The City of Refuge: Book 1 of The Memphis Cycle (6 page)

Khonsu considered. There were two of them. He was a good archer, and Ruia was an excellent fighter, but he did not know who or how many he might be facing.

“Not tonight, alone like this,” he said. “They're beyond our wide patrols at any rate. Take four men with you tomorrow and go that way to check for tracks. Let me know what you find, but don't spread the word.”

Ruia nodded thoughtfully. “Right,” he said. “I know some I can take. They know how to keep their mouths shut, too.”

“Good,” said Khonsu. “Now let's go back. It's time to turn in.”

But he slept to dream of Horus the Avenger doing battle with Set the Usurper beneath a cold, glittering night sky, surrounded by the wreckage of Akhet-Aten.

IX

Karoya woke Khonsu the next morning with His Grace’s invitation for the Commander and his lieutenants to breakfast on the palace’s eastern terrace. Shortly after, he sat eating a bowl of porridge sweetened with honey and chopped dates, enjoying the glow of dawn upon the Northern Sentinels and listening to the talk around him.

Perineb announced his plan to circle the outer perimeters of the city and inspect the boundary stelae and altars set up by Akhenaten.

“Just be careful, Your Reverence,” Mersu advised. “Those temples are open to the sun. Wear something to protect your shaved skull.”

“It would hinder things if I were to die of sunstroke,” Perineb agreed as he rose to take his leave.

Sennefer watched him go with an ominous lift to his brows before turning to Lord Nebamun. “It would be a terrible tragedy if we were to lose Perineb during this expedition.”

Nebamun had been eating his breakfast gruel of barley and millet with a vague but benevolent smile generally encountered in one who is neither ill-natured nor quite awake. The smile changed to a faintly pained frown. “Perineb's an intelligent man. He would never ignore your warning, especially with a shaved head.” He stirred his gruel and raised a spoonful to his lips, pausing, “If you thought him such a nitwit, you could have insisted on going with him.”

“I'm not speaking of Perineb!” Sennefer snapped. “I—”

“No? I could have sworn you used his name. I must be losing my hearing. How disheartening! Should I resign myself to carrying a trumpet of bronze around and shouting at people to repeat themselves?” He sipped from a cup of watered wine, eyeing Sennefer over the rim.

“You're not going deaf!!” Sennefer snapped.

“Then why are you shouting at me? Maybe you should take the day to rest. Someone else can accompany Captain Karoya to inspect the spot for the dispensary.” He turned toward Khonsu's second, “From my observation of you, Captain, you have already thought of that and found a likely place. Am I correct?”

Karoya grinned with pleased embarrassment. “We found a House of Life by the records offices, Your Grace. My men and I cleared and refurbished it. The Master Physician can inspect it today, if he wishes.”

Nebamun turned back to Sennefer. “As you can see, Physician, everything's under control. There's no need to worry about Perineb's death. Or to beat around the bush,” he added with a direct look.

“Your Grace's humor,” Sennefer muttered. He pushed himself to his feet and addressed Karoya, “I'd like to see this place right away. One of your men can help carry my medicines.”

Nebamun watched them go. He nodded to Khonsu. “Master Nehesi wants to inspect the quarries while the morning is still cool. He's gathered torches and other necessaries, and suggested an escort. I think I'll go with him. You told me you have seen these quarries; select a man who saw the cave-in and come with us, if you will.”

He located Mersu, who was frowning thoughtfully at the Northern Sentinels, sharp-edged in the golden light. “You can come, as well, Master Sculptor.”

**   **   **

The Second Prophet, the Master Stonemason and their escort covered the mile and a half distance between the city and the quarries on foot, following a path worn by the feet of the quarrymen who had worked them as early as the reign of King Cheops, two-thousand years before. The site was farther to the north and east than the previous day's line of march. Beyond the natural gateway, a wadi served as a channel for the runoff from the infrequent rains that had carved its contours inch by painstaking inch over the course of hundreds of millennia.

Though no one showed signs of fatigue, the Second Prophet called frequent halts in order to rest the men. At one pause two-thirds of the way, where the land began its slow slope up toward the hills, Khonsu gazed back at the city's green valley below, held in its circle of sun-gilded cliffs like a chunk of malachite caught in a setting of gold.

