Year of the Hyenas (7 page)

Nenry raised
his head.
“I came because I’ve found you work. We thought, my wife and I, that if
you had something to occupy your time, you would forget all this.”

Semerket
sighed
dismally. “ ‘All this.’ ”

Nenry pressed
on, his
voice becoming excited. “In fact, I’ll wager that when you’ve heard
what it is, you’ll give up this terrible idea of drinking yourself into
an early tomb. And the best part—you’re the only man right for the job.”

The valet
brought them
a second jar of wine. Whether it was this second jar, or the fact that
Semerket had reached the lowest point in his life and had nothing more
to lose, he listened to his brother’s tale without complaint.

Nenry told
Semerket of
the murder of the priestess, of how the case by chance fell within the
jurisdiction of the two mayors, and how the vizier himself had chosen
Semerket above all others to lead the investigation—thanks to Nenry’s
intervention, of course. What was best, Nenry assured him, was that
Vizier Toh had chosen Semerket because of his contrariness and
allegiance to none. He was the only one who could do it because he
despised everyone.

When Nenry
stopped
speaking, Semerket was so still that Nenry had to stifle the fearful
impulse that his brother had died while he spoke. But he saw his
brother blink at last, and Semerket’s next words gave Nenry the answer
he needed.

“And you say
the
priestess was found on the city side of the river…?”

“NO!” MERYTRA SHOUTEDat her head man. “The whole effect is
in the balance of the reeds with the lotus. Are you too stupid to see
that?”

The head man
stood up
to his waist in the lotus pool, clutching a dripping bunch of papyrus.
During the past few days the pool had been painstakingly cleaned of
urine and refilled. Merytra had spent a great deal of copper in the
bazaars, buying plants imported from the Nile Delta, and new fish.
Inching forward with the reeds in his hand, the man hesitated and
looked at her for confirmation.

“Yes—there!
Exactly
so. Plant it.”

Two nights had
passed
since her husband had last been home. He had told her only that his
mission had something to do with his drunken brother, Semerket. There
had been no word from him since then. That suited her: she was
indifferent to where her husband was, or when he would return.

Her maid,
Keeya, stood
with her in the courtyard. She was a plain girl (Merytra would tolerate
no pretty ones) who sighed and yawned sleepily, holding the pot of
expensive, gem-colored river fish far out in front of her. Because she
hailed from a town that proscribed the eating of fish for religious
reasons, she was in truth appalled by the gulping, gasping creatures.

Merytra
noticed that
despite the early hour the girl had managed to rouge her cheeks,
outline her eyes with kohl, and attach long shimmering earrings of blue
faience beads to her ears. Though Keeya knew herself to be plain, she
did her best to brighten her appearance with careful attention to her
make-up and jewels, cheap as they were.

But the
glimmer of
Keeya’s beads in the dancing light was a constant, irritating
distraction. Gritting her teeth, Merytra forced herself to ignore the
blue flashes at the corner of her vision. The head man bent down to
plant another bunch of green shoots. Unfortunately his backside caught
the lip of the pool’s stone edge, and he plunged forward. The resulting
wave of water completely engulfed Keeya.

The girl
dropped the
jar on the stone floor of the courtyard, where it shattered. The fish
slid across the tiles, writhing and flopping, quickly expiring right at
the feet of Nenry’s wife. It was the second time that week her fish had
been massacred by her servants. “I am surrounded by imbeciles,” Merytra
said between clenched teeth.

Her
observation was
interrupted by a shrill scream from Keeya. “Look at my dress!” she
shrieked. “It’s ruined!”

“Your
dress
?” Merytra fumed.
“What about my fish, you little slut? You’ve killed them all!”

“It wasn’t my
fault.
You saw what he did.”

“I swear
you’ll pay
for them. I’ll take their cost out of your wages.”

“You can’t
blame me.”

Merytra strode
quickly
over to the girl and slapped her hard across the face. The girl wailed
even louder.

“I won’t pay
for them!
I won’t!” Keeya obstinately shouted between slaps, shaking her head
adamantly, blue beads shimmering like beetles’ wings in the sun.

She meant to
pull only
the girl’s hair, truly, but when Merytra reached out, she felt
something cold and metallic between her fingers. Then she heard the
satisfying crunch of torn flesh.

