Purposefully Taita moved through the huge, magnificently appointed rooms, Meren and his detachment following closely, swords drawn. At intervals Taita stopped and seemed to test the air, like a hunting hound following the scent of his quarry.
They came at last to the queen's inner garden, a spacious atrium surrounded by high sandstone walls and open to the cloudless blue sky.
It was laid out around avenues of flowering trees with a central fountain, surrounded by marble benches strewn with silken cushions. Lutes and other musical instruments lay where they had been abandoned by Mintaka's hand-maidens at the approach of the soldiers, and the lingering perfume of nubile young women mingled with that of orange blossom.
At the far end of the atrium stood a small arbour of trellised vines.
Without hesitation, Taita crossed to it, his step quick and sure. On a tall pink marble plinth in the centre stood a statue carved from the same material. Someone had laid bouquets of sun lilies at its foot, and their scent was cloying on the air. It dulled the senses, like some powerful opiate.
'The flowers of the witch,' Taita whispered. 'I remember the odour so clearly.' Then he studied the statue on the plinth. Life-sized, it was in
the shape of a veiled woman, the folds of her mantle enveloping her from the top of her head to her ankles. The dainty feet below the hem were carved with such skill that they seemed made of warm flesh rather than cold, lifeless stone.
'The feet of the witch,' Taita said. 'This is the shrine at which Queen Mintaka worships her.' In Taita's nostrils the odour of evil was more pungent now than the heavy scent of the lilies. 'Lord Meren, have your men cast down this statue,' Taita said quietly.
Even the indomitable Meren was awed by the ghastly influence of the witch that filled her shrine. He gave the order in a subdued tone.
The soldiers sheathed their swords and put their shoulders to the statue. They were brawny men and strong, but it resisted their efforts to topple it.
'Tashkalon!' cried Taita, once again turning Eos's word of power against her. The statue moved, marble squealing on marble, like the cry of a lost soul. It startled the soldiers, who jumped back in alarm.
'Ascartow!' Taita pointed his sword at the figure of Eos, which began slowly to topple forward.
'Silondela!' he shouted, and the statue fell full length to the paving stones and shattered into fragments. Only the dainty feet remained intact. Taita stepped forward and touched each one with the point of his sword. Slowly they cracked and crumbled to piles of pink dust. The bunches of sun lilies on the plinth withered until they were black and dry.
Slowly Taita circled the base of the plinth. Every few paces he tapped the marble. The sound was firm and solid until he reached the back wall.
Here the marble emitted a dull, hollow echo. Taita stepped back and studied it. Then he moved forward and placed the heel of his hand in the top right corner and applied a steady pressure. There was the sharp sound of some internal lever moving and the entire panel swung open like a trapdoor.
In the silence that followed they all stared into the dark square opening that was revealed in the back of the plinth. It was just large enough for a man to pass through.
'The hiding place of the false priest of Eos,' Taita said. 'Bring the torches from the brackets in the audience hall.' The soldiers hurried to obey. When they returned, Taita took one and held it into the opening.
By the torchlight he saw that a flight of stone steps descended into the darkness. Without hesitation he stooped through the opening and started down them. There were thirteen and at the bottom they levelled out
into a tunnel that was wide and high enough for a tall man to walk along without stooping. The floor was of plain sandstone tiles. The walls were unadorned with paintings or engravings.
'Keep close behind me,' Taita told Meren, as he strode down the tunnel. The air was stale and old, heavy with the odour of damp earth and long-buried dead things. Twice Taita came to forks in the tunnel, but each time he made an instinctive choice without pausing to consider.
At last a glimmer of light appeared ahead of him. He went on resolutely.
He passed through a kitchen which contained large amphorae of oil, water and wine. There were wooden bins of dhurra bread and baskets of fruit and vegetables. Legs of smoked meat hung from hooks in the roof.
In the centre of the room a thin spiral of smoke twisted up from the ashes on the hearth and disappeared into a ventilation hole in the roof.
A half-eaten meal lay with a jug and bowl of red wine on the low wooden table. A small oil lamp threw shadows into the corners. Taita crossed the kitchen to the doorway in the opposite wall. He looked through it into a cell, which was dimly lit by a single lamp.
Some articles of clothing, a tunic, a cloak and a pair of sandals, were thrown carelessly into a corner. A sleeping mat was spread in the middle of the floor, with a kaross made of jackal pelts on top. Taita took a corner of the kaross and jerked it aside. A small child lay under it, of no more than two, an appealing little boy whose eyes were large and inquisitive as he stared up at Taita.
Taita reached down and placed his hand on the child's bald head.
There was a sizzling sound and the sharp reek of scorched flesh. The brat screamed and twisted away from Taita's touch. Imprinted on his pate was a raw red brand, not the outline of Taita's hand but the cat's paw of Eos.
'You have wounded the little fellow,' blurted Meren, his voice softening with pity.
'It is no infant,' Taita answered. 'It is the last evil branch and twig of the sorceress. This is her spirit sign emblazoned on its head.' He reached out to touch the creature again, but it shrieked and cowered away from hm. He seized it by the ankles and held it upside down, struggling and twisting in his grip. 'Unmask yourself, Soe. The witch, your mistress, has been consumed in the subterranean flames of the earth. None of her powers will avail you any longer.' He hurled the child on to the sleeping mat, where it lay whimpering.
Taita made a pass over it with his right hand, stripping away Soe's deception. The infant changed size and shape slowly until it was revealed as the witch's emissary, Soe, his eyes blazing and features contorted with malevolence and hatred.
'Do you recognize him now?' Taita asked Meren.
'By Seth's foul breath, it is Soe who set the toads upon Demeter. I last saw this devil's spawn riding off into the night on the back of the hyena, his familiar.'
'Bind him!' Taita ordered. 'He goes to Karnak to face the justice of Pharaoh.'
The morning after the royal return to Karnak from Assuit, Queen Mintaka sat beside Pharaoh in the private audience chamber of the palace. The bright sun was streaming in through the high windows. It was not flattering to her: she looked drawn and exhausted.
It seemed to Meren that she had aged many years since he had last seen her only a few days before.
Pharaoh sat on a higher throne than his queen. Crossed over his chest he held the golden flails, the symbols of justice and punishment. On his head was the tall red and white crown of the Two Kingdoms, known as the Mighty One, Pschent. A pair of scribes sat at either side of the throne to record his deliberations.
Pharaoh Nefer Seti acknowledged Meren. 'Have you succeeded in the task I set you, Lord Marshal?'
'I have, mighty Pharaoh. Your enemy is in my custody.'
'I expected no less of you. Nevertheless, I am well pleased. You may bring him before me to answer my questions.'
Meren banged the butt of his spear three times on the floor. Immediately there was the tramp of nailed sandals and an escort of ten guardsmen filed into the room. Queen Mintaka regarded them with lacklustre gaze until she recognized the prisoner in their midst.
Soe was barefooted and naked, except for a white linen breech clout.
Heavy bronze chains shackled his wrists and ankles. His face was haggard, but his chin was lifted high in defiance. Mintaka gasped and sprang to her feet, staring at him in consternation and dismay. 'Pharaoh, this is a mighty and powerful prophet, a servant of the nameless goddess. He is no enemy! We cannot treat him thus.'