HEAT IN THE CITY

The bead of sweat that ran down his neck felt like a spider. Magister Setne Inhetep swiped the offending droplet away, then replaced his soggy handkerchief inside the fold of his tunic. "Boy! Another tea here," Inhetep called irritably, muttering under his breath, "Damned lazy Yar-bans." The waiter came to the little table, slowly gathered up the remains of the magister's first order, and then slowly wended his way through the maze of seated customers toward the interior of the cafe. Inhetep was too hot to complain further, although he again wondered why an establishment of the stature of Ra's Chariot couldn't find decent help. "All these foreigners! Where are the young Egyptians who used to serve so well?"

"Too many positions paying more than the work's worth!" answered a fat merchant from the table at Inhetep's elbow. "You should have to hire the sort of scum I am forced—" The fellow snapped his plump-cheeked jaws shut upon seeing the magister's glare, returning his attention to the bowl of fruited sherbet and sugar wafers before him. The hawklike features and green eyes of the tall man next to him were hard and authoritative. Although his costume was plain white cotton, something told the merchant that this was someone not to trifle with.

Inhetep looked away from the fat man. Innu was a wealthy city, and rich men such as the merchant frequented places such as Ra's Chariot and the many other cafes, restaurants, and cabarets—kept them in business, in fact. Despite having attended university in the city, Inhetep wasn't overly fond of the place. The corpulant merchant and all of his kind were part of the reason. Well, no matter; he'd make the best of the two weeks left. Tomorrow he would spend time visiting the colleges again, and the libraries and museums, and, of course, would see his fellow kheri-hebu, priest-mages, at the upcoming convocation at the Temple of Thoth. The trouble was the heat.

Summer in /Egypt was hot—very hot in many places, muggy in a few. Innu, however, was supposed to be pleasant, kept bearable by the cool breezes from the north. But the damned wind seemed to blow perversely, alternating between the south and the west, bringing only heat and no relief at all. Magister Inhetep might have been somewhere else but for two reasons. First, the summons to the convocation had precluded his taking leave of the kingdom to holiday in a cooler place. Second, Prince Harphosh had requested his presence in the city. Because the prince was both an old comrade and the governor of the sepat, the city and environs of Innu and associated areas, Inhetep decided to leave his villa immediately, spend three weeks in Innu, and thus satisfy both calls.

"I have things I must do," Racheile had told him when Inhetep informed the girl of his decision. Girl? Well, Inhetep thought of her thus, although he realized she was a mature and beautiful woman. Beautiful and deadly, given her training. Once his ward, she was now Inhetep's guard and companion, an amazon-like warrior who had assisted him with any number of dangerous, private investigations as well as the highly secret government missions he was given from time to time. "Wait until I return from the hunt, please, Setne."

He had laughed at that. "I fear neither the convocation nor the governor will understand and delay their affairs accordingly, my dear Racheile. You shall be away in Keshu for a month with Lady Mintet and that foppish cousin of her's, Lakhent. I fear any delay in my plans is impossible."

"That isn't fair," Racheile had retorted. "Lord Lakhent is a big game hunter, and an unequalled expert in archery!"

"Bah! You can outshoot him any day."

"With a horn bow perhaps, but Lakhent knows all manner of other arms and will teach me much while we are—"

Inhetep had cut her off, pretending not to be irritated by her fondness for the handsome young nobleman and her desire to spend time away. "But of course, Rachelle. That is why I was agreeable to your accepting Lady Mintet's invitation in the first place. It is only a matter of my also being away for a time, rather than sitting here in the villa rusticating, while you chase after . . . whatever it is you think sport."

That had been sufficient to send Rachelle away in anger. He had regretted his words slightly, but Inhetep had remained as coldly aloof as the girl over the next few days, until she had departed for the expedition to Keshu, and he had sailed downriver to Innu.

At first it had seemed as exciting as being away from home for the first time. Rachelle had been with Inhetep for years, initially as a slave, an urchin bought on a whim to be given to the Temple of Maat for eventual priestesshood. Later, the girl had become almost a foster child to him and begun to run his household, as well as his life as time passed. With only a smattering of training in religious disciplines and an immersion in martial skills, Rachelle's gradual change from adjunct to principal had come naturally. Magister Setne Inhetep needed a good swordsman—or swordswoman—at his side from time to time. Now Rachelle was mistress of his villa, constant companion, and as near to a wife as the wizard-priest ever hoped to get. After several years of this relationship, the journey alone to the metropolis of Innu lifted his spirits to near boyishness.

Inhetep had been a trusted agent of the government for some time, working for the secret police, the Utchatu, and a member of its most potent arm, the Merit-f. He had been a high officer, meeting and working for Pharaoh himself, before retiring a few years back to pursue his own affairs. Inhetep was of a very old family of hereditary princes—noble, certainly well to do— and he might have been very rich had he chosen to seek great gain. Instead, the magister lived from income generated by his holdings in Jigypt, a pension of a talent of silver annually from Pharaoh, and some miscellaneous sums from his current work. Inhetep had accepted not a few cases involving murder and high-level criminal activity since he "retired." He had successfully solved each, too, and for that had been offered vast amounts of money. He never took much, but instead saw to it that the sums were used for the betterment of his fellows. All but a tithe he gave to various charities, including those of Thoth, promoter of learning. How many dozen deserving youngsters now studied because of his gifts? Even Inhetep had no certain idea.

The slow-footed Yarban waiter finally appeared with another tall glass of minted, heavily sweetened tea. Some folk wondered about such a hot refreshment on a sticky summer's day, but Inhetep knew that the stuff helped him to cool off by opening his pores. He placed a copper tek on the empty plate and sipped from the glass, staring at the waiter all the while. "Well ... ?" The dark face grew darker, but the Yarban slowly counted out the bronze dinars due in change. "Here," Inhetep said curtly, putting a couple of brass coins on the waiter's serving plate when the fourth dinar came to his hand. "If you are more attentive next time, I'll be more generous." The fellow gave him a blank look, shrugged, and ambled off. Inhetep saw that the waiter posted himself near a table where several pretty young women were clustered. So that was it! Innu's avenues and shops were famous for lovely females. These four were striking and scantily clad, as was the latest fashion dictate from Grecia. That made him even more irritable, and for the tenth time that day the magister thought of Rachelle.

It seemed unnatural. He should be enjoying his freedom! But what if Rachelle were enjoying hers? Inhetep mentally sat back at that thought, examining his emotions. I am jealous of Lakhent, resent his obvious attentions to Rachelle, and I am certainly envious of whatever it is that effete young wastrel has which so interests her. Knowing that such feelings were destructive—dangerous as well for one in his position—the magister sipped his tea and carefully began a process of correction. Inhetep isolated each emotion, placed a counter-reason around it, and then dismissed both thoughts from his mind.

For a few minutes he simply enjoyed watching the pretty women at the table where the negligent Yarban waiter hovered. Inhetep admired the curves which the thin cotton or clinging silk garments half-hid, half-revealed. He couldn't blame the boy for preferring them to serving him. Could he manage two weeks of this? He would have to, since the convocation was unusual and certainly important.

There were few kheri-hebs who were truly adept. Such were the ur-kheri-hebs. The best of that lot were known as ur-kheri-heb-tepiu. He was one of only a handful of wizard-priest masters who advocated the teachings of Thoth. In all /Egypt, serving the hundreds of actively worshipped deities, there were no more than three score ur-kheri-heb-tepiu worthy of the name, thrice that number of ur-kheri-hebu, and thrice again that number of kheri-hebu. Political considerations aside, Magister Setne Inhetep was perhaps the most able of all those when it came to bending heka energy and using hekau, words of power. Yet, despite that standing, he had not been consulted. When the convocation was decided upon, Inhetep had been excluded from the process, merely informed of it afterwards. Well, it was time for him to become involved again. Inhetep resolved to use the fortnight's time to visit his fellow priest-mages and priest-wizards and find out what was so urgent as to require a gathering of all kheri-hebu. He would cut through the screen and make them confess the actual reasons for the assembling of the most powerful practitioners of priestcraeft and dweomercraeft in Pharaoh's empire.

Of course, the matter seemed banal on the surface. The announced purpose of the gathering was to award rankings to those now accepted as members of the confraternity, to elect new officers, and determine the suitability of novice-apprentices with regard to studying in one of the twelve schools which trained kheri-hebu. What could the true purpose be? The normal priesthood was often at loggerheads with the kheri-hebu society, and practitioners of secular dweomer-craefter were envious rivals of the priest-wizards. That was competition, a natural thing, and not likely meat for the assembly. No, something has been discovered which threatened the society, the realm, or ... or what? Idle speculation was not something in which Inhetep wasted time. A call at the temple, then a visit to the headquarters of the society to grill old Khaem-uas, current archmaster and the only other ur-kheri-heb-tepi whose art was comparable to his own. For the rest of this afternoon, Inhetep decided, he would simply relax and do a little more sightseeing. Innu was a city worthy of such activity.

The shaven-headed Inhetep snapped his fingers, ignoring the deliberately slow acknowledgement by the Yarban servitor. "Here." said the wizard-priest when the fellow finally came to stand before him. "Please use this to treat those lovely ladies—the ones who you have perhaps noticed at that table over there," Inhetep said with only a hint of sarcasm as he placed a big silver coin on the table. "They are to have whatever pleases them, and I do not wish them to know I bought for them. Think of something .. . ingenious. And, my good man, you may keep the remainder of the crescent for yourself." Then, not bothering to see what the women ordered, not caring if the Yarban simply pocketed the coin or pretended to be the big spender, Magister Inhetep arose and strolled away from the cafe.

He had supposed that the business which Prince Harphosh, hatia of Innu, had wished him to manage would consume some considerable amount of time and effort. However, the governor had simply desired Inhetep's advice. After a formal greeting and the friendly exchange between old associates which followed, Harphosh related a list of the concerns usual to a man in his office—labor and taxation problems, the irrigation system's expansion and improvement, a minor scandal involving embezzlement and a woman, and all the rest.

"What? No smuggling? Short weights? Crime wave?"

The governor smiled, shrugging at the same time. "Innu is basking in a period of unusual inactivity of that sort, Setne. Even with slavery abolished for most offenses, there's been no great upsurge in thievery or bad debt. The heat has caused some problems—fighting and murder— but nothing unusual. Most of the organized criminal activity has virtually ceased, oddly enough."

"Perhaps the thugs are on holiday," quipped the priest-mage.

"It just might be true! I even went so far as to grill the prefect and his lieutenants; I suspected them of slacking off on their reports, you know. A drop in crime here makes Thopu-emen look good when Pharaoh reads such reports."

"Still trying to take away your job, is he?" Inhetep queried. "I thought that after twelve years in office, you'd have the sepat as a virtual fief."

"Ha! Just like the palace to decide that a younger and more vigorous man as hatia is now in order. Time to have him get used to things as governor with no crises," the prince said with bitterness.

He was getting too old for the job, Inhetep realized then. Perhaps a few more years at best, and Harphosh would be put out to pasture. The civil minister or police prefect of the city were possible choices, but in all likelihood some relative of Pharaoh's would be appointed as the new governor of the sepat. "You should thank Thopu—he does a good job for you, governor. Besides, it is time to consider a more leisurely life. Don't you ever want to spend some of your noble fortune? Relax and enjoy idleness?"

"You're a fine one to talk, Setne! You came running here at the first hint of something you hope will be demanding of your talents."

"There is a grand convocation of kheri-hebu which brought me here," Inhetep responded, lowering his eyes slightly so that Harphosh couldn't read them.

The prince-hatia was not so easily thrown off track. "Weeks from now! You could have stayed in your retreat and 'enjoyed' idleness, but instead you came to Innu as quickly as you could. That tells me a lot of how you regard retirement, Magister."

"So I am called to assist you in your bid to remain as governor of this district?" Inhetep jibed, for he was determined not to allow Harphosh to discover the real reason he had come to the city. Rachelle's absence made staying in the villa unpalatable. His growing reliance on her was a weakness not to be discovered, let alone discussed.

"Nonsense. All of that was merely small talk, Inhetep. There is a bearing on the matter, though, in what we've just talked about."

"And what might that be, Harphosh?"

"What do you know about the kingdom of Khaziria?"

"Kaganate." Inhetep murmured the correction without realizing it, as he rapidly searched his mental files on the subject of Khazars and Khaziria. "Hmm ... A wild horde of Turic nomads who tried to push westwards, were eventually beaten back, and then formed a minor empire some nine centuries ago, perhaps? Their petty commercialism actually saved them, because they were valuable to certain interests of one or another factions of the Pangrecian Concantonation as well as the Imperial Russ."

"And now?"

Inhetep was puzzled. "A backwater marking the boundary between /Eropa and Azir on the northern shore of the Mare Ostrum, even though the kagan still manages some trade and tariff—"

"Politically, Setne!" the prince admonished.

"Aligned, but not too closely, with the West, what else? Trading pacts with Russ, Sinope, and Slovia—Hyrkania, too, to the east. I said not too closely tied to ^Eropan states because the kagan fears that his lands will be made into the battleground. There is no close ally. The kagan supports Hyrkania as a lever against Turkistan— having an ongoing quasi-war with that state, naturally."

There was a nod from Harphosh. He seemed satisfied. "Have you heard anything about them recently? Are their shamans doing something which is detectable?"

"Khaziria? With Olmar as kagan? Nobody goes there that isn't a grubbing merchant or trader, and their clerics are renowned for nothing save their ineptitude."

"I have come across something which might interest you, Magister," the prince said slowly. "By chance, I happened to come across a registry of foreign students enrolled in universities here in my nome—then I decided to check all records for the whole of /Egypt. Do you know what I discovered?"

"Not unless you allow me to read your mind."

"There are thirty-six Khazars attending our schools. All are studying some form of heka practice, mostly dweomercraeft and priestcraeft. Five attend colleges here in Innu and On."

Inhetep sat up. "Odd! Who would have supposed that those barbarians would have such a penchant for magicks' finer arts?"

"Evidently, Olmar has long-ranging ambitions, but I wouldn't be overly concerned, old fellow. Twelve years of study, then another eight or so years of practical application and personal research before one of them might prove a factor in concerns of magick—statecraft, diplomacy, or warfare too, for that matter." The governor seemed unconcerned. "There is at this moment one of these very men about to move from study to a more advanced stage, Magister."

"Really! How so?"

Prince Harphosh nodded vigorously. "At your grand convocation, Setne. There is a Khazar who has completed the courses required in your school, the University of Innu. You will be voting as to his becoming a kheri-heb."

The priest-wizard did not bother to tell Harphosh that the tests made the vote mere acknowledgement of an already proven status. "That bears some looking into, Governor. Still, I don't think I'll uncover anything beyond the obvious. Kagan Olmar has quietly managed to institute a plan to reinforce the power of his state. That it has only come to our attention now is indicative of a heretofore unrecognized ability in the sovereign ruler of Khaziria. You must report this to the Utchatu. Intelligence will have to keep a closer watch on Olmar henceforth, but that should please them."

"How so?"

"What better excuse for a bigger budget, more operatives?"

Both men chuckled then. "Do see what you can learn, Setne. Better to pass it through me, though, unless you want to rejoin the Merit-f. . . ."

"Not on your life, Harphosh! Believe it or not, I am enjoying my freedom and leisure."

"That's why you're roaming all over /Erth as an independent consultant, I suppose."

"Merely a sideline to travel and study the foreign lands and people, my dear Governor. Besides, someone has to keep the truly sinister elements of our world in check."

That concluded the meeting, and Inhetep wound up sitting at a sidewalk table at Ra's Chariot, merely passing time. Three weeks! Why had he taken lodging in the Fashionable district near to the governor's palace? Because of the erroneous assumption about what Harphosh would need of him. Khazar students, indeed! The prince was growing far too suspicious in his declining years. Although the matter was noteworthy as a measure of Kagan Olmar's ambition, it was clearly no complex plot. The students were not smuggled in on false papers. No, they were openly in /Egypt, and the fact that there were lower-class members of the group simply showed that the state was sponsoring the effort. These were undoubtedly the cadre with which the ruler of the Eastern kingdom hoped to train a whole corps of able full practitioners of both priestly and magicka. In his position, Inhetep thought he would have done that long ago. I'll make a point of talking with the would-be kheri-heb, however, the tall man noted mentally. I'm not quite ready to train outsiders in our most arcane and potent arts. Damned liberals will push for it, and that's why I wasn't informed of this whole business sooner! They meant to have a foreigner admitted to show that /Egypt, Innu University, and the kheri-hebu were modern and progressive. "We'll see about that!" the magister murmured aloud as he began to walk more swiftly despite the still oppressive heat.

He had taken a suite of rooms at the Golden Nylle. As its name suggested, the inn was on the bank of the river. It was very posh and attracted the trade of those on business with the government of the sepat, for it was only a long block from the offices of the district's government and the palace of Governor Prince Harphosh. Golden was appropriate too, in that the inn charged more for a night's stay than many men earned in a month. The magister didn't mind that so much as its location. He wanted now to be near the university district, the main avenues of Innu's activity. The Golden Nylle was as far from that as any place he might have found in the city, and now he had a long walk ahead of him. Perhaps he might have hired a sedan chair or even a chariolet, but such a conveyance seemed distasteful to him unless time demanded speedy travel. Instead, Inhetep went west and angled south. There were shortcuts he knew, and by taking the narrow, winding and angling streets and alleys of the old section of Innu, and passing through the dilapidated waterfront of the commercial quarter, he knew he could shorten his walk by a mile.

It was blazingly hot as Inhetep neared the river, and as he decided to move to a more centrally located hostel next morning, the tall wizard-priest ducked his head and entered a dirty but cool tavern. A mug of small beer was better than nothing, and his throat was parched again, despite having quaffed tea but a half hour previously. He ordered a drink, and was about to toss it down and leave as quickly as he entered, when he spotted a man across the room. Inhetep slouched nervously so as to conceal his presence in the saloon.

AN ASSASSIN'S TRAIL

The docks of Innu were home to many sorts of men. Egyptians of rough sort prevailed, but shoulder to shoulder with them could be found pale Libbosians, swarthy Nubians, lank Keshites, wild-haired /Etheopeans, taciturn desert warriors of Meroe, and all manner of other races. Some were bargemen and river sailors, other laborers and dock hands, while the remainder were escorts and guards. Most were dishonest. Many were thieves, bandits, and worse. The magister's size and piercing glance were usually sufficient to enable him to go anywhere without fear. On those few occasions where appearance alone hadn't sufficed, AErth had become a ruffian or two shorter, whether due to weapon or word of power. This was an altogether different matter, for Inhetep's gaze had discovered someone far more dangerous than a lurking mugger or street tough.

