Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 2 - Samarkand Solution (18 page)

BOOK: Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 2 - Samarkand Solution
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The alchemist fairly frothed at that. "Your fellow kheri-hebu will use drugs and mind control to make me into a puppet, eh? Well, I'll kill myself first, and thus all of you will be shown for what you are!"

"I think he means that, Tuhorus," Magister

Inhetep said to the policeman. "Be sure he's searched carefully and confined under constant watch in a special cell." Tuhorus nodded, and the wizard-priest spoke to Lasuti again. "Tell us about the stuff you supplied to Prince Ram-f-amsu."

The alchemist compressed his lips. When Inhetep and the police inspector tried to elicit more from him, Lasuti remained stubbornly silent, even when the magister pointed out that the alchemist's home and office could be searched and the secret potion or substance discovered. After a few minutes they gave up, charged Lasuti with the whole list of crimes involved, and had him removed.

"Why did he go silent?" querried Tuhorus after the alchemist had been physically carried to a cell, refusing even to walk.

"He was angry—as much with himself as with us—at being goaded into mentioning his alchemical discovery. That information is what we need to resolve this case, I think."

"At least the murders," Inspector Tuhorus quipped.

"Very astute, my dear Chief Inspector," Inhetep responded with a slight smile. "But once we can demonstrate how the murders were done, it will be an easy enough thing to discover the agency behind them."

Tuhorus cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Well, Magister Inhetep, I'll accept your word on that. Are you now going to tell me what it is you've been holding to yourself so that I too can be so sure?"

"Directly after we complete this business with the conspirators, Tuhorus, as I promised. Then we must also see about the uab, Absobek-khaibet— a most convenient name that, isn't it?"

Rhetorical or not, the blocky detective responded to the priest-wizard's query. "I hadn't considered it, but 'Shadow of Sobek's Heart' is indeed an ominous name, and an unusual one for a priest of Set, even though the red lord is allied with the crocodile-headed Sobek. What do you make of it?"

"That we shall see when we return to the Temple of Set, Chief Inspector. I think we should speak to the three Parthians now."

"Very well, I'll have them brought in immediately."

When they learned the charges, General Sa-caxes grinned. "Those are indeed serious concerns for the others, good sirs, but not of any interest to me or my men. It is easily proved that we had only one meeting with the dead governor, and that neither my nation nor we three are party to any conspiracy. There is no crime in discussing the furnishing of mercenary troops."

"Your associate, Tengri Ataman, can be charged with murder. He is a shaman, and Prince Ram-f-amsu's words implicate him as the one responsible for the crime."

"What? What's this you say?!"

Tuhorus pointed at the Parthian. "What I said is quite sustainable, as the Lord of the Pharaoh's Own Service, Utchat-neb Inhetep can testify to. Prince Ram-f-amsu spoke to him of that before he died."

"Inspector Tuhorus is telling you the truth, General Sacaxes," the magister confirmed. "It need not be pointed out that the shaman is your man, so you too are guilty, my lord."

"As a Parthian—"

"A plot against Pharaoh denies you any such convenience, General. Certain others of your c abal also attempted to claim immunity."

It seemed that all three wished to speak at once, but the shaman silenced them by simply staring down the general and the warrior called Vardin. "I assure you of our full cooperation, sirs," Tengri Ataman announced then. "In exchange for that, we will leave immediately after this."

"What do you know that makes such an exchange worthwhile?" asked the policeman, looking uncertainly from the shaman to General Sacaxes and back again. "It seems quite plain that your involvement was strictly as mercenary troops bent on sundering this land."

"On the contrary," Tengri Ataman said. "The prince was not simply out to acquire the services of wandering companies so common in our homeland, Scythia, Azir Minor, and the states around Grecia. Nor did he come to us in such a manner. Ram-f-amsu actually sent his agent to our own king to offer an alliance between Parthia and his to-be-formed kingdom—one which proposed a division of territory which would bring our land both westwards to the Middle Sea and southwards to include Bactro-kush and Farz."

