"For after she'd gone and I overheard Useramun and Thesh, I began to think about all of us-all of us favored by the concubine." Kysen listed the names on his fingers. "Hormin she used for what he could provide. But the others, Useramun and Thesh, they are men of appeal, each in his own way. When she went to the tomb-makers' village, she could enjoy herself with men of much greater beauty than her master. Even I am more pleasing than Hormin."
Beltis gave them a complacent smile, which vanished at Kysen's next words.
"But not Woser."
Meren laughed as he perceived Kysen's reasoning. "Not Woser indeed. Skinny, beak-nosed, lacking in wealth."
"Yes," Kysen said. "If you were to stand us in a line, we who have been favored, Woser alone does not belong. I knew Beltis tolerated Hormin because of his possessions rather than his appearance. She favored Useramun and Thesh for their beauty, for they offered her no wealth. Woser certainly wasn't going to change his looks." Here Kysen paused to watch Beltis wipe perspiration from her chin. "But perhaps he offered something else."
"Your head is broken," Beltis said with a sniff. "These are fancies of sickness."
"After I realized how solicitous you'd been to a man you ordinarily wouldn't allow near your rubbish heap, I decided to watch you more closely. But you slipped out of the village last night without me seeing you. Perhaps with the aid of a ladder as did Useramun. But I did see the painter, who suspected you of killing Hormin. He followed you. I followed him."
"I told you," Beltis said, her voice rising. "He forced me to come with him."
"You forget," Kysen said. "I saw you, and more importantly, I heard you. You were the one giving the orders. Looting that tomb was your idea. And in any case, I'm sure he told you about the tomb when he gave you the broad collar."
Beltis shook her head. Kysen stood up and faced her.
"Hormin had promised you more riches, and you weren't going to let a small detail like his death separate you from them. Woser feared demons more than scorpions or the plague. But you didn't, and you browbeat him and cajoled him and threatened him until he consented to help you steal from that tomb."
"I didn't."
Meren joined Kysen in standing over Beltis.
"Odd," he said. "Kysen, didn't you tell me that Woser said as much while he was in the tomb with you?"
Kysen nodded, then winced as the movement pained him.
Meren folded his arms over his chest and mused. "Didn't you tell me that she threatened to reveal that Woser killed Hormin?"
"Yes, Father."
"Which made Woser feel most ill-used, considering that he hadn't meant to kill Hormin in the first place."
"Lies!"
Kysen sneered at the woman. "Woser was too fright ened to lie. Every moment in that tomb was agony to a man as terrified of spirits and demons as Woser."
Meren began to stalk Beltis, sensing her fear and slipping control. She backed away from him, protesting her innocence.
"Woser was puke-scared. So puke-scared that he couldn't leave his bed the last few days-especially after his fight with Hormin at the Place of Anubis. Which means he couldn't have gone to Hormin's house and killed Bakwerner or Djaper. He didn't even know that those two were a threat. That leaves you, Beltis. You knew Bakwerner made a scene and said that he knew things. He wasn't speaking of the old tomb, but you panicked and killed him in case he'd discovered something."
Beltis backpedaled as Meren came at her, shaking her head.
"Woser was sick," Meren said as he moved toward the concubine. "He didn't know that Djaper had discerned the significance of that broad collar. Djaper found out, didn't he? Clever, clever Djaper reasoned it out. He knew the collar was made incomplete on purpose for inclusion in a burial."
Beltis backed into a shelf on the wall and edged away from Meren.
"He wanted a share, didn't he?" Meren asked. "He told you he knew about the necklace, and that he wanted a share. Did he want too much? Or couldn't you stomach sharing at all once you realized Hormin was gone?"
Meren said this last as he backed Beltis into a corner.
She yelped. "No!"
Kysen sighed and carefully reseated himself in Meren's chair. "I grow weary and bored, Father. Let us stick hot brands on her face until she bleats out the truth."
Both he and Meren covered their ears at the shriek that issued from Beltis's red lips. In a heart's beat Abu was recording the true tale of the death of Hormin the scribe.
17
That evening Meren left the barracks where Beltis was imprisoned, weary and yet relieved. He had most of the truth now, and the woman had confirmed his suspicion that neither she nor any of the others were in the service of the queen. He went to Kysen's room, where he found his son saying good-night to Remi.
Kysen lay on his bed, to which he'd been sent once Beltis had broken, with Remi sitting beside him. The child made roaring noises as he marched a wooden hippopotamus up Kysen's stomach and pulled the string that moved the creature's mouth open and closed. Meren saw Kysen wince as Remi shrieked, and scooped the child up in his arms along with the toy.
"Time for bed."
"Aaaaarrrrrrgh."
Remi poked Meren's nose with the hippo. Mutemwia appeared with a tray of wine and bread, set it down, and took Remi.
"Bid your father and the lord good-night," she said to Remi.
The child jumped from Mutemwia's arms, wobbled, then executed a precarious bow.
"Peaceful sleep to you."
Meren tried not to smile as Kysen accepted this courtly behavior with solemnity. He inclined his head at the boy.
"A fine bow, Remi."
The boy grinned, then roared again and toddled out of the room.
Meren dragged a stool to the bed and sat beside Kysen. He poured wine for himself, but Kysen refused, saying that the physician forbade him to drink anything but water for two more days. His bed, like Meren's, sat within a shelter made of a delicate gilt wood frame set upon a dais. He lay back on the cushions and stared at the filmy hangings that billowed out from the frame in the evening breeze coming through the doors, which lay open to the veranda and the garden beyond.
"Have you gotten the truth from her?" he asked Meren.
"Most of it, I think."
"Then tell me, how did poor, terrified Woser ever manage to kill Hormin?"
Meren sighed and sloshed his wine around in its bronze goblet. "Only Woser and that laborer were in the tomb when Hormin insisted upon testing the rock for another chamber. When they broke into that tomb, Woser wanted to seal it back up at once, but Hormin persuaded him that they could use magic to protect themselves while they looted it. They began on the body, tearing away the amulets and spells that protected the owner from harm."
"Woser lived in fear of spirits and demons," Kysen said. "He seemed to think they reserved their most horrible punishments for him alone."
"Yes, and even though they tried to destroy the dead man's ability to avenge himself, Woser remained terri fied of his wrath. Hormin, with his usual lack of pity and love of tormenting those weaker than himself, taunted Woser with his fears. He would tease him that the dead prince was going to leave the tomb and come after Woser. Beltis heard him do this more than once the day he took her to see his tomb and his secret hoard."
Kysen rolled his eyes. "A stupid thing to do since he needed Woser to help him hide the valuables when they removed them. They were going to put them in Woser's family tomb, weren't they?"
Meren nodded as he tore a piece of bread from a loaf and bit into it. Swallowing, he continued. "The day he died, Hormin and Beltis fought as she said. He made the mistake of giving her that broad collar and thinking she'd be satisfied with it. But she wasn't, and they quarreled. As was her custom, she fled to the tomb-makers' village. When he came for her, she threatened to leave him. To keep her, he allowed her to see the old tomb and its treasure. She stayed, of course. But Woser was growing more and more terrified. So terrified that he became ill.