Murder in Mennefer, page 16
“By Set’s neck wattles! What of Pepi? Someone killed him, Seb. The man is dead. Just after I was speaking to him about my suspicions about Ahmose. I’m convinced someone followed me to his home and listened outside while we spoke.” And he told Sebhot about the thin-faced young man with the shifty look and the tattooed foot.
Sebhot considered the information. “Well, it is true that Pepi is dead…but it’s clear to the authorities, and me, that Odji killed him in revenge for the way Pepi was treating his sister.”
“I refuse to believe it.”
Sebhot looked steadily at him. “Anyone can kill, given the right circumstances. And no one can say what the right circumstances are for anyone else.” He shrugged. “What would it take for you to kill someone? Probably not the same thing it would take for me to do it.”
“But Odji—”
“You are not Odji, and neither am I. We don’t know what he was thinking or feeling. Look at the evidence! They even found more of the spider lily in his bed, right? And, by Thoth, it was you who identified it.”
“Well, yes.”
Sebhot spread his hands. “There you are. I say, don’t go to Djoser. At best he will laugh at you. At worst…” He shrugged.
“But Pepi said that Djoser told him that he should be notified in case of suspicious activities.”
Sebhot put a hand on Imhotep’s arm. “Listen, brother…no one has a higher regard for you than I. If there’s any truth to the idea that there are people of exceptional intelligence in the world, geniuses, then I think you probably are one. I believe you’re going to be a great man one day.”
“Seb, I don’t know what to say—”
“Say that you won’t go to Djoser until you have hard facts at your disposal. I am trying to save you from making a fool of yourself in front of the very person you most need to help you in your career as a healer, architect, whatever it is you want to be. Royal patronage, Imhotep. You know this as well as I do. Look how well placed we are. We are in a well-to-do household. Or we were. We might as easily have been tending flocks now, had Father been a farmer, say, or a herdsman.”
Imhotep looked down at the floor. “I know how fortunate we are,” he muttered.
“We’ve had life served to us like dates on a plate, brother.” Sebhot picked up a throw-stick and began polishing it. “You are clever and resourceful, you are well educated and come from a good family, and we are known to the king and the prince. You have been growing close to Meresankh. Are we not blessed among men? We have the opportunity to be of real service to the Two Lands with the atelier’s work. Do you want to throw that away?”
Imhotep sighed. “What you say is true. But to be of service requires a stable…government. Stability, Seb. The Sons would rob us of that. My first loyalty is to the Two Lands, as you say. And that’s why I must see Djoser.”
It was Sebhot’s turn to sigh. “Well, I see I cannot talk you out of it. Not that I really thought I could. You are a stubborn, headstrong person.”
Imhotep slapped his brother’s arm. “And you love me as your brother.”
Sebhot grinned wryly. “When will you seek Djoser out?”
“Tomorrow, after work. I know I can get into the palace…Father’s name will open the doors for me; plus, the prince knows me.”
“Pray he isn’t too occupied with affairs of state to see you.”
“I shall be praying to Thoth every step of the way.”
The next morning, Imhotep left for work earlier than usual, impelled by his excitement about his upcoming audience with Djoser. The eastern sky, hidden by the buildings around him, had not given more than a feeble gray hint of the forthcoming arrival of the sun god’s boat.
At the abattoir the day progressed with agonizing slowness. Imhotep impatiently accomplished his tasks at work while reviewing in his heart the things he wished to say to Djoser. All the while, however, he did his best to remain alert to what was going on around him. Pepi’s death had made him jumpy, and he kept a careful eye on Ni-Ka-Re and Kagemni while he labored.
They know that I helped Weni-Ka identify the poison used to kill Pepi…they must consider me more of a threat to them now. Sebhot would say I am being overly cautious, but I know foul plans are being hatched around me. I must be vigilant and cautious.
18
After work, he cleaned himself off as well as he could, knowing that he’d need to be at least minimally presentable if he intended on seeing Djoser. Usually he would have waited until he got home, but now, having brought with him a small stone jug of oil and a fresh tunic, he oiled and scraped his skin and donned the clean garment. Then he set off for the palace, following the Street of the King, which passed near the abattoir.
At this time of day, the city’s buildings glowed with an orange-red light as Lord Re’s boat slipped nearer and nearer the horizon, turning from a blazing circle in the sky to a sullen red ball floating to earth. The Street of the King led nearly due west. He imagined that he was walking directly into the fiery globe, where he would see his father and all those others who had already passed into the Beautiful West.
He wondered what it was like there. With something of an effort to restrict his thoughts to the business at hand, he kept his senses alert.
He doubled back occasionally in case someone was following him, taking a cross street to the left or right, then turning east at the next junction, running back in the direction from which he had come, and then returning to the Street of the King somewhat farther back.
He did this two times but didn’t see anyone trailing him. If anyone happened to be shadowing him, they were either farther back or else were better at following than he was at detecting them.
The third time was different.
He had just turned the corner back onto the Street of the King when he saw two men in front of him. He had not previously noticed them…and one was Kagemni. He was arguing with his companion. Imhotep stiffened. The companion was the same thin-faced, shifty-eyed man who had followed him before.
