Free City of the Dead by T. L. Higley Page A

back to the harbor and be certain no one touches the body. Watch for our approach.”
    The boy fled and I turned to Axum. The night around us was still. “You have heard about the mask?”
    Axum’s brow furrowed.
    I drew close to the Nubian and bent my head to his. “A mask was also found covering Mentu-hotep’s face. I took care that it not be spoken of to anyone. Have you heard people tell of it?”
    “I have heard nothing of a mask.”
    I chewed at my lip and looked north toward where the harbor lay in the distant darkness. “I must see the body.”
    Axum bowed. “I will call for a chair.”
    I waved his comment away. “No. I do not have the patience to be borne on the backs of donkeys or men tonight.”
    Axum stared at me his blank, white-eyed stare.
    “The situation dictates the impropriety,” I said. “I can get there faster on my own feet.”
    “As you wish.” I heard respect, laced with amusement, in his voice.
    I led the way along the garden path, with a glance toward the palace. I should explain my departure to Khufu. It would be an insult to the king to leave his accession festival early, without explanation.
    A tall figure appeared at the entrance, a shadow with the blaze of the Great Hall behind her. I recognized Tamit’s silhouette. She paused between the twin striding statues of Khufu.
    “There you are!” Tamit glided to me and wrapped tight fingers around my upper arm, pressing the gold armband into my flesh. “I knew you wouldn’t have left without a good-bye.” She pursed her full lips. “You haven’t even gotten drunk yet.”
    The desert and harbor called to me. “I’m afraid I need my wits tonight, Tamit. Will you tell Pharaoh I am needed in an emergency at the harbor?”
    She sniffed. “Oh, what emergency? Tell them to wait until after the party to have their foolish emergency.”
    I pried her fingers from my arm. “This cannot wait. I am sorry. You will speak to the king for me?”
    She crossed her arms in a pout. “I will tell him. But you owe me an evening of your time, Hemiunu.”
    I rubbed at the back of my neck. “Good night, Tamit.” Before I turned, I saw the dark flash of her eyes. For all her playfulness, I feared her quest for a husband was fueled by a desperation I did not understand.
    But I have other matters to attend.
    Axum had remained in the shadows, but he joined me now. He lifted a torch from a post at the edge of the courtyard, and we set out northward toward the harbor.
    My half-built pyramid stood outlined against the night sky, a massive, dark angled platform, with only the pale moonlight to set it apart from the desert. It called to me, begging me to spend my attention only on it, without distraction. I averted my eyes and walked with haste, in part to ward off the chill.
    Another murder. Another mask. What did this peasant woman have in common with Mentu? Who would have reason to kill both the overseer of constructions and a nameless woman from the workmen’s village? Or perhaps there was no connection. Perhaps there was a madman in our midst, choosing his victims at random. The thought chilled me further. A night wind kicked up sand, and I instinctively ducked and turned my head.
    “We walk toward a killer, perhaps,” Axum said, “with heads down and eyes at our feet?”
    I faced the sand and let it punish me. I should have done more after Mentu’s death. Should have focused on finding his murderer. The priest’s words resurfaced. More disorder, because I had been interested in only my own ambition. And now an innocent woman had paid the price for my inattention.
    I quickened my pace, anxious that the murder scene may tell me more about Mentu’s death as well the woman’s.
    With the quarry behind us, the pyramid lay only two thousand cubits ahead to the west, and the harbor with its valley temple just in front. The harbor had been built at the beginning of the project, five years ago. Ships docked just below the temple, where supplies and stones