumphant yell rang out from the edge of the canal, and the fisherman raised his harpoon from the backwater.
Caught on the barbs was a small, limp fish, its silvery scales glistening in the sunlight. A gray and black projectile plum meted out of a nearby tree, a cry of alarm burst from the sec ond man, and a crow grabbed the fish and streaked away.
The trio on the platform failed to notice.
“Maatkare Hatshepsut appointed Pentu as envoy to the
Hittite court at Hattusa,” Amonked said. “He served her well for close on two years-or so she believed.”
Bak rapidly overcame his surprise. He recalled the sever al times he had met the governor, each time with the chief treasurer, and the many lofty guests who had been at his home. No wonder the incident in Hattusa had been kept quiet. To Karoya, he said, “Pentu is governor of the province of Tjeny.”
The young officer’s soft laugh held not a shred of humor.
“When word reached my cousin,” Amonked said, his tone ponderous, “she was inclined to ignore it, thinking Pentu a man of too much integrity to involve himself in the politics of another land. Her advisers, however-and I among them-convinced her he must be recalled. No one believed him to be the guilty party, but someone close to him was. He was compromised, so much so that he could no longer serve her needs.”
“Thus he was brought back to Kemet and someone else was sent to Hattusa in his place.” Bak rubbed the spot on his arm where the mosquito had been, rousing the itch. “Was the traitor ever identified?”
“As the activity stopped upon Pentu’s recall, the investi gation was dropped.”
“Perhaps it shouldn’t have been.” Bak flung a wry smile at
Karoya. “Pentu and the members of his household arrived in
Waset a few hours before Maruwa was slain. They’re still here and will remain throughout the festival.”
Amonked’s mouth tightened. “Pentu may be overly trust 134
Lauren Haney ing, but he’d not involve himself in the politics of another land. Nor would he kill, not even to silence a man capable of spreading a tale that would besmirch his character.”
“My hands are tied, sir, because men who might help me are fully occupied with the Opet rituals. Must I also be blinded because I dare not approach a man as lofty as
Pentu?” Bak knew he should have exercised more tact, but he thought Amonked a good enough friend to overlook the impertinence.
Amonked glared at the sentry kneeling in front of the main gate to the sacred precinct, scratching the belly of a black puppy. “I’ll speak with the vizier.” Forgiving Bak with a humorless smile, he grumbled, “He may wish you to reex amine the incident.”
So saying, he strode across the platform and up the path toward Ipet-isut. Bak, praying he had not leaped into waters too deep and swift to navigate, followed with Karoya. The young Medjay officer looked vastly relieved that he was not the man who might have to tread on such noble and lofty toes as those of a provincial governor.
“Is the ship on which Maruwa was slain still moored at the harbor?” Bak asked.
“It is, but not for long. Captain Antef came to me yester day, saying he wishes to set sail tomorrow. I saw no reason to hold him.”
“Tomorrow? Midway through the Beautiful Feast of
Opet?”
“Since unloading the horses, he’s taken on a new cargo.
He has a long voyage ahead of him, all the way to Ugarit, and carries objects that must be transported overland before winter falls.”
“What difference would five or six days make when the length of the voyage can vary greatly, depending upon the weather?” Bak raised his baton of office, saluting the sentry, who had shot to his feet the instant he noticed their approach. The puppy sat on its haunches, looking up at the man, crying. Bak followed his companions through the gate that opened into the limestone court in front of Ipet-isut.
“Sir,” he said to Amonked, “will you send an official order to the harbormaster? I wish Captain Antef’s ship to be de tained, its cargo guarded so nothing can be moved.”