Imhotep ducked back into the cross street. His heart had somehow seemed to climb up into his throat.
“I tell you, he was just there!”
“Well, he isn’t there now, Kagemni,” said the other man in a thin drawl.
He sounds like a Theban; they speak slowly in that manner. Imhotep crept closer to the intersection, taking care to stay back. A passerby glanced incuriously at him, and Imhotep flashed a weak grin.
Kagemni and the Theban man moved farther off along the Street of the King.
Well, ‘he’ is me, no doubt about that. Now what should I do? Let them trail me to the palace? No…that isn’t a good idea. They’d only be waiting for me when I came out.
He puzzled about it for a while without stepping out into the Street of the King. Well, why should I stay on this street? There are other ways to get to the palace. I’ll just take another route.
With a brisk nod to himself, he turned around. Headed north now, he followed the intersecting street, itself little more than an alleyway twisting through a residential neighborhood.
His determination, strong before, had hardened like a sunbaked rock. If Kagemni and this other shifty-looking individual were interested in his doings and whereabouts, there must indeed be some sort of conspiracy operating in Mennefer. At the very least, Imhotep knew himself to be in personal danger. Ahmose might not have killed Pepi, but the odds were excellent that he knew who did. Imhotep had no intention of being the next victim.
He loped along, dodging children playing in the dirt, pedestrians, and wandering dogs. From behind he heard a disturbance: voices raised in dispute. He glanced back. It was the thin-faced man, arguing with a pedestrian with whom he had collided. The man saw Imhotep looking at him and made as though to chase after him, but the other man grabbed him by the shoulder.
“See here, you, you made me drop my bread, and then you trod upon it! What is to be done about that?”
“To the demons with you and your bread!” snarled the Theban.
Imhotep didn’t wait to hear more. Apparently, they were onto his scheme of taking an alternate route. This fellow must be smarter than he looks. If only I could avoid the streets. But I’d have to be able to fly above the buildings like a bird, if I were to—wait!
With a brief thank-you to Thoth, who was part bird and must have put the idea into his heart, Imhotep dodged into another side-street, little more than a winding passageway. Blessing his long, strong, thin legs for once (like those of an ibis, Thoth-in-his-heart commented), Imhotep scrambled onto a wall beside the lowest building of those crowded along the alley. Then he reached up and, panting, dragged himself onto the structure’s flat roof.
Prior to working at the abattoir, he would not have been strong enough to accomplish the feat. Though he was still lean, the muscles of his arms and legs were now strong and taut.
Rising to his feet, he looked around. From here he could see across much of the city, because almost no other buildings were taller than this one except for the palace and some temples. Maze-like on street level, up here the city looked like nothing so much as a series of white, flat-topped stepping stones leading toward his destination. If I’m careful and choose my path wisely, I can probably make it to the palace on rooftops alone without ever having to use the street. So, let’s see Hatchet-Face and Kagemni follow me up here.
He set off at once toward the palace, which glimmered in the west. It was by far the most majestic building in the royal complex, with a surrounding wall and temples clustered around.
The hour was still too early for most families to be preparing for sleep. Many rooftops, therefore, were untenanted. Imhotep wasn’t the only person to be making use of this aerial roadway, but he was probably the biggest if not the oldest. As a child he had taken dares from his friends to jump from one roof to another across a wider or narrower gap. He’d never been foolish enough to attempt some of the longer leaps, but now he put fear behind him in the face of his urgent need to see Djoser.
He scanned the rooftops ahead, intending to avoid those that looked to be in disrepair and those occupied by people. His progress toward the royal precincts, though indirect and slower than it would have been on the streets, was nevertheless steady.
Ahead the rooftops were closer together, indicating an older, more thickly settled section of Mennefer. He made good progress here. Then, while he ran lightly toward the far edge of a roof, a head popped up above the wall. A woman was climbing an outside staircase to the rooftop holding a basket of dates. She saw Imhotep running toward her and screamed.
“No, it’s all right! I’m simply heading for the palace!” But the startled woman screamed again. I’ll have to go around. Imhotep dodged to one side, increased his speed, and leaped for the adjacent roof. It did no good; the woman continued to shriek behind him.
By the king’s beard! He dropped to his knees at the far end of the roof, took hold of the edge, and swung himself out. He landed hard, near a group of playing children, who gaped open-mouthed at him.
“It’s hide and seek,” he said, grinning as he passed. “Don’t tell anyone you saw me!” The woman’s cries faded in the distance.
Nearby, another outside staircase led to a roof. He took the steps two at a time. Cautiously peering over the edge in the direction from which he’d come, he saw no signs of pursuit. He scrambled up and continued, making sure to be more careful.
The afternoon light grew redder as the sun dropped into the west, nearly dead ahead. It dazzled Imhotep, forcing him to squint as he made his way along the rooftops. Suddenly he came to a gap across which he could not jump. It was a plaza, a small marketplace, through which people hurried toward home as the day waned. He muttered a curse and was about to drop down to the ground when he saw a palace guard saunter into the plaza, exchanging greetings with the citizens.
