Secret of the 7th Scarab (The Mummifier's Daughter Series Book 4) Read online

  Khabo came to stand just behind her and asked, "Is something wrong?'

  "I don't know where to start," Neti replied, but did not look back. From a distance it would have looked as if she had given him an instruction.

  "Select one, any one," his answer came, "I will scan the area for male slaves."

  "You mean Shabaka," Neti replied.

  "Yes," Khabo replied, nodding.

  Neti looked toward one side, somehow drawn to it and turned to make her way to where the shuttie stood. On her approach the man indicated for the women to drop their sheets. Neti tried to maintain a distant air, yet their discomfort with the situation was easy to see. Many of them were on the brink of womanhood, their bodies just staring to mature, and yet they had seemingly resigned themselves to whatever fate awaited them. A man came up behind her, also looking the girls over. He stepped past her, and walked up to one of the more mature girls, he reached out his hand and ran it over her taught abdomen, before moving to knead her small breasts, finally moving to clasp her buttocks, while the girl's gaze remained fixed in the distance. Neti could feel her anger boil over at the man's treatment, as it was uncalled for. However, he simply grunted before again moving off to another shuttie.

  "He was hoping for a free service," Khabo spoke up, causing the shuttie to turn toward them.

  "Yes," the man answered, lowering his head in greeting toward Neti, "although I can see the madam is far more civil."

  "Why do you not object to such behavior?" she sharply demanded, "I do not allow such behavior."

  The shuttie lowered his head as he spoke to her, "It is difficult, for many like to touch before purchasing, it is not like madam's business where they pay to touch. Here they take them home, many end up as wives, and we have to make for some allowances."

  Neti waived her hand dismissingly at him as she turned to look at the girls, her anger lending her the disdained air she needed. She noticed that many of them were from different areas, and she finally spoke up. "You have several girls here of origin I have never seen."

  The shuttie quickly came to stand next to her, pointing to the girls as he spoke, "Their exotic features often draw more attention from men."

  Neti turned to look at him, her anger again rising, "Yes, I understand that, but it does not help if I look at a girl, even purchase her, and I do not know where she comes from or if she can understand me and follow instructions."

  The shuttie looked at her in confusion, "They have to follow instructions? Their work is simple enough."

  "It is not for you to question my practices, but if they cannot follow instructions, how can I send them out to entertain men?"

  The shuttie's eyes enlarged, "You have a specialized service; I understand now." The man turned to the girls, indicating as he spoke, "These with the long black hair and brown eyes come from the east. They understand the language, but do not speak. These are Hittite, just as yourself. These are from the other side of the water, their caramel skins seem to fascinate men, and they sell quickly."

  Neti stepped away from the man, trying to contain her disquiet at the thought of the fate that awaited the girls before her. She tried not to think of the women being oppressed and objectified in such a manner.

  A young girl who stood between two taller ones caught her attention, yet there was no way Neti could fathom why she stood out from the others, only that her gaze seemed to return to her. Neti indicated for the girl to step forward and watched as the girl visibly swallowed before complying with her request. Neti looked her over and indicated for her to cover herself, to which the girl complied.

  "You seek the young ones then," the shuttie said, coming to stand beside her. "I can get more if you like."

  Neti fought hard to prevent the biting retort she so wanted to say. Instead she turned her attention toward one of the other girls, as if she had not heard the man's comment.

  Looking at the girl she flatly asked, "Does she understand us?"

  The shuttie nodded in reply.

  "What is your price for that one?" Net asked, gesturing to the younger girl.

  "She is to be auctioned this afternoon, she has no fixed price," the shuttie replied.

  "And if I were to buy her now?" Neti pressed

  "Ten gold debben," the man quickly replied.

  Neti cast a disbelieving look at him, "She is not worth half that."

  "She will remain in service for a long time," the shuttie replied.

  Neti again looked at the girl, before dismissively stating, "That might be so, in other instances, but she is not worth that to me."

  "She will bring you that within a few weeks."

  "Yes, if I were seeking her for my house, however, I am also seeking a companion for a man child. I cannot take her back and expect his parents to pay me fifteen gold debben for her to cover my costs. Even if she is to remain his companion and he is to learn from her."

  The shuttie nodded his head, "I see, I see."

  "I will have to wait for the auction then," Neti said and moved on, adding, "If I do not find something more suitable before then."

  As she walked away Khabo stepped closer to her, as he softly asked, "Where did that come from? One would swear you have done this before."

