"Empty. Tcha, you're too miserable for the quarries. I'm sending you into the desert-"
"Lord," Abu said. "The wretch is frightened. More than usual, that is."
Kysen peered at Tcha, who was shaking as if he were on some foreign snow-topped mountain. Dropping the bag, Kysen folded his arms and spoke calmly.
"What happened?"
"Merciful Amun protect me." Tcha whimpered and seemed to melt onto the ground, where he groveled at Kysen's feet. 'Let us flee this place at once, lord. At once!"
"Not until you explain."
Constantly glancing at the house of Dilalu, Tcha said, "I went up to the roof, me. Like always. There was another sleeping porter there, but I always slide through a roof vent or a window if it's large enough. I got inside through the door this time, and then-merciful Amun." Tcha moaned and began to rock back and forth on his haunches.
"Curse you, Tcha, get on with it," Kysen said. Tcha's fear was beginning to affect his composure.
"Know why there's only sleeping porters on guard? Because inside there's black giants.'"
For a moment Kysen's thoughts stilled. Then he asked, "Do you mean the merchant has Nubian guards?"
Tcha's head bobbed so rapidly Kysen was certain it would snap off his neck.
"They was awake. All of them! I went down the inside stairs and nearly ran into them at the bottom, but Amun was watching and slowed my steps. I saw them before they saw me. Dozens of them, all armed with knives and spears and bows and axes and-"
"Tcha!" Kysen snapped.
"Yes, lord."
"Exactly how many did you see?"
Tcha held up his fingers and counted silently. "Eight."
"This-this merchant has eight Nubian bodyguards?" Kysen didn't listen to Tcha's reply. Dilalu employed mercenaries, which he took care to conceal from everyone. "Is that all you saw?"
Tcha whimpered again and said, "Yes, master."
"Then we cannot get inside the house," Abu said.
Kysen rubbed his chin while he thought, then he motioned to Abu. The charioteer snagged Tcha by the arm and followed. Kysen crept back toward the back stair. Once he realized where they were going, Tcha tried to dig in his heels, but his efforts were useless against Abu.
Kysen stopped between the refuse pile and the stair. He gazed up at the reeking mountain thoughtfully. "Abu, Dilalu is an Asiatic."
"Aye, lord."
"Then he uses the wedge-shaped script of the Asiatics, inscribed upon clay tablets." Kysen turned to Tcha. "Thief, you will search the refuse heap for clay tablets."
"But the Nubians!"
"Will not show themselves unless forced to do so. Therefore I would encourage you to be both quick and quiet."
"But-"
Kysen gave a sharp sigh. "Tcha, if you don't do as you're told, I will do what I've been tempted to do since meeting you. I am going to throw you in the Nile to rid your insect-like body of that foul odor. Of course, you'll probably be eaten by crocodiles before that happens."
Tcha danced from one foot to the other as he regarded his persecutor. Evidently he perceived Kysen's determination, for he darted to the refuse mound and began searching through the fetid contents.
"Fear not," Kysen said. "Abu and I will keep watch. If the Nubians come, just burrow into the filth. You should blend in quite well."
Chapter 5
Thebes, the joint reign of the pharaohs Amunhotep III and Akhenaten
Nefertiti stood in her chariot outside the great Sun Temple, waiting for her husband to finish his consultation with the royal architects. Wind whipped her robe around her legs and threatened to topple her high crown. It was dusk, and a day spent arguing with the priests of Amun had tired her. They hated the Sun Temples, all four of them, thrusting as they did against the sacred precinct of Amun.
It seemed a lifetime since she had married Akhenaten, and yet she was only eighteen. Eighteen and a failure. For although she'd become queen when Akhenaten ascended the throne to rule jointly with his father, she had yet to bear a son. Three daughters. Three beloved daughters. Failure. And even more important, she hadn't been able to prevent her husband from taking more and more outrageous steps in his journey toward chaos.
But how could she have foreseen that Akhenaten's elevation to the throne would feed his heresy? Instead of making him the incarnation of Amun, as had happened to all his predecessors, Akhenaten's kingship proved to him that the Aten's plan for him had become manifest. The Sun Temples were one result.
Massive, open, decorated with reliefs in Akhenaten's new style, they were her husband's announcement of his new religion. He even had a sed-festival to mark his revolution. Gone were scenes of pharaoh worshiping his father Amun, who gave him life. On the walls she and Akhenaten were depicted worshiping the Aten. There was even a series of piers on which she and her little Merytaten were depicted making offerings to the Aten.
The Sun Temples disturbed Nefertiti. Oh, pharaohs had built temples since the beginning of the Two Lands, but not like this. Not covered with reliefs that abandoned the graceful precepts of Egyptian artistry. She and Akhenaten were shown with elongated faces, protruding buttocks, exaggerated hips and thighs, and spindly legs. Akhenaten had explained to her how the natural power of the Aten was reflected in this style. She could understand his wish to depart from the formality of the usual temple reliefs, but to go to such an extreme…
She had questioned the wisdom of the Sun Temples, tried to convince Akhenaten to build them elsewhere, to no avail. She had tried to mediate between him and the priests of Amun. Her efforts had postponed a formal break for a while, but Akhenaten had never been a tolerant man.
When the priests of Amun refused to change, her husband recalled her advice about building elsewhere. To Nefertiti's astonishment, he decided to build a new city. For the past several years the vast resources of pharaoh had been concentrated in a barren spot in the middle of nowhere. Thousands of laborers, artisans, and architects scrambled to create Akhenaten's planned capital, which he called Horizon of the Aten. Soon the whole family would move there, along with the courtiers and government.
Faced with his son's absolute determination, Amunhotep had decided not to object to the move. Perhaps he'd simply grown tired of fighting with his son. Tiye and Nefertiti both tried to keep them from quarreling, for the confrontations took a toll on Amunhotep's health.
Nefertiti sighed and glanced around her. The court in which her chariot stood was filled with royal attendants. Outside she could hear the clatter of chariots, the clop-clop of donkeys, and the ceaseless tread of bare feet as the rest of the city went about its daily routine. Finally she saw Akhenaten emerge from the temple. He joined her in the chariot, taking the reins from a groom, and set the vehicle in motion. Soldiers ran ahead and behind them, clearing the way. Nefertiti smiled at her husband, but he was glaring at the chariot teams' ears and muttering to himself
"Is something wrong, husband?"
"The high priest of Amun, he was there lurking behind a statue. He thrust himself into my presence!"
"How odd."
"He dared to argue with me again."
"If you would only be patient, husband."
She jumped as Akhenaten roared at her. "No! It is not for me to be patient. I am pharaoh. I am the son of the Aten, living in truth. My word is truth. If these blasphemers persist in their lies, I'll kill them."
Akhenaten was panting as he guided the chariot. His face had turned carnelian, and his eyes burned like the Lakes of Fire in the netherworld. She had to distract him, or he might actually have the priests executed. Placing a hand on his arm, Nefertiti made her voice hard and sharp.