A stroke of luck! I’ll talk to him, tell him what I know of the Sons of Atum, and ask him to take me to see Djoser. All the guards will be on alert for information about the Sons.
He was about to rise when the Theban ran into the plaza, headed straight for the guard. Imhotep froze once more, flattening himself on the roof. Thin Face spoke to the guard, waving his arms.
Imhotep chewed his lips. I’d wager that he’s saying the same thing I would say, except that he’s giving that guard my description, and saying that I’m the terrorist!
Thinking sour thoughts, he waited for Thin Face to be done spreading lies so that he could climb down from the roof and go on his way.
He was close enough to see the two men but couldn’t hear what was being said between them. The guard listened to Thin Face, frowning, then said something short and turned away. He marched out of the plaza toward the palace. Thin Face watched him go, a nasty smile spreading across his face. Imhotep ground his teeth. Thin Face then left the plaza as well.
Imhotep climbed down from the roof on the side opposite the plaza. No one saw him drop into the alley. He walked as casually as he could to the end of the street and looked out into the plaza. People crossed it going this way and that, but of the Theban and the guard there was no sign.
Imhotep sighed and resumed his walk toward the palace. Well, the day wanes…people will be heading up to their rooftops now, so I have probably gone as far that way as I can. I don’t have much farther to go, though. I’ll be at the palace before it’s completely dark.
Without really thinking about it, he touched the amulet at his throat for protection.
As he hurried through the streets, he rehearsed what he was going to say to Djoser. He had no worries that the prince would not know him; Imhotep had met him once or twice in company with his father. He remembered Djoser being imperious, but less arrogant than other royal officials Imhotep had encountered. Unlike them, Djoser had nothing to prove to anyone.
No, the trick here would be to get in to see Djoser at all. With activity by the Sons of Atum becoming a major concern in Mennefer, the palace would be doubly on guard against possible infiltrators.
He smiled a grim smile. Well, there was nothing for it but to take the ibex by the horns.
Ahead now, past the temples, lay an open space. Beyond this stretched the niched wall surrounding the king’s palace. Beside it sat a single-story mud-brick building: the guardhouse. This had been whitewashed to make it match the wall and the grandeur of the palace, but its plain appearance contrasted sharply with the hundreds of niches that had been built into the wall itself, most of them containing altars or statues of various gods. Citizens could stop here at all hours of the day to address a prayer to their favorite deity.
Imhotep had just set foot in the plaza when he saw a man enter from the east side, away to his right: Kagemni, like an evil spirit come out of the night. Instantly Imhotep faded back into the shadows of the street from which he had just come.
Now what was he to do? He cursed his luck. Now he’d have to try the guardhouse at the main gate on the far side. He backtracked and set off to go around the large plaza. Finding his way blocked by a temple, he fumed as he backtracked further until he could gain the rooftops once more. They wouldn’t take him all the way to the royal precincts, but by keeping aloft he should be able to see if Kagemni and the other man were nearby. If he saw no sign of them, he’d make a break for the guardhouse and hope he could talk his way in before his foes arrived.
Moving as quietly as he could, Imhotep threaded his way along the rooftops. This route was less safe than before; many roofs had people on them now, and he had to go far out of his way to avoid being accosted.
Fortunately, the night was yet moonless. Despite being nervous about wandering spirits, even though there were relatively few to be encountered in the city itself, Imhotep took this as a good sign; Thoth’s home being the Moon, this was the god’s way of helping him.
By keeping to shadows as much as possible, Imhotep got to within a short distance of the palace. At last, however, he came to a place where he would once more have to take to the streets. The problem here was that he wasn’t adjacent to a street. Below lay a garden, obviously belonging to a rich man, because it was filled with acacia trees. Judging the distance to the nearest tree as best he could, Imhotep took a breath and made ready to jump. His palms were damp with sweat. This was exactly the sort of thing he had never loved doing as a young boy, when his friends made sport by jumping from branch to branch or from rooftops to branches. Imhotep had always hung back. Now he had no choice, but he felt more confident because of his new strength. He crouched and leapt.
There was a terrifying moment of hanging free in space, when he was certain he had misjudged the target and would crash to the ground, rousing the household.
Then his hands slapped bark and he grabbed for all he was worth. His legs swung free, but he scrambled up and saw that he was a scant distance from the ground. He blew out his breath in relief and dropped into a bed of flowers.
Like a ghost himself he sped across the garden, keeping a wary eye on the house to his right. Gaining the wall on the far side, he clambered up and over. The street was below. He wasn’t sure which one it was, but he knew by the stars what direction to take. He was mere moments from the palace, which explained this expensive garden: doubtless this was the home of a nobleman.
None of that mattered now. He was almost at his goal. I’ve done it; I’m free!
Ahead the street opened out and he saw the plaza. It seemed that he’d been trying to get to it for years. The niches of the vast wall showed alternate bands of white, which he knew were stone, and black, which were deep shadowy niches.
Ignoring the wall, Imhotep marched up to the guardhouse. A guard standing at the door was facing the opposite direction and did not see him coming. He wore a leather helmet, a tunic bearing a black stripe, and carried a gleaming copper axe. A short sword hung from a leather belt around his waist.
