“Would she call you Friend?”
“Yes. Yes, she would. And I thought I was her only friend, until now.” He felt a lump in his throat as he spoke.
Es-huh looked into D’Molay’s eyes and saw that he cared for Princess a great deal indeed. She wanted to help this man if she could, but she also had her obligations to the High Sulgi and Lamasthu.
“Es-huh, who bought Princess?
I know she was sold here yesterday for a high amount, and I need to find who bought her.”
“It . . . it is not for me to know or tell of such things.” She averted her gaze to the floor, feeling guilty for several reasons all at once, for she was truly caught on the horns of a dilemma. Her life as a slave had taught her that she should never do anything that was against the wishes of her masters. Yet for the first time, she felt that some wrong had occurred that she could make right. Thoughts swirled around in her head as she softly voiced her inner conflict to D’Molay. “I know the High Sulgi would not want me to say anything, but I want to help Princess. She has been sold now, so she does not belong to Lamasthu. And if you had been at the auction, you would know who bought her, so it is not a secret. Still, I am not sure.”
“Es-huh, if you know, please help me find her. She’s an innocent. She doesn’t understand the things people might make her do.”
There was something in the desperate earnestness of his plea that pushed Es-huh to finally decide. “I was not there, but Oloth told me that Princess was sold to an Egyptian healer.
I do not know his name, but he bid the most for her.”
After the long search D’Molay wondered if he had his answer. Could it have been Kafele? Did he find Aavi somehow and then buy her freedom?”
“Es-huh, thank you...
I promise that I’ll find Princess and make sure she is safe.”
She gave him a strange awkward smile that revealed she was still uneasy about what she had told him, but Es-huh was glad to have helped.
“What of Mordecai?
Shall we go up the tower to look for him now?” She gestured upward.
Initially, D’Molay had wanted to get to Mordecai to choke answers out of him then throw the foul creature off the balcony. However, he now had the answers he needed. Es-huh had provided them. Would beating the creature help Aavi? On the contrary, it would cause problems if the guards caught him fighting one of Lamasthu’s slave scouts.
He shook his head ‘no’ and smiled at Es-huh. “Thanks to you, I have what I need now.
There is nothing else Mordecai can tell me. Take me back downstairs and I’ll go to find Aavi.”
“Aavi?
Yes, I remember she told me that was her name.” Es-huh turned back to the stairs and started down. D’Molay followed her to the main floor. A lightness danced in his heart that he hadn’t felt since the day he had carried Aavi through the streets of the City. He was closer to her than ever and he even dared hoped that she was even safe with a friend. “If you find Princess, tell her I think of her, yes?”
Es-huh smiled shyly at him.
“I will. Thank you again, Es-huh. I’m forever in your debt.” D’Molay wanted to embrace her, but she put her hands out and stepped back.
“That would not be wise,” she said quietly as she nodded her head in the direction of the guard at the stairs. Realizing that being embraced by a stranger might imply Es-huh was selling her services or doing favors, D’Molay took on a more business-like attitude. “Thank you for the information.
I will discuss it with the Council and let them decide. Good day, then.”
“I am glad to help. May Lamasthu send her blessings.” Then she bowed deeply and retreated down the hallway.
D’Molay highly doubted anything Lamasthu sent him could be mistaken for a blessing, considering his recent experience with one of her minions. But he kept his opinions to himself as he turned and walked back across the auction floor and out under the archway into the courtyard. Spotting a carriage, he decided to hire one to get across the City. Several were parked waiting and were mostly used to transport slave buyers back and forth from the embassies and inns to the auctions.
“Where to?” The coachman asked him as he got in.
“Take me to the Egyptian quarter as quickly as you can.
I need to get to an apothecary at the bottom of the central steps.”
The horse moved forward and the carriage rolled to the entrance gate. The guard looked in at D’Molay, recognized him as having entered earlier, and waved the carriage to move out. As he settled into his seat, his mind started racing. If Kafele had Aavi, where were they and why hadn’t he been contacted? It must have been because they couldn’t find him. It wasn’t like he had been sitting at home the last few days. Still, he’d been back to his house and there was no sign of a message. An unpleasant thought crossed his mind. Was it possible that Kafele bought Aavi for his own purposes?
He paid for her at the slave auction, and by the laws of the City, Aavi would be his property. But how was he able to pay so much for her?
At first, D’Molay had thought Kafele must have been willing to pay anything to save Aavi from a life as a sex slave in some harem. But thirteen hundred gold was a great sum and it was doubtful Kafele would have that level of savings after the expenses of opening his own office. D’Molay supposed he must have borrowed the gold from a wealthy patient or a patron, but how did he expect to pay it back?
None of these questions had been resolved when the carriage let D’Molay out in front of Kafele’s healing office. It looked closed, but he tried the door anyway. It was locked and there was no sign indicating when Kafele was coming back. D’Molay stood there trying to remember any detail that might help him find the healer. Although he had known Kafele for years, their relationship was strictly business. They only met when D’Molay needed to buy medicines or have an injury patched up. They’d never shared a casual drink, much less a mission. Still, they had talked regularly over the last few years. D’Molay rattled the door again. As he stared at the handle, he remembered something that Kafele had said when he unlocking this very door. “Tricky Egyptian locks! Of course!” D’Molay said aloud. Kafele was bound to the Egyptian pantheon!
