"I don't like maidenly fluttering," Meren said. "Speak plainly."
Again Djaper's wide-open eyes lowered, and he
Murder In the Place of Anubls 61 blushed. "Beltis is a woman of great appetite. She has come to my bed seeking pleasure of me, and-forgive me, lord-but it is distasteful to speak of such a thing. But Lord Meren has perhaps discovered the concubine's nature himself."
Meren only stared at Djaper.
"It may be," Djaper said when he realized he wouldn't get an answer, "it may be that Beltis decided that she wanted Father's goods and a younger man at the same time. Oh, not that I am fool enough to think she'd want me without the goods."
Djaper laughed, and Meren couldn't help smiling. The young man was laughing at himself, and such humility was admirable. Meren turned away from Djaper.
"You may arrange proper care for your father's body soon." With a nod he left Djaper. He closed the door behind him, then opened it again. Sticking his head inside the room, he caught Djaper as he was collapsing, loose-limbed, on the couch. "You know I will examine the copy of your father's will that rests in the House of Life."
Djaper rolled gracefully to the floor on his knees and bent his neck. "Yes, lord, I know."
"I'm not surprised."
Meren slammed the door shut and stood looking at it while he rubbed his chin. He would have to send men to check on the activities of the two brothers, but he didn't think Djaper had lied. Not about things that could be proven false. No, Djaper was much too clever to lie unless he lied well. But Meren wasn't convinced that the young man was as tranquil as he seemed. How could he be, having a father like Hormin? His ka should be shriveled with the heat of anger at being humiliated constantly by a man less intelligent than himself.
The scent of heavily spiced perfume intruded upon Meren's thoughts. He sniffed and looked at Iry-nufer. The man was watching him, waiting for an opportunity to speak.
"The concubine was here," Meren said.
"Yes, my lord. She hovered about, but left when she saw me."
"Anyone else?"
"No, lord."
"Then come."
Meren set off for the chamber of Imsety. One last examination and he could go home. Kysen might be waiting for him with his news of the questioning of those of the Place of Anubis. It could be that Hormin's murder had nothing to do with his family and instead was related to one of the priests or embalming workers. It was just this possibility that had sent the old Controller of Mysteries into a fit and made him appeal to Meren in the first place.
Imsety was also guarded. As he left Iry-nufer and the other man at the door, Meren heard the scrape of metal against stone. Iry-nufer heard it too. The guard slipped past Meren, putting his body between his master and Imsety. He drew his scimitar and shouted at Imsety. Meren stepped to the side and saw Hormin's oldest son squatting on the floor, a whetstone and knife in his hands. He was gaping at Iry-nufer.
Iry-nufer hefted the scimitar. "I said drop the knife."
The blade clattered to the floor, but Iry-nufer wasn't satisfied.
"Your forehead to the floor. Spread out your arms."
When his victim was prone, Iry-nufer picked up the knife. He looked at Meren, who jerked his head toward the door. Iry-nufer left, uttering a threat in Imsety's direction.
"You may rise," Meren said.
Imsety raised himself to a sitting position and stuttered an apology.
"Where did you get the knife?"
'There are many in that pot, lord." Imsety pointed to a pottery jar by his bed. "Household knives, I hone them. The work-my hands." Imsety stopped; Meren waited, but the man had evidently said as much as he could or would.
"You like to work with your hands?" Meren asked.
"Yes, lord. Father, this house, the fighting." Imsety's big shoulders heaved with a sigh.
Meren waited, again in vain. "The work takes your thoughts from sorrow and anger."
"Yes, lord."
"Tell me, Imsety. Does everyone have to supply the words you don't say, or is it that you fear me?"
"I have many thoughts, lord, but my tongue, it is clumsy."
It was like plowing a stony field, but Meren dragged the story of the last day from Imsety. It was much the same as Djaper's, except that Imsety's day was spent in the company of his mother. The man seemed more concerned with the imminent harvest than with the death of his father, and he kept asking when he could go home.
"When I have the murderer," Meren said for the third time.
"It's Beltis. She killed Father."
"And dragged him to the riverbank, tossed him in a skiff, and hauled him to the Place of Anubis?"
Imsety nodded eagerly. "Caught her stealing."
"You wish me to believe that if Hormin caught Beltis stealing his treasure that there wouldn't be a fight as noisy as Thebes on a feast day?"
"One of the scribes."
Meten's head was beginning to pain him. "What are you talking about?"
"Bakwerner."
"Do you know anything about your father's murder, Imsety?"
"Bakwerner hates Father."
"I will concern myself with Bakwemer, not you." By this time Meren found himself grinding his teeth. "I want to know if Hormin was as cruel to you as he was to Djaper. He must have been, or he wouldn't have refused you the farm you work so hard to preserve."
Imsety shrugged and stared at Meren.
"You'd better say something."
"I never listened to Father."
Meren waited fruitlessly. After a few minutes during which Imsety stared at him and he tried not to toy with his dagger, Meren spoke.
"Never listened to him? What do you mean, curse you?"
"Since I was a naked child, I never listened to Fa ther's hot words."
"Don't stop talking," Meren said.
"Ugly words, Father, they aren't important. The land is important. And Djaper. Not Father."
"And your mother."
"Mother loves Djaper."
Never had he been more grateful for having three chattering daughters. Meren closed his eyes and prayed to several gods for patience. Talking to Imsety was taking twice as long as it had with anyone else. There had been times, before he adopted Kysen, when he'd asked the gods why the girls couldn't have been boys. Now he would make a sacrifice to the goddess of childbirth.
Meren opened his eyes and caught Imsety staring at him. The young man's face was as expressionless as a
Murder in the Place of Anubis 65 figure painted on a temple wall. But a transitory flicker in Imsety's eyes set off the baying of hunting dogs in Meren's heart. Crocodiles often basked in the sun, still and placid, with no evidence of life in their bodies except for that brief, telltale lift of an eyelid that revealed a mindless hunger for flesh.
"You said neither you nor Djaper saw your father leave the house during the night."
Imsety gazed at Meren and made no attempt to avoid meeting Meren's stare. "No, lord. I never saw him."
That direct manner, it was a match for Djaper's ingenuousness. And it posed a difficulty. For in Meren's experience, the best liars, those whose hearts were filled with deceit, made a practice of meeting the eyes' of those they deceived in just such a direct manner, while the innocent often foundered on their own lack of experience with evil. They quavered, faltered, and cast down their eyes. He would have to be Anubis, weigher of hearts at the soul's judgment, to decipher honesty based solely upon the face and habits of a man.
"Aren't you afraid that your father's murderer may harm you, Imsety?"
"No, Lord Meren. Why would he?"
"That is a question I've asked myself," Meren said. "And I'll find an answer. And if you should begin to fear, remember the ancient writings that tell us that justice lasts for an eternity and walks into the graveyard with its doer."
6
Kysen escaped the house without further damage to his ears. He made his way to a long, low building at the rear of the compound, which lay between the house and the barracks and stables. In it his father had established the headquarters for his duties as one of the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh. There were workrooms for Nebamun, the physician-priest, and the scribes who kept records of the cases that came under Meren's hand, and two rooms for the count and his son.