There was a door at the back of the long bar room, and from it came a negro whose stature and fine features proclaimed him as a Dahlikil tribesman. Such warriors as he were the chief reason that the kingdom of Axxum remained independent from /Etheope, /Egypt, and Adal. Axxum was an adherent to the Babylonian gods in a sea of those recognizing the deities of ./Egypt. The land was also a haven for brutal tribesmen whose status was reckoned by the number of men they had slain. Inhetep recognized this individual as more than simply one of the savage warriors of that distant land, however. This particular Dahlikil was named Ya-keem. He was the most deadly assassin the wizard-priest had ever known. He and Inhetep had met twice, and in one of those confrontations the magister had barely escaped with his life. Inhetep was sitting near the wall in the front comer of the dive, and as soon as he spotted Yakeem he moved so as to seem smaller, shorter, and concealed himself in the dimness there. Now, what would bring so high-paid and elite a professional murderer to this seamy little tavern? Inhetep wondered as he watched the tall assassin.

He did not stare directly, of course, for true killers of this sort had both magickal devices and a sixth sense to give warning of such observation, something akin to Setae's own ability. Inhetep had looked away immediately upon recognizing Yakeem, blanked his upper mind, and only watched the sharp-featured Dahlikil from the corner of his eye. It was a trick of detecting motion and position. By watching only the feet, it was possible not to alert a professional such as the ebon-skinned killer. Inhetep attuned his ears to the sound of Yakeem's footfalls and listened for Ms voice. The words weren't distinct, but the man said something brief to a broad-shouldered fellow, then moved down the bar and left. As soon as the assassin had gone, Inhetep placed a pair of bronze dinars on the stained wood of his table, examining the man to whom he was sure Yakeem had spoken in passing. He was a Scythian or Median; the magister couldn't tell which at that distance. There was no time to move nearer and listen to hear his speech, either. As the priest-wizard arose from his chair, he staggered a little, made a show of draining the last dregs from his clay pot, and then lurched out. The broad-shouldered confederate of Yakeem hardly glanced at Inhetep as he left, thinking Mm merely a tipsy clerk or merchant from one of the nearby factories or warehouses.

It was twilight, and there was near gloom in the narrow streets, bet Inhetep didn't need mag-ick to locate the direction Yakeem had taken. Towards the east, the way was fairly straight, and in the time between the lanky assassin's departure from the tavern and Ms own, the priest-wizard knew that Yakeem could not have traversed the length of it. Unless the Dahlikil had entered another of the shabby buildings around the place, Inhetep reasoned, the man was headed west, following the corkscrew street towards the commercial docks. Without seeming to hurry, Inhetep moved with long strides in the direction of the river. Once out of sight of the tavern's entrance, he broke into a rapid lope. After about half a minute, Inhetep then stopped still and listened.

No sound came from behind, but ahead he heard a confusion of noise. There was some busy street ahead, perhaps a little market as well. He would have to risk being seen, or else the assassin might lose himself in the crowd. Walking again with long strides, Inhetep rounded a nearby dogleg and found himself in a broader way with a scattering of little stalls and carts lining its walls. Torches were being lit here and there against the gathering darkness. Witchlight globes and other magickal illumination devices glowed more brightly as night descended. The ruddy flare of the brands and pale washes of greenish or violet-hued foxfires enspelled by amateur local practitioners gave the scene an air between that of a gaily colored festival and some nightmare glimpse of hell.

"Poppy wine, Aisthentes?" quarried a Levantine from his doorway.

"Come here to Amrahet's stall! Every amulet and talisman I have is guaranteed potent. No need to fear the sting of scorpions, the pox! Am-rahet has charms against all ills!" sang a vendor as the tall wizard-priest moved rapidly past the man.

To the left, Inhetep saw booths selling food. Skewers of meat and vegetables toasted over lit-tie charcoal braziers, pots of soup and stew simmered, and whole fowls roasted on spits. The odor was actually enticing, each aroma combining somehow to make the mouth water, and a dozen voices cajoled passersby to eat. Yakeem wasn't to be seen there, so the magister scanned the street to the left: more peddlars, shops, and a gathering of folk emerging into the cooler evening after being inside during the hot afternoon, but the Dahlikil wasn't there either. Directly ahead was a narrow lane, a street of joy, as was evident from the wall glyphs and signs clearly visible in the light of fiery cresset or multi-hued witchlight. More money was spent here; the magicka! illuminations were skillfully cast so that sultry purples, hot reds, lilacs, pinks, and oranges lured the sensual into the erotic byway.

A fat woman tugged at Inhetep's short sleeve. "Do not pass by Madam Sefrutha's Open Lotus— a dozen willing maidens await you within!" He didn't even bother looking at her as he continued along the lane. Ahead, Inhetep had caught sight of the Dahlikil murderer, his ebony face made hideous by a blue-and-crimson light as he said something to a Cypriot pimp who blocked his way. The whoremonger was scar-faced and muscular, but he literally scurried away from the assassin when Yakeem snarled his words.

So the tall Dahlikil wasn't interested in sex— at least those "pleasures" touted by the Cypriot. Inhetep watched as Yakeem went on, moving at the same rate the assassin did, for the murderer seemed to have no suspicion he was being followed. Yakeem shoved aside tramp and trollop, peddlar and pimp, shouldering his way along through the press of customers and gawkers which now made the lane a busy thoroughfare.

"Come to the Roman's Arena! You will see such animal acts as you've never dreamed of! We have all manner of hugely .. ." the shill barked, loudly. But the hubbub of sound quickly drowned out his litany.

"Young girls and boys .. ."

"Enter the Pools of Pleasure, Effendi! There you will ..."

"Never was silver better spent than with Zen-obia, for I will ..."

"Performing before your very eyes are . . ."

"Not even Pharaoh has such women as .. ."

The pimp was doing his best to sell sense-heightening drugs as well as Ms whores. Inhetep radiated disgust and violence, and the Cypriot avoided him. Yakeem was now only about thirty paces ahead, and something in Ms posture warned the priest-wizard that the man was uneasy. A shop with a broad archway stood just across the lane, so Inhetep moved into the place, feigning interest in the array of lewd statuettes, pornography, and strange devices on display. Meanwhile, he kept his green eyes fastened on the throng outside. The Dahlikil stopped and turned, staring back along the way, studying each individual. That took only a minute, but it seemed an interminable period to Inhetep. "How much is this?" he asked the beady-eyed little man who was the proprietor of the shop.

"That is a rare work from Farz, master. You are most discerning in your tastes. Normally I would ask a neb at least, but business is poor, so I am forced to accept a loss. It is yours for but three crescents—and I'll include a packet of lust-dust. Take it quickly, for I am insane to offer such a bargain!"

Although he wasn't looking outside now, Inhetep could feel Yakeem's stare. The killer was now scanning each place a possible follower might lurk. "Bah! Do you take me for a simpleton? A visiting yokel? You ask thrice the worth of the work—and keep your spurious aphrodisiac! I will pay you a single silver piece, no more."

"One crescent? It is you who imply I am a fool! I must live, feed a family! At two crescents—it is a crime, but I will sell and take the loss."

A neb was a coin of electrum, silver and gold mixed in an alloy so as to make one four times more valuable than a silver crescent, one-tenth as valuable as the big gold aten, the sun-disc coin used in high finance. The fellow's price was still too high, for fifty bronze dinars was as much if not more than what most men here earned in a day of hard labor, and the cheaply made book was worth at most perhaps ten dinars. When Inhetep had suggested a price of a silver crescent, he had purposely offered too much in order to keep the small man haggling enthusiastically. The ploy worked, for the assassin neither recognized the magister nor continued to search for anyone shadowing him. Inhetep could feel the scrutiny pass. A surreptitious glance showed the tall killer moving on up the street, still heading towards the riverfront. "I have changed my mind," the wizard-priest said. "Take this coin for your trouble, and thanks." The man was staring in disbelief at the silvery metal he had been given as Inhetep slipped out of the shop and again trailed after the assassin.

The nature of the lane changed after the next cross street. Big buildings and a wider passage indicated that this district was given over to storage and shipping. There were few pedestrians, but the greater darkness and many recesses made it easy for Inhetep to follow the assassin without being detected. Yakeem proceeded all the way to the bank of the Nylle, and on a rickety pier there met two other men. The three clambered down a ladder and went off downstream in a skiff. It was time to act, for between sculls and current, the boat would be lost in seconds. Inhetep spotted a reed fishing boat moving slowly along with the current. It was a bowshot distant and almost perpendicular to the pier. With a swift motion, the wizard-priest drew out a little carved figurine, a delicately sculpted depiction of Hapy, the deity of the Nylle, made from the tusk of a bull hippo. Speaking rapidly but with absolute precision, Inhetep uttered syllables which would have sounded strange indeed to the ear of any normal man, /Egyptian or otherwise; but which were as a mother tongue to the kheri-heb, for they were sounds of hekau, magick

words.

He timed his incantation so that he was actually leaping out into space leaving the dock's end and arcing toward the inky waters of the river when the final words came forth and passed from tongue and lips into the air. In truth, he wasn't certain as to what, exactly, would happen. His magick had invoked the force of the Nylle and pleaded for assistance in reaching the fisher's craft nearby. Would he become a hippopotamus? A big crocodile? Perhaps a swift-swimming perch? Nothing of the sort occurred. As his feet struck the rippling waves of the river, they sank in a few inches and remained dry. Then he felt himself rising slowly up, a sensation which might be likened to rebounding in slow motion after landing upon a taut net.

"Thank you, Nylle Lord," breathed Inhetep, as he began to lope atop the water. Having the ability to cross liquid, to be as buoyant and agile as a water spider, was not a particularly difficult magickal feat. It was nothing more than an ability to control preternatural energies and whatever a law of dweomercraeftering might require— a water-strider's legs if the decrees of Simpathy were invoked, perhaps. But if the Law of Antipathy were used to bend heka energy, a grease compounded of fire-based substances might be smeared on feet, sandals, or boots. The priest-wizard had no such materials on hand, however, nor time for preparation of any formula or spell which might otherwise enable him to apply any of the many Laws of Magick to the situation. The effect was granted him through the talisman of Hapy and enabled Inhetep's cantrip to effect a means of crossing along the surface of the river to reach the little bundle of reeds in which a fisherman sat with his baited lines.

"Forget that!" the magister snapped, as he stepped dry-shod into the boat.

The man started and dropped the line he had been hauling in as if he were obeying Inhetep's order. "Chons protect me from demons!" exclaimed the fisherman, trying desperately to pick up a big knife even as he called upon the evil-fighting moon deity, Chons, for aid.

It was hardly surprising to see such a reaction, for even if there were thousands of petty practitioners as well as priests and mages employing all manner of castings and magicks in /Egypt, few common folk ever saw such heka-bending work firsthand. "Don't try to use that blade," the magister said in a firm but friendly tone. "I am a servant of Thoth on business of Pharaoh. Here. Look at this." With that, Inhetep displayed a winged solar disc resting upon a crescent moon. The night was clear, and stars and lights from Innu sparkled and danced in reflection upon the velvety waters of the Nylle, so that the fisherman could see the emblem of the owl which was in bas relief upon the disc. He wasn't sure just what that meant, but he recognized the other parts of the badge. "You are ... a police official?" he ventured, still holding the knife so that it pointed in the shaven-headed man's direction.

"Yes. That's close enough. Just who I am and what I am doing is better left unsaid—the knowledge would put you in danger! Now, listen carefully. Use your paddle to steer this craft, and steer well. You are going to pursue a skiff which is a few hundred yards ahead."

"I saw the boat, sir," the fisherman said with growing certainty, for that sort of thing was normal. "It was made of planks, and two oarsmen skulled it. Even if I had two paddles and you assisted me, we could not keep pace with that vessel!"

Inhetep merely grunted, carefully lowering his long frame to kneel on the soggy reeds at the high front of the boat. He was going to summon help, and he had to concentrate on what he was doing. "Listen, fisherman. On your life! In a moment, this sorry collection of sticks will be cutting through the water as if it were propelled by a river elemental. Do you understand me? Now, place that paddle of yours so as to steer, and forget about anything else."

"But—"

Magister Inhetep turned and placed a small coin in the man's apron. "Trust me, that is a gold drachma. More than sufficient payment. Put your mind at rest and shut your mouth. I must have absolute silence now. When we move quickly, I'll give you orders as to how to steer, but even then I will have no talking from you." The fisherman nodded, and Inhetep turned back to the bow.

Employing the little figurine once again, and chanting softly as he held the figure of Hapy out over the water, the wizard-priest called for a denizen of the river to come to him. "Swift-finned fish, great creature of the Nylle," he chanted. "Honored by He whose waters nourish you, come now to help another who is Hapy's friend. Be as Atu and Ant. Move this reed boat, O prince of the river, for your lord directs his hekau through me." On he went, and after several minutes, the motion of the little craft changed from that of gentle rocking to an ever-faster forward rush. Just before that occurred, Inhetep felt a bump, as if some big floating object had nudged the boat's stern. At the same moment, he heard the fisherman utter a gasp.

Without actually seeing, Inhetep knew exactly what had caused it all. Into the priest-wizard's mind came a picture of a red-brown fish, a leviathan. Although the thing had scales the color of the Nylle as it rose in the summer, the shape of it was as that of a catfish. So too the creature's head, although the feelers fringing its gaping maw were arm-thick tentacles, and the huge mouth of the fish was lined with terrible teeth. This was a giant among the fish of the river, a creature from which an enraged bull hippo would flee.

The fisherman was near gibbering in fright, for although he could not see the entire thing, the five-foot broad head must have been dis-cernable. Such fish, rare as they were, were a gift to /Egypt, for they worked deep channels in the bed of the Nylle, kept the waters clean of carrion and refuse, and checked the population of the megadiles, huge crocodiles, by devouring them on a regular basis. These creatures were also the chosen servants of Hapy. All of this was known to the shaven-headed priest-wizard, of course. Inhetep's spell had summoned the beast from the depths of the river so that it might push the reed boat on at speed. There was little steering to do now. The fish simply swam, shoving the vessel along downstream in mid-channel. From a slow drifting, they were now cutting along through the water at the pace of a fleet horse galloping along on land. The bow of the reed boat came up, the craft shook, and even Inhetep feared it might disintegrate under the strain.

Then the skiff came into sight. It was still a bowshot's distance ahead and well away toward the eastern bank. Inhetep judged that the destination of its course could only be the On dock. The city of On was now almost a twin of Innu, for the two communities had but a little land between them, with more construction from each place moving inexorably towards an eventual blending. But while the southern city of Innu was a relatively cosmopolitan one, with only a small district of slums and a well-run administration which kept Innu moving, the downstream city of On seemed a negative image. It was governed under a different nome, and the district's chief official was rumored to be the most corrupt in all /Egypt. He was also a first cousin of Pharaoh.

"Right—steer to the right!" Inhetep called to the fisherman. The reed boat veered sharply to intersect with the assassin. It was too severe an alteration, however. The great fish which had been propelling the vessel rushed on downstream, submerging as its mighty tail passed the boat, and in a moment the craft was slowing toward near-motionlessness. In fact, the current was moving them downstream more quickly as the cross-current momentum of the reed boat was lost. "Paddle now, fisher, and use all of your strength! Make straight for shore."

He obeyed readily enough, probably thinking that any man able to call forth such a monstrous fish from the depths of the Nylle's bed might well summon something even worse to devour him if he proved lagardly. "Which of the docks am I to aim for, master?"

Inhetep had lost sight of the skiff, but it had been heading toward a well-lighted spot on the shore. To the right were a cluster of dull orange smears; downriver about a hundred yards was a long wharf marked by brighter flares, and betwixt them was a dull blue gleam. "Stroke for your life, man. Head for the lapis-hued glow." But halfway there, the gleam disappeared. Inhetep could barely see a narrow pier which had been the location of the blue radiance but seconds before. A dark shape moving out toward them could only be the skiff.

"Keep paddling, but slow your pace. The other boat is coming toward us, and they must not see us as pursuers," hissed the wizard-priest. Then he slid downward, so that he was concealed from sight unless the skiff came very near to them. Inhetep peeped over the boat's side, watching the skiff. It held only the two rough-looking boatmen; one now lounging in the bow as the other skulled the vessel towards them. Both seemed indifferent to the reed boat, and when the skiff was about thirty yards from them, its course was altered southward, upriver. No question that it was being propelled back upriver to Innu.

By the time he was clambering up the weath-erbeaten slats of the pier's ladder, it was plain to the magister that Yakeem had at least a five-minute head start, and unless his destination was nearby, the killer-for-hire would be impossible to find in the labyrinth of On's night-dark streets. The fisherman was already well away as Inhetep reached the top of the ladder and headed toward land. There was nobody in sight ahead, although there was certainly plenty of nighttime activity in the immediate vicinity. "Of course," he murmured as he hurried along. "The Dahlikil would choose just such a spot to enter the city!"

A man such as Yakeem could be in On for a very limited number of reasons, and all of those causes had to be connected to death. It was certain that the assassin was here to accept or execute a contract for murder. In either case, it would be a wealthy or powerful individual hiring the Dahlikil or about to die at his hand. Governor Ram-f-amsu or the hem-neter-tepi Matiseth are likely candidates, Inhetep thought rapidly as he reached the broad roadway paralleling the river. Neither the district's ruler nor the "Great Seer" of Set were likely victims, but rather probable employers of such a man as Yakeem. On the other hand, there were a number of possible targets for assassination in this city. The great priest of Ra, a half-dozen wealthy and unscrupulous merchants, as many land owners of the same stamp, the governor's chief political rival, a guild master prone to be too outspoken, even the high priest of Osiris in the city came to the magister's mind. "Too many targets!" he said aloud. "I have to chance this being a mission yet to be contracted. . .." Which of the two scoundrels would send for the Dahlikil? Ram-f-amsu? Or the chief cleric of the dark, ass-headed deity, Matiseth? It seemed most probable that the former would not bring Yakeem to him in his own city, so Inhetep took a chance and headed for the temple of Set. Its hem-neter-tepi would certainly have no qualms about having the Dahlikil assassin call upon him in Matiseth's very precinct.

There was no place in all ^Egypt, save Per Medjet, willing to host a major temple dedicated to the malign god's might, but Set's house in On was as expansive as any such place dared be. Inhetep was familiar enough with the city to locate the general district easily enough, and from there it was a simple matter to find which of the score of religious edifices was that of the red-eyed deity. The temple building was only of moderate size, but it had extensive courts and grounds, the whole complex being surrounded by a substantial wall nearly twice the priest-wizard's own height. There was, of course, a great entrance, flanked by twin pylons, and somewhere to the rear would be side and service entrances as well.