He decided he was going to find a way into Kafele’s office one way or another. Egyptian locks were too tricky to pick, so he stepped back for a better look at his other options. The heavy wooden door wasn’t going to be forced open, so he ruled that out right away. There were two smaller windows he could break and crawl through, but he couldn’t do that out here in the open without getting arrested by a City guardian. With Kafele’s office directly connected on both sides to two other buildings there was no way to get in from the right or left. That only left the back and the roof, so he walked around the end of the long block and down a narrow back alley that was used for deliveries and trash collection. The alley was dark and fortunately devoid of anyone besides himself. The back entrances were unmarked, but D’Molay knew that Kafele’s office was the fourth one from the end of the street.
There were no windows at the back, but there was another door. It was older than the front door, but also made from heavy wood. Its lock was the same as the one on the front and had obviously been recently replaced. Cursing Kafele’s stout security, he stepped back from the door to look up at the roof. He put his hands on his hips and judged the height.
It looked to be about thirteen feet. There were several places on the back wall that would make suitable footholds, including a ledge over the door. He saw a wooden crate nearby and dragged it over to the door to serve as the first step on his ladder.
A minute later, he was up. The entire roof was at a slight angle that was higher at the front of the building and got lower towards the back by a couple of feet. The roof was covered with curved orange tiles that felt like they were made from dinner plates. A few of them cracked under D’Molay’s feet as he walked on them. Looking over the area, he saw one or two small pipes sticking out of the roof, but no skylights or other way in.
The back entrance looked to be his only chance for entry. He quickly and quietly climbed back down.
D’Molay pulled his knife out of its leather holder and crouched down by the door. He inserted the sharp edge of the blade horizontally between the metal bolt and the door hinge and then wobbled the blade back and forth while pushing on it with his other hand. After a few more nudges, the bolt moved up a bit. “They always forget to replace the old hinges when they replace the locks,” he whispered to himself with a grin. He soon had the lower hinge bolt out and, after repeating the process on the top two hinges, the door pried open. D’Molay slid inside.
He saw what had to be Kafele’s desk. The chair facing it was a padded version of the Egyptian styled seats that were in the waiting area at the front of his office. All of them were made of dark lacquered wood with gold and turquoise geometric designs painted at the seams and in the grooves. This one differed only in that it was padded with a deep red fabric.
The desk was the same style and color. D’Molay tried unsuccessfully, to open its three drawers. It was no surprise that they were locked. A healer’s office contained rare elixirs, personal information about patients, and addictive drugs that needed to be secured. D’Molay shifted his attention to the items left out in plain view.
At the far left corner of the desk was a small black stone figurine of the god Set. It stood on a green malachite pedestal holding a staff in one hand. In front of the figure were a few small glass bottles. Some of them appeared to contain ground powders or dried leaves. At the other corner was a neat stack of scrolls tied with a burgundy ribbon. D’Molay reached for them, but quickly noticed the hieroglyphics on the outside of the top scroll. There was no point looking at a language he could not read. He glanced again at the statue of Set. Set was no healing god, and seemed out of place here.
In the center area of the desk were several common items: an ink well, a metal ink quill, assorted clips and ribbon for tying scrolls, and a small, neat stack of thin parchment which Kafele no doubt used to write instructions to patients. As he leaned over the desk, the late afternoon sunlight gleamed across the parchment and something caught his eye. D’Molay picked up the top sheet and held it up to the light. Squinting, he could see impressions in the parchment left from quill pressure on the sheet that once lay atop it.
D’Molay knew that the phantom note had to have been very recent, because Kafele had only just finished setting up his shop. Fortunately, the note was written in Panthos, which he could read. Curious, he gathered a quill and another piece of paper. Looking closely at the blank paper he started to count the letters and write down the ones he could clearly see. They appeared to form a list on three lines. By writing down what he could see and taking a guess at how many spaces the unreadable letters took, D’Molay created a transcription.
He stared at the letters for a few more minutes. Even taking into account that some letters were missing, parts of his copy still seemed wrong. He peered at the impressed blank sheet again seeking even fainter clues. Adding those changes, he puzzled over it again.
Finally he was able to fill in the gaps and get the message:
Get gold from Priest. Bring her home. Bring to Set.
His speculations now fell into place. Kafele must have received the golden fortune to buy Aavi from a priest of Set. But what did the Egyptian god want with Aavi? From what little he knew about Set, D’Molay was immediately uneasy about his motives. Hoping it wasn’t too late to intercept Kafele before he completed his delivery, he resolved to rush to the destination alluded to in the note - Set’s temple in the Egyptos district.
D’Molay stood up and pushed the chair in, putting everything on the desk back the way he had found it. He left through the back door, shoving it closed but taking no time to replace the hinge pins. Walking briskly away, he emerged from the alley and headed for the majestic Egyptian temple complex where he knew Kafele kept apartments. It was also the same place he had been only a short time ago, delivering the gem to Sekhmet. He had to get back in somehow. A possibility came to him.
He paused and started looking through his travel bag. So much had happened in the last few days he wasn’t sure what he had done with the small bag Sekhmet had given him. After a bit of rummaging, he found it, and inside was the parchment entry pass with Sekhmet’s gold seal magically embossed on it. D’Molay almost kissed the paper in relief. Sekhmet and her impish friend had invited him to visit any time.
His frantic pace had stolen much of his breath by the time he neared the complex, but he forced himself to appear calm as he walked casually up to the main entrance. Despite his overwhelming desire to run into the place at breakneck speed and immediately start looking for Aavi, he took care to give the impression that this was a routine visit. It was a much harder thing to do than to plan, and he had to moderate his pace several times as he approached the first guard at the outer wall.