Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 2 - Samarkand Solution (5 page)

"What's this?!" Ram-f-amsu demanded crossly as the outer sentries swung open the doors and

Matiseth led the wizard-priest into the midst of the prince's private gathering,

"Mighty Set's blessing upon you, Prince Governor, and upon all who attend you here. I have caught a trespasser who is of such stature that I could not deny his demand to stand before—"

"Inhetep! By all the knife-eyed fiends of Re-stau, I'll .. ."

As the man trailed off into sputtering, face livid, the magister bowed, carefully surveying the whole company as he made the gesture. "Thank you, Excellent Prince. It is most flattering to be recognized so readily by a noble of the stature of Ram-f-amsu."

"Do not trifle with—"

"Silence!" the governor grated, cutting off Matiseth Chemres in midsentence for the second time. "You have business which allows you to barge in here unannounced, Magister?" The words and tone were laden with dire threat.

"As a matter of fact, no. It was your associate,
Great Seer
Matiseth Chemres who insisted on coming straight here. I do, however, have a matter of some import—perhaps a vital business . . . now. That remains to be seen." As Inhetep spoke thus, he looked from face to face.

Seated around the big table in the chamber were a dozen or so men. Several were ^Egyptian merchants; the unscrupulous banker, Nerhat-ab, was at the prince's left. He wasn't certain, but another fellow there might have been the master of the Nubian Alchemists. The man's hands were stained, and his skin a sallow color typical of one exposed to too many dangerous substances lor extended periods. "I haven't the pleasure of introductions to your guests, Prince Ram-f-amsu." The priest-wizard was gazing openly at the other men present. One was a hard-eyed Yarban, another a bejeweled Levantine. There was a Grecian there, although whether he was from the Achaean Concantonation or one of the independent states such as Lydia or Cyprus, Inhetep couldn't be certain. What attracted Setne's special attention, though, were a trio of slant-eyed men sitting across from the others. Were they Sythians? Hyrkanians? Or possibly even Turks?

"Nor shall you, ur-kheri-heb!" the prince nearly spat. "Trespassing, bah! Forget the matter, Matiseth. Accounts can be reckoned at some future time."

"But, Excellent Prince, he came saying—"

"I find this matter—and you, High Priest-growing most tiresome. Magister Inhetep, my guards will escort you from the palace. If you wish a formal audience, please consult with the major domo for an appointment," Ram-f-amsu said with rapid-fire speech, signaling for his soldiers at the same time. Then, excusing himself, he led the high priest from the council chamber to some inner room. "Pray pardon us, loyal citizens and honored guests. I must needs have a few words with the hem-neter-tepi, Matiseth. I will rejoin you shortly."

The pair of guardsmen were leading him away when Inhetep heard the governor's words. He glanced back and saw the door close to separate Ram-f-amsu and the befuddled cleric of Set from the diverse company seated in the private chamber. One of the soldiers started to take the priest-wizard's arm to hurry him on, then saw the piercing green eyes of the hawk-nosed magister and hastily withdrew his hand. "If you please, Estimable . . . Lord," the man murmured. "I regret I must show you out as His Excellent Highness the Prince Governor ordered." Not bothering to correct the guard respecting his formal title—there were four correct forms
¹
of address, each dependant upon Inhetep's particular role—the magister nodded curtly to him and began moving again after one last look at the trio of easterners. Actually, Inhetep took a little more time than he needed, for he was determined to let the governor and the gathering alike understand clearly the relative position he held to them should he choose to exercise his prerogatives. "I believe I will see you again," the wizard-priest said loudly for all those seated around the big conference table to consider. Then he went out of the room and along the corridor.

"Seeing that I am already here, Subaltern," In-hetep said to the junior officer charged with escorting him unceremoniously from the place, "I believe I will pay a call to the major domo as Governor Ram-f-amsu suggested. Please be so good as to lead me to that worthy's offices."

