Meren, Kysen, and Reshep all stared at the trembling mass of fear that babbled at them. Reshep sniffed, then got up from the master's chair to put it between him and Tcha. Meren found this to be the only value of having his house invaded by the thief.
"Kysen, is this, this… Is he saying he's seen a demon? Get him out of here."
Kysen began flapping his hands at Tcha to drive him out of the hall.
"Wait, great lord! I can't go out there. It-she is out there."
"Go away, Tcha," Kysen said. He gave the thief a light shove with the tip of one finger.
"No, wait, wait, wait."
Kysen poked him each time he said "wait."
At last Tcha scrambled out of his reach and exclaimed, "You don't understand. This time Eater of Souls has killed the Hittite emissary!"
Chapter 9
Sokar was in an even more foul mood than usual. The idiot Min had roused him from sleep, and if this was another instance of the watchman trying to make himself look important by inflating the significance of his discovery, he would miss his rations for two whole months. Stomach swaying, sandals flapping, the chief of watchmen followed his underling to an alley near the area inhabited by foreigners.
Rounding a corner, Sokar marched into darkness lit only by Min's sputtering torch. To his consternation, two men were already there standing in the shadows near the body. Sokar's face reddened. His stomach and chest inflated, and he barked, "Here! What are you doing? Robbing a corpse, no doubt. Min, arrest these two."
As he spoke, the two turned to face Sokar. He could hardly make out their features or anything else about them until one stepped into the torchlight. He was big, this one. Sokar was suddenly grateful Min was with him. Furious that this man had intimidated him, Sokar poked a finger in his direction.
"You, who are you, and what do you here? There will be no robbery of corpses or gawking. Another useless one has been killed in the city. He's probably some country farmer stumbling into a thief, like the others. Min, this foolishness isn't worth my attention. Get rid of the body."
Sokar glared at Min, but then he looked again at the quiet stranger beside the watchman, caught sight of his scimitar, the horse whip stuck in a bronze and turquoise-beaded belt. A charioteer!
"Officer," Sokar purred, his stomach deflating. "I didn't know. This is a paltry matter. Please allow me to remove this offal from the street. I beg you, don't let this miserable discovery annoy you." He heard an unknown voice speak quietly.
"What others?"
The question had come from the other man still in the shadows, and it irritated Sokar again.
"Who demands answers of the chief of watchmen? Show yourself."
The stranger stepped into the torchlight. Sokar's eyes caught the glint of a gold broad collar, wide-shouldered height, cloud-fine linen. Curse his ill luck. This was a nobleman. Wrinkling the skin on his forehead, Sokar noted the obsidian black of the man's hair, brows, and lashes. Their darkness made his skin, a tawny brown, seem lighter than it was.
He'd seen this man before. Envied those straight brows and that charioteer's frame. As Sokar struggled with his memory, he noted the man's gleaming eyes, the color of fine cedar polished with beeswax. Hollows beneath prominent cheekbones, angular lines to the face, the personal dignity of a pharaoh.
"Lord Meren!" He'd been gawping at the Eyes of Pharaoh like a baffled donkey. He snarled at Min. "On your knees before the great lord and Friend of the King."
Sokar grunted as he struggled to the ground and lowered his forehead. "O great lord, forgive this humble servant. I didn't know it was you in the darkness."
"Tell me, chief of watchmen, do you always make such pronouncements without having seen the victim?"
Speaking to the ground, Sokar launched into denial, only to be silenced when the Friend of the King stalked over to him.
"You said this was another useless one killed in the city." The words were said slowly, pronounced clearly, each like the sting of a scorpion. "What others? "
Sokar stopped breathing. He sensed danger, to himself. If there was one thing at which he was accomplished, it was sensing and wriggling out of danger. He shoved himself upright and sat on the backs of his heels. Then he gave Lord Meren a round-eyed yet humble look.
"Others, great lord?" Sokar wiped sweat from his upper lip. "Oh, the others. Foolish country visitors who sailed into the wake of thieves. I beg my lord not to disturb himself over such unimportant things. My reports-"
"Said nothing of murder, said nothing of more than one, and certainly nothing of several that were alike."
Sokar smiled and bowed even as he shook his head. "Alike, O great one? No, no. Not alike."
Min lifted his head, his mouth open, but Sokar glared at him, and he quickly put his forehead to the ground. Sokar's smile returned as he again faced Lord Meren, but the nobleman wasn't looking at him. He was watching Min with an intense fierceness Sokar had seen in the eyes of a kestrel as it hovered, heaving into the wind, looking for prey. Sokar heard the voice of his heart grow louder, so that it seemed to inhabit his ears. His stomach began to burn, and the longer Lord Meren studied Min's prostrate figure, the hotter his belly burned.
Sokar tried to maintain his look of innocence, but Meren wasn't watching him. The great one glanced at his charioteer without saying a word. At that look, the warrior strode over to Sokar, grabbed a pudgy arm, and hauled him to his feet. Sokar was already panting. Now he gasped and quacked.
"Is aught wrong, O great one? What have I done? I am a man of duty. An honest chief. My lord? Ouch! You're hurting my arm, you great elephant! Oh, did I say elephant? Not elephant, you're a great lion. Please, let me go. I must defend myself to the great one."
Sokar kept looking over his shoulder as the charioteer dragged him down the alley. Before he was hauled away,
Sokar glimpsed the two men left behind. To his amazement, Lord Meren bent down on one knee in the dirt and spoke to the wretched Min. Min sat up, his gaze fixed on the ground, until the Eyes of Pharaoh said something. Min's head shot up, his mouth rounded in an exclamation. He directed an astonished and amused look at Sokar. Lord Meren said something else, and Min began to grin. In that grin, Sokar glimpsed his own ruin.
Dawn brought silver light pouring into the streets like mist on the Nile. After getting rid of Lord Reshep, Kysen had summoned charioteers to accompany him to the alley Tcha said held the dead man, the Hittite royal emissary. Meren was pacing beside the body while Abu took down notes on this evening's events. Charioteers blocked access to the alley while others questioned the inhabitants of the homes along it.
He didn't want to think about the consequences of Mugallu's death. Better to ask why a prince would be abroad so late in a foreign city, especially the capital of his master's greatest enemy. Better to ask why no one, as far as the charioteers could discover, had heard the attack. Better to ask Tcha why it had been he who had stumbled upon the grisly display.
Tcha squatted in a corner, trying to be inconspicuous. Kysen kept an eye on him while he scoured the alley for any sign or mark left by the killer. It was a passage formed by the back and side walls of five houses. Four of the five had several floors that rose high above Kysen's head like blank-faced cliffs. The fifth, at the intersection of the alley and a street, had only three floors. None of the walls had windows. It would be difficult to hear any noise coming from the alley unless it was a scream.