Inhetep didn't care to announce his presence to the high priest or any of Matiseth's underlings, so he moved away from the front of the compound. In a smaller, deserted side street, the magister took a short baton of ivory chased with a filigree of silver and gold from his tunic's inner fold. Then he reached down and thrust its thicker end between two of the cobbles. "To serve perfectly, be a peach tree," Inhetep intoned softly. As he spoke, the priest-wizard stepped back.

The baton seemed to waver and grow misty. Then it shot up suddenly, growing in girth and height as it branched and took the form of an ordinary fruit tree. It was extraordinary, of course, in its present location, but the tree was unlikely to draw any attention before morning. Inhetep clambered up into the magickal growth, his seemingly gangly limbs finding holds as if he were a youngster clambering upward in search of ripe fruit. In seconds, he was atop the temple wall, and in even less time he had dropped to the inner area. Set's servants disdained to illuminate the place, but the faint light of sky's luminaries showed Inhetep where the temple and its outbuilding lay. Before he went toward those structures, the tall ur-kheri-heb stooped and felt the ground around him. "Come on," he whispered to himself. "I know there's one around someplace." Then his fingers touched the roundness he sought, and Inhetep picked up a bruised peach. Placing it inside his garments, the magister moved quickly toward the most likely of the buildings, which clustered around the temple as might scarabs around fresh camel dung.

He was almost at the shuttered window of the dark structure, an aperture from which light rays indicated a tenant was in occupancy, when massive arms, whose hairiness could not conceal the corded muscles beneath, encircled his chest. Inhetep felt the grip and tried to drop out of it, even as he opened his mouth to speak a word of power. The simian arms squeezed tight, lifted him from his feet, and contracted, expelling all air from the wizard-priest's lungs. At that instant, blackness swept over him.

CONFRONTATIONS

" The faithful normally enter by the front gate, Magister Inhetep," drawled the long-faced prelate of Set.

The wizard-priest blinked once, orienting himself. Then he looked calmly at Matiseth Chemres and quipped, "And honest priests don't have dangerous monsters roaming their temple's grounds, Great Seer."

"But that is only prudent in such a city as On. I believe it not customary for ur-kheri-hebu—one styled as an 'ur-kheri-heb-tepi' of Thoth, in fact-— to come stealing into the grounds of other institutions as might a thief in the night, either."

The high priest of Set was smirking, for no matter what Inhetep might say, the fact was that he had been caught creeping around as if he were some bandit bent on criminal activity. "I must then offer my apology," the magister said with a level tone which neither betrayed emotion or conveyed regret. "I was in search of a dangerous felon, and my entrance was not normal because of that fact. You may, of course, count me among the faithful of Thoth—judge of disputes between deities such as your own and Hern, for instance." Matiseth's horse-like face hardened at that, and his mouth turned down from a smirk to a barely imperceptible frown. Inhetep had scored with those words.

"Ancient history, dear fellow," the man said coldly. "What am I to do with you, I wonder?"

"Unlock these manacles, of course," Inhetep replied.

"Ah, but not so fast. You might be an importer—a mountebank or, even worse, an assassin! It takes only moderate skill in hekau to disguise oneself with illusion. First, I must be satisfied you are the noble Magister Seine Inhetep, then we shall deal with your trespassing, and only thereafter may you possibly be released.

"What have you to say now, ur-kheri-heb of the bird-head?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Matiseth! You yourself recognized me for who I am, and you have ample power to detect any imposture or illusory semblance. Free me immediately. An agent of Pharaoh cannot be held-—for any reason, let alone trespassing."

The equine features of the hem-neter-tepi of Set were again moving toward a smirk. "Agent? It is well known that the real Setne Inhetep resigned his office years ago,"

The recuperative powers of the green-eyed priest-wizard were near to restoring him to his full abilities. Inhetep had been caught by one of the temple's trained apes—carnivorous gorillas kept and bred over centuries for size, strength, ferocity, and cunning. The monster had come close to breaking the wizard-priest's ribs when it had grappled him, and there was a bump on Inhetep's shaven pate where the beast had hurled him down, probably at Matiseth Chem-res' bidding, when it brought its prize inside to its master. St was evident that the high priest of Set was confident that Inhetep had suffered sufficiently to incapacitate him for a time, or else Matiseth would either have been more polite or taken greater precautions to bind him. Although his hands and feet were secured by dweomered chains, Inhetep was not gagged or otherwise inhibited from employing magick. "Is that so?" he rejoined with a mocking tone; and as he looked unwaveringly at Matiseth, there appeared on his plain cotton tunic the emblem of Pharaoh's own agents, the Utchatu: a two-headed birdlike form with wings outstretched, one head a falcon with the golden eye of the sun, the other that of an owl with the silver eye of the moon.

The hem-neter-tepi's eyes were drawn to the emblem, and it was evident its sudden appearance on Inhetep's breast was quite unexpected. "Well ... that, too, could be some ruse," he offered nonplussed.

"And this?" inquired the Magister, handing him the manacles and leg chains. "That pet gorilla of yours savaged me, 'Great Seer,' but only insignificantly—it is a mere brute, you know, and cannot be expected to know how to efficiently incapacitate an ur-kheri-heb. Next time, I suggest you use more conventional sentinels."

Matiseth Chemres leaped to his feet, hands held before him as if to ward off an attack or to send some magick of his own casting toward the tall priest-mage. "Beware, magister! I am no ordinary fellow to be trifled with. Use heka at your peril!"

Inhetep laughed. "Pish. How can you see a threat in a mere return of your own equipment? Now, however, I must be on my way, for I have much to do yet this night."

"Not so fast, ur-kheri-heb!" There was an edge in Matiseth's voice as the hem-neter-tepi of Set said that. "As an official of the city and sepat of On, I am detaining you for police questioning."

"Oh, stop the charade, Chemres," the magister countered. "You know very well that there is no cause and the authorities here have no jurisdiction."

"I can't stop you from departing, Inhetep, but I can and will make a report of this whole matter to Prince Ram-f-amsu. We will then see what transpires. ..."

There was no question that such a report would irritate the Pharaoh, earn disfavor for Harphosh—Inhetep's visit to the governor in Innu was too recent to be viewed as coincidental—and possibly cause the revocation of the ma-gister's credentials. Unless Inhetep cooperated now, the Great Seer Matiseth could lodge a complaint whose weight and repercussions would be

considerable. "Very well. Let us go immediately to Governor Ram-f-amsu's offices."

"I'm afraid that's quite impossible, Inhetep. The prince is holding a meeting with—with important dignitaries, or so I'm told."

Although Inhetep gave no sign that he marked the sudden correction, it was a slip of the tongue he didn't miss. Matiseth was so close to the hatia of On as to know what business he conducted at this moment and had almost blurted out what that was. The easy removal of the specially prepared bindings by the priest-wizard must have shaken Matiseth considerably. Setne pretended to miss the point entirely. "What matter that? If His Excellent Highness Prince Ram-f-amsu is already working late, then our appearance at the palace will not add a further burden. I insist we go now—-or it is I who will appear without you, Chemres."

The high priest's face was longer than ever, but he acquiesced with a show of ill grace. "One of these days, meddling ur-kheri-heb, you will so overstep yourself that I'll have you!"

"I thought that's what had happened now," Inhetep supplied blandly as he left the starkly furnished room. Matiseth scowled and followed him, the wizard-priest passing into a short hallway and heading directly for a pair of large doors at its end. They gave onto the flower-filled garden, which was the exclusive domain of the temple's prelate. "A pleasant little place you have here, Chemres. I do hope you've leashed your apes ... I'd hate to spoil the landscaping with scorch marks and splattered gore."

The great cleric of Set wasn't sure what Inhetep might use, but he was certain that the ur-kheri-heb had ample force to manage something of the sort. "Dumal! Urhekt! Leash the betu-huru. Quickly!" A pair of uab priests appeared from a shadowed portico nearby, each shaking a golden sistrum. Two shambling simians came at the tinkling sounds the priests made with their instruments, and Matiseth snarled, "There, Inhetep, you are quite safe now. Get out of this dedicated place quickly; you profane it!"

"I thought filth polluted the clean, not vice versa," Inhetep quipped as he walked with long strides to the protected postern which was the chief priest's personal entry.

Although the city of On was by no means as prosperous as Innu, and its crowded slums and shabby structures showed little in the way of pretension towards anything like wealth, the governor's palace was just the opposite. As Inhetep and the chief ecclesiastic of the ass-headed Set approached the structure, it was apparent that the hatia of On was not averse to display. The whole of the huge place was ablaze with light, and there were a multitude of servants, private guards, and city watch swarming all over it. "You understated Ram-f-amsu's distraction," the magister said to Matiseth as he took in the chaotic scene. He thought privately that perhaps the great priest's personal contact with Prince Ram-f-amsu was not so telling as he had assumed from the man's blunder. Could it be that Matiseth was a mere name dropper?

"Our governor plans to improve things in this district—startling new concepts, I might add."

"Really," said Inhetep as he strode to the en-I ranee of the palace. Guards with glaive-guisarmes blocked his way, their long-hafted weapons clanging into a crossed position to indicate forbidden entry. In truth, they had a right to be suspicious, for the priest-wizard looked both shabby and soiled after the night's adventure. However, one glance at his emblem of office sufficed for the soldiers to snap to stiff attention and pass him through the gate. Matiseth Chemres was unchallenged. "I see they know you here as well as you know His Excellent Highness's ambitions," the magister remarked.

"A wise man seeks the counsel of clear thinkers and other clever leaders," the hem-neter-tepi of Set huffed with self-importance. "Here. I'll lead the way." Matiseth strutted ahead, red cape fluttering, passing several more sets of guards as he led his adversary into the main hall and through several antechambers and lesser halls. To their left was a salon of sorts filled with well-dressed folk, but the high priest ignored them and went straight for what could only be the inner council room of the governor.

"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 forms¹ 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."

"I noticed that Ram-f-amsu was somewhat annoyed," interjected Inhetep dryly.

"Yes. Well, anyway, he took me aside in order to give me the opportunity to explain matters without those unconcerned with the question . . . interrupting."

"You were reprimanded," the magister agreed, "probably for saying too much in my hearing as well as in front of the others. Tell me how long you two were closeted, and show me the room he took you to before you get to the rest."

The man was still too shaken to object to Inhetep's comments. "It was only a few minutes-three or four at the most. We were in Ram-f-arnsu's personal study," Matiseth told him, leading Inhetep to the inner door as he spoke.

Beyond was a small, rather elegantly furnished, room. Maps of the city, the whole of the On sepat territory, /Egypt, and that portion of Yarth running east from central ^Eropa and Afrik to mid-Azir, decorated the long wall across from the desk. Behind that littered table were shelves and cases, evidently for storage of files as well as to keep handy such papers, scrolls, and books Ram-f-amsu might desire. Besides his own seat, there were a pair of chairs for visitors. A small shrine with closed doors hiding the deity reverenced therein was set in the wall immediately beside the entryway they stood near, while opposite them was another door flanked by a very fine oil painting of Ram-f-amsu done by some Italic master and a bust of Rameses XII. The bright tiles of the floor were covered only partially by an old but priceless Farzian carpet. On that rug rested a stand holding a world globe.

"The governor seemed inordinately fond of maps," Inhetep quipped as he busied himself with kicking aside a dried husk of some insect or other which inappropriately lay in plain view on the tiles near the desk.

"One would rather say that His Excellent Highness was a student of both politics and history," corrected Matiseth primly.

"What lies beyond that door?" the priest-wizard asked, pointing towards the far exit, letting Chemres' contradiction pass without comment.

"It leads to Ram-f-amsu's personal suite of rooms—a dining salon, his bed chamber and dressing room, and a bath. Those connect with a private hallway which has egress to the outside as well as the palace's main corridor."

"You are quite conversant with the governor's accommodations.''

"He consulted me often." The priest of Set stood taller, chest out a bit as he said that.

"No doubt, Great Seer, no doubt. What about a woman? A harem?"

"He kept none. Ram-f-amsu was dedicated to his work and had no time for frivolous pursuits."

Inhetep turned, gesturing to the ecclesiastic to follow. "So much for that. Now, sir, please resume your account."

Matiseth sat down once again. "As I have already related to you, we were in the study only about three or four minutes. Then the prince suggested 1 should leave so he could conclude his meeting, and I agreed. We both stood up and went back into the council chamber, Ram-f-amsu preceding me. Something odd must have occurred at that very moment."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I could see the faces of those seated at the table. They had been conversing, but when we came from the study, they all looked toward us. In an instant, their faces went from bland countenances to expressions of horror."

That was noteworthy, the magister thought. "And what of Ram-f-amsu? At that particular instant, did you note anything unusual In the posture of the governor?"

"It was as if he was paralyzed for just an instant. Then, back stiff, he rose off the floor a few inches—as if he were levitating—and thus separated from the floor, he began moving on into the chamber. He began to make strange sounds then, too; and as he went he began to gyrate. The rotation was slow for a moment or two, then it increased to a point which make him a blur, I must confess, I was glad not to have to see his face then, although the screaming increased with the speed of his spinning."

"Did anyone do something to help the poor man?"

The high priest nodded. "I immediately uttered a charm to ward off hostile forces, and then I attempted to seize the governor to stop the gyration. It was evidentially most painful, you see."

"Did any of the others assist you?"

"I was paying no attention to what the rest were doing. I had my entire consciousness fixed on the prince," Matiseth admitted. "I was attempting to find some magickal reason for what was besetting Ram-f-amsu even as I rushed to him so as to assist physically. Perhaps the others there were likewise motivated by such loyalty, I cannot say. As I came to take hold of His Excellent Highness, however, his feet kicked out—as if meaning to strike me, the very one helping him!"

Inhetep prompted the man. "What happened then?"

"I was struck most painfully and knocked away. I fell. The others then plastered themselves against the walls for fear of being struck as I had been."

"And what castings did you detect there— prior to being kicked away and afterwards, if you then searched for magicks?"

"There was scant time, and the conditions were confused, but 1 thought I saw a black and fuzzy limning around Ram-f-amsu just as I tried to grasp him and cease his trials." The high priest paused, wiping his face as if brushing away annoying insects, and he shuddered. "That was a most disquieting sensation, for the sable aura seemed both mindless and cunning at the same time." Matiseth shook himself and swallowed. "It was impossible for me to make another contact, of course. By that time, the prince's agonies began to increase as did Ms contortions and gyrations. I thought that you might still be near enough, Magister, to assist in rescuing the prince, so I managed to get up from where I had been knocked and ran to find you."

"Because I am an ur-kheri-heb?"

Matiseth shrugged. "What else? You are a wizard as well as a priest. I hoped your grasp of a greater diversity of heka than I have would serve to rescue the governor."

The magister remained expressionless, but his mind was racing as he tucked away each part of the story Matiseth had related. There would be time for analysis and assessment later. "Two more questions before we finish, Hem-neter-tepi. First, do you know the persons who were meeting with the governor? Second, and twofold in nature, can you tell me why they were met? And why you were not there also?"

"Know? Well, I should certainly say I do! They are the elite of On, you understand. There were a handful of men there I did not recognize, but—"

"When the prefect's agents come, Chemres, please tell them the names of each man you saw and recognized, as well as describing those for whom you have no such identifying appellation. I'll read a copy of that. Time flies, and I need the rest of your answer. Why were they gathered? Why were you not called to the meeting?" Inhetep urged by repeating his queries.

Again the high priest shrugged. "Although I was consulted often—Ram-f-amsu considered me a friend and spiritual guide, too—I was not privy to each and every matter pertaining to governance of the sepat, after all. It seems I do recall His Excellent Highness mentioning something about increasing trade through improved finance and better facilities for warehousing, distribution, and sale. I speculate, for I do not know the reason for the meeting. However, some such must have been the subject, for I believe that was the reason for my exclusion. Bluntly put, as great as is my temple's wealth and community involvement, we are more concerned with ... ah . . . agrarian matters and social work than with banking and mercantilism."

Fifteen minutes had passed since the subaltern had cleared the council room, and soon the police would arrive. Inhetep wanted to have as much time as possible to question the others before the city's law officers arrived to complicate matters. "Thank you, Matiseth. I appreciate your helpfulness in the face of our long-standing enmity. If it were up to me, I would permit you to return to your own residence, hut it isn't my decision. Come with me, and I'll ask the major domo to give you a private chamber to relax in-— the gods know you need a little respite after what you've been through. When the metropolitan prefect's agents arrive, I'll request the chamberlain have them speak with you first."

"Ummm . .." Matiseth responded with a suspicious air. "Just why should I be questioned first?"

"This is bound to be an all-night affair, Chem-res. If the investigators finish with you, they'll allow yon to return to your temple, and you'll not be kept here until tomorrow morning. I am trying to repay your cooperation. This is the best means I can devise, as it were, but if you wish to remain. ,.."

"No. I appreciate your thinking Inhetep. Come, Let us find the able Hukefi—I helped place Mm in Ms office. He will be ready to assist as requested."

As the high priest had said, Major Domo Hukefi was doubly anxious to serve, owing Matiseth Chemres his position and fearing Inhetep. He bustled off with the chief cleric of Set so as to furnish Matiseth with the comforts of his own apartment. Inhetep was certain that the paunchy little man would intercept the police just as efficiently, and that they would get the high priest's account first. This "consideration" for

Chemres was actually something altogether different, for it gave Setne the time he desired to question the rest of the witnesses.

The young subaltern was named Bekin-Tettu. The magister sought him out and explained that he would take sole charge of the detainees, and that this responsibility was now his alone should anything untoward occur. "You have performed very well, Subaltern. I shall keep the name Bekin-Tettu in mind and see that it is mentioned in my report as well."

"Thank you .. . Magister Inhetep. I ... I am uncertain as to how to properly address you now, hearing your most exhalted titles given to the maj—"

"Please!" Inhetep interjected with feeling. "You are to forget all that. The simple 'Magister' will suffice, thank you. I stand not on titles and am an utchat-neb now only honorarily, albeit under these circumstances I shall return to active service for a time, as is my prerogative. The murder of a royal governor is something which demands Pharaoh's attention, after all.

"When you have ushered your men out of the salon in which the suspects are held, I would appreciate it if you would find out if any of them noted unusual behavior of any sort while they guarded the suspects. When I am finished speaking with the guests, I'll find you and get that information from you. Agreed?"