He shaded his eyes and turned away to frown north along the Nile, his imagination sending him soaring like a hawk along the cultivated land bordering the river and across the arid lands beyond the strips of green. He saw the rooftops of Khemnu; his mind's eye selecting one particular roof and descending in narrow circles until he gazed upon one who sat on the rooftop toiling at her embroidery: Sherit.

His mind formed countless questions for which he had no answer. So much could happen in a week. Was she still recovering? Eating properly? Did she miss him?? The weather promised to turn hot: could she bear the heat?

Was he worrying too much? His sister had promised to send word to him, but he could not expect anything for at least another week when he would be sending his first report to the Governor.

He sighed and turned his eyes back toward the river.

“Thinking of home, Commander?” Paser came up to stand beside him.

The tone was familiar, but Khonsu merely paused for the space of time it took to look around. He had known from the first that Paser would be a problem. The Commander of the Guard of the Temple of Ptah at Memphis was not suited by temperament or skill to serve as a junior officer under a provincial Army Commander, but Khonsu, remembering Nebamun's comment that the man needed to prove himself, had resolved to give him the chance to do just that. Paser would not have risen as far as he had without at least a little ability.

He looked across at Paser, who was gazing upon the city with an ominous smile and fingering the hilt of a fine dagger. “Of course,” he said with a convincing attempt at lightness. “And yourself?”

“I am right where I want to be, Commander. I have a home and a family in Memphis. A daughter of my own. But I am needed here.” He looked over his shoulder at Ptahemhat, who was eyeing him, and raised his voice. “Yes, I am definitely needed here, even if I have been described as old and fat.”

The words had their desired effect: the younger man flushed, but he spoke calmly. “No one has called you fat in my hearing, nor have I done so. No doubt Commander Khonsu finds you useful. Shall we continue, Your Grace?”

Nebamun had been staring at the rough tangle of rocks that piled rank upon rank to form the feet of the Northern Sentinels, his gaze as intent as though he were able to pierce through the veiling rock into the tomb-ridden caverns and passageways lying behind them. He blinked and turned towards Ptahemhat.

“If the Commander agrees that all is ready, we can proceed. Ptahu, pick some men and form the rearguard. There may be nomads hiding in these hillsides, and I want a good man to sound a warning if it is warranted.”

**   **   **

The entrance to the quarries at Akhet-Aten first appeared as a series black squares, stark against the intense brightness of the sunlit cliff. Long shoots of rubble, descending to the plain below in a wide zigzag pattern, drew the eye upward to the openings.

Nehesi turned to Mersu. “You were here when they worked these. Is there a more direct way up?”

Mersu shrugged. “I helped design the carvings and carved the stone. The stonemasons hacked it out of the hillsides. Commander Khonsu may know a better path.”

Khonsu nodded. “There's one winding up the side of the cliff. Narrow, but it widens before the mouth of the nearest bay. There will be room for us all to pause and light these torches.”

“Hm…” Nehesi’s dark face was expressionless as he squinted at the path, just visible as a lighter streak across the weathered rock. “I can see it. Shouldn't take us long to get up there. Lead the way, Commander.”

The group skirted the rubble, Khonsu in the front, followed closely by Nehesi. They reached the quarries quickly. Some of the men were panting, and several sat down in the shade to catch their breath.

Nebamun spared them a quick glance, then gazed up at the high opening towering above him, perhaps four times his height. Within, only faintly touched by the sun, was the suggestion of a gallery, filled with pillars, going deep into the black mountainside.

“This is immense!” he exclaimed. “And yet it looks so small from the valley floor!”

Nehesi, bestriding the threshold between warm golden sunlight and cool, silent darkness, nodded. “That's the way of stone and earth. What seems nothing from a comfortable distance becomes vast. You could lose an army in here.” The Master Quarryman took a lit torch from one of the guards and stepped forward.

The torch billowed and sputtered, outlining Nehesi's powerful form in blazing gold. It glowed upon the ranks of square, irregularly placed massive pillars supporting the ceiling. Pillar followed pillar, deeper and deeper into the hillside, until they vanished in the blackness and the silence.

