Murder in the Place of Anubis by Lynda S. Robinson Read Free Book Online Page B

Over and over you have complained that  they hate you. If they hate you so, Beltis, tell me why it wasn't you who was found buried in natron with a blade stuck in your pretty neck?"

Chapter 4
     After a few hours he'd grown used to the stench of  the Place of Anubis, but it would take an eternity of the gods to accustom himself to the priest Raneb's screeching. Kysen tried not to wince as Raneb flapped his bony arms and cawed at a hapless apprentice who was unlucky enough not to know anything about Hormin, his life, or his death. The priest raised an arm, and Kysen sucked in his breath. He turned away and pretended to study one of the natron tables. The old miasma engulfed him, and he was a child again, bewildered and cowering under blows he was sure would kill him.
    That clenched fist, the swinging arm, they belonged to Raneb, who would hurt no one. When he turned back to the group of men in the drying shed, he was calm. From the fire stokers to the highest priest, all had been questioned either by Kysen or one of his men. Further haranguing would yield nothing.
    "Priest Raneb."
    Raneb shut his mouth in midscreech.
     "Many thanks for your priceless assistance. The justice of Pharaoh is greatly aided by the authority of one  such as you."
     It had taken him years to learn the use of flattery, to learn how to spy out one susceptible to it, to say ridiculous phrases as though they were as weighty as sacred chants from
The Book of the Dead.
Meren had taught him. The greatest difficulty lay in believing his father when he said that the receiver of the flattery wouldn't see through to its real purpose. To Kysen the end was transparent.
    Chest puffed with self-importance, nose and cheeks red, the priest glanced about to assure himself that everyone had heard the words of the son of Lord Meren. Rocking back and forth, toe to heel, he folded his hands over his belly and asked what else he could do.
     "At the moment, little." Kysen shook his head in regret. "Much as I wish to remain, duty calls me away. But I would speak once more with the water carrier."
     The servant was brought forth, the others dismissed.  Getting rid of Raneb was more difficult, but Kysen accomplished this task and set about the chore of allaying the fears of a peasant faced with a great lord. He couldn't do much about the charioteer's bronze corselet strapped across his chest, the warrior's wristguards, the weapons at his waist. The youth was one of the thousands of children of the poor who served in menial capacities in the temples, palaces, and households of the Two Lands. He would fear Kysen because he was common, landless, and of no importance to anyone but himself.
     "Sit up, boy. I can't talk to you if your nose is in the  dirt."
     The youth raised his upper body, but kept his eyes downcast as was proper. He wasn't much younger than  Kysen. His face was wide from forehead to chin. He was short, and thin from too little food and too much work. His bottom lip had been chewed raw in the time since Kysen had last seen him. It wasn't surprising, since the poor water carrier was the only one at the Place of Anubis who had recognized Hormin.
                    
    "Your name is Sedi?"
    Sedi's nose burrowed into the dirt again.
     "Don't do that!" Kysen bit back a curse as Sedi's  body went stiff and then trembled. "By the phallus of Ra, they've been filling your head with silly tales of being carried off to a cell and beaten. Well, you can cast such fear from your heart. I don't beat innocent children."
     Sedi's mouth opened in astonishment, and Kysen  grinned at him. He lapsed into the slang of his childhood.
    "Steady your skiff, brother."
    "Oh."
     Kysen dropped to one knee beside Sedi. "Oh? You  sound like a washer maid whose lover has thrown her down among the reeds at the riverbank. Surely you heard my origin in my speech." Kysen held out his right hand, palm up. "Do you think I got these scars from such light work as hefting a