The young guardsman hesitated a moment. Was this a contravention of the prince's command? Very nearly, but the tall ur-kheri-heb was also a man of great importance. The subaltern recognized him as Magister Setne Inhetep, of the Pharaoh's Utchatu, the agents who were the king's "eyes." He also knew by repute that this wizard-priest was a great ecclesiastic of Thoth and famous for his work in opposing crime and evil. It was also evident from Inhetep's bearing and manners that he was a man of the nobility. The guardsman bore no particular like for Ram-f-amsu, and it crossed the young officer's mind that perhaps the governor was being investigated by Pharaoh. Better to risk the wrath of a prince rather than kingly disfavor. "Of course," the subaltern said after reflecting thus. "Master Hu-kefi's offices are just around the corner, and I believe he is there now."

It had been some time since Inhetep had paid a call here, and Hukefi was new to the position of major domo, having been appointed by the governor only a few months previously. He was a short, paunchy man who affected a wig and fussed continually as he went about his affairs. "Inhetep . .. magister Setne Inhetep," he muttered as he ran a plump finger down column after column in his appointment ledger. "I fear that His Excellent Highness Governor Ram-f-amsu has a busy schedule ... a
very
busy schedule for the next few months! Perhaps sometime in late spring?" It was meant to be a rhetorical question, for as he asked it Hukefi picked up a quill and dipped it in an ink pot.

"Hold there, fellow, " Inhetep snapped. "You are mistaken. I saw several open lines well before the time you mention. You will place my name on your calendar for an appointment for tomorrow or the next day at the latest!"

The flabby cheeks of the major domo flushed, quivering with the force of his indignation. "Now see here! Just whom do you suppose you are speaking to?! I'll not give you any appointment until I have your apology—humbly given, I might add."

If the man expected a hefty bribe and humble apology, which he did, Inhetep was going to disappoint him. "Write. Put 'Repa-maa, Utchat-neb' first, and then ' Ur-kheri-heb-tepi of Lord Thoth,' and follow that by 'Het Ser Inhetep-Uas, Magister.' Scribe it carefully, servant, and place it for a day not longer than two hence nor later than the sixth hour of the night."

Hukefi's eyes bulged with shock as the tall wizard-priest spoke. "You are of the princely house of ..." he managed as he transcribed the last of Inhetep's titles on the papyrus. "I ... I ... ask you to forgive me, True Prince. ..."

It was something he disliked doing and tried to avoid, but here the need was as much for the subaltern as to force compliance from the officious major domo. The prince would be furious at Inhetep's impending appointment. There would be nothing he could do to avoid it for fear of giving the magister cause to file complaint and institute a full-scale investigation of Ram-f-amsu as governor. He would keep the meeting as scheduled, but his wrath would rain upon those enabling Inhetep to have made it. By forcing the major domo to write down his full titles, the priest-wizard by inference gave excuse to the young soldier. Had he made demand of the subaltern as Pharaoh's agent alone, the subaltern would have had to obey an instruction regarding escort to the chief of staff of the palace before he removed Inhetep from the governor's compound. "Never give me offense again," was all the magister replied to Hukefi as the fellow stood wringing his pudgy little hands. "Now, Subaltern, you may fulfill your orders and see me outside."

They were just about to exit the building when an ashen-faced Matiseth came pounding up panting, "Inhetep! Come back quickly! You've got to help!"

"What's this? What are you talking about, man?" demanded Inhetep.

"The . . . the Prince Governor," Matiseth managed to gasp. "He's in the throes of some seizure—something devilish! None of us can do anything!"

Inhetep sprinted back toward the council chamber, with the high priest and the two guardsmen hard on his heels. The sound of screaming lent all four speed, for the terrible ululations they heard were voiced by Governor Ram-f-amsu.