Nebamun, gazing silently with parted lips, followed after a moment.

Nehesi moved a few paces away from them, raised his torch high above his head, and frowned up at the ceiling. “This rock, here,” he gestured above him, “is too soft for building. I can tell from the grain.” His voice was hushed and muffled by the surrounding rock. “So they keep it as a roof, as shall we.”

Nebamun nodded, but he did not seem to be listening.

Nehesi's deep voice filled the silence once more. “The rubble will need to be cleared away, of course. And I'll want to look at the cave-in. Where is it?”

“Karoya tells me it is farther in,” Khonsu answered. “Beyond this first bay.”

“Do you mean to say this is only the first of these galleries?” Nebamun breathed. The cavern of stone caught and hushed the echoes of his voice.

“There are four or five that I have seen, Your Grace,” Khonsu replied.

Lord Nebamun drew a quick, awed breath.

Nehesi spared him a glance of amused affection as he started forward. The debris left by the cave-in loomed suddenly in the torchlight; he eyed it closely. “Yes, this'll have to be cleared away before we can find out anything.”

“But won't it collapse further if you do that?” Nebamun asked.

“It isn't likely, from what I can tell at the moment,” Nehesi explained. “The weak part probably collapsed because of a lack of balance. Now that it is restored there won't be any danger if we work carefully.”

“Is the rock worth quarrying?”

“I'll have to look closely, Your Grace. And I'll want Mersu's opinion as well. It looks like good meat at first glance.”

“Karoya's brother in law has worked with the architects at the temple of Thoth,” Khonsu said “He told me he took samples from here, thinking you might wish to inspect them.”

“Your second is an intelligent man, Commander,” Nehesi smiled. He nodded to Nebamun. “Your Grace can look over the samples with me and see what you think.”

The Second Prophet was standing apart from the rest, gazing into the darkness with lifted head.

“Your Grace?” Nehesi said again when he did not respond.

Nebamun turned back into the circle of torchlight. His eyes were shining. “Magnificent!” he breathed. “Far more splendid than anything man has built!”

“Man quarried this,” Nehesi pointed out .

“But only look at it! So vast, so silent, so unending…”

“The veins of rock eventually come to an end, Your Grace. And so does this mountain.”

“Don't waste your breath,” Mersu counseled out of the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, but it goes down and down into the earth before it does,” Nebamun replied. “As it has done since Ptah spoke the first word!” He turned, passed through the circle of light and into the darkness, moving between the clustering pillars until all they could see of him was the faint suggestion of motion in the blackness.

“Your Grace had better stay well clear of that cave-in!” Nehesi called with a sudden note of panic in his deep voice.

“Now you've gone and done it, Nehesi,” Mersu said with a grin. “you should know better.”

“But Nehesi,” Nebamun's voice came quietly back, “You just said it was safe. Were you fibbing?”

“Come back here at once, Your Grace!” Nehesi shouted. “At least until we can see what we're actually dealing with!”

The echo of Nebamun's voice held an undeniable smile. “Palaces of stone… Black, fathomless temples, a processional way leading down and down into the chambers of the earth's very heart... As though here, in this mountain, we have found the womb from which will be born the bones of countless structures yet to be built over the next millennia...”

Nehesi was glaring into the darkness with his fists clenched and his head thrown back. “Your Grace's bones will be sleeping in a bed of rock if you don't come back at once!” he gritted through his teeth.

“It's no use, Nehesi,” Mersu muttered. “You know you can't argue with His Grace when he's in this mood.”

Nebamun's voice, even more distant, floated back, “I seem to remember a certain stonemason telling me once that mine and quarry collapses can be caused by echoes...”

“Your Grace!” cried Nehesi.

“Magnificent!” Nebamun’s voice was detached and serene. “How can anyone be despairing inside such a monumental calm?” He paused, as though weighing his words. “Or ill tempered, for that matter?”

The voice was approaching now; and Nehesi relaxed. “Try prying the rock out of the hillside while working under a deadline,” he retorted. “And see how calm you feel at the end of the day!”

Khonsu, looking over Nehesi's shoulder into the darkness, registered a moment of concern over the approaching sound of quick, unsteady feet. He had posted guards outside; he mentally consigned the runner to them