“I received a message this morning from the viceroy.” Thuty spoke in a ponderous voice, as if the news he had to tell was of great import, a burden both heavy and difficult to bear.
“The vizier of the southern lands is on his way upriver, conducting a surprise inspection of the garrisons of Wawat. An armada of our sovereign’s warships, five vessels in all, will arrive in four days’ time should the breeze remain fair.”
“The vizier here?” Bak blurted. “So far from the corridors of power?” No wonder Thuty was so temperamental.
“Five ships!” Nebwa’s eyes narrowed. “Has he deprived our sovereign of every scribe and minor nobleman who kisses the floor at her feet?”
“I can’t believe he’s taken a sudden interest in Wawat-or in the well-being of our troops. Unless…” Bak sat up straighter. “Has Maatkare Hatshepsut decided to move once and for all against her nephew? Is this her way of wresting the army from his grasp and dislodging him from the throne in name as well as fact?”
“We’ve no need to worry on that score-I thank the lord Amon. No impossible decisions to make, no good men to die in a land divided, no wasteful battles…” Thuty shook his head, throwing off a subject painful to all who carried arms.
“No, if that were so, the viceroy would have warned me.”
“He’s the queen’s man,” Nebwa reminded him.
“First and foremost, he’s a man of Kemet,” Thuty growled.
“And he’s a trusted friend.”
“If the army hasn’t brought the vizier to Wawat, trade must’ve drawn him,” Bak said, cutting off further argument.
With a grunt of assent, Thuty rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. Using the scroll to accent his words, he explained. “As you know, and I know, and as does every man assigned to the garrisons south of Abu, our sovereign’s sole interest in Wawat is the wealth we send north to Kemet.
Now, with her building programs so costly, she’s sent the vizier to remind us of our duty. I’ve no doubt he’ll impress upon us the need to hasten northward the products of the desert mines and the exotic items that come from far to the south. And of course he’ll urge upon us scrupulous inspections and a zealous collection of tolls.”
“In other words,” Nebwa snorted, “he’ll tell us to do what we’ve always done: make sure the coffers of the royal house never cease to be full to bursting.”
Bak was equally cynical. “A secret journey, you say? Surprise inspections? And he’s traveling with five warships?”
“I see no mystery there,” Nebwa laughed. “All politi-160 / Lauren Haney cians think of themselves as walking with the gods. How would we ordinary mortals know we’re supposed to bow and scrape if we weren’t told ahead of time the name of the man who’ll soon stand before us?”
Thuty scowled, annoyed as always by Nebwa’s lack of respect for the political necessities. “Take this as a given: The viceroy told me of the vizier’s coming in strictest confidence.
Now I’m passing my secret to you and within the hour I’ll send a courier south to the commanders of the garrisons along the Belly of Stones.” He aimed the scroll at Nebwa, his second-in-command. “You must whisper the word to your fellow officers. Tell them to ready themselves and their troops. As the vizier has never been a military man, I suspect a neat formation of men with spotless kilts and well-polished spears will please him far more than a demonstration of the arts of war. Above all, we want to make a good impression.”
Without waiting for Nebwa’s nod, the commandant pointed the scroll at Bak. “I doubt I need remind you, Lieutenant, of what you must do before the vizier arrives.”
“No, sir.” Bak cringed inside. How many days do I have? he thought. Only four? “I must bring Rennefer before you, charged with trying to slay her husband. I must snare the man or men who slew Mahu and Intef and wounded Imsiba, making safe the desert trails and the streets of this city. I, with Nebwa beside me, must learn the name of the man whose ship supplied Captain Roy with contraband. We must also discover how elephant tusks are smuggled downriver undetected.”
“Summed up like that,” Nebwa murmured, “I fear for our future. Do you think Amon-Psaro would have us?” Amon-Psaro was a powerful tribal king who lived far to the south in the land of Kush.
“If you’ve something to offer, Troop Captain, I’d like to hear it,” Thuty snapped.
“No, sir.”
Thuty glared, but failed to press the issue. “I’ve allowed no movement of ships or caravans for…How many days, Lieutenant? Four? Five? And so far, you’ve come up with nothing. This can’t continue, especially with the vizier taking so keen an interest in trade. I plan to release every ship and caravan we’ve been holding at Buhen and Kor as soon as I hear he’s a day’s journey to the north. We must have business as usual while he’s here, not draw attention to a few minor incidents.”
Bak gave a silent curse. A few minor incidents indeed!
“That might not be a bad idea,” Nebwa said thoughtfully.
“We can’t lay hands on smugglers without giving them the opportunity to move illicit cargo, and they can’t haul cargo with no traffic moving up or down the river.”
Bak nodded, in full agreement, and yet, “I asked that traffic be stopped so the man who slew Mahu would have no chance to slip away. That’s as true now as it was before.”
Nebwa gave Thuty a wide-eyed, innocent smile. “What do you suggest, sir? That we concentrate on the flow of illicit goods across the frontier or work to lay hands on a killer?”
He seemed never to get his fill of baiting his superior officer.
“We must find a way to do both.” Bak stood up and walked to the door, giving himself time to think. The courtyard was quiet, with the sole creatures stirring a gray cat and her brood, four tiny bundles of fur tumbling over her belly and legs. “Traffic must move before the vizier comes. With that, I agree. We want no caravan masters or ships’ captains standing before him, airing their grievances. But we must also keep my five suspects in Buhen.” He swung around to look at Thuty. “Can we not tell them of his arrival, sir, and offer them a prize to stay?”
A smile spread across Nebwa’s face. “Good idea! What can we give them?”
Thuty clasped his hands above his head and leaned back in his chair, tilting it up on its rear legs. He stared at nothing, mulling over the suggestion. “A party, I think.” He thought some more, nodded, smiled. “Yes. My wife is a fine hostess and longs to entertain in the style she once knew in Kemet.
A party should please the vizier, satisfy her for months to come, and lure every man of substance along the Belly of Stones, including your five suspects, Lieutenant.”
“I don’t know about Captain Ramose,” Imsiba laughed,
“but Hapuseneb and Nebamon would never miss so grand a party, nor would Userhet. Nor, I suspect, would Lieutenant Roy, though I’m not so well acquainted with him.”
Wriggling back against the wall, Bak pulled his feet up onto the white coffin, wrapped his arms around his knees, and eyed the man seated on the mudbrick bench. Several sharply honed spears and daggers told him how much rest the Medjay had allowed himself. “Nebwa urged the release of all traffic today, but the commandant insisted on waiting.”
“Of what use can we make of one or two more days?”
Imsiba asked, unimpressed.
Bak’s voice turned wry. “He’s hoping the gods will smile on us, handing out miracles without number.”
Imsiba muttered a few words in his own tongue, an oath most likely. “We don’t even know which path to follow, which direction to turn.”
A sullen mumble, the stench of rancid beer and vomit, drew Bak’s eyes to the door. A heavily built Medjay held a thin youth by the scruff of the neck, marching him through the entry hall to a door leading to the cells. The men on duty looked up from their game to jeer at a boy they housed often.
“I agree, but someone fears us nonetheless,” Bak said. “I have a feeling our questions about Mahu led to yesterday’s attack. Or maybe our examination of the tombs. Or both, if Intef and Mahu were slain by the same man.”