Thanuny peered at the shard in Hori’s hand. “Captain An tef’s ship is still in Waset?”
“It is,” Bak said, “and the harbor patrol is guarding it so nothing can be removed.”
“You’ve not arrested him, confiscated his vessel and cargo, questioned him?”
“I wanted more information, and now I’m glad I waited.
I’ve begun to think Zuwapi is in Waset. He has to be worried, but I don’t want to frighten him, forcing him to flee the city.”
Thanuny agreed the decision was wise, then said to Hori,
“I suggest we begin our task, young man.” Noting the reluc tance on the youth’s face, he smiled. “We need go back two years at most, I think. After we finish, we’ll go calling.”
Bak smiled at the scribe’s mystified look. “More provin cial governors come to Waset for the Beautiful Feast of Opet than at any other time of the year. If the lord Amon chooses to smile upon us, they’ll remember most of the items they’ve sent as offerings to Ipet-isut, especially those of value. The thefts might well occur during the voyage to Waset or at the harbor when they reach this city.”
Confident Hori and the auditor would find anything that could be found, Bak left the archives to return to Pentu’s house. The governor would not be happy to see him, but so be it. He was approaching the outer court in front of Ipet resyt, tempted by the milling crowd, the mingled aromas of a dozen different types of food, the laughter and chatter of merrymaking, when he saw Amonked walking out of the lane leading to Pentu’s house.
The Storekeeper of Amon spotted him, signaled that he should remain where he was, and hurried toward him. “Bak!
I was on my way to search you out.”
Bak saw no urgency on Amonked’s face, just the set look of a man none too happy. “You’ve news, sir?”
Shaking his head, Amonked drew him into the scattering of people around the nearest booths, where they would not easily be seen from afar. “Merely a word of warning.”
Bak glanced toward the top of Pentu’s dwelling, visible over the nearer roofs. He could see no one standing among the potted trees, but that did not mean no one was watching.
“Am I to be barred from the governor’s house?”
“I squelched that idea, but he’s very upset with you.”
“Because I talked with mistress Taharet, I’ll wager. He wouldn’t have liked that.”
“He thinks the woman a goddess, unapproachable.”
Amonked scowled, his disapproval plain. “I made it clear that you were to do what you must and if that meant talking to the women of his household, he had no recourse but to agree.”
Bak’s frown matched Amonked’s. “She told me mistress
Meret was ill and could see no one. I’d not be surprised to learn that today she’s come down with the same malady as her sister.”
“No one in my household fomented trouble in Hatti.”
Pentu’s chin jutted out, his face flamed. He looked like a man ready to burst. “Instead of trying to lay blame where no blame can be laid, I demand you prove I was withdrawn for no good reason.”
“Sir, our sovereign recalled you with great reluctance, and only because her advisers heard all the evidence and agreed the charge was true.”
Pentu, seated in his armchair on the dais in his reception hall, the fat black dog sleeping at his feet, glared at his tor mentor. “I’m a man of Kemet, Lieutenant. I’d do nothing, absolutely nothing, that would bring about the least problem for my sovereign or her people.”
“No one accused you, sir, but certainly someone in your household posed a threat to the king of Hatti.”
“I refuse to believe it!” The dog leaped up, startled by the harshness in its master’s voice.
Pentu was so angry Bak feared for him. “Sir, if you let me, if you place no obstructions in my path, I may within the next few days lay hands on the man who brought about your recall. Would you not be happier to know his name and put an end to the matter for all time?”
Pentu shrank back in his chair, his expression sulky. “I spoke with Amonked not an hour ago. He left no doubt as to the vizier’s wishes.” The look he threw Bak was virulent.
“Do what you must, Lieutenant. Then leave my home and never again cross my threshold.”
Bak eyed the man seated before him. He could not imag ine Pentu, whom Amonked was convinced held Kemet fore most in his heart, dabbling in the politics of any foreign land unless ordered to do so by his sovereign. Yet if he had be trayed her trust, what might have impelled such behavior?
Bak could think of but one reason: if he thought he would be aiding the cause of his homeland.
When he asked for Sitepehu, a servant directed Bak to a small chapel at the back of the garden behind Pentu’s dwelling. What he guessed had once been a gatekeeper’s shelter had been cleared out and freshly whitewashed, and a shrine to the lord Inheret had been built into the wall at the back of the room. Jambs and lintel around the niche were painted yellow, and a small bronze image of the deity, a bearded man carrying a spear and wearing four tall feathers on his head, stood in front of a red background. Lying on the gray granite offering table in front of the shrine were a cooked goose and a bouquet of flowers. Sitepehu was on his knees before the block of stone, blowing gently at a dollop of very pungent incense, urging it to burn. Thick smoke wafted toward the god, thanks to the hot breeze entering through the open door.
“Back again, Lieutenant?” Sitepehu asked, rising to his feet.
“I don’t mean to disturb your ritual.”
“You didn’t. I found the incense no longer burning and had to relight it.”
Bak glanced around the chapel, which was far from large but more than adequate for a provincial deity visiting the capital. “Pentu treats you and your god very well, I see.”
“He’s a good man, Lieutenant, one I fear you’ve thor oughly misjudged. He may’ve been in a position to cause trouble in Hatti, but let me assure you, he didn’t. I should know. I helped him daily with official documents, and I ac companied him to all state affairs.”
“I don’t say he’s the guilty man, but someone in this household is.” Bak looked thoughtfully at the priest. “He took you with him when he went to the palace in Hattusa?
Was that not unusual?”
Sitepehu scowled at the smoking incense, so thick it was more apt to smother the god than sweeten his nostrils with its heavy scent. “He didn’t entirely trust the translators, and though I speak the language with difficulty, I can understand it well enough to spot a poor or erroneous rendering of the words.”
“You’re a man of many talents, Sitepehu. You know the arts of war, you’re a gifted scribe, and you can understand a foreign tongue. Perhaps you were the man who wished to cause trouble in Hatti.” Bak smiled, trying to make light the accusation.
Sitepehu flung him a startled look, then laughed. “I value my life far too much to poke around in the politics of Hatti.”
The breeze faltered, letting the smoke travel where it would. A spiral of black twisted and turned like an unkind spirit seeking them out. Bak stepped backward, hoping it would not find him. “Have you ever met Captain Antef, mas ter of a cargo ship that plies the waters between here and
Ugarit?”
“I’ve never seen incense burn so poorly. I must’ve bought an inferior product.” Sitepehu waved away a coil of smoke and motioned Bak to precede him out the door. “I’ll let it smolder for a while. With luck, whatever is making it misbe have will burn away.”
“Captain Antef?” Bak prompted.
“Hmmm.” Sitepehu led him to the bench by the pool.
“Wasn’t that the name of one of the seamen who came to the dwelling we were using in Ugarit? Pahure brought several men to see Pentu when we were searching for a ship big enough to hold all our personal and household belongings.”