"So? What difference should that make?" Tuhorus asked with irritation. "It only stresses—"

"He points out something highly embarrassing to /Egypt, Inspector," Inhetep interjected. "Even if Ram-f-amsu was a rebel and can be proven such, there will be great suspicion in the minds of the heads of the nations concerned. Such matters might be better left undiscovered, as it were." The ur-kheri-heb then addressed himself directly to Tengri Ataman. "Isn't that your implication, shaman?"

"My openly stated avowal,' the Parthian responded with a hard tone.

"Ah, but my magickal sir, what of the murders? What part did your spells have in the killings? The claims of assassins are not held in esteem by any sovereign. . . ."

The magister's suggestion was such that the shaman couldn't brush it aside. To be linked to any one of the murders would consign all three to death, and nobody would pay attention to whatever else they might claim. "You could, of course, falsify evidence," Tengri Ataman admitted. "Yet we came to On only a few days ago. That is known widely and easily provable, so your connection of us to the whole scheme would be tenuous. Likewise, any physical or magickal involvement on our part in the deaths, for none of us knows how the killings were accomplished."

"The whirlwind—both as the dead prince spoke of and as witnessed by Magister Inhetep— that's something!" the police official accused.

"Circumstantial—and as puzzling to me as to you." The shaman shrugged. "Whatever castings or other powers were involved in Ram-f-amsu's murder came from some source beyond anything possible to me or any other mage of Parthia I know. It will be just as puzzling to others who investigate the case. General Sacaxes and I are by no means blameless in regards to certain aspects of this unfortunate business, but—"

"But you are demonstrably not the true culprits, I know," the priest-wizard supplied. "Tell me one thing: what do you know of the 'Samarkand Solution'?" Inhetep asked, watching for deception in the reply.

"Nothing," Tengri Ataman said simply. "I have been to the city of Samarkand in the last year, and I haven't heard it spoken of either. General? Vardin?" Both of the other Parthians shook their heads and murmured similar negative responses.

It was so, and the two policemen knew it. Inhetep then inquired, "What of a cleric, a simple uab priest named Absobek-khaibet, who was an assistant to the Hem-neter-tepi Matiseth Chemres. Have any of you knowledge about him?"

"We met the high priest of Set only briefly. That was two days before the meeting in the palace where Prince Ram-f-amsu was killed," said the Parthian general. "We had no reason to visit Set's place of worship."

Vardin spoke up for the first time. "I recall the fellow with the priest called Chemres—another servant of Set, from his garb and trappings. Wasn't he named Kibbet-something?"

"Absobek-khaibet," Tuhorus corrected.

The general didn't recall him, but Tengri Ataman snapped his fingers. "Yes, Vardin, I think you're right. It was at night, sirs. He was wearing some sort of headdress, and said little; but I do remember the high priest speaking to him, calling him Absobek-something."

"Can you describe him?" Inhetep urged.

"No—only as tall, slender, and possibly darker of complexion than Matiseth Chemres. It was dark. . . ."

The magister and Tuhorus exchanged glances. "Well," Inhetep then said to the Parthians, "I believe we can now send you off to your return to your own land, although . . ."

"Although?" queried the shaman.

"Yes, there is a caveat. You must return all monies paid over to you by Ram-f-amsu or his associates or agents before I'll agree to your being freed." They objected to that, naturally, but eventually General Sacaxes grudgingly scribed a note to a Shamish banker in the city, ordering him to turn over all sums held in the general's name to the Metropolitan Prefecture upon demand. "Good," said the magister, smiling. "Here, Inspector Tuhorus, take this to whomever here is responsible, and have them get the funds and bring them back to be counted. When all is done, I'll have passes waiting for these three so that they can depart
/Egypt
immediately for their long journey home."

The Parthians left, grumbling, and in a brief time the policeman came back into his office, grinning but still anxious about one thing.

"Now, Magister, we go to hunt for the uab, Absobek-khaibet. You have something to tell me l>cfore
we
leave, though, I believe."

"So I do, Tuhorus, so I do. It seems that the uab is the very man I have been tracking here in On."

"And he is?"