"Yes, sir! I will be nearby, Magister," the subaltern said with a proud ring.

The room in which the group of men was being detained was large and had a dining table, chairs, and several couches. All fourteen of the murdered governor's guests were awaiting there, perforce. When Inhetep entered, they all tried to speak at once, demanding to know why they were being held, what was going on, and so forth. The tall priest-wizard raised his hands and motioned them to silence. "Gentlemen, if you please." His words were a command. "For those who do not know me, I am Magister Setne Inhetep. For the time, I am acting as an officer of Pharaoh's Utchatu, so consider this most official police business.

"You are each a witness to murder. There can be no question that His Excellent Highness Governor Ram-f-amsu was slain by some form of foul play." Someone started to protest, but Inhetep silenced that attempt. "Wait, wait. Each of you will have ample opportunity to speak. You are fortunate in a way. I was there to witness the final few seconds of the tragedy. None of you are now accused, but as each was there, you are material witnesses, if not suspects. You will be required to give full and complete statements. Formal questioning will occur soon, and what you have to say will be recorded by the agents of the metropolitan prefect of On. Meanwhile, I will have a few questions of my own.

"Some of you I know, and some are unfamiliar to me. No matter. I require that each of you state your name and the purpose of your being here tonight. To make this simple, let us begin at my left and work on round the room." Inhetep took out a small stylus, which was enchanted so as to have an inexhaustible supply of ink—an indispensable tool for the magister—then found his notebook. It too was magickal, and each word he wrote upon it shrunk and aligned itself so that a small page could hold what would literally fill a normal volume. Better still, unless one knew how to call up the material scribed there, his notes were no more than indecipherable little marks barely visible with a magnifying glass.

"Begin."

"Magister," said the first. "I am Nerhat-ab, a banker here in the city. The governor requested my presence in order to facilitate the changing of drafts and letters of credit. I was also called upon to assist in financing."

The magister nodded to the next man, a Levantine by his costume. "1 am Barogesh, a Phonecian investor with business interests in On, Antioch, Trebizond, and Serai. Prince Ram-f-amsu enlisted my aid as he did that of Master Nerhat-ab."

"Lord Pyronos of Cyprus," the third man said brusquely. At Inhetep's continued stare, the bearded fellow added, "I have manors and ships. Your governor sought my connections."

Four men arose as if in sequence. "Nenef-Kheru, merchant of On and Memphis," the fat one who stood up first called with a tentative smile towards the wizard-priest. "We met—"

"Yes," Inhetep said curtly. "Your associates?"

"Emptah-hiash. Thunun-maat. Hatsotef.'" Each bowed as the obese /Egyptian spoke his name, "Honest traders and good citizens as am I."

Although the four were probably unaware of it, the magister knew that they had frequently combined to comer markets in commodities, fix prices, and eliminate competition. Those illegal manipulations weren't particularly germane to the murder, but might prove useful as the investigation progressed. "Your collective reputation and activities have come to Pharaoh's attention," Inhetep noted with a judicial tone. "Your complete cooperation here might prove beneficial in that regard. Next!"

"Shaik Yasik ibn Okhdar," rattled the hatchet-faced Yaxban with a black stare which met Jn~ hetep's own green eyes without flinching. "My people control caravan routes and also trade much."

"No doubt in goods which are not theirs," the wizard-priest said levelly. "What business called you to this place?"

"My own!" the nomad chief snarled back. Then, considering his position, he added, "I am chief of the Al-Heshaz, and master of the city of /Elana."

"Most commendable. We are honored by your presence here, lord." Inhetep was hiding surprise, for the miserable town the Yarban named was the only port at the eastern finger of the Mare Rubine, the Red Sea. Yasik ibn Okhdar's admission announced a shift in strength, for the Al-Nabatt had held it the last he had heard. "And you, sir?"

"Vert. I am an explorer and a cartographer of some note. As I travel much and know much of trade routes and roads, I was asked to furnish my knowledge to Governor Ram-f-amsu. I was promised payment. His death does not obviate the agreement!"

"If there is such a contract, it will be honored in due course." He looked from the /Eropan to the dusky man next in line, whose stained hands showed he worked with chemicals.

"I am Jobo Lasuti, imprimus of the Nubian Alchemists and also one trained in certain arts of thaumaturgy. You are well aware of that, ur-kheri-heb-tepi, I know."

Inhetep inclined his head slightly. "Imprimus Lasuti, I find honor in greeting you again. What was your reason for being here?"

The Nubian smiled. "You are well aware of our desire to expand our markets for the chemicals and other materia we produce, Magister. Isolated as our main bases are, this has been proven difficult in the past."

"Your route would be by sea to /Elana, of course."

"That was proposed," the Nubian alchemist said in his richly accented basso voice.

"Shamish authorities might have objection, but perhaps that is moot now under the circumstances," Inhetep murmured. He looked at the eleventh of the company, a nondescript /Egyptian whom he didn't recognize. "You?"

"Aufseru, Magister Inhetep. I am merely an aide to the governor," the man said with a deprecating wave of his hand. "In fact, I am no longer even that now, I suppose. Under the circumstances, tomorrow I shall have to seek new employment."

"Quite possibly. How long have you been on the staff of the governor?"

"But a few days. That's why I was included in this meeting—Prince Ram-f-amsu desired my indoctrination in his style of conducting business."

Magister Inhetep started to point at the trio who were the last of the fourteen, but turned back to Aufseru again, saying, "You have a northern accent. Rosetta, perhaps?"

"Quite the opposite direction, Magister. Tanis was my home."

"That shows how rustic a fellow I am," Inhetep replied with a smile. "I've never been able to separate east from west when it comes to articulation. Have you been here long?"

Before the man could respond to that query, the arrival of a half-dozen police from the Metropolitan Prefecture interrupted them. "You are Utchat-neb Inhetep?" The speaker was an ordinary-looking fellow of average height and build and middle years, who might pass through a room full of people without being remembered. The magister nodded affirmation, and the police official smiled. "It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. I am the deputy prefect in charge of this matter—Chief Inspector Tuhorus. I trust that we will work together correctly."

Blandness and a smile couldn't disguise the detective's true feelings and the meaning of his words. Inhetep understood, for it was not unique in matters where jurisdictions overlapped. "Just so," he agreed without yielding anything in any way. "Let us confer soon—perhaps after you have finished your initial work taking the statements of those present?"

"Possibly," Tuhorus replied noncommittally. "If you will pardon me now, I believe I should get to that. It seems I wasted some time with Hem-neter-tepi Matiseth.. . ."

"Wasted? On the contrary, Inspector, I believe that the high priest is very much the key to this whole affair. As to questioning these gentlemen, I suggest that you might begin with the eleven I have had statements from already. There are a number of rooms available. As soon as I have had a chance to get a little information from these last three," the magister said firmly, "I shall send them to wherever you might desire."

"Is that an official demand from the Pharaoh's Utchatu?"

Inhetep shook his head. "Let us say, rather, that it is a request from a fellow detective."

"In that case, Magister, you may have five minutes," Inspector Tuhorus said. Then he ushered the others from the room, leaving the tail priest-wizard alone with the three Easterners.

"You are accorded little respect," rasped the mustachioed member of the trio after the inspector's exit. "In my land, an agent of the king is as the king himself."

"Just what kingdom is that?" queried Inhetep.

"Parthia," the man responded flatly. "The easternmost upholder of your allies of Grecian culture."

Magister Inhetep was unimpressed. "Phil-hellenism, alliances, and international political concerns are not my affair, sir. What are three Parthians doing here? A meeting with the governor of On is hardly business of the state."

"But there you are mistaken," countered the Parthian in his rasping voice. "Prince Ram-f-amsu was far-ranging in his plans for trade, you see. My nation receives much overland commerce, and I was asked to consider /Egyptian concessions."

"Do you mean that the governor was proposing monopolies?"

"Yes, that is exactly so."

Without looking up, Inhetep made a note in his little book. "My time is nearly gone, sir, so I'll end this now. Please give me your name and the names of your two companions."

"Sacaxes. These are my lieutenants, Tengri Ataman, and Vardin."

"Thank you, General Sacaxes," the priest-wizard murmured as he arose. The expressions on the Parthians' faces were sufficient to confirm Inhetep's suspicion regarding their leader, for the military title had been a pure guess based only on what Inhetep had observed of the trio.

THE CHIEF INSPECTOR VS. INHETEP

Just after midnight, Chief Inspector Tuhorus located the magister where he was waiting with Subaltern Bekin-Tettu. The two were conversing when the policeman entered. "I trust I am not interrupting," Tuhorus said.

"No, Inspector, both of us are here awaiting you."

"I won't need you tonight, Subaltern," the police official told Bekin-Tettu rather pointedly. "Go outside and find any one of the deputy inspectors assisting me. Tell him who you are and then what you know. Then return to your own quarters. Tomorrow morning, I'll personally hear your statement."

The soldier excused himself and left. Inhetep watched the official closely as Bekin-Tettu exited. "You seem unusually curt, Tunorus. What troubles you?"

"Troubles? The royal prince who governed

this sepat is slain in his own palace in my city, and you are surprised about my attitude?" The inspector scowled at Inhetep. "But I will ask the questions now, Magister—or should I say Ut-chat-neb ... or True Prince?"

"You have seen the appointment entry, then?"

"As I said, questions are to be from me—-unless the Pharaoh's agency is in charge of this business." Tuhorus' tone was as hard as his face.

Inhetep moved closer to the municipal prefect agent. "If you manage to solve this quickly and apprehend those responsible for Ram-f-amsu's murder, Chief Inspector Tuhorus, I cannot envision the government sending in its own men. However, if I see the slightest need, I will personally assume oversight of this case and send for a team of Utchatu," he said levelly, as he looked down with his green eyes at the policeman's craggy face. "Your attitude is becoming irritating, Tuhorus. Even the foreigners here have noticed it."

"I don't like you much, Inhetep. We common law enforcement personnel all resent interference from the Utchatu as well. Secret police and spies aren't popular in On—even those we are forced to use ourselves. What your reason for being here is—the politics of the kingdom and its governors—are no concern of the prefecture, I'm sure, but—"

"Hold on a moment, my dear Inspector," interjected the magister. "I am here quite by chance. Allow me to explain." Inhetep then took a few minutes to recount the salient features of his happening to be in the palace when Ram-f-amsu was killed, omitting only the name of the assassin, Yakeem, from his explanation. "Naturally, I have a duty to investigate the murder, but as far as the Utchatu are concerned, this can be a matter for On's Metropolitan Prefecture if it is done efficiently and correctly."

The policeman looked narrowly at Inhetep. "Will you put that in writing?"

Setne returned the scrutiny. Despite appearance and manner, the magister found himself rather liking Chief Inspector Tuhorus. In truth, his task was formidable, reward for success likely to be nil. One was expected to do one's duty after all.. . . Inclining his head slightly to the policeman, Inhetep replied easily, with friendliness in his tone, "Have one of your scribes do so, and I'll sign it. But it is most unusual. Tell me, Tuhorus, just what is it that makes all this necessary?"

"The dead governor, Ram-f-amsu."

"Hmmm . . ." Magister Inhetep murmured, thinking rapidly. "May I propose that we meet elsewhere—perhaps this afternoon—and speak about this further? I think we must compare our notes and discuss conclusions."

"Supper," the inspector said. "It will be well into the morning before I've finished up the preliminary work here, and I will have to have some sleep. Where are you staying?"

"Let's say the Reedfields, then. There is a reasonable table there, I believe," Inhetep responded. Tuhorus assented, and without any further discussion the two men parted. The priest-wizard walked away swiftly to find lodging at the proposed inn, a place not far distant from the On Palace. Inspector Tuhorus, of course, returned to the witnesses to continue his questioning.

At the Reedfields, Inhetep found a pleasant room, sent someone off to fetch his belongings from the Golden Nylle in Innu, and went to bed. Five hours later, he arose feeling completely refreshed. After bathing and eating a little something, the magister went out to do a bit of shopping. He had three hours before his evening appointment with the policeman. Inhetep spent the remaining time organizing his purchases and going over Ms notes.

The rooms he had taken faced the street. Inhetep had chosen them for just that reason. He watched Inspector Tuhorus arrive in a closed carriage. He saw that Tuhorus was accompanied by another man. When Inhetep went downstairs to meet the chief inspector, Tuhorus was alone. "Did you manage to get some rest?" the magister inquired politely.

"Enough. This is your treat, Utchat-neb—-this place is too expensive for anyone living on wages paid by the prefecture."

"I suggested the meeting," Inhetep agreed. "A table for two?"

"Unless you're expecting someone."

They were seated by a perfectly correct steward, and almost instantly a man appeared to see to their needs. Tuhorus asked their waiter for wine, and Inhetep ordered his usual: a tall glass of mint tea, heavily sweetened. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, the wizard-priest asked, "Have you any theory as to Ram-f-amsu's murder?"

"Perhaps, but I will hear your own first."

Inhetep refused to be annoyed by the man's rudeness. "How can I have any significant idea as to the governor's death? You know that there was no magick involved, and I hadn't time to do more than find out the names of the witnesses of the incident. For all I know at this point, the death was due to an act of the gods."

Inspector Tuhorus stared at him. "Take it from me, Inhetep, that mightn't be far from the final conclusion we report to the prefect. Sixteen witnesses to that death, all of whom provide perfect alibis for the rest—you being an agent of Pharaoh ices the cake, Magister! Between you and Hem-neter-tepi Matiseth, there are no loose ends."

The priest-wizard shook his head. "That won't wash, Inspector Tuhorus. The High Priest Matiseth Chemres testified there was no aural reading present to indicate any entital presence, nor any sort of magickal residue from that sort of heka."

"All right, then it was persons or powers unknown."

"I think not."

"Think as you like, Inhetep. What proof can be found? Do you have anything to provide to me for a different sort of report?"

"Did you get a complete account from Matiseth?" Inhetep asked sharply. "He and I went over the scene of the murder for some time, and Chemres had at least one interesting impression to report." The magister didn't pause for an answer, pressing ahead to stimulate the police official into taking a more positive and aggressive view. "It is a difficult case, sir, that's undeniable. We are dealing with some genius—who else could perform such a crime in front of a throng of prominent witnesses and have you baffled? There must be clues, though. The high priest of Set detected a nullity. That must be pursued."

"And you, Magister? You have information which you are keeping to yourself. Of that I am certain. I think you wish to gain the credit for solving this case for yourself. That's why you are trying to find out what I have learned."

As with master criminals, good policemen knew when they were being watched or spied upon magickally. Inhetep refrained from using any casting or power to pierce the man's thinking, not even employing his innate "sixth sense." Instead, he assessed Tuhorus' knowledge against what he thought Matiseth Chemres would have told him. "You must be referring to my asking the high priest if he knew what the 'Samarkand Solution' meant."

The homely inspector cocked an eyebrow at Inhetep. "And '...?"

"And nothing. He knew no information regarding that, nor have I any firm idea of what it means—or is meant by it."

"But 'whirlwind,' Utchat-neb, 'whirlwind'! Isn't that another matter?"

Inhetep couldn't refrain from stiffening at that. "I noted that word as a faint thought-impression clinging to Ram-f-amsu's corpse—but I made no mention of it to Matiseth!"

"No. Nor to me, Inhetep!" Tuhorus was scowling at the wizard-priest. "It just so happens that we small-time city investigators have powers of detection to employ, too. The Saa Scarab we use is more highly developed then anyone knows. The same thought-feelings you found by your heka were discovered by the Saa Scarab, You might have mentioned your findings earlier. That you did not points to an inescapable conclusion."

"True. You have reached the wrong conclusion, however, Inspector Tuhorus. Yes, I did omit mention of that particular word, but I did so because I thought it of no significance at this time. If 'whirlwind' became meaningful—other than as a possible impression of what was occurring to the mind of a dying man, I would have shared that information with you." Inhetep was telling the literal truth, omitting his reservations about those from On who were investigating the case. There might be collusion between murderer and police. . . . "You will find mention of the 'Samarkand Solution' here," he told the man as he pushed a sheaf of paper across the table. "Here is my report to date. One copy has been sent to the agency, of course, and I have my own as well, but the third is for you and the metropolitan prefect."

"Perhaps I misjudged you, Magister," the blocky policeman admitted grudgingly. "I'll let you know after reading this," Tuhorus continued, tucking the papers into his tunic. "Anything to add?"

Inhetep shook his smooth-shaven head. "Come on, Tuhorus! This is a most complicated affair, as well you know. The ramifications of it might be unsettling in high places."

"I hate puns," Tuhorus said unsmilingly, "but I concur. The gathering at the governor's palace was unusual to say the least."

Setne couldn't help grinning. He appreciated both the fact that Tuhorus had caught his pun and been irritated by it. Perhaps he could like this fellow! "What do you think, then?" he queried to prompt the man. "Is there a single killer or some conspiracy, Tuhorus?"

The homely face of the inspector was hard as he looked at the ur-kheri-heb. "You may be more honest than I thought, Magister, or Utchat-neb, or whatever you might be called; but that doesn't mean I am happy working with you—if you call it that. There will be a dossier available to you whenever you care to stop in at the investigation section of the prefecture—read it and arrive at whatever conclusions you choose. That's regulation procedure. I do not choose to speculate for you or anyone else meanwhile. And thanks for the supper. See you around, Inhetep."

The priest-wizard actually smiled broadly as the man arose and stumped off to whatever business he was about. Here at least was a dedicated policeman. Tuhorus' suspicions about him were still there, Inhetep knew, but they were honest ones of a professional sort. Inspector Tuhorus was certainly not trying to conduct a cover-up, nor did he really mean to conclude the murder was unsolvable. I wonder, Inhetep speculated, if he suspects that there is royal involvement in Ram-f-amsu's murder. If that's so, then what gives that bulldog the reason for thinking thus?

After settling the hefty bill, Magister Inhetep left the dining room of the Reedfields and strolled outside for a constitutional. He was able to spot the man trailing him quickly, but the wizard-priest went calmly on with his walk, seemingly unaware of being followed. Then, about three streets distant from the posh inn, Setne stepped into a narrow alley, mounted to the rooftops there, and descended again to exit on a street a block away. By taking several more turns and twists and passing between buildings via gangways and going through shops, Inhetep made sure that the policeman assigned to shadow him was hopelessly lost. He had certain matters to look into, and Setne had no intention of allowing

Inspector Tuhorus knowledge of what was of interest to the magister.