COUNCIL OF DEATH

All of the others in the room were plastered against the walls, frozen in varying attitudes of horror and shock. Ram-f-amsu was alone in the middle of the chamber, standing atop the table, arms akimbo, as if elevated to make a pronouncement to his audience. The only problem was that the prince was not elevated by choice. Ram-f-amsu was being manipulated physically. His head swiveled back unnaturally, giving the magister a glimpse of his face. The governor's blood flowed in little trickles from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. The man's lips were drawn back in a horrid parody of a smile, teeth locked, eyes starting, as deep groans issued from his throat. Suddenly, one leg lifted so that he stood storklike, then that position changed to a one-legged tiptoe, and Ram-f-amsu spun as if he were a dervish, arms thrown out straight and stiff. An instant later, he was lifted into the air, turning still, upended, and seemingly shot as might be a shaft from a bow, so that his head hit the floor with a hollow-sounding thump and a dry snapping. Complete silence then pervaded the chamber.

"May all the gods forfend!" gasped Matiseth, breaking the unbearable hush. There were similar mutterings and exclamations from the others as they were released from the horror of what they had witnessed.

"Subaltern!" Inhetep said with iron in his voice. "Get all of these men out of here instantly. Take them to a secure place—-some lounge or salon—and keep them there. Do not allow any of them to leave or communicate with anyone outside. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Post two guards with them, and station at least four more at the door. Only when you are satisfied that they are secure should you take the next action."

"What action is that, Magister?"

"Notifying the metropolitan prefect, man! The governor has just been foully murdered!" The subaltern snapped into a salute, then began to clear the dead prince's guests, gathering them and herding them with scant ceremony. "Matiseth, I'll need you here for a few minutes. Please be so kind as to remain behind when the others are gone," Inhetep instructed.

"Couldn't it have been some fit?" the cleric almost whined.

"You are hem-neter-tepi? Come now, Matiseth, what sickness affects a man so? Of course Prince Ram-f-amsu has been murdered!"

"I'm no detective."

"Well, I am," countered the wizard-priest. "Be quick now. What auras and energies can you read in this place?"

The pale high priest began to invoke those dweomers which would enable him to answer Inhetep. While he was so doing, the ur-kheri-heb likewise began to cast his own nets of heka, so that magick might discover what agencies were involved in the crime. Inhetep had completed this initial work and was bent examining the corpse when Matiseth finally spoke to him again. "Amazing! I cannot find anything out of the ordinary!"

"What did you see?"

"Fading personal power, naturally, as well as some faint impressions from the company that was here. What is remarkable is the lack of anything I expected—no curse, no malign sending, not a trace of magickal energies."

"You found none, not even of a preternatural sort?"

The man shook his head, his expression so plainly baffled that Inhetep would have believed him even though he was the chief cleric of Set. As it was, the fellow merely confirmed what Setne had himself learned. "Not a wisp of preternatural energy, let alone anything above it. No supernatural heka, and a total absence of entital force."

"I see. Is there some oracular recourse available to you?"

"Nothing elaborate or exacting," Matiseth supplied. "At best, I can see if any elemental force present might have information—asking of the Neteru must await the proper ceremonies and ritual in my temple. What of the .. . remains?"

Of course the high priest would be unable to consult the gods here; Inhetep himself was unable to do such a thing. The suggestion Matiseth had made regarding elementals was also obvious. Without expression Setne queried, "What does the 'Samarkand Solution' mean to you, Chemres?"

There was no narrowing of the eyes, no indrawn breath, not the slightest hint of any increased tension in him as the high priest replied, "Not a thing. Should it?"

"I don't know." Inhetep considered asking him about "whirlwind" but dismissed the thought. "Whatever killed Ram-f-amsu seems to have separated and dispersed his nonphysical parts. See for yourself."

Matiseth came and knelt beside the governor's body. After a few incantations, the man stood and looked up into the magister's green eyes. "I could not even call back his spirit!" Then he wiped his cheek with his hand. "But that isn't possible. For one to accomplish such a dislocation, tremendous forces are required!"

"And neither of us can find so much as a whiff of magick here. Tell me, Chemres, what happened here after I was sent away?"

There was a pause as the high priest of Set found a seat and gathered his thoughts. He was shaken by this terrible death. Matiseth took a deep breath and commenced recounting the few minutes between his going off with the governor and running to seek help. "His Excellent Highness was .. . well ... upset, I believe that is the best term. He thought it unwise of me to have brought you into his privy meeting."