"I'm not absolutely sure, but I think the 'priest' is none other than a Dhalikil assassin named Yakeem whom I followed here from Innu in the first place, and in so doing involved myself in this whole bizarre business."

= 12 =

XONAAPI

Because it seemed as if time had turned topsyturvy, both men agreed to again spend the day resting and catching up on much needed sleep. All matters would proceed apace in any event, for the prefecture now had a dozen of its men on the case, and the Utchatu's agents were soon to arrive. Inhetep and the inspector would hold in abeyance their own quest until the evening. "1 am beginning to feel as if I were a vampire," quipped Tuhorus as the two parted, the policeman for his home just outside the city, Inhetep for the Reedfields where Xonaapi awaited his return. "Just as you must—especially with such a tasty morsel to savor!" he added.

"That's about all I'll stand of your nonsense, Tuhorus," the magister shot back heatedly. "You know very well the circumstances—" Inhetep bit off the rest, for Tuhorus was already well out of earshot. "Very humorous," the magister muttered as he turned and strode off toward the inn, his long legs moving even more quickly than usual because of his anger at the policeman's needling.

There was really no need for them to work this day, either. The murderous lot responsible for the killings, and the attempt on his own life and that of the policeman, would most likely strike again while he slept, so the wizard-priest was more concerned with warding himself than catching the criminals during the next few hours. After getting his rest and regaining his power, he and the chief inspector would pay another call to the Temple of Set. But what about now? Careful sealing of all entrances to his rooms, alarms and magickal protection, and . . . and the seductive Lady Xonaapi! "What will I do with her?" the magister exclaimed aloud just as he entered the inn.

The proprietor happened to be there at that moment, and he assumed Inhetep was speaking to him. "My lord? If you refer to the ah . . . young lady sharing your suite, I believe that she amuses herself quite well while you are away tending your business affairs. It took several porters to deliver her day's purchases, and she just finished taking tea in the Lotus Salon. I believe she has repaired to your ro—"

"Purchases? Tea? Why its scarcely past mid-morning!"

"You know how the shopkeepers are, my lord. Open at the first peep of Aten's disc, so that they can extract the last drop of gold, it is said."

Inhetep glared at the poor fellow, which sent him fluttering away.

What a wretched city, On. Here was a place supposed to be the poor cousin of glorious Innu, a city where only necessities and functional garb for laboring folk should be available. It had to be the enclave of well-to-do folk and the visitors to the sepat's seat of government who enabled expensive, high fashion shops to exist in this working metropolis. He should have deduced that possibility, nay probability, from the Reed-lields, for the inn was posh in the extreme and far too expensive! Then again, how could he have anticipated the girl's discovery and their inescapable association? Or her need for a wardrobe? The magister shook his head in dismay as he stalked to his suite. He had too little experience with young women of this sort.

"Oh! Are things going badly, Magister Setne Inhetep?" the girl asked with concern when the scowling ur-kheri-heb entered the room. Xonaapi dropped the gold-worked cape she was admiring and hastened to him. "Here, let me help you," she said, taking Inhetep's arm and leading him toward the divan.

"What is the matter with you, Xonaapi?" the tall man growled without real anger. "I'm not an invalid!"

"But you look so weary, Setne dear," she crooned, ignoring his crotchety behavior and seating him. "There, isn't that better?" Xonaapi took off his sandals; the priest-wizard's protests were only feeble. Then she stood up, moved behind him, and began to massage his shoulders, neck and temples. "You work too hard—you're exhausted! As soon as we get you properly relaxed, I'll see about something to revive and nourish you." Inhetep started to protest, for he wanted to sleep, but the girl wouldn't hear him.

"Now, Setne Inhetep, magister or not, you'll be quiet. You're just lucky that I managed to finish my shopping so early, and now I can devote my full attention to your needs." Xonaapi kept at her soothing work, her fingers pressing and stroking, hands moving to relax Inhetep's rigid muscles and tendons. The girl was a very good masseuse, and in a few minutes, the shaven head of the tall /Egyptian was reclining at ease on the pillow Xonaapi had carefully provided.

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