The assassin Yakeem s presence in the city and his possible connection to the murder puzzled Inhetep. Hem-neter-tepi Matiseth Chemres, servant of the malign Set, had to be the key. It seemed clear to Inhetep that the high priest had been upset by his presence on the temple grounds. That had had to do with Yakeem and some plot which Ram-f-amsu and Matiseth were both concerned with. The high priest had almost blurted out something in that regard when he had so foolishly hauled Inhetep before the governor. A long talk with Chemres was in order, for the cleric was likely to have vital information. That there was more here than a mysterious killing seemed certain to the magister. If he could discover the whole of what was going on, Inhetep felt certain that the murder could then be solved in due course.

It was a simple matter to find a secluded place and change his appearance through dweomercraeft. Tallish still, but appearing now as a half-cast boatman, Inhetep returned to the Temple of Set. A small cluster of worshippers were just entering the gate as he arrived, so the magister joined them, as if he too were there to participate in the ritual performed at the sixth hour of the night. However, once inside the main building, Inhetep hung back, and as the others went towards the altar and sanctuary, he slipped into a passage leading into a wing which housed the priests' quarters.

The high priest would be required to officiate at the midnight ceremony, so Matiseth would be busy donning his vestments and performing services for some time. Magister Inhetep intended to make use of the opportunity to investigate the man's personal apartment while Chemres was occupied with his duties to the dark deity, Set, and ministering to that one's faithful servants attending the high service. Although he did not know the exact plan of the complex, most religious structures followed a pattern, and it didn't take Inhetep long to bypass the busy areas where priests and under-priests made ready, find the private corridor of the hem-neter-tepi, and pass through Matiseth's locked door. "Taking no chances are you, Chemres?" he murmured to himself as the priest-wizard carefully neutralized the heka-energized locks, warning castings, and magickal traps which guarded the portal.

Anything worthwhile would be concealed carefully, so Inhetep didn't bother with a manual search of the four rooms which were Matiseth's own. Instead, the magister took sufficient time to lay a scaled discovery formula, one which applied the Law of Antipathy. Magick might be hidden from a probe which sought it by sympathetic means, but by finding heka which opposed a probe, Inhetep could locate the secret places so warded. His divining was also multi-pronged. It scanned the spectrum from the simplest to most complex castings using /Erth-related power, then that drawn from more distant planes, and finally into that rarified continuum from whence came the energies used by entities of the highest order.

"Decidedly odd," Inhetep said aloud after completing his inspection of Matiseth Chemres' quarters. He had discovered the usual sort of thing—tomes containing arcana of magickal sort, heka-endowed implements and devices which one would expect a high priest to possess and protect, and a repository of mundane treasures exceeding that which even such a man as Matiseth might be expected to have amassed. The wealth aside, though, Inhetep had discovered nothing incriminating or even enlightening. Then he snapped his fingers and smiled. "You are a sly devil, Chemres," the magister cried softly. "Still, there is a quarter-hour or so, and I'll have you yet!"

There were many papyri, scrolls, and bound volumes there in the hem-neter-tepi's personal library. Inhetep noted a large volume of maps and charts, flipped through it quickly, and then moved on. After examining the works which were obviously those most readily at hand and frequently consulted, he went to the shelves and searched for something more esoteric. Exploration of the Sudd, and two matching volumes, Navigational Charts, Blue Nylle and White Nylle, piqued his interest. These were common enough books, dealing with a subject both so usual as to be unusual and as changeable as the courses of the two rivers they dealt with. Thirty-year-old works kept on hand by the high priest? Most people would have assumed they simply filled space, if they noticed the anomaly at all. Inhetep took the three from their place and began examining each in turn.

It took him only a few minutes to see what each work contained. Inhetep replaced them exactly as they had been, then strode to the high priest's sitting room, which adjoined the library. He had hardly gotten comfortable there before the door opened and the hem-neter-tepi entered. Matiseth's face registered both surprise and anger when he discovered the presence of the priest-wizard there.

"This is an outrage, Inhetep! How dare you break into my suite?"

"I entered through the door, sir. How can you suggest I forced my entry here? Why, Chemres, that would violate the law!"

"We'll see about this," the high priest spat. "Get out!"

"As soon as you have answered a few more questions for me, Chemres. Consider this an official demand."

"You have the power, Inhetep, but not for long. I have friends in the royal household who will see that you're removed from all connection with the Utchatu!"

"Pray, do just that. I would enjoy learning who in Pharaoh's court serves Set." The man paled a little, glared at Inhetep, but then sat down and crossed his legs, resigned to suffer the magister's intrusion. "Much better," Setne said with a smile, which conveyed neither mirth nor friendliness. "I believe you are in some considerable degree of trouble, Hem-neter-tepi, and it will take more than your position as high priest to get you out of it. Are you interested in being cleared of complicity in the death of Ram-f-amsu?"

The cleric shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, Inhetep. Do you have some charge you'd care to bring against me?"

"No, not at this time. You know what I'm suggesting, though, Chemres. The former governor had far-reaching ambitions, and most of them went well beyond the boundaries of his official territory, the On sepat."

"Mere speculation—although I freely admit to knowledge regarding Prince Ram-f-amsu's desire to make On a center for trade and finance. He sought to better the sepat and all the realm."

"Of course, of course. So the story goes. There's no need for all of that nonsense now. Answer my question: will you give me your full assistance in exchange for a clean slate regarding the prince's assassinations?"

Matiseth Chemres paused to consider. "That depends on what you mean by that, Inhetep. As a noble and ecclesiastic leader of the kingdom, I am always intent upon assisting—"

"Again, man, save that! I must know who

Ram-f-amsu associated with and who was leagued with him in his nefarious schemes."

"That information is unknown to me. I was a counselor and a friend of Prince Ram-f-amsu, Magister Inhetep. The major domo alone can state with certainty just who was visiting the governor's palace regularly and was accorded such status."

The wizard-priest arose. "I think you are making a serious error in judgement, Matiseth Chemres, hem-neter-tepi or no. The murder of a governor isn't going to be swept under a mat, and the investigation will turn up things which will surely be damning to your interests . . . and you personally! One last chance . . ."

"Good night, Magister. I don't think that you, or all the Utchatu, let alone the local police, will be able to discover the cause of poor Ram-f-amsu's death. You call it murder, but who can really say?"

"And the rest?"

"Utter nonsense. Politically motivated lies and baseless accusations—if anything else ever does arise. Speak to the others present on that terrible night, if you wish. They will certainly support what I have said."

Setne tried then to discover the stray thoughts coming from the high priest's mind, but the man was a blank. "You were always overweaning, Chemres. Please remember what I have said to you. The offer of immunity extends for a time yet. I will withdraw it only if you force me to and I have no other option."

"Not that I admit to knowing what you're talking about, Inhetep, but why are you extending yourself so much on my behalf? We serve opposed purposes, adhere to different politics, and have a long-standing dislike for each other."

"Professional courtesy might suffice, but it actually goes beyond that, Matiseth. I am seeking to prevent a schism in AEgypt. I think you can understand that."

"Not at all. I'll have a servant show you out, Magister. Then I am going to write a formal complaint to the government, regarding your behavior." And that ended the interview. In a few minutes, Setne was again outside the temple grounds.

Resuming his disguise as a boatman, Inhetep traversed the distance to his lodgings at the Reedfields. The guise enabled him to walk undisturbed by beggar or ruffian while he pondered the day's events. He was near the inn when a slight sound from behind caused him to snap out of his reverie. Setne's instincts made him crouch. A heavy sword passed over his head with a hissing swish, but a sandaled foot caught him on his bent leg and sent the wizard-priest sprawling to the cobbles. A second kick glanced painfully off his knee, and sparks flew from the contact of steel on stone as an axe struck near his side. Rolling to get clear of his attackers, Inhetep inadvertently pinned himself against the wall of a building. Two dark forms closed to finish their work.

Suddenly there was a loud smack, and one of the two attackers dropped in his tracks as if pole-axed. The second thug spun, sword arcing before him to ward off any assault. There was a clash of metal; the assailant cursed in a gutteral voice and flung a handful of granules out in a shower. The stuff flew outward, burst into incandescent meteors, then shrieked as if each were a tiny, tortured imp. The bright fury of their blaze lasted only a split second, the shrieking but a bit longer, and thereafter only a reeking smoke remained. Each particle had generated a dense little cloud of suffocating vapor, and the whole area was now filled with the stuff.

Someone choked and coughed. "Inhetep? Are you all right?"

The magister gritted his teeth, as much in frustration as in pain. "Considering what might have happened to me, sir, I am quite well, thank you. Who is that who speaks? I owe you my life."

"Inspector Tuhorus," came the laconic reply.

"You are as hard to deceive as a dragon, evidently," Inhetep told the policeman as he waved away the irritating smoke and confronted the policeman. "I am certainly grateful to you, though, and that's to say the least. But tell me, what manner of man are you so able to track an ur-kheri-heb about?"

"One who placed a 'bug' on you," said the homely inspector without blinking. "My own scarab remains visible to me regardless of what illusory cloaking might cover you, Magister."

Inhetep plucked the beetle-shaped bit of metal Tuhorus referred to from the back of his tunic and handed it back to the fellow. "And my inability to slip away from you? You did follow me from the inn, I suppose."

"Not at all. I left that to another, knowing that you'd spot him, lose him, and then head for wherever you decided you needed to go."

"But ... I see. It was that evident I would seek out Matiseth Chemres?"

"It seemed the most likely prospect, so I staked out the temple and have been near to you ever since."

"Luckily for me," the wizard-priest said as he took Tuhorus by the arm. "Come along with me to the Reedfields. I have need of some strong spirits—excellent Neustrian brandy. Join me, please. I think you will also enjoy learning about what I discovered when I paid a call to the high priest this night." Saying nothing, but lending assistance to the battered priest-wizard, Chief Inspector Tuhorus agreed.

After seating themselves comfortably, the two detectives savored the liquor for a time before either spoke. "This fiery stuff might well finish me for further work tonight," the policeman said, as he rubbed his tired eyes and set aside the empty glass.

"Not after I tell you what I have found," the magister commented. Inhetep then related what had occurred, both in his magickal examination of the high priest's chambers and what happened thereafter.

"He has the same inordinate interest in geography as was evidenced by the maps on Ram-f-amsu's walls, so he and the governor shared that quirk, shall we say. Not anything important without further support, I'll admit."

Tuhorus urged him on. "And you found more?"

"Yes. Tomorrow I think you should accompany me for another little visit. There are some books in Matiseth Chemres' library which aren't quite what they seem."

"No?"

"No. Their covers purport to deal with the Sudd and navigation of the upper branches of the Nylle, but inside the good ecclesiastic has extensive notes on an organization and conspiracy. It seems that the dead prince and governor of your sepat, Tuhorus, was plotting insurrection."

"You're jesting! There is no hope of changing dynasties, even Pharaohs of our current house. Not with—"

"Ram-f-amsu knew that. The efforts were along another line entirely. He meant to sunder Lower AEgypt from the kingdom, making it a separate and sovereign state, so to speak. We'll find out more from an examination of the palace and Matiseth's own records. The prince suggested that Set might become the chief deity of the new kingdom. Matiseth went along, of course. Typical of any of Set's followers, ecclesiastic or secular."

"Why didn't you arrest him on the spot, Inhetep?"

"That would certainly send up a warning flare to all the rest involved. I have reason to believe this is a massive conspiracy. I tried to entice Chemres into cooperating, but he is adamantly bent on his own dark course." He stopped, poured a little more brandy into both glasses, then resumed. "I'll give us both a draught of dweomered stimulant soon, so enjoy the moment. The stuff to follow makes one feel superb, but it tastes as if it were brewed from bat droppings and horse sweat, only worse—just how you'll feel an hour after it wears off too, unless you are asleep by then."

"The governor's palace?"

Inhetep nodded. "We'll need to search that place from top to bottom for evidence of the plot. Then we go to Chemres and confront him. The ambitious knave must have sent those two muggers to kill me so that his secret would be hidden."

Tuhorus disagreed. "Those were no men of his, magister. Didn't you hear them speak?"

"No," the tall priest-wizard admitted. "I was too busy trying to save my skin. What makes you so sure they weren't Matiseth's men?"

"One was using Azirian castings, and they spoke in Mongolian or Turkic. I'd wager one was a shaman, the other a warrior of the sort dedicated to his calling by devotion."

The green eyes fastened onto those of the unpreposing inspector. "You demonstrate unusual knowledge for a city policeman, Tuhorus. I'd like to know how it is you are so sure of that."

"Because, ur-kheri-heb, I happen to have spent twelve years in the study of barbaric folk and primitive magick—as well as herbalism, toxicology, and the rest that goes with them. In the process, I've managed to become a fair practical dweomercraefter myself."

Inhetep considered that a moment. In a city such as On, and in his line of work, Tuhorus would indeed benefit from a working knowledge of the sorts of heka used by self-made hedge magicians, partial practitioners, and the others who made the slums of the community their home. The man had little natural power, but by hard work and perseverance, it was possible to manage a considerable amount of lesser magicks. Such ability would also explain Tuhorus' position in the ranks of the Metropolitan Prefecture—invaluable but feared, so that he would remain always as an operative and never as the head of the force. The magister thought it likely that he had arisen from the lower class to hold an important position. That explained his vociferous dislike for Inhetep: a noble, wealthy, and well-educated ur-kheri-heb-tepi—all that the chief inspector was not. Setne gave the fellow a warm smile and nodded. His voice held admiration as he said, "Good. Together, Tuhorus, I think we shall be able to conclude this case swiftly—your case, now. I am here to assist."

MURDER IN SET'S HOUSE

Tuhorus wanted to tell the priest-wizard to save his favors, but then he thought better of it. The Utchat-neb had been most sincere. It was his way of thanking the police official. More than that, it was also Inhetep's way of telling him that he had confidence in his ability as a detective. Even as he considered all that, the tall man had produced the promised elixir, and Tuhorus quaffed his little portion. It tasted worse than its description. "Yetch!"

"I warned you," the ur-kheri-heb drawled with an ill-concealed grin. "Shall we go?"

Perhaps he was a little older than the wizard-priest, Tuhorus couldn't tell for sure. The hard life the chief inspector had led gave him the appearance of being older than his forty-seven years, while Inhetep seemed ageless—-or at least of indeterminate years. It took all his skill to note that Inhetep was well above his late thirties or early forties. Tuhorus glanced in a mirror and saw his own face looking younger and fresher than it had in years. "Magister, is your potion one of youth? Or are my eyes playing tricks on me?"

"Neither. The stimulant is possibly the cause of some of what you see, but the stuff hasn't any real effect on your age, Tuhorus. Perhaps it is your own inner excitement for this case. . . ."

Tuhorus mentally resolved to retain the attitude if the result would be so salubrious. He felt more than merely refreshed. "There are a couple of my men here—one inside, the other watching the street. I'll send the first officer to headquarters to get a team into the palace. Mupahkat, the one outside, can accompany us immediately."

The ur-kheri-heb agreed with him. "Even with the assistance of the governor's guards, Chief Inspector, I think we'll have hours of work ahead. If Ram-f-amsu used the same techniques as the high priest, all of the work will be manual, too."

Without further discussion, the two left Inhetep's chambers, the metropolitan detective leading. In truth, the policeman hated to follow Inhetep because the shaven pate was so far above his eye level. Tuhorus was of average everything, including his five-feet-nine-inch sole to crown measurement. Could the priest-wizard's success be due to his commanding stature and self-confident presence? No—or, at least, not in the main. The man obviously had intelligence, ability, and a desire to achieve. He was not, however, infallible, as proved by the fact that Tuhorus had had to rescue him from the pair of attackers. He felt strongly that if he used his own abilities and common sense, and watched what Magister Inhetep did, he could solve the case before the priest-wizard did. After sending Mupahkat ahead to secure the palace, the chief inspector looked up at Inhetep. "The attack by those two thugs troubles me, Magister. There are factors of it which bode difficult times ahead."

"Matiseth Chemres couldn't have been behind it, nor could . . . any other I can think of."

Why had the priest-wizard trailed off his words and hastily substituted "other" in place of what he had been about to say? Inhetep had some information he was keeping to himself still, and although Tuhorus no longer doubted that the resolution of the matter would be one which was credited to himself and the prefecture, secrecy on the ur-kheri-heb's part made the policeman uneasy. Was this going to end up as a cover-up if the noble ex-secret agent had his way? After all, the prince was not only a member of an ancient noble house but also related distantly to the royal family. Inhetep admitted he had attempted to have the aristocratic high priest cooperate in return for immunity. The reason for Matiseth Chemres' refusal might be that he didn't fear prosecution in any event. No wonder, for unless the kingdom or lives of nobility or their like were threatened by the governor's actions, only commoners needed to fear. Ram-f-amsu's death might end the affair unless there were factors which still applied to the nation, the royal house, or those of high standing.

"You have considered the matter of how they identified you?"

"Hmmm . . ." Inhetep said vaguely, looking at Tuhorus as if searching the man's mind for his thoughts, even though the Scarab of Saa and the amulet of the same entity worn by all inspectors and detectives protected from such intrusion. "A mere mugging doesn't seem very probable, does it? That appears to confirm your assessment that one was a shaman, Inspector. Still, there remains the question of how they knew I would be on that street."

Tuhorus had no doubts, and his pointed remark was meant to pique the wizard-priest's interest in what the inspector knew. "Come on, Inhetep! It's rather plain, as well you know. You are being watched by another agency—one definitely opposed to you, me, and the law! That enemy would have succeeded too, had it not been for my particular precautions and perhaps a smile from Old Bes."

It was now the magister's turn to ponder a bit. Tuhorus' mention of the deity, Bes, gave him some considerable pause too, for the dwarven god was most honored in that part of Afrik which was home to the black race, the race of the Dahlikil and Yakeem, albeit the people who rejected the ^Egyptian pantheon and honored instead the deities of Babylon. Was it mere chance? Or did the police official know about the assassin? But the two lurking killers had been from the East. Tuhorus had suggested that they spoke a language of Central Azir or possibly an Aryan tongue such as that of the Farzians, Parthian, or Hyrkanians used. Setae tried a new tack: "Innu is now a virtual sister city of this one, Chief Inspector. Does your department work closely with that of Innu?"

That certainly laid a scent for him to follow, and Tuhorus made a mental note to do so even as he said, "No, sir, not typically. We would be pleased to do so, and I believe that Governor Prince Harphosh had requested such exchange. Ram-f-amsu might have been the obstacle, but that remains to be seen. Why do you ask?"

"No reason in particular," the ur-kheri heb responded. "Tuhorus, you are a bulldog and a bloodhound, aren't you?!"

