"We don't know why either of them was killed."
Meren walked over to the body of the lector priest. "Not yet, but I'm going to find out."
They examined the workroom silently for a while before Meren picked up the casket and prepared to leave. Kysen took the box from him, forcing Meren to meet his gaze.
"What was going on when we came in?"
Meren glanced over Kysen's shoulder at the basket containing the cobras. It hadn't moved since Parenefer last touched it.
"I'm not sure, but you may have saved my life."
He smiled at Kysen's slack jaw. "Those cobras in the basket aren't the only ones we have to worry about."
Two days after Qenamun was killed, Meren's men had questioned dozens of priests and visitors to the House of Life. Meren and Kysen had dealt personally with those of higher rank. After that first day, Parenefer had left them to their tasks while he kept to the high priest's residence and other parts of the temple complex, well away from the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh.
Meren was in his office between the house and the charioteers' barracks, listening to Kysen read a list of those who had been at the House of Life the day before Qenamun was killed. Qenamun had left the temple for the last time that day an hour before sunset.
"Everyone knew he left early on that day of the week in order to receive private commissions at his home," Kysen said. "If you wanted to tamper with his possessions, you would wait for that day."
"I hadn't expected our shard rumor to produce such evil results," Meren said. "An ugly death, even for Qenamun. And-and, if indeed the rumor precipitated this murder, I've failed to divine its significance."
"It would take a god to understand the significance of a few pieces of pottery," Kysen said.
Meren sighed, set aside one of Qenamun's dream books, and rose from his chair. Both of them had spent hours examining the shards, to no avail. He went to a box inlaid with ivory, took out his leather juggling balls, and set them in motion.
"A lector priest of Qenamun's reputed power is privy to many secrets. And from what Ebana said, he was the kind of man to use what he knew to gain power and create discord." Meren followed the course of the balls as they whirled in front of him. As their speed increased, so did the pace of his thoughts. "If he was as Ebana says, he could very well have been the one who tried to kill you, which might mean he rifled Unas's house, and might mean he was Unas's killer."
"But we've found no indications of any of that at his temple workroom or at his house," Kysen said.
Meren weaved back and forth, trying to keep the juggling balls in line with each other. "Nor at anyone else's house. I'm tempted to ask pharaoh for permission to investigate Rahotep."
"Gods," Kysen said. "What a storm of fury that would bring."
"And I have no real evidence to present to the king when I request permission to treat a half-royal prince like a criminal."
Kysen snorted. "You might as well ask to throw Parenefer in gaol."
"I see you understand the difficulty."
Kysen threaded his fingers through his hair and then ran his finger down a list of names on the papyrus he was holding. "I've marked off those who seem to have no connection with Qenamun, which leaves us with over thirty others who either knew him or worked with him and were at the temple the day before he was killed."
Meren began walking around the room, tossing the balls ahead of him.
"Ebana was right. The temple provided perfect concealment. Someone could have conveyed the cobras in a casket or bag, and it would appear like any other offering meant for the god. Still, it would have to be someone whom the priests wouldn't question if he appeared at the House of Life. Another priest, or a nobleman, or a priestess."
"Abu says he still hasn't found evidence of cobras being kept at anyone's house or at the temple," Kysen said.
"They have to have been kept somewhere."
Kysen got up and went to a table where Qenamun's cedar-and-ebony casket sat. Its contents lay spread over the table, except for the rush pens, which had been left in the bottom of the box. He lifted a weight that secured a stack of papyrus rolls and leafed through them.
"There are texts here for Prince Djoser, Rahotep, General Horemheb, and Ahiram."
"I know," Meren said. "I've read them, but they're only dream interpretations and calendars that set out each day according to their portents, either good or bad. I can see nothing that would provoke someone to murder. Everyone has calendars and dream interpretations. Horemheb consults five or six lector priests each year."
Meren's juggling slowed. He listened to the soft pat-pat of the leather against his hands.
"Horemheb. I've been thinking about Horemheb."
Kysen glanced up from the stack of papyri, but remained silent, waiting. Finally Meren's hand fumbled, and a ball dropped and rolled under the table. Meren caught the remaining balls, but stood staring at nothing.
"I was at Maya's, just before Tanefer came to tell me about Qenamun. You know Maya. He loves to listen to intimate problems, and he was trying to get me to tell him mine. When I wouldn't, he began to talk. And he said something about Horemheb-that he chaffed at the constraints put on him. That he's furious at how the army and empire had been neglected. It's rumored that he thinks Ay is too old to be vizier, and pharaoh's councillors too cautious."
"We know this," Kysen said.
Meren glanced at his son. "Now it appears that the whole court knows it, and the army. And what worries me more is that Maya said Horemheb thinks Egypt needs-if I remember well-a bold leader of prime years. Tanefer interrupted us, but I think he was going to say, a leader of prime years instead of a boy."
Meren and Kysen regarded each other in silence. Outside, the sounds of the barracks could be heard- horses whinnying, the harsh laughter of the charioteers, the slam of a door.
"What do you think?"
Meren stooped to pick up the ball he'd dropped and began to juggle again. "Such rumors grow and spread like reeds in a marsh. Most are distortions bearing no resemblance to the truth."
"But when the rumor concerns General Horemheb…"
"Then," said Meren as he tossed a ball high above his head, "then we must find out how great is the distortion, and what was the seed of truth from which this flower of rumor sprang."
"But Horemheb? He fought beside you, and he's defended the empire against its enemies for years."
"I know," Meren said, hearing his own voice snap with temper. He stopped juggling and tossed the balls into their box. "I know, Ky, but pharaohs cannot afford to trust anyone blindly, and it's my duty to see that every hint of risk is investigated"
Kysen went back to his chair and picked up a closed leather dispatch case. "Have you thought that Maya might be lying?"
"Of course," Meren said. "But Maya has nothing to gain because he has no greater ambition than to be what he is. I'm more inclined to think of him as a furrow through which water carries the silt of rumor and intelligence, all jumbled together without regard to legitimacy."
Meren pulled his chair nearer to Kysen's, sat down and began to rub his forehead. "Gods, these endless intrigues and quarrels will drive me into madness one day."
He heard one of the epithets Kysen had learned from his training as a charioteer and looked up quickly. Kysen was holding a dispatch bearing the seal of one of the commanders at the frontier forts between the delta and Palestine and Syria. He handed the report to Meren.
It detailed an increase in activity, traffic on the desert roads, raids by new groups of bandits-former soldiers of the armies of the fallen Mitanni empire had wandered south and were now reaching the frontier. They, along with outlaw nomads, were raiding isolated villages as well as attacking travelers, especially merchant caravans. Egyptian troops had clashed with the Mitanni and routed and pursued them, but lost their trail in the desert. The commander was concerned because of the unusually large number of these bandits. Some groups almost constituted a small army.