Day 26 of month Hut-heru in Akhet, season of the inundation
In the weryt, the Sokar festival was celebrated in a unique and, to Hori, rather strange way. All utu had to wear wreaths of onions, which got in the way of their work.
Kheper explained the reason, “It is of utmost importance to care for the dead in transition between life and death since they haven’t reached the state of transfiguration yet. We need to recite particular blessings and spells for these, so they’ll be ‘justified of voice’ after mummification and the opening of the mouth. Thus they can join the god Ra on his bark during this circle of the sun.”
Now he knew why lector priests stood in every room in which the dead were treated, and rattled off their singsong. At first, Hori tried to understand the words, but soon gave up. The language they used was ancient, maybe even older than that of the god kings during the first dynasty.
Since the priests performed their secret rituals incessantly, even at night, he had to stop his excursions beyond the wall. It seemed too risky although they stuck close to the deceased. They took turns to get some sleep, so he might run into one of them anytime.
After the Netjeryt festival, this part of the rituals finished—much to Hori’s relief. The last days of the Sokar cycle were dedicated to the continuity of the kingship, so he’d dare venture outside tonight. Unrest made him edgy. For too long, he’d gone without news from Nakhtmin.
He’d just reached the hiding place for their messages when he heard the voice of his friend. “Psst, Hori!”
His heart leapt with joy and excitement. “Nakhtmin! Are you alone?” He strode toward the rocks where they’d met before.
“Yes, I’m on my own. I simply had to get the news to you right away.”
Hori’s mind spun. What had happened. A new clue? “Come on, tell me. I’m dying with curiosity.”
“Our killer has found his next victim.”
All joy over the unexpected visit perished in Hori’s heart. “Oh no. Who is it this time? Do we know her?”
“Yes, both of us know her. She’s the Golden Ibis innkeeper’s daughter.”
“Nebet-Het! That’s her name. They mentioned it at the trial… But how? Why?”
Nakhtmin sighed into the darkness. “If only we knew. Maybe the killer bore a grudge toward her because of what happened to Neferib? Whatever the reason, this murder also connects to the vizier’s family.”
“A grudge—yes, that might be. But why wait this long?” Hori found no explanation for the numerous puzzles.
“Every time we believe we’ve taken a major step forward, it turns out a step backward. Instead of finding answers to our questions, new ones pile on top of those we’re asking ourselves. It drives me to despair. But let me tell you what happened…”
Breathless, Hori listened to his friend’s account. When Nakhtmin told him how he and Ameny wanted to report the murder to the Medjay and to the head of the House of Life, he interrupted. “Imhotepankh of all people!”
Nakhtmin’s low laughter spread from the shadows to his ear. “That’s what I thought but the old fellow surprised me. As soon as I’d explained our suspicion, he took a puncture needle and pushed it right into the wound on the girl’s body. It slid in as if her chest were made of tallow. That convinced him and his confirmation was enough for the Medjay to start an official investigation.”
In his exhilaration, Hori grabbed Nakhtmin’s arm. “Wonderful! At last!”
“Don’t get too excited yet. If it hadn’t been a barmaid but one of the noble ladies at court—rest assured the Medjay would have made more of an effort. Unfortunately, we couldn’t tell them about the other three victims without getting you in trouble.”
“What?” Hori felt like a wineskin drained in one big gulp. “Didn’t they do anything?”
“Sure they did something. I tailed them and witnessed how they informed the girl’s father, this fat Khonsu, of his daughter’s death. First he broke into a big lament, then when he realized there’d be an official investigation, he shut his trap real fast. The only thing the Medjay could get out of him was that he let her make the trip to the necropolis with a friend and boatman, so she could perform the sacrifice for the dead in his stead.”
Hori needed time to process the news. Pacing a few steps back and forth, he gazed at the flickering lights of the city of the living. The Nile’s high waters had retreated somewhat. Soon the sowing season would start. He sighed. New life emerged everywhere, and he was trapped with the dead. “Maybe Khonsu is afraid the case of Neferib’s death might be reopened. After all, he did give false testimony and there might be evidence to be found.” He spun around to look at Nakhtmin. “If I were you, I’d try to find out if our killer had approached the girl earlier. He must have had a reason to intercept her after the ritual for the dead when nobody else was with her.”
“Nobody?” Nakhtmin snorted. “You know how crowded the path to the burial sites is during the Netjeryt festival.”
“Sometimes you’re more isolated in a crowd than in the desert.” Hori hadn’t meant to sound so bitter.
“Of course you’re right.” Dismay and empathy carried in Nakhtmin’s voice.
For a moment, Hori wrapped the sentiment around himself like a cloak. Only he couldn’t afford the luxury of such comfort. They had important things to discuss.
“You’re onto something here,” Nakhtmin said. “Somebody from the vizier’s household couldn’t go near the tavern without drawing attention. I’ll ask around.”
“Hey, what’s going on with Shepses and Mutnofret?” Hori could well imagine how hard it must be for his friend to know his charge was so close to that windbag. Only Nakhtmin still didn’t seem to understand his feelings for Mutnofret.
He recalled when his friend fell in love with one of the patients at the House of Life and won the young lady’s favor. For quite some time he seemed totally happy and was planning a future with her. Hori was there when the girl laughed at Nakhtmin. How could he possibly think she—born to a noble family—would marry a man without means from Upper Egypt, whose family nobody knew. From then on Nakhtmin retreated even more into himself. Hori hadn’t noticed him venturing into new adventures with women and didn’t believe there’d been any. Nakhtmin was too serious. If he got into another relationship, he’d probably seek full commitment.
Nakhtmin released a weird noise, half snort, half groan. “Nothing’s happening between the two. Ameny immediately stopped them from seeing each other. Surprisingly, the girl conceded.”
“Too bad. I’m afraid if Ameny doesn’t dare risk Mutnofret’s life, we’ll need different bait.” He’d chosen such a provocative phrasing to get a reaction, and Nakhtmin jumped to it.
“What? How coldhearted are you? Do we want to find Hetepet’s murderer? Yes, but not at all cost!”
Hori’s grin probably remained invisible in the dark and he appreciated it. “Could it be possible she means more to you than any other patient?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” his friend barked. “For several moons now, I’ve spent my days with her. Naturally, there’s been a bond growing between us. But that…? No, certainly not. Mutnofret is a strong-headed and spoiled brat with more intelligence than is good for her. She’s the last to tempt me.”
“Oh,” Hori said. “That’s settled then. Nevertheless, we need a door opener for Nebit’s house.”
When they said their good-byes a faint resentment still lingered. Hori fretted over his carelessness. Why did he have to rile Nakhtmin? His craving to participate in the life of people across the river had made him surge ahead without thinking.