Wishing he were also a grayhound, the policeman responded in kind. "And you Utchat-neb, are a mixture of less common sort—say, a sphinx and a fox? Yes, I think that's aptly put."

They were near the governor's palace now. Inhetep felt that his mention of Innu would put the chief inspector onto the scent of the Khazars. It just might or might not have some application to this case, but it would keep Tuhorus busy for some time. The magister had no intention of allowing the policeman to meddle in the matter of Yakeem. The assassin's role in this affair was uncertain, but Inhetep was sure that if there was a connection the matter was one of national significance. The local authorities might or might not need to be informed. Perhaps Pharaoh would be the one to decide that after the priest-wizard had uncovered the truth and made his report. "Well, perhaps you are right, Chief Inspector. The Metropolitan Prefecture requires one sort of policeman, the Utchatu another—although they would be happy to have many such as you there, I assure you."

Inhetep referred to the state's secret police arm, the Utchatu, of course. Tuhorus had met a few of its agents in the course of his years of detective work. He hadn't liked any of them. Inhetep could be an exception, but that remained to be seen. For now, Tuhorus was content to place the ur-kheri-heb slightly above the others in terms of humanity and ability, for he was certainly less condescending and more clever than the dozen or so others of his sort the policeman had encountered previously. "Tell them we can use their talents here," quipped Tuhorus. "And speaking of stolid effort, I think we must seal the whole of the wing used by the dead governor and search it inch by inch."

"They must be readying for that now, Tuhorus. From the look of it, I'd say that every light in the whole palace is ablaze."

One look at the sky ahead was sufficient for Tuhorus to observe what the magister meant. There was a sudden brightness which limned the row of buildings between them and the governor's compound. Then a clangor sounded. "Not lights, fire!" As he shouted, the policeman broke into a run, and in seconds the two rounded the corner of the street to where the plaza surrounded the group of buildings which was the heart of the sepat and city of On. "By the gods, Inhetep, the place is an inferno!"

It was certainly not a fire which would be put out easily or quickly. Inhetep saw that the palace was the center of the conflagration. Men were now pouring into the plaza, coming to assist with the fight against the consuming flames. "So much for our search, Inspector," he shouted to Tuhorus over the growing din of fire and voices and alarms. "I can assist here, but you'll be of little use. Assemble a squad of your men and get over to the Temple of Set!"

"All right, but should I protect Chemres or arrest him?"

"Both. I think that he must know who did this, and because of that, he's likely the next target for removal."

Tuhorus watched for the space of several heartbeats as the long-legged ur-kheri-heb dashed toward the gates of the palace. His mag-ickal prowess might be of the highest sort, but the police official thought more than priestcraeft and wizardry would be needed to save anything within the walls of that square. Perhaps an incandescent salamander from the elemental Plane of Fire had been conjured into the governor's palace to set it blazing so ferociously, and Inhetep could without difficulty send such an elemental being away. Even so, the damage was done. No heka would do much to extinguish the flames now. That would require an inundation of the Nylle itself! "Right," he said sharply to himself. There was nothing for him to do here, and Inhetep's thoughts regarding the high priest were on the mark ... or very near it, anyway. Tuhorus wasn't quite so certain as the ur-kheri-heb seemed to be about Matiseth Chemres' involvement in the arson of the palace. Perhaps Inhetep underestimated the ambition and ability of the high priest. His intellect too, for that matter, because the former captain and detective of the secret police, hadn't mentioned the possibility of Matiseth having noticed discovery of the incriminating works. Could it be that the high priest had set this fire? If so, Tuhorus knew that he'd find nothing in Chemres' library when he got there. But I'll never get there standing here playing "what ifs." Time to move! he thought to himself.

Several watchmen of the prefecture patrol were nearby. "You! You as well!" Tuhorus shouted as he grabbed first one then another of them. "Chief Inspector Tuhorus, acting deputy prefect. Never mind the trouble here. Come with me now," he commanded. Both of the policemen obeyed, and the three set off at a trot, Tuhorus leading. A few streets distant, he directed one to the prefecture building, instructing the fellow to round up a half-dozen other patrolmen and bring them immediately to the Temple of Set. Then he and the remaining patrolman hurried on.

"What's the trouble, Deputy Prefect?" the fellow panted as he ran alongside. Tuhorus, despite advancing years, was athletic and an able runner.

"You have a right to ask," the chief inspector replied. "This might be a very dangerous situation we're heading into—I'm not sure. We're going to place Hem-neter-tepi Matiseth Chemres under protective custody and house arrest for suspicion of complicity in the matter of the fire now raging at the palace."

"You're having me on!"

"Do I look like a man who would jest about such a matter, patrolman?"

"No, sir!" The one look he got from Tuhorus convinced him that this wasn't some fanciful prank. "But how can the two of us arrest the Great Seer of Set? Why, he could invoke heka to blast us—"

Tuhorus cut him off. "Have your sword ready at all times—that's the rule in such cases. Don't be overly concerned though, patrolman. I didn't survive all these years because I avoided those able to wield magick."

"Right, sir," the fellow panted, trying to look self-confident. He felt highly nervous despite his superior's reassurance, and as they neared the dark temple he grasped his weapon's hilt for comfort. What made this Tuhorus fellow so confident? He wasn't some sort of spellbinder himself, was he? As he considered that, the patrolman shot a surreptitious glance at his companion, trying to assess Tuhorus' potential, wondering if he could recall hearing anything about him which would give a clue as to his abilities. He forgot all that as they came to their destination.

The entrance to the temple was dark and barred by a grill. Considering the hour, that was no surprise. The young policeman jerked his short blade free of its scabbard as Tuhorus yanked heavily on the bell chain calling, "Entry! This is the Prefecture!" In about a minute, a bleary-eyed servant came into view, a feebly flickering oil lamp held before him, shuffling with hesitant steps towards the barred portal.

"Who's that?" he asked, his voice between fear and irritation.

"Come on, you! Open this gate in the name of the Metropolitan Prefecture!" the patrolman cried, using his best tone of authority.

Tuhorus repressed a smile. The servant was probably a failed cleric, one who had aspired toward becoming an attendant "father" and proved so unable that now he had night porter duty. When he heard the young policeman's order, the now-awake fellow stayed well back from the bars, demanding to see some identification from the two late-night visitors requiring admittance. Without answering in words, Tuhorus produced a flat case of copper and bronze. It opened to reveal the cartouche of On's prefecture on one side, his own name and rank in hieroglyphic engraving on the other. He thrust the open case through the gate's bars. "Chief Inspector Tuhorus serving as deputy prefect, uab-hem. Quickly now, man. Let us in!"

"No uab of any sort," the servant said, referring to what Tuhorus had called him, uab-hem, as he worked the mechanism which unlocked the grill. He was flattered by Tuhorus' calling him a "pure servant" as if he were a novice priest, however, so the fellow worked as rapidly as he could and then guided them into the temple's main ante-chamber. "Police or no, sirs, you must wait here while I fetch one of the Pure to handle whatever you wish."

"Hurry up then," the inspector said, "for our business is with Great Seer Matiseth Chemres and will brook no delay!" The porter almost ran as he exited along a side passage, seeking one of the numerous lesser clerics of the place. Such a major temple as Set's own in the city would have a score of ecclesiastical officials serving under the high priest, as well as a dozen or more priestesses doing likewise. Guards and lay servants would triple that number, so in total perhaps a hundred and a half people dwelled in the complex. The night porter would have no difficulty locating a priest, for one or more were on duty at all times, even near the last hours of the night.

Whatever the man did made a stir there. Soon a handful of clerics came hurrying to see what the prefecture's agents were doing in Set's house, and lights and voices indicated that the whole populace was being roused. "Has this to do with the fire?" queried the uab priest arriving in the fore. "We have seen the great redness to the south. Is the whole of On ablaze?"

"No, but that's another matter, priest," Tuhorus said without reproach. "We are here to see the hem-neter-tepi, Matiseth Chemres. Allow no one else to enter or leave—I am a deputy prefect and use the authority of the city of On in this regard. See to that, and have another take us to the chambers of your high priest at once."

The fellow bowed slightly. "I will speak with my superior." He had only to turn and walk a couple of steps to do so. A red-robed "prophet" of Set was just entering the room. The latter ecclesiastic then led the two policemen to the high priest's wing as the uab priest went off to see to the closing of the temple as he had been ordered. "This is most irregular, Deputy Prefect," the senior priest remarked. "We will have to record this in detail and submit the account to the Ur-maa of Set as well as to Pharaoh."

"Send it to the whole of Egypt, if you think fit," Tuhorus snapped, not liking the inference that his actions might be subject to some disciplinary action by the combined chief priests of Set or that the king himself might object. "Do so after getting us to Matiseth Chemres, though. Where are you taking us?"

"Directly to the Great Seer's wing, Deputy Inspector. This is a large temple, you know."

"I do now," the inspector muttered, but just then they arrived at a partially open door. The priest leading them seemed disturbed. "What's the matter?" inquired Tuhorus.

"The hem-neter-tepi's door is always kept closed and secured," the man responded. "Something is amiss!"

Tuhorus brushed past the cleric and stepped into the dimly lit room beyond. The young patrolman was at his back. Both saw the body of the high priest of Set sprawled on the floor. The sight was ghastly. Matiseth Chemres had been killed by the same agency which had slain Ram-f-amsu not two days before.

A HIDDEN PLACE

The whole of the government compound was in turmoil as several hundred staff and the soldiers serving the palace ran here and there trying desperately to put out adjacent Mazes. The palace, with its wings, was now burning so fiercely that most attention was being paid to nearby structures, record buildings, administration bureaus, and housing which made up the whole of the sepat's central place of government. Streams of water were being poured into the conflagration, of course, and soon fire fighters from the city proper would come to assist. Mains were open and pools in the garden were being pumped out to send jets of water to combat the spreading flames, but even in this area the supply was insufficient to extinguish such a blaze. Inhetep knew that somewhere there was a perfect replica of the whole complex in miniature. Soon now a strong enough dweomercrafter would set it alight then clap a metal cover over the whole. That lid would be airtight, and the little fire would snuff itself out. If the whole were done properly, then this great fire would likewise he smothered—as might be those near to the buildings as the air around them became an oxygenless near-vacuum.

Inhetep entered the burning palace at a run, ignoring shouts of warning. Had he been a servant of Ra, for instance, he might have had protection from such scorching heat. Thoth, however, being of Balance, not solar nature, endowed him with no such luxury in regards to his priestcraeft. Yet the magister was unconcerned for the moment, for castings of moisture and dealing with heat and fire were readily available to him, since his specialty in dweomercreeft was of the elemental school. At a single utterance, a near-freezing mist formed around him, hissing to steam, at its edges, but swirling and cool and regenerating at the core where he moved. Thus protected, Inhetep made his way quickly to the private apartments which had been Ram-f-amsu's.

There was no hope of recovering direct evidence, but the ur-kheri-heb sought for information nonetheless. The means of the arson might be as revealing as the information which the flames had consumed. From the outside, it had been clear that the fire had originated in the governor's sector of the big building. Inhetep hoped that it was not so eaten by the flames as to be unreachable, or so ready to collapse that it became his funeral pyre. Although the structure was stone, much inside was inflammable, of course. Beams, flooring, paneling, roof, and ail the furniture and furnishings—even the plaster and paint on the walls. The heat was now too intense for a mere mist, so the wizard-priest spoke another series of syllables, this time a combination of heka. A shimmering hemisphere sprang up around him, and that shell drew the mists to itself and absorbed them. Shielded now by a curtain of chill water energies which both held in air and cold and kept the radiant power of the fire out, Setne stepped further into the inferno which had been the prince's personal domain.

A gigantic mass of living flames shifted, hot-violet spots fixing themselves upon the magister as if they were eyes. In fact they were eyes, and red-orange fires parted and a mouth spoke. "You come to your death, fool! Run away, little man, or I shall sear your flesh and boil your blood ere I consume you!"

"If you thought you could do that, efreet, you'd act, not boast," Inhetep shouted back. "Return now to your infernal realm, or it is I who will quench you!" Although the magister had expected to encounter some form of creature from the Spheres of Fire, this near-demoniac in its most potent form came as a surprise, but he didn't allow the monster to have an inkling of that. Even as he spoke, the ur-kheri-heb made preparations to carry out his threat.

The towering creature of hellfire form reached out to grab his antagonist, then withdrew his fiery arm with a shrieking howl as it contacted the freezing water. Its cry hurt Inhetep's ears, and the hemisphere trembled, bulged in where the efreet had struck it, then restored itself to smoothness again. It was noticeably smaller. "Son of a newt!" the fire being roared. "I'll soon have you out of that bubble and fry you slowly for your presumptuousness!"

With that, the flame-limbs struck down upon the shielding water, pounding upon it again and again. The monstrous thing howled in pain as it sought to destroy Inhetep's protection, but it was enraged and determined. Inside his watery shell, Inhetep worked desperately. He had to both maintain his defense and mount an offense against the efreet. No mere defense could prevail for long in such conditions as these. He worked with precision even as the water which protected him hissed and wavered and shrank to little more than a few inches of liquid but a foot above his sweating head. There was a sudden eruption of steam, and as vapors of superheated stuff rose round Setne, the priest-wizard called out, "Now, thing of perdition, you are doomed!"

Steam would slay Inhetep as surely as fire, but the stuff of fire and water mixed was nearly as deadly to the efreet as it was to human flesh. Magister Inhetep had managed to cloak the whole room in a curtain of billowing steam, while above them there was no longer flame-wrapped timbers but only an ever-darkening cloud such as might occur naturally in the sky and send down a torrent of rain. The elemental being of fire shrank from the billowing mass of superheated water vapors, peered up at the mass of coo! ones above, and hurled itself insanely upon the man who had wrought its demise. As it leaped to crush the shield and incinerate the man beneath, the cloud above suddenly released a downpour. The burst of drops extinguished the flames of the efreet's back even as its belly struck and demolished the protective shield which stood between it and the mortal. "DEATH!" it roared at Setne, even as it died.

Inhetep saw what was coming and sank. That is, the wizard-priest used the last of his power to alter his physical body so as to be able to pass through the marble floor and int® whatever lay below. The compression of the air in the shielding hemisphere as the efreet flattened and then destroyed that shield actually drove the magister down as a breath might propel a dart along a blowgun. Inhetep shot downward and struck another layer of stone some ten feet below. The force of the impact stunned him for a moment, but he was saved from real harm. "By Thoth's bill!" he muttered sacrilegiously. "That was too close and hot. Next time I go to see a fire, I'll be sure to carry along something to deal with elementals of that ilk."

"One must always have a long spoon when supping with efreeti," said a cool, sultry voice.

Inhetep started, spinning to face the speaker. He saw a girl with milk-white skin and coppery-gold hair, which flowed nearly to her waist. Those tresses were her only garments, although she was adorned with armlets and other jewelry of gold and jewels. She stood unashamed before his gaze, looking back at him with orange eyes. For once Setne Inhetep was so disconcerted as to be nearly speechless. "What are you doing here—and where are we?" the ur-kheri-heb finally managed to blurt out.

"And well might I ask the same of you, although I do know the second answer. I'll give you that if you tell me who you are."

"Magister Setne Inhetep of the Utchatu."

She smiled. "I am Xonaapi. It is a pleasure to meet a man able to drop through solid stone, especially here."

Inhetep looked away, for her beautiful face and body were distracting him. "Where is the 'here' you speak of—other than beneath Ram-f-amsu's quarters, that is?"

"You are correct. We are in a dungeon beneath that . . . that swine's apartments." The full lips moved to a frown, and she made her last words sound like a curse. "I hate that man, and when I get free of this place, I'll make him pay."

"Ram-f-amsu is beyond your vengeance," the magister told her matter-of-factly. "He was assassinated two days ago."

"Oh ... I didn't know," Xonaapi said slowly, and her frown turned to a very seductive-looking pout. "That's too bad, for I had hoped to kill him myself. Do you know the way out of here?"

He shook his head. "I had hoped you might. So! That means you and I must search for the exit from this place, but at least Ram-f-amsu was thoughtful in providing witchlights in this subterranean den." Inhetep paused, looking around to try and orient himself, but wasn't sure just which way was which. In the process, his eyes fell again upon the naked girl. "Let's get going, for who can say what the fire above will do to this place!"

Xonaapi smiled and took the magister's arm. "You are very forceful, Magister Setne Inhetep. I'm sure you will be able to find the way."

"Ah, pardon me, Xonaapi, but do you have anything to . . . er . . . put on?"

"I am wearing all of my jewelry."

"I was referring to clothing."

"Of course! How silly of me," the girl said as she gave his arm a hug. "Ram-f-amsu took it all away, but I could wear a bed sheet."

Inhetep didn't exactly mind the pressure of her full breasts, but it was truly beginning to distract him, and he felt that they had to get out of the underground place soon. He pulled his arm gently from Xonaapi's grasp. "Let's go to your bedroom, then," he agreed.

"Here," she said as they rounded a nearby turn in the maze of passageways beneath the palace, and she opened a door onto a large and lavishly furnished chamber. "Isn't it beautiful? I'd love to have such a bedroom somewhere else. One with big windows and a balcony overlooking a private garden. You don't have a dungeon like this do you, Magister Setne Inhetep?"

Without thinking he said, "Setne will do fine, my dear. And I wouldn't dream of it—having a dungeon, that is," he muttered hastily. "Fashion a toga or something from one of your sheets while I check for means of escape. There's warm air circulating down here."

Xonaapi held in one hand the silken spread she had pulled from the luxurious bed in the chamber, pointing with the other. "Over there, near the floor, I thought of that, but it is only a little ventilator shaft."

"Let's take a few moments to consider the problem, Xonaapi," the priest-wizard suggested as she wrapped herself in the material and pinned it at the shoulder with an emerald clasp of some sort.

She nodded, so he went ahead quickly. "I'm going to ask you a few questions. I need your answers to be brief and exact. All right?"

She smiled. "That's fine, Setne Inhetep—Setne, I mean. I like your name."

"Where do you come from; what land is your home?"

"Hvrkanian pirates took me from a ship sailing from Sinope to Sarai. I was returning home."

"You are a Khazar?"

"That's so—a White one and a noble, too! The pirates of Baku took me to a Sythian slave merchant. Then a Phonecian trader bought me and took me to Antioch. That's where Ram-f-amsu acquired me."

Inhetep thought she was remarkably pragmatic and calm, but he made no comment on that. Instead he asked, "The prince saw you and bought you in Antioch?"

Xonaapi shook her red-gold tresses. "Not Ram-f-amsu, actually. He had an agent, a greasy Cyp-riot who fondled me. That one brought me to On, and then Ram-f-amsu confined me here."

