Scroll of Saqqara(181)

The watersteps. With a shiver of excitement the girl came to her feet. Tbubui would not dare leave the doll on Khaemwaset’s property, but Sisenet was living in the house she had once occupied, and no one but he was likely to discover it. Sheritra knew in her bones that she was correct. Leaving the suite as quietly as she had come, she made her way to her own apartments. Bakmut admitted her, a finger to her lips, and Antef rose from the stool beside her couch.

“How is he?” she whispered, coming close and peering down at Hori. He looked already dead. His face was pallid, his closed eyes sunken, and he was breathing in shallow, rapid spurts. He must have sensed her presence, for he stirred, then his eyes opened and slowly focused on her. With a worried glance at Antef, she bent near him.

“Did you find it?” he whispered.

“Hori, I am sorry,” she replied. “I think she must have hidden it in the house on the east bank. I will go and look immediately.” In truth, she was terrified of such a task. She was in awe of Sisenet, did not want to encounter Harmin after their last painful meeting, and, though the house itself had been a very pleasant place in which to stay, she did not fancy drifting through it in the dark. It had a certain unnerving atmosphere when the people inhabiting it fell silent.

“There is not enough time,” he objected with agitation. “It could be anywhere. Instead we must see what Father’s scrolls of spells hold. Help me up.”

“No,” she hissed. “I can do it, Hori. Stay here!”

“My dear,” he replied as Antef’s arms went about him and he sat up awkwardly, “I do not know much about magic but I at least know what to look for. You do not. Please stop fussing over me.”

Chastened and alarmed, she helped Antef to take his weight, and together they left Sheritra’s suite. Night still hung in the corridors and brooded in the corners. Slowly, too burdened for any attempt at concealment, they made their way to Khaemwaset’s office. The guards they passed looked at them curiously, but recognizing Hori and Sheritra they held their challenges. Only at the door to the office were they halted. Khaemwaset was particular in protecting his medical supplies.

“As you can see,” Sheritra told the soldier patiently, “my brother is very ill. The Prince has given us permission to retrieve certain herbs from his box.”

The soldier bowed diffidently. “Princess, may I see the permission?” he asked.

Sheritra clucked, annoyed. “We are his children,” she objected. “He does not think it necessary to treat us so formally. I expect he forgot that you would be here doing your duty so zealously.”

The man continued to regard them suspiciously and they continued to stand, Antef and she, with Hori swaying between them. Finally the guard stood aside.

“I do not think the Prince had his own family in mind when he set up this watch,” he said gruffly. “You may pass, Highnesses.”

He opened the door for them and they shuffled past him. Sheritra’s arm was screaming with Hori’s weight. I think it is time Father dismissed his guard and hired Shardanas,” she muttered. “These men have become very lax.”

“Just as well for us,” Antef breathed. They were now at the door to the inner office. Sheritra tried the latch.

“It is locked,” she said in dismay.

“Break it down,” Hori said promptly.

Antef needed no further encouragement Relinquishing Hori’s full weight to Sheritra, he placed his foot on the lock and pushed. It gave with a grind of protest, and the door swung open. Inside there was total darkness.

“Antef,” Sheritra called. Light the lamp on the desk and bring it. Quickly. I cannot hold him for much longer.”

Antef did as he was bid, bringing the lamp and setting it on a shelf behind the door. Its light filled the tiny room, warm and indifferently comforting. Antef pulled a chair towards the chests ranged against the far wall, and he and Sheritra lowered Hori onto it. He sat limply, hands hanging, but his head came up and he tried to smile at them.

“It is that one,” he pointed. “The small one. The others are full of herbs and other physics. It will also be locked. Antef, have you a knife?”

For answer the young man produced a slim blade. He knelt before the chest and began to work at the lock. Sheritra squatted beside him.

“Antef, you will be banished from this house for tonight’s work, you realize that, don’t you?” she said. “It will all come out, and then Father will order you to leave.”

He glanced at her briefly, his hands and his attention on the stubborn chest. “I know,” he said simply, “but I no longer feel at home here anyway, Highness. Hori will die and my reason for being here will be gone. The Prince may do as he sees fit. I do not care.” The lock gave suddenly and he lifted the lid, looking up at Hori.