‘I do not like to mention their names. To speak them perpetuates them. But I must. Three years separated the boys. Paheri was the older, poor Menna the younger. I had such hopes for them, and was even pleased when, at the age of seven, Paheri asked to enter the priesthood. Of course it was too early in his life to be certain that the gods had called him, but I could have wished for no better career for him than that of a priest-administrator. His resolve did not falter. But there were other things. When he was ten, he caught his younger brother stealing dates. For this transgression, he…’ Ipuky’s voice faltered. ‘No, I will not tell you. Menna was never well in his head or heart – Tawaret did not smile on his birth, and the torture he experienced at his brother’s hands pushed him forever into a lonely land inside himself…’ Again the gaunt man broke off. The room seemed to have become darker. Huy did not move.
‘Paheri never once looked at a woman, though of course by thirteen we were hoping to match him. At first we thought he would grow out of his phobia. Two years later, he entered the priesthood, attached to Surere. They stayed together throughout the reign of the Great Criminal, until the end.’
‘What happened?’
‘Paheri had a row with him. Paheri was furiously jealous. Of anyone. Of anything. Above all, his dislike of women developed into a hatred. Woman had contaminated Man ever since Nut first bent over Geb. That was the image that obsessed him: Nut, bent over across the sky, swallowing the sun, trapping Geb under her. I believe Surere encouraged him in this. His mother was the only exception. The woman who had let him out of the darkness of the birth-cave into the light.’
‘What happened to Menna?’ Huy spoke into the silence.
Ipuky looked up at him. ‘I think he is dead, now. For a long time I was afraid that he had survived the raids of the Khabiris on our last outposts in the north; but an infantry captain who had known him managed to make his way back to the Southern Capital and contacted my steward. He handed over a ring and an amulet that I recognised. I had given them to Menna when he first left to take up his post. He seemed to recover considerably after Paheri left home. I had to try to give him a chance to be independent. The job I found him was an undemanding clerical one. The governor was an old acquaintance, who knew of my son’s shortcomings.’
‘And Paheri?’
Ipuky’s voice was calm. ‘He believed in the Aten ferociously. When it was certain that the City of the Horizon would collapse, and all that it stood for, I wrote to him, to try to get him to save himself. He returned my letter spattered with his own blood, and a reply. In it he told me that the blood he had spilt over my traitor’s proposal – his own blood – was nothing to the blood of the traitors that he would shed if the Aten fell, and it was his lot to take vengeance.’
‘There was nothing but love in the teaching of the Aten,’ said Huy quietly.
‘There are causes, and there are warriors for causes,’ replied Ipuky, his voice as empty as the desert.
‘Why do you think he is here?’
Ipuky looked at him again. ‘Because of the killings. I want you to find him.’
‘But Iritnefert was his own sister.’
‘You do not know my son.’
There was a long silence, during which neither man looked at the other.
‘I will need free access to the palace compound. I will need to be able to go anywhere without being stopped,’ said Huy at last.
‘See my quartermaster. You may wear my livery. That will guarantee that the guards at the gates let you through. I will tell my steward that I am taking you on to the staff as – ‘ he paused for thought for a moment ‘ – as a tax consultant. The assessors will be working on last autumn’s crop soon enough, and the job will ensure that no one in the household asks any questions. You will also be able to come and go without anyone feeling the need to see you receiving direct orders from me.’ He gathered his robe about him. ‘And now – ‘
‘There is one last thing,’ said Huy.
Ipuky returned to his seat. ‘Yes?’
‘I need access to the Glory of Set.’
‘What?’ said Ipuky, sharply.
‘To the brothel, the Glory of Set.’
Ipuky sat back. ‘I do not know what you are talking about.’
Huy was taken aback. Why should Ipuky tell such a transparent lie? Ipuky must have read his thought in his eyes, for he quickly qualified what he had said by adding, ‘I do not see how that can have any bearing on who killed Iritnefert. Surely, after all I have told you, you must see that.’
‘Let me explain.’
The tall man leant forward, hands clasped, an expression of anxiety suddenly naked again on his face. ‘Surely you are not suggesting that my daughter – ? I know she was a wild spirit, but – ‘
‘No,’ Huy reassured him. ‘I do not think so. But there may be a connection.’ He explained, briefly, about Isis.
‘I have never been there, and I do not know who does; but it is powerfully protected,’ Ipuky said wearily. ‘You must forgive me for not being more helpful. For some years now I have not been much in society. I have preferred books and silence for company. In any case, what excuse could I possibly invent for you to go there?’
‘Nevertheless, I need to go. There are questions I must ask there.’
Ipuky looked scornful. ‘And do you think they will answer them?’
‘If they are paid.’
Ipuky shook his grey head. The dull gold in his headdress shimmered as it caught the light. ‘They will never tell you. They are already paid, more than any bribe could tempt them, to be discreet. The clients of that place are among the most powerful men and women in the Southern Capital. Even Horemheb has failed to have it closed.’
‘Maybe I can find a lever for Horemheb to do so. And if I can, then it would be a lever you could hand to him.’
‘I am no longer interested in politics,’ said Ipuky. ‘But I am interested to see where your cunning takes you, and you must do anything you think necessary to stop the horror that has begun. Come back tomorrow at this time.’
Huy stood up, bowed briefly to his new master, and made for the doorway. As he reached it Ipuky called to him once more.
‘You think I am as cold as stone,’ he said. ‘Many do. That is my protection. But I must know who killed my daughter. Find him, Huy, and when you have, bring him to me. Death would be too kind an end for a man who has done what he has, and I do not want him to escape into it.’
The Controller of the Silver Mines laid his arms on the table in front of him and clasped his hands together, sinking his head. Huy looked down at him and fired a last question: ‘Have you seen Surere?’
Ipuky looked up, but his face remained rigid. If anything was detectable there, it was surprise. ‘I had done with him years ago.’
‘Perhaps he has not done with you.’
‘Awaken us from this nightmare, Huy. Soon.’
‘I will,’ said Huy. Ipuky’s confession had lit a bright torch in the dark labyrinth of his investigation.
Since Merymose’s death, Huy had carried a dagger. It was an old thing he had had for years but only recently learnt to use, taught by one of the boatswains in Taheb’s fleet. Its blade was two-edged, and made of heavy bronze, the grooves chased like lotus stems. It was fitted into an antelope-horn hilt carved at the top with the Beast’s head. That night, when he awoke in the full certainty that someone else was in the room, he reached for it, where it usually lay by his headrest; but he had barely moved before he felt its point at his throat.
‘You have a lot to learn,’ said Surere’s voice in the darkness. Huy could feel his breath, and smell the mint he chewed to sweeten it.
‘And you have learnt much,’ replied Huy.
‘In prison, if you do not learn stealth, you die.’
‘Why are you still here? What has happened to your mission?’
The pressure of the knife at his throat relaxed. ‘The king will not let me go.’
‘Is it he who is keeping you safe?’