"What was the Cypriot's name?"

"Pyronos."

"How long have you been kept here?"

"A long time. I'm not sure, but I think it has been a month or longer."

"And did the governor come to see you often?"

"Yes, but he never tried to make love to me, Setne." There was wonder and hurt in Xonaapi's voice as she told the magister that. "Have I become so ugly?"

At those words, the ur-kheri-heb shook his head. "No, Xonaapi. I give you my absolute assurance that you are quite lovely still, despite being imprisoned here for so long."

"Then you wish to—"

"Escape!" Inhetep interjected brusquely. "Now, where did Prince Ram-f-amsu appear when he came down here to see you—for whatever reason."

"Come on, I'll show you the place," the girl responded eagerly. Xonaapi took him by the hand and pulled him through a series of large and small chambers to a many-pillared room with a fountain playing in its center and muraled walls. "There," she told the magister, pointing to the space between two lotus columns in an alcove of the room. "He always came from that spot, but when I searched for a door, I never found

anything!"

There in the alcove, Inhetep saw a painted door with the glyphs and depictions typical of a transporter. "Damn! This is not going to be of much help."

The girl came in and stood beside him. "I know. That's just a mural painted on plaster."

"No. It is a magickal portal. Weakened as I am, I have sufficient magickal energy to operate it, but . .."

"But what?"

"If we use this it will take us into the fire above!"

"Then what can we do to get out?" she asked, and now she looked frightened.

Inhetep led her away from the place and began a quick but systematic exploration. It seemed obvious to him that the prince had merely sectioned off a portion of the labyrinth under the palace in order to have a secret and wholly private area. As the priest-wizard searched, he asked Xonaapi to tell him what she knew about Ram-f-amsu.

"He said that one day he would be a great sovereign, you know. I asked him if he were going to make me a queen, but he laughed. 'Not even a concubine of mine, pale and beautiful temptress,' he said, and I was flattered and insulted all at once.

" 'Am I to be a sacrifice or what?' That's what

I asked him, for I suddenly thought of the things you /Egyptians do."

"Nonsense! Not even . . . well, human sacrifice is a crime in this land, Xonaapi. There are suspicions that Set's followers still . . . Do get on with your story. Sorry to have interrupted."

She smiled and gave him a kiss on his cheek. "I don't mind. Your words are reassuring. You are a priest—I can tell by your shaven head and your manner. I was afraid that this might be a trick and perhaps you had come to take me off to .. . you know."

"What did Ram-f-amsu say he wanted you for, Xonaapi? It is highly unusual, even in mysterious Mgypt, shall we say, for a royal governor to confine a beautiful slave in a hidden dungeon."

"I was to be a special gift. That is what he said, but I didn't believe him. Now I think he must have been telling the truth. He said I was the gem to adorn the crown."

Although his heka energy was depleted after the encounter with the efreet, the magister used his powers of observation and knowledge of the construction and concealment of secret portals as he worked his way along the perimeter walls of the place. "Hah! There's a large area unaccounted for here, my dear. Use those lovely topaz eyes of yours to look for scratches on the floor."

"How nice of you to say that," Xonaapi said, but she stooped and peered down as Inhetep began another circuit along the walls in question.

"What will the scratch marks look like?" she inquired.

"Little lines which have a curve to them. There might be one or several, either deeply etched or very faint, depending on how able the mason was who made the stone which pivots. If there are two or more lines, they'll be parallel."

"Like those are?" Xonaapi was pointing at the floor.

It was Inhetep's turn to hug the girl. "You've found the place, Xonaapi! Come on, now help me find the unlatching mechanism." The magister told her what to look for as he went about his search. The locking device was discovered under a flagstone. It was a metal bar which moved on a fulcrum, and pulling upward on their end released a stud which was thrust into the bottom of the rock and held the stone section fast. It was then an easy matter to pivot the section of wall and enter the place beyond. It was a storeroom filled with armor and weapons, and it extended for a long ways.

"What do you suppose all this is for?" Xonaapi asked as they peered into the dark chamber.

"You tell me. To whom were you to be given?"

"He would never say, although once he said a name by accident, I think. He wouldn't repeat it, but I remember it was Yarban sounding—or Shamish, perhaps. I'm not sure."

The spell-created lighting of the area in which the girl had been confined was absent in the arsenal they had entered, but Inhetep used his ankh for illumination. Xonaapi asked how he could make the gold talisman shed light, but Inhetep only told her that the device was imbued with a heka. "Think of it as a sort of lamp, and by speaking a word I make it bright as would lighting the wick of a lamp." That was more than sufficient for her.

There were enough arms in the palace to equip several thousand troops. Fine mail, steel helmets, bows, barrels of arrows, spears, shields, swords, and axes. The magister was tempted to take along a sampling but decided against it, for they had yet to find another means of egress from the storeroom. After a couple of minutes, though, he saw a wide place which could only be a gateway. It proved to be concealed on its other side, but here it was easy to open. He and Xonaapi then entered the regular cellars of the palace, and before long the wizard-priest had located a tunnel which ran straight and led away from the subterranean rooms.

"It's chilly and nasty there," the girl said as Inhetep started to follow the passage.

"But it will take us safely out of this place, I think," he responded, so Xonaapi followed him eagerly.

By the time they found the end of the tunnel and climbed up into the fresh air again, the sun was rising and only whitish smoke rose from the palace compound, which was a quarter-mile or so distant. "How did we get so far from Ram-f-amsu's?" she said when Inhetep pointed out the smoke and identified the locale for her.

"By the escape passage meant for use by the governor and his household in case of trouble," the magister told her. "They've snuffed the blaze all right, so there's no sense in returning there now. Inspector Tuhorus and his men can handle the search of the remains. They are bound to show up here soon. Come with me, Xonaapi. We'll go to the Reedfields for some food and a few hours of sleep, perhaps."

"Yes, Setne," she said in a tired voice. "I am hungry and tired from all this excitement. Do you always live so dangerous a life?"

"Coming from one captured by pirates and sold as a slave, Xonaapi, I am disinclined to accept that at face value," the tall Egyptian retorted. "Still, perhaps some of what I do might prove amusing to you. I'll tell you about it in the comfort of my lodgings."

8

UNEXPECTED COMPLICATIONS

Setne found Xonaapi to be a fascinating combination of naivete and sophistication. Inhetep supposed it was her tender years and sheltered upbringing, for at eighteen the girl had had little in the way of exposure to the world. The brief stay in the free Grecian city of Sinope on the shores of the Mare Ostrum had been her only experience outside the cloistered women's quarters of her father's vast estates in the kaganate. Khazars were not known for their acceptance of women as anything other than property, and although Xonaapi had been the only child, her father had treated the girl little differently than if he had many sons and daughters. That was why she was so philosophical about being made a slave. "After all, I would have been sold for a fat bride price to some ugly, old lord or other by my father," she said to the magister. "How could I be terribly upset by the business with the pirates and the slave dealer? Neither treated me badly at all, for a virgin is worth ten times the price of an ordinary woman . . . one who has been defiled."

That made the wizard-priest smile. "Not so in more civilized lands, Xonaapi, but you'll be in a position to find that out for yourself." He went on to explain that she was certainly a free and equal person now, and that under the circumstances, the government would grant her Egyptian citizenship if she so desired. "If for no other reason than because upon the death of a governor any slaves he acquired personally while in office are manumitted, whether dwelling in the government palace or on the dead man's properties elsewhere. That prevents abuses," said the magister with a wink.

After sharing a light breakfast with his temporary charge, Inhetep went to bathe and ready for sleep. He came back to find the girl lying nude in his bed. "I suppose I must sleep on one of the divans," he said hurriedly.

"Oh, no. Please stay here and be comfortable, Setne Inhetep. This bed is very big, and there's plenty of room for both of us."

Inhetep lay down on the far edge, but Xonaapi was having none of that. She moved so that she was next to him; her right breast rested on his arm as she stroked his cheek with delicate, long-nailed fingers. "See how white my skin looks against your own—even my nipple appears a pale rose," she giggled. "My hair is very like your coppery complexion, though, only a bit more golden," she added as she reached back and spread some of her long tresses across his chest so as to compare the two colors.

"Go to sleep, girl," Inhetep grated, clenching his teeth and trying not to react in other ways. "This isn't the time for this sort of thing."

"What sort of thing do you mean? Show me, please! I want to thank you for rescuing me," Xonaapi told him urgently. "You are the most handsome man I've ever met—so smart and . . . and . . ."

"And certainly older than your father, Xo-nappi." It hurt him to say it, but some things had to be. Besides, the effects of the dweomered stimulant were nearly gone, and the magister was feeling drained and headachy. "You are irresistibly lovely, and I very much desire to make love to you, dear girl. For now, however, let's just say goodnight. As you have discerned, I am an important man, one of Pharaoh's own agents— that shall be our secret! I'm on a special assignment, more or less, having to do with the death of Prince Ram-f-amsu. You and I both need our rest, for soon I'll be back on the job, and I'll need your help then as now. How does that sound? Agreed?"

Xonappi pouted a little, but then pecked Inhetep on the cheek and rolled over. "I suppose. But I don't understand men at all! Especially you, Magister Setne Inhetep."

"I don't think I do, either, girl—and women are an even greater mystery to me." He then pretended to be asleep, pretense yielding to actuality in but moments.

A pounding sound awakened him. Inhetep sat upright with a start, looking around in befuddle-ment, his mind still fuzzy with sleep. The sound came again, and with it. a voice: "Open up, Inhetep! It's Tuhorus!" That enabled the ur-kheri-heb to recall just where he was and what had happened. Flinging on a cotton robe, Setne peered out of the shuttered window before answering the door. He saw from the sun that it was early-afternoon. Xonaapi remained undisturbed, sleeping soundly, beautiful and almost childlike as she lay there only partially covered by the pale sheet. Inhetep dragged his eyes from her form, left the bedroom, shut the connecting door, and went to the entrance of the suite where the policeman had resumed his hammering.

"Stop that! I'm coming," the magister cried irritably. "You'll disturb the whole inn with your racket." He was opening the door as he said those last words.

"Well, it seemed I had to awaken the dead," Tuhorus rejoined as he came in and sat down. He looked at the priest-wizard for a long moment. "You appear to be fine, well-rested even."

"Of course I am," Inhetep snapped, seating himself in a chair opposite that of the policeman's. "Why shouldn't I be?"

"They have you reported as dead—killed in the palace fire."

"They are grossly mistaken," Inhetep said without humor. "I need some tea!"

Just then there was another knocking at the entry, only this was a subdued tapping. "Come in," called Tuhorus preemptively. The door swung inward, and in a moment a serving boy entered with a big tray of hammered brass which was loaded with fresh fruit, juices, little loaves of bread and sweet cakes, and tea. There was also a selection of cheese, cold meat, and a smoked fish which appeared via the same servitor after the initial tray had been placed on a table and a second trip outside was accomplished. Setne eyed the whole process without speaking, his expression speaking loudly enough to convey all.

"I anticipated your desire, Magister—-and I want some lunch myself!"

"Is this charged to me?"

"Certainly."

Inhetep grumbled but gave the boy some small coins. Then he took a glass of hot and sugary minted tea, drank, and sat back. He watched Tuhorus eating and grimaced. "Ugh! So early in the morning! How can you?"

"It's well after midday, Inhetep."

"For you, perhaps, but as far as I'm concerned it's the crack of dawn. What's this business about me being dead?"

Tuhorus swallowed a mouthful of the fish, bit into a wedge of cheese, picked up some grapes to compliment the food, and replied, "You were seen running into the fire. It was noon before I thought that you might not be a blackened corpse in those ruins but rather sleeping peacefully back here! Nobody saw you leave, but when your body hadn't turned up by then, I figured you probably used heka to escape that inferno."

"More or less," the magister admitted noncom-mittally. "What made you come here?"

"Where else would you likely be? I had to get some sleep myself, although I could spare only a few hours for that. I guess you must have had a full-"

He chopped off his words as Xonaapi appeared suddenly from the bedroom. "I heard voices and smelled breakfast, Setne Inhetep," she called happily as she danced into the room. Then she saw Tuhorus sitting there and retreated hastily again. She had been naked, of course.

"Let me revise my estimate, Magister," the policeman said with an expression which was somewhere between admiration and disapproval but came close to looking like a smirk. "That is perhaps the loveliest sight I've seen in a very long career as a detective. May I inquire how and where . . . ?" Tuhorus allowed the query to trail off as his smirk grew broader.

Setne closed his eyes, grimaced, then opened them again and swallowed more tea. "Haaaa . . ." he sighed. "How should I begin?"

"No need to explain to me, Magister. It was merely a conversational question."

"Godsdamnit," he said without force. "Do stop playing games with me, Tuhorus. This isn't at all what you think, but I do need to explain; there is a very good reason too, although she is absent at this time."

"Another woman? I know you aren't married. No need to worry. I happen to be the soul of discretion."

"Listen to me, you ape! I rescued this girl—a mere child—from the palace. She was confined in a dungeon set up by that dastard, Ram-f-amsu."

"The latter I can believe," Tuhorus allowed. "Having ... ah ... seen the lady, however, I must take exception to the former claim. A child? Really, Inhetep!"

"Bah! She's but eighteen."

"Every inch of her! It must be your prowess as an ur-kheri-heb," he said with a taunting note in his voice which annoyed Inhetep greatly. Before the magister could say anything in reply, though, Xonaapi reappeared, this time demurely draped in the silken sheet she had turned into a toga.

"I'm sorry about bursting in without—"

"Please!" the priest-wizard interrupted. "Don't say anything more on the subject of nakedness!"

"—knocking," Xonaapi finished innocently.

Tuhorus actually guffawed. Inhetep poured tea for himself and handed another freshly filled glass to the girl. "Help yourself to whatever else you like. I can order anything you wish if this isn't to your liking."

"It is exactly what I want," she said with a smile directed at both men. Then she concentrated on the policeman. "I didn't know Magister Setne Inhetep had company. I thought the other voice was the servant bringing us breakfast— even though it is afternoon. I'm Xonaapi. Who are you?"

The detective introduced himself and asked her where she had met Inhetep. Xonaapi was candid in her recounting of how the ur-kheri-heb of Thoth had literally fallen from the sky into her prison and then found a means out of the place. "You and I must speak at length about how the former governor kept you trapped there," Tuhorus told her. With that, though, he knew that there was nothing more to be learned from her, so Tuhorus turned his attention to Inhetep once again, now serious and eager. "What did you learn, Utchat-neb?"

"The prince seemed to have a passion for collecting arms. I discovered a store of weapons and equipment for a regiment there. He had a secret place for all his illicit property. It'll be no feat getting there later. Coupled with what Xonaapi told me about why Ram-f-amsu bought her and kept her hidden, I think I'm very close to concluding things."

"Please give me written details at your convenience," Tuhorus asked politely. "Yet there is a matter which might change your mind."

"Is there? Pray tell me, Inspector. Did you manage to get something out of the wreckage of the palace? Or is it the high priest?"

"Neither .. . exactly. Matiseth Chemres is also dead—murdered just as was the prince, and the books you saw are gone."

"Perhaps I should retire to another room," Xonaapi suggested in a small voice. The talk of death and murder obviously made her nervous.

"Hmmm . . ." Inhetep said. "Yes. No! Rather than shutting yourself up in the bedroom, why don't you go out and shop, find some regular gowns and things. You need some proper clothes to wear, you know."

"She looks absolutely fetching in that toga," opined Tuhorus.

"Thank you," the girl said demurely, "but I don't like the color very much. It rather clashes with my hair, you see."

Inhetep handed her his purse after extracting some of the coins. "Here. Take this. There's sufficient money in there to buy several outfits and whatever cosmetics you might need," he added, thinking of Rachelle.

"This is wonderful!" The girl jumped up, whirled in a dance, and laughed. "What fun to see such a fine /Egyptian city as On and to be able to buy what I please, instead of having to wear whatever Father thought proper. I can hardly wait! I'll be back when the stores close," Xonappi informed them as she almost ran out the door. Inhetep called sharply to suggest that sundown might be a better time, for many of the city's establishments which catered to the wealthier clientele of On stayed open well into the night.

The coppery-haired girl agreed readily enough, promising to be back to the Reedfields by the time the sun went down. Then she blew a kiss to Inhetep, said goodbye to the policeman, and flew out the door.

"As enthusiastic as she is beautiful," Tuhorus commented after the door closed.

"This latest turn might prove a trial."

"Now, good Magister, what do you mean by that? She blew you a kiss, didn't she?"

"How will I explain the sum she'll spend to Racheile?"

"Racheile? I take it that is the other woman, so to speak. No matter. You're an inventive fellow, Inhetep. Can we get back to business perhaps?"

"If you'll stop making jibes about that girl we can," Inhetep growled. "Is there anything I need know before we go to the Temple of Set? I want to examine the scene of the crime."

"No, I think you'll find everything pretty much as it was when I discovered the hem-neter-tepi's body there in the late hours of the past night, sir. I have a dozen men guarding the place, and all of the relevant persons there have been questioned."

That was as he had hoped. "I'll don a tunic and be with you in a brief time. Have more of that food while you wait. I hate to see things wasted."

"Especially when you pay for them, Magister." Tuhorus smiled. "That brings me to the subject of women's apparel—" The slam of the bedroom door cut off anything more the police official might have said, so he contented himself with devouring whatever remained on the serving trays.

A few minutes later, Inhetep came back into the parlor, face and head freshly shaven, and wearing a crisp garment of cotton and linen. "Shall we depart?"

Tuhorus stood up and went to the door. "What of your theory as to the murders, Inhetep? You should share the information, you know."

"I am quite willing to do so—after I have seen Chemres and the scene where he was killed, Tuhorus."

"His death doesn't surprise you? I thought he had to be connected to the killing of the governor."

"Connected is one thing which his demise doesn't rale out. However, my astute fellow, I am a trifle disconcerted that he was assassinated in the manner he was—and that all the evidence which he had in his possession is missing! Have you any clues to that?"

The detective looked up into the ur-kheri-heb's green eyes. "Now then, Magister, I too have professional secrets. The evidence found at the temple is all there to examine, accounts of the ones present at the time are recorded, and you can ask those witnesses more questions if you like. You'll draw your own conclusions. When you tell me what you've uncovered, I'll be happy to reveal my own deductions. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough, sir," Inhetep said, but it galled him. "By the by, Tuhorus, are you much of a linguist?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Perhaps it's no matter, but I was just thinking of the word which the steppe nomads use for whirlwind."