Keeya abruptly
stopped
screaming, looking dully at her mistress’s hand, now clutching the
crumpled blue beads. Hesitantly she touched her earlobe and found her
hand bathed in blood. Her dress was saturated in red as well.

The
neighborhood was
ripped apart by Keeya’s shrieks. People stopped their labors to listen.
Neighbors climbed to their flat roofs to stare down into the courtyard.
They clucked their tongues to witness their neighbor Merytra torturing
yet another servant.

It was then
that the
gate was pushed open by Nenry’s dull-witted valet. Keeya fell abruptly
silent and she and Merytra turned to stare. Nenry stood beside a large
litter.

Nenry blinked,
trying
to take in the scene. Blood on the tiles, the serving girl weeping,
fish flopping all about… What could have happened?

Merytra strode
to the
gate and bowed her arms low in exaggerated homage. “Blessed be the day
that brings my lord back to his house!”

Nenry, leery
of his
wife’s sarcastic tone, attempted to speak. “My love—” he began.

But he was
interrupted
by the invective now pouring from her lips. “So you’re safe. What a
fool I was to worry that you were dead or wounded by hoodlums! Why
couldn’t you send your man with a message for me?”

“I needed him
to help
me. My brother was,
is
, very ill—as you can see.”

At this he
turned and
indicated the man in the litter. The woolen shawl that covered Semerket
barely moved with his breathing.

“In a chair
with four
bearers, I see—better than any I’ve ever sat in. How much did it cost
you?”

“Thirty
copper—”

“
Thirty?
God of thieves and
wayfarers, hear him! What—does the chair fly?” She hurled an accusing
look at the hired bearers. The men instinctively stepped back into the
alley.

“It was the
only chair
I could find, my love. I told you, he is ill. Veryill.”

His wife
snatched the
coverlet from Semerket. “Hungover, you mean!”

There was a
slight
stirring from the chair. Semerket’s bruised lids were fluttering.
Slowly he opened his eyes and the lights of jet in them glittered to
see the unfamiliar scene before him. He registered the overly decorated
courtyard, his brother’s cringing expression, the bleeding serving
woman—and knew precisely where he was. With a slight moan he closed his
eyes again, only half-listening to Merytra’s continued diatribe.

“…good money
thrown
away!”

“My love,
please, he
is our guest—he’ll hear you.”

“Guest?!”

“I thought it
right to
bring him here, to tend him more easily.”

“Without
asking me?”

“What was I to
do?
He’s my brother.”

“I am your
wife
.”

“You said to
do
something about him!”

“Did I say to
bring
him here, then, to our home? No doubt he’ll just get drunk again and
shame us all. Yelling like a rabid baboon into the night for that whore
of a wife he was married to, for everyone to hear.”

Her torrent of
reproach ended in an abrupt yelp. Semerket’s hand had reached out from
the litter to seize her wrist. She gasped at the pain, tears spouting
from her eyes.

Semerket
forced
Merytra slowly down to her knees so that her face was directly across
from his. His voice was low and implacable. “Do you feel this hand,”
Semerket asked, “its strength?”

“Let go of
me,” she
whispered, eyes wide.

“Another word
against
Naia and I’ll snap your neck like a reed.”

She stared
into his
black eyes and knew him to be a man of Set, generating chaos and
disarray—and violence—wherever he went. She could not rule him by her
temper or her quicksilver moods as she could her frightened, malleable
husband.

“Say what you
want
about me,” Semerket continued in the same level tone. “But nothing
about Naia, understand?”

She nodded.

He let go of
her wrist
so suddenly that she fell to the pavement in an ungraceful heap. She
looked from her husband’s face, embarrassed and silent, to her
servants. Keeya had forgotten her torn ear and gaped at her mistress,
sprawled on the courtyard tiles. The head man in the pool stared from
behind the grassy reeds. Suddenly, from all the houses that surrounded
them, a great cheering erupted. Serving women shrilly ululated and men
hooted their approval.

Merytra rose
to her
feet. Refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, she began to walk swiftly into
the house. As she reached the doorway, she broke into a run. From the
courtyard, they heard her muffled wails.

