"Why?" Meren asked quickly.
The general's face was lit by burning arrow shafts. He looked like a desert nomad suddenly faced with the task of sailing across the Great Sea.
"I swear by the wrath of your storm god," Meren said wearily, "all I want you to do is go back to the visitors' palace and let me find Prince Mugallu's killer."
Labarnas tightened his grip on Meren's arm. "I know what I'd do if someone took me prisoner in my own house."
"True, but as you Hittites never weary of repeating, we Egyptians are more courtier than warrior."
"You're lying," Labarnas said with a glance up at Reia.
Meren laughed softly. "So, you have learned from your sojourn into the Black Land." His mouth drew down at the corners. "As foolish as it may seem, you're going to have to trust me. If I had killed your prince, would I have sent my own son into the midst of your warriors to tell you Prince Mugallu was dead?"
Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Labarnas was silent for a moment. At last he grunted, lowered his sword, and released Meren's arm. His men sheathed their own weapons. Meren inclined his head to the general, then nodded to Reia. There was a loud smack as spears were turned point up and their hafts rammed into the top of the wall. Bowstrings were allowed to loosen as bows were lowered so that nocked arrows pointed at the ground.
"Reia will escort you home," Meren said.
Labarnas glared at him. "Will I reach it alive?"
"Of course. Do you think I want pharaoh to blame me for the death of a great Hittite general? The Son of the Sun would send me to explain to your king, and that I wouldn't like to do."
"I'm going," Labarnas said. "But if you have no good explanation by a week's end, I'm leaving if I have to fight pharaoh's infantry, chariotry, and archers all at once. Then you'll find yourself explaining my death to the great king while he sits on Egypt's throne."
Meren turned away from Labarnas. "Oh, go away, general. I'm trying to catch a killer who feasts on hearts, and I have no patience with your threats."
Labarnas growled something in his own language, but didn't object when he and the other Hittites were ushered away. Meren refused to allow Reia to surround him with guards. Reia protested, but finally left to escort Labarnas when Meren remained adamant. Finally Meren was left alone in the garden again. The flaming arrows had been removed. The lamp he'd brought was burning low, and Meren had subsided wearily into a chair beneath the awning by the reflection pool.
He had propped his elbows on his knees and lowered his head to his hands and was grumbling to himself. "Wretched Hittite vandals, invading a man's private garden. My heart will never regain enough peace to make sense of either the heart thefts or the queen's…"
Meren had been staring through his fingers at the mat that covered the earth beneath the awning. Now there was a small foot encased in a blue sandal on the mat. Meren didn't even move.
"I suppose the noise woke you," he said.
"Aye, Father," said Bener. "A Hittite invasion does disturb one's dreams."
Placing a tray on the table beside him, Bener yawned and ran her fingers through her long hair. "That was a good lie, that story about Reia hitting a crow."
"He almost hit it."
"True. Are you ever going to rest?"
Meren straightened, then slumped and stretched his legs. "Can't."
"What queens?"
"What?" Meren echoed, abruptly alert.
"Just now, you were complaining about not being able to make sense of the queens."
"Who can make sense of the Great Royal Wife or the lesser ones?"
Bener fixed her great dark eyes on him without saying a word.
"Tell me," Meren said. "Can you?"
"If you refuse to confide in me, I can't be prepared for murderous invasions of the house, Father. What if they had gotten hold of Remi or Isis? And where is Kysen?"
"Visiting Ese's tavern."
"I've heard of her."
Meren sat up. "How have you heard of this woman?"
"I don't spend my whole day in the house directing servants. I have friends whose fathers and brothers and cousins seem to feel a great need to frequent the place, although why carousing with strange women holds more attraction than giving amusement to a lady is a puzzlement to me. Why is it so, Father?"
He hadn't been so bereft of thought since-he'd never been so bereft of thought. His heart wouldn't produce words. Meren stared at his skeptical, sensible daughter, stunned at the way her heart pursued matters to their reasonable end.
"Never mind," Bener went on. "You look weary, and it's going to take you some time to think of a good excuse for that one." She yawned again and said, "I'd better tell you now. Isis is planning to take herself and her possessions to Prince Djoser's house, where Reshep is staying."
A demon was pounding a mallet against his skull. Meren groaned and pressed his fingertips to his temples. A woman married a man by bringing her possessions to his house. Girls seldom did this without elaborate arrangements between the two sets of parents, negotiation of a marriage contract, feasting and celebration. But some were fearless, or foolish, or-as in the case of Isis-both.
Bener dropped to a stool and picked up a cup of wine from the tray she'd brought. "I think it was his idea. I bribed Isis's hairdresser to tell me anything serious. She says Isis thinks you'll have to agree to give her a marriage portion and contract if she goes to his house."
"Isis should know what I'll do to Reshep. There isn't going to be any contract or portion. He'll be fortunate to escape with his-"
Nodding, Bener said, "That's why I'm sure this is Reshep's interpretation. He has dazzled her heart, or she wouldn't have misjudged you."
"When pharaoh asked me to inquire about him, I sent men to Reshep's country estate. They should return soon, and I'll know more about this presumptuous suitor. Meanwhile, Isis is going to visit Tefnut, escorted by a squadron of charioteers, half a dozen foot soldiers, and my old nurse."
"What are you going to do to Lord Reshep?"
"I would like to feed him to this killer who haunts the city, but I can't be sure the evil one would do the work." Meren rubbed his chin. "I suppose pharaoh would be annoyed if I pulled his spine out through his throat. I shall have to ponder the matter."
"Then I'm going to sleep late tomorrow and avoid the furor when you confront Isis. But before I go, shall I tell you what I've been thinking?"
This was one of those times. Meren felt her apprehension as she regarded him with that look of expectation. He nodded gravely so that she wouldn't suspect him of indulging her.
At Meren's nod, Bener took a sip of wine. "You still don't know why these killings have been done. But obviously they've been done by someone who can prowl the city at night. This person is someone who can go to the foreign quarters and the docks without being conspicuous, or word would have reached you."
"You're correct so far," Meren said.
"The evil one always kills in concealed places, at night, taking the victims by surprise."
"So this criminal is good at stalking," Meren said, following Bener's reasoning. "He's a hunter. Like pharaoh's huntsmen and fowlers, like fishermen. But not like unguent makers, scribes of the treasury, slaves."
Bener peered at him over her wine cup. "Noblemen hunt. They have time to do it."
"I know, but anyone can use the night to do evil."
"Therefore, there's no mark or sign connected with the killer," Bener concluded.
They shared a comfortable silence. Meren reflected upon how easily he explored possibilities of great evil with this amazing daughter.
Bener finished her wine and set her cup on the tray. Turning to him, she furrowed her brow. "We don't know enough, do we, Father?"
"No, my dear, we don't. Not yet." Something Bener had said bothered him, but he wasn't sure what. He felt faintly uneasy that he might have missed something, but Bener slipped her hand into his.