The inspector stopped and said, "Well, why? Or what is the word for that matter?"

"No matter, as I said. Can't seem to recall it," Setne drawled. Tuhorus now stumped along frowning, and Inhetep felt better. Exchange of information, indeed! As he had hoped, after they arrived, the policeman went off to the temple's great library, probably seeking books on Mongolian language, leaving the magister alone to examine the scene of the crime. The illusion of the original scene cast there by the prefecture's magician was quite good. Some details would be missing, of course, but even under close inspection Inhetep would have believed he was looking at the actual corpse of the high priest had he not known otherwise. The facial expression and dried blood were gruesome. They also told him that Matiseth's body had lain there some time before Tuhorus had discovered it. "An hour or thereabouts," Inhetep murmured as he got up and began to look around the room. There were signs of a disturbance—a broken vase, papers strewn about, and litter which indicated that the victim had undergone the same rigorous sort of dance that the prince governor had before dying. The magister stopped, picked up a lifeless spider whose desiccated body stood starkly against a papyrus background, and then cast a magickal light forth to examine the area. He expected no trace of aural or dweomered evidence, and when the wizard-priest used his powers to search for them, he found none.

"I was attacked, and that failed. So the next steps were to bum the governor's quarters and to eliminate Chemres. The killer also removed the evidence which the high priest was foolish enough to keep here, so he most likely knew about my visit, and he at least feared that I was onto something. That means he had more to go on than a mere conversation with Matiseth, for the hem-neter-tepi didn't even suspect that I had discovered his actual records," Inhetep told Inspector Tuhorus when the man returned a few minutes later. "Even my threat to expose him didn't move the high priest or shake his confidence in the least. Does that mean anything to you, Tuhorus?"

"No, I confess I see nothing significant in that, Inhetep. You have given me certain information I needed, however, and I wonder why you haven't acted sooner to bring in the criminals. That might have prevented the arson in the sepat compound and Matiseth Chemres being assassinated. How long have you known that Ten-gri is both an aerial spirit and a whirlwind?"

Inhetep's posture had been tense, his expression showing a growing puzzlement as Tuhorus spoke, but as the chief inspector came to the last question, the priest-wizard relaxed. "Oh, you refer to that bit of information. Why, I've always known that, sir. It's of no great import."

"There I disagree, Magister. I think we have our killers. I'm issuing orders to have Lord Sa-caxes, Vardin, and Tengri Ataman arrested immediately. If they are guilty, Inhetep, you must also be held accountable by your own admission."

The ur-kheri-heb looked at Tuhorus with disbelief. "Nonsense! But I'll not dispute with you. Go ahead and have those three brought in. While you're at it, round up all the others who were in the room when Prince Ram-f-amsu was murdered."

"Why? What on Yarth would that accomplish, Inhetep?"

"Let's just say I think you're overlooking something. Do it to humor me, or else because I am requesting it as an utchat-neb. I promise that you'll not be disappointed."

"Very well," the inspector said. "But I think you must now be held as a possible accomplice to Matiseth Chemres' death."

"That charge should not be made for the record, Tuhorus, for it will bring you nothing but embarrassment and discredit. Just mark it in your personal notes—and on a separate page which you can burn. I'll not be going anywhere, so you can always file it later if you deem it necessary."

Matiseth Chemres' murder was nearly as serious a matter as that of the governor, and Inspector Tuhorus seemed reluctant to do as the magister suggested. "That violates all rules, Inhetep. What if you choose to use your heka to disappear?"

"I might do that at this moment if I so opted, dear fellow. What use is an official report in that regard?"

"Very well," Tuhorus agreed reluctantly. "Shall we go to the prefecture?"

Magister Inhetep raised a finger. "In an hour or so, Inspector. Get your warrants out, and by the time everyone is rounded up and brought into your offices there, we'll be on hand for questioning. Meantime, however, there's a little more to do here, and then we can go back to the Reed-fields and have a decent bit to eat with Xonappi."

"This is no time for romantic frivolities, Magister," the police official said sharply.

"Ask yourself this, Tuhorus. What became of the three big tomes which are missing from the dead cleric's shelves? If you can't give me any answer, then I urge you to humor me with respect to the rest."

"The killer carried them out."

"Nobody was seen doing that, and there's not a trace of magickal residue here. Again, my good Inspector, what became of those three big books?"

There was no trace of their being destroyed anywhere in the high priest's apartment. They hadn't turned up anywhere in the temple complex, either. Tuhorus scratched his graying hair, looking quite uncertain. "Do you know where the volumes are, Inhetep?" he challenged.

"Certainly. Now come on. The poor child will be waiting for us and think herself abandoned. Besides, I hope Xonaapi will have some of the money I gave her leftover. . . . What will I say to Rachelle?"

ALL THE WITNESSES ARE GUILTY

Before they returned to the inn, the magister convinced Tuhorus that the girl should accompany them to the prefecture for the next questioning. "At least one of the men knows Xonaapi and is aware that the governor held her captive."

The chief inspector didn't much like that idea. He too, of course, knew which of the suspects had knowledge of the kidnapped girl: "The Cypriot, Pyronos—but what need is there for her to be present when we speak with the others?"

Inhetep was firm, saying, "The girl might be of no significance, or she might be vital. That's the reason we need her there. The reaction from each of them will tell us much, I think."

"Very well, I'll go along with you this time, Magister," the policeman said with evident reluctance as he and Inhetep came to the Reed-fields. Tuhorus wasn't certain what the ur-kheri-heb thought to discover in such a fashion. After all, it seemed to be an open and shut matter.

The exact motive and opportunity had yet to be proven, but the means and the ones responsible for employing them were pretty clear.

Xonaapi was impossible to miss. She was wearing a sea-green dress of silk which was very fashionable, with matching gold collar sandals patterned after the fashion of ancient /Egypt. The gown was more demure at the bodice than many seen on the avenues, but revealing at the leg with a long, gold-trimmed slit. With a face and figure such as hers, Xonaapi was noticeable and noticed. A half-dozen men were hovering around her when Inhetep and Tuhorus entered the inn's salon where she waited for them, enjoying light wine and attentive company in the meantime.

"Our apologies for keeping you waiting, my lady," the priest-wizard murmured as he and Tuhorus sat down at her table. "I am delighted to see that you made such marvelous use of your time shopping!"

The hovering cadre of salon scarabs scattered in disappointment, but the girl seemed not to notice. "I only got here a little while ago, and there were lots of people to talk to while I waited. Please don't feel guilty, Setne Inhetep. I'm happy you and Chief Inspector Tuhorus had time to do all the things policemen do!" She smiled disarmingly at both men. Her words dispelled the last of the lingering lotharios as well, for one mention of police was more than sufficient in that regard. "Do you really like this outfit, Setne?"

"He couldn't be more pleased, I assure you," Tuhorus told her, preempting the magister. "That is a very fashionable outfit, and you do it justice, Xonaapi."

"Wait until you see the other little things I bought."

Inhetep slumped in his seat. "Others?"

"Of course! Why, I had absolutely nothing, so I had to get enough for a few days. I bought this dress because it was ready to wear—only a few of the outfits I purchased were not in need of a seamstress. The rest will be delivered here tomorrow, because I asked that they rush the tailoring work. The shopkeepers here are so nice! When I told them that Magister Setne Inhetep and I were staying here at the Reedfields, there wasn't a one who hesitated about charging the cost and having someone work specially on things!"

Tuhorus grinned agreeably, watching Inhetep from the comer of his eye. "A lady must have proper apparel." Then he looked squarely at the ur-kheri-heb. "But I wasn't aware that you were so well-known here in On, Magister. . . ."

"Neither was I," Inhetep said in an undertone. "How large a sum will I need to cover your expenditure, Xonaapi?"

Seeing his expression, the girl gave him a reassuring look and patted his arm. "Not more than a few thousand dinars, Setne, and look! There's money left from what you gave me for incidentals."

He took the proffered purse and dumped its contents into his palm. Looking at the handful of copper and silver coins, Inhetep gave a wan smile. "Incidentals . .. Yes. Well, I suppose it has been a long time since I took anyone shopping," he said with a shrug. "Prices must have inflated drastically. I am most pleased you have now acquired a proper wardrobe, Xonaapi," he concluded almost hopefully. "As your rescuer and benefactor, it was my duty to see to that."

"Oh, thank you! Then I can spend tomorrow picking up all the rest of the things I really need—I haven't nearly enough for everyday wear, you know, and what if you take me to a regalia?"

"A beautiful woman such as yourself, Lady Xonaapi, must always look her best," Tuhorus encouraged. "It wouldn't do for you to be seen in inappropriate costume, and what would people think of the magister?"

"Let us see what is being served for dinner this evening," Inhetep said firmly, changing the subject. "Although I seem to have little appetite."

"You should have come shopping with me," the girl said happily. "I am absolutely ravenous."

The meal was large and costly, taking up almost two hours. Because of time, the three took a carriage from the inn to Tuhorus' office in the ugly pile which housed the Metropolitan Prefecture of On. The building stood as one of four around a small, parklike square which served for the city's administrative, judicial, and service bureaus accommodations. Even though there were over a hundred thousand inhabitants to care for, the sepat itself was responsible for everything outside the boundaries of On, and even some of the matters within the community, so the city government was not as large as would have been required for such a place outside /Egypt. Thus, the law enforcement arm, the Metropolitan Prefecture, was smaller than might be expected. River policing, for instance, was in the hands of the royal military, while the governor saw to surrounding law enforcement, taxation, tariff control, and so forth. Of the two hundred people in the prefecture, Inspector Tuhorus was the third in rank, coming after the prefect himself and the vice prefect.

"I had thought to find a larger and more elaborate accommodation for you, Inspector," the wizard-priest commented after they were in Tuhorus' office. "You are deputy prefect, aren't you?"

"Acting Deputy," Tuhorus corrected. "The senior of inspectors is always posted to that spot, Utchat-neb. Unlike your service, as well you know, Inhetep, this is the position which handles the ninety percent workload which is non-political. The Utchatu is reversed, isn't it?" he asked rather bitterly.

The magister wasn't disturbed. "More political, surely, but true ability also counts for much." Inhetep let it go at that. "This is assuredly of no interest to Xonaapi, for shop talk is never particularly intelligible to one not involved. May we now begin the reexamination of the fourteen?"

"I am excited, Inspector Tuhorus," the girl told him, almost as if she were contradicting Inhetep. "To be involved in so important a matter as this is beyond anything I have ever dreamed."

"You'll find police work rather dull and repetitious, I fear," Tuhorus responded, but the girl's words had made him feel important. "You are sure you don't mind this?"

"Oh, no! It is my duty, and I want to help all I can. And I am anxious to see the ones who are responsible for my being held captive brought to justice, too!"

"It's important that we have a few minutes with each group separately, I think," the magister said. "But then I want to have them all brought together so we can exactly duplicate the murder."

"The fire . . ."

"Of no import. I'll employ heka, and nobody will doubt that they are once more in the dead governor's chamber."

Tuhorus nodded. "Very well. I'll have the Par-thians sent in first."

"With all due respect, Tuhorus, may I suggest that we delay that? I know you are convinced that they are the culprits, but I think we should speak with Lord Pyronos first—especially since he was likely the one who was involved with Lady Xonaapi's procurement, shall we say. Will you again humor me in this regard, Inspector?"

When he saw the girl's expression, Tuhorus agreed. "Very well. I am uncertain as to how she fits into this, so I'll go along with you, Magister."

In a few minutes, the dark-haired Cypriot was ushered into the policeman's office. When he saw Xonaapi there, Pyronos started and his skin paled a little, but he held his composure well enough thereafter. "Inspector Tuhorus, Magister Inhetep, I haven't the pleasure of making the lady's acquaintance."

Neither of the detectives needed to respond to that statement, for the girl flushed and said, "That's a lie, sir! You . . . you were very forward and said I was gorgeous, too! Then you said I could never be forgotten! You know very well who I am: Xonaapi, and a noble—"

"Thank you, my dear lady," interjected the priest-wizard. "You see, Lord Pyronos, it's no use to try and dissemble. We are fully aware of your part in this."

"I had nothing to do with Prince Ram-f-amsu's murder!" the Cypriot cried angrily in reply to Inhetep's words.

Magister Inhetep smiled wolfishly. "Did I mention murder? I am speaking of something worse—treason and espionage."

"Treason isn't applicable, sir. I am a noble citizen of another kingdom. As to espionage, since when is it a crime to assist a noble governor of an /Egyptian nome in his efforts to become chief minister?" Lord Pyronos evidenced both arrogance and underlying fear as he spoke.

Tuhorus tried to hide Ms confusion as he assessed the Cypriot's statement. He looked at Magister Inhetep, saying, "There's danger in 'your charge, sir. The king of Kypros is an ally of /Egypt."

Inhetep stepped in. "Exactly, Chief Inspector. He will mislike, to put it gently, one of his own nobles being involved in activity bent upon disturbing that status. Come, come, Pyronos, You were aware that Ram-f-amsu's plans verged on treason!"

The Cypriot was about to heatedly deny the magister's words, but something in the priest-wizard's eyes made him throw up Ms hands and say, "Very well. I confess that the dead governor promised his assistance—and that of /Egypt, too—to my king in the seizing of Tyrus. That was in return for trade concessions and treaties. Such an arrangement would certainly strengthen both realms, for all benefit of the promised arrangement would be shared between Kypros and your Pharaoh."

The police inspector was about to speak, but Inhetep waved him to silence. "Your liege, King Nikos, agrees with all of this?"

"Well .. ."

"As I said, Lord Pyronos: treason! Your assistance in Ram-f-amsu's meddling in the affairs of state of sovereign places, and your own work without your king's permission, is certainly treasonous."

The Cypriot stood up and paced back and forth in agitation. "Now, you can say that, Magister, but had Tyrus fallen to Kypros, King Nikos would never have pressed the matter. Likewise, your own great Pharaoh would have gladly received the stream of wealth coming to him from our trade—the whole of the merchandise shipped from the port of Tyrus would have come south to /Egypt's ports, including On."

"That's what you claim now, sir, but I think you know otherwise. Even a blind man could see that the prince had ambitions above and beyond mere monopolies of trade with your nation."

"What makes you so sure of that, Inhetep?" the Cypriot asked narrowly.

"Your acquisition of Lady Xonaapi is ample proof."

Tuhorus had closely followed the exchange, and he now joined in. "The number of individuals involved likewise could not but fail to alert you, Lord Pyronos. Tyrus aside, trade is a two-way exchange, and Ram-f-amsu was spinning a great web to catch all manner of flies such as you. The Yarban commerce through /Elana, for instance. That would come by sea, or overland through Phillistia, and neither you nor your king would benefit therefrom. Was Xonaapi a gift to the Yarbans? or others more distant?"

The girl was staring at Lord Pyronos, as much in anticipation as with dislike. "Yes, lecher, for whom was I destined?"

"Ram-f-amsu never actually said," Lord Pyr-onos admitted heavily.

"You determined some time ago that the prince had plans which were more extensive that he had informed you, isn't that so, Pyr-onos?" asked the priest-wizard.

"I'm not a fool!" the Cypriot shot back angrily.

"But you are. You involved yourself with Ram-f-amsu," Inhetep countered. "Furthermore, I think you also showed a lack of wisdom by remaining leagued with the prince after you discovered that his ambitions extended to far more than becoming chief minister of Pharaoh. That you aren't a complete dupe is shown by your sudden reversal here and now."

"Reversal?" The query sprang from Inspector Tuhorus' lips.

"Yes," the magister said, still looking at the Cypriot as he replied to the puzzled detective. "Lord Pyronos wasn't cooperating with Ram-f-amsu any longer. None of his ships were sailing on behalf of the governor, and no finance was forthcoming—isn't that so, Pyronos?"

"That is correct," the man admitted. "I was attempting to remove involvement of any sort— my own and that of my kingdom, for I disliked the direction which Ram-f-amsu seemed to be taking."

"Did you now?" growled the policeman. "Why not just sail home to Cyprus, then?"

"Blackmail, dear Tuhorus," supplied Inhetep. "King Nikos would certainly have punished Lord Pyronos in some way—stripping away his lands and title being the least."

Tuhorus stood and pointed at the fellow. "So. If that's true, you had a strong motive for slaying the governor, didn't you?!"

"He was a swine who needed killing," the Cypriot shot back, "but you must look to another in that regard. I didn't murder Ram-f-amsu."

"Your name is an interesting one," interjected the magister. "What does it mean?"

"Mean? Why nothing at all. It's just a name."

"Odd ... I somehow connected it to the house of the Grecian thaumaturge, Pyronostus, who is said to have learned the secrets of ancient Babylonian fire magick. Didn't he eventually become a noble of your island?"

"Inhetep, that was centuries ago. Perhaps he was a forefather of mine—so what?"

The priest-wizard smiled. "The governor's palace was destroyed by an efreet, a fire elemental of the most malign sort. The magi of Babylonia are adept at summoning and controlling such beings, are they not?"

"I am neither a Babylonian magus nor a spell-worker!" Pyronos shouted.

Tuhorus interrupted him with an equally loud voice. "Now I have you, man! You know alchemy, and I have intelligence which places you high in the magickal council of your kingdom. Deny that!"

Lord Pyronos collapsed into a chair, appearing tired and defeated. "Very well. I am of the line of the Magus Pyronostus, and I have some small skills in the arcane arts, especially with respect to the element of fire. Despite all that, I had no part in killing Prince Ram-f-amsu, and you'll never prove otherwise."

"I'll arrest you on that charge nonetheless, Pyronos," the chief inspector growled. "We'll see about proving things in due time."

"Don't be too hasty, Tuhorus," Magister Inhetep interjected softly. "Perhaps some lesser charge might be better advised. How about arson? Does that sound correct, my lord?"

"I had no choice—-I had to conjure up that efreet and have it burn the palace," Pyronos wailed despairingly.

Magister Inhetep walked over to where the man sat slumped. "Otherwise, your part in the plot to truncate ./Egypt, to establish a separate kingdom formed of Lower .-Egypt and Phillistia, would have been revealed to authorities here and in your own land, right?

"Right, Inhetep," the man confessed in a weak voice.

That admission was far beyond anything Inspector Tuhorus had anticipated. "Failure would bring war between Cyprus and /Egypt, success an unthinkable condition, Lord Pyronos. This is something which is darker than can be imagined!"

"I know, Chief Inspector Tuhorus. When I learned of the true aim of Ram-f-amsu, I did my best to talk him out of it. When I failed to turn him from his purpose, I did my utmost to foil his plot."