Nenry, after a
moment,
turned to his brother. “You really shouldn’t have done that, Ketty. She
isn’t such a bad woman.”

Semerket
merely closed
his eyes and lay back down in the chair, and so did not see the tiny
smile that played briefly on Nenry’s lips.

IT TOOK SEVERAL DAYSbefore the wine
leached from Semerket’s body sufficiently so he could stand without
dizziness. During that time he slept on a pallet in a storeroom off his
brother’s courtyard. Merytra kept to her room, declaring that she
wouldn’t come out “until that madman is gone from my house.” All in all
it was a happy arrangement for everyone, and the servants whispered
among themselves how they wished their lord’s brother would visit more
often.

But Nenry’s
wife was
forced to break her vow when Lord Mayor Paser came calling, wanting to
pay his respects to the new Clerk of Investigations and Secrets. It was
in the morning and Paser arrived with his usual army of admiring
citizenry. Nenry met him at the gate, bowing low before him, arms
outstretched. Merytra remained in the background, tight-lipped with
fury that Paser had not sent word that he was coming.

“No, no,”
Paser
protested, “I only came to see your brother, and will be gone in a
trice. But if there should happen to be a haunch of beef about…? Some
river fowl might be tasty as well. Fried dates if you’re going to the
trouble, for I am feeling peckish this morning. Nothing fancy, mind
you—please don’t go out of your way.”

With that
Paser strode
into the reception hall, while Nenry’s wife and servants flew about
preparing the light meal for their honored guest. He seated himself on
the biggest chair in the room, and Merytra bit her lip to see its thin
ebony legs creak in protest beneath the mayor’s bulk. Semerket, hastily
clad in Nenry’s best kilt and collar, soon joined the mayor.

“Well, well,
so the
man of the hour is here at last, the one whom we all await. Semerket,
isn’t it?”

Semerket bent
at the
waist, holding out his hands at knee level.

The rotund
Paser
smiled. “Nenry here has bragged of your talents to everyone. We’re
expecting great things from you in this sad business.”

Semerket
peered at his
brother, a doubtful look on his face.

Paser caught
the look
and laughed. “It’s true. You wouldn’t be here today but for your
brother’s having had the courage to speak for you. And let me tell you,
when the Old Horror’s anywhere about, even I have difficulty speaking
up!” He gave a fond look toward his scribe, who stood diffidently at
the rear of the room.

“The Old
Horror?”
Semerket asked.

“Just my
private name
for my colleague on the west bank. Pawero.”

“Oh, yes.”

“I’m told you
apparently share my opinion of him. What was it Nenry said you called
him? A ‘pea-brained old pettifogger,’ wasn’t it? Wonderful!”

Semerket was
appalled.
“My brother shouldn’t have said it.”

“And why not?
It’s
only what everyone thinks. In fact, your words were what convinced me
the vizier was correct to give you the case.” He lowered his voice
conspiratorially, leaning in close to Semerket. “Between you and me, I
suspect that Pawero knows more about this business than he lets on. Ah,
here’s the food!” Keeya, her ear bandaged, brought in a platter of meat
and bread, while Nenry’s valet poured wine into silver bowls. Though
Paser’s face was always smiling, his eyes never left Semerket.
“Please,” he said, offering a bowl of wine to him, “have some. I
insist.”

In the shadows
Nenry’s
face twisted into a mask of alarm.

Semerket
disregarded
his brother’s expression and accepted a bowl of fragrant Mareotic white
from the mayor’s hands. Nenry was offered none; he could only watch
helplessly as Semerket drank, thinking it might undo all his brother’s
healing.

“Why does the
Lord
Mayor suspect his colleague?” Semerket asked.

Paser brought
a beef
rib to his mouth and thoughtfully gnawed on it before answering. Seeing
that Semerket’s bowl was now empty, he poured again. “It’s just my old
distrust of the nobility. They’re not like us, Semerket, you and me.
We’ve had to play by the rules all our lives while they’ve had a free
ride.”

At the back of
the
room, Nenry coughed. The mayor was mistaken to think that Semerket had
ever played by any rules other than his own. Still, Nenry did not rush
to correct him and neither, he noticed, did his brother.