  "I do not know," Neti was quick to reply, "but he seems to believe it. Besides it would be easier to look for Shabaka if the word is out that we are looking at young girls."

  "That is also a consideration."

  "Let us go and look at those girls over there."

  Chapter Fifteen

  A footman entered the throne room, and Ramesses was about to order him out, having had numerous complaints already that the whole of Thebes had apparently lost their minds. All morning he had heard complaints of once peaceful neighbors turning on one another, even the guards were more aggressive than usual, and he could not find a reason for such actions. The preceding day's hearing had been welcomed by many, with numerous stolen artifacts returned to their rightful owners.

  The footman lowered onto his knee, awaiting acknowledgment.

  Ramesses looked at the man and sighed audibly before addressing him, "Yes, messenger from the guards, what news is it this time?"

  The messenger righted himself before speaking, "My lord, the man, Ma-Nefer, is rambling."

  "Rambling!" Ramesses exclaimed, "You come here to tell me that that man is merely rambling! The entire population of people in this city seems to want to kill one another—it is as if there is only hate in their hearts, I do not even know what to call it—and you come to tell me the man is rambling!" The messenger flinched, while Ramesses got up from his throne. The action seemed to jolt him into realizing the harshness of his tone, and he checked it as he continued. "The man has seen days of sunlight with hardly any food. Of course, he will start to ramble. It is one of the reasons why I had him tied to the post."

  "My lord," the footman again spoke. "This is not the type of ramblings that one who has seen too much sun makes. He has gone mad, laughing and sniggering at all of us. The captain asks you to come and see,"

  "Then I will." Ramesses said, leaning heavily on his staff. It was as if his body seemed heavier, more fatigued than before.

  The mood in the streets was solemn, even as Ramesses moved through them. The cheer and elation that had filled the city a few days prior had disappeared. Although the citizens still lowered their heads and bowed as he passed, the action lacked the spontaneity of days past. It almost seemed that in the days following the closure of Apisit Ripisit that the mood within the city had mysteriously altered. It was something he could not understand, no matter how hard he tried.

  The men found guilty at the hearings had been sent to the palace in Pi-Ramesses, although several were thrown to the crocodiles as proof of punishment for the locals. And although such events had spawned periodic periods of distain toward him, it was as if all forms of compassion had been sucked from the citizens of Thebes, even to he felt their complaints and demands were too much.

  Ramesse
s entered the whipping yard and looked at those gathered. The yard had seen many punishments handed down, and the old, weather-beaten tree stump still dominated the area. Ramesses slowly made his way there, his gaze moving over the man tied to the stump. Ma-Nefer's skin was burned a deep red, with several blisters forming along his back.

  The man looked up at Ramesses as he approached and started laughing at him, an action that only further incensed his foul mood. With a gesture he summoned a whip wielder but again held up his hand to halt the man when Ma-Nefer started speaking, crazily chortling, "It is happening! It is happening! You cannot stop it, you old fool."

  "What is happening?" Ramesses angrily demanded,

  "He is dead, he is dead!" the man continued to chortle in glee.

  "Who is dead?" Ramesses again demanded.

  "Your man, the Nubian, he is dead!" Ma-Nefer joyously exclaimed.

  "How do you know?" Ramesses angrily demanded.

  "Because it has started, you can hear the complaints throughout the city."

  Ramesses fought the urge to physically strangle the man, and through clenched teeth demanded, "What do you mean?"

  "It has taken him and the others, just as I knew it would. It is a good day!" Ma-Nefer again chortled, delighted.

  "What do you mean it has taken him? What has taken whom?" Ramesses confusedly demanded, unable to make any sense of the man's ramblings. "And how can it be a good day?"

  "It is a good day because he is dead. They got him, and now the city! This city that has come to respect him will also perish."

  Ramesses signaled with one hand, and without warning the whip flew through the air, landing across Ma-Nefer's shoulders, ripping open the blisters, drawing blood. Ma-Nefer squealed like a hungry pig before turning to glare at the pharaoh. "You dare have them whip me!" he exclaimed, "You, an old man who cannot even swing a whip, who should have long since been cast off the throne?"

  "Your disrespect will have me command him to strip all the skin from your back and leave you here to bleed until the gods deem it proper for your soul to be destroyed."

  Ma-Nefer laughed at that, "You think only pharaohs can obtain eternal afterlife? You are not that important."

  Ramesses checked himself, and then almost too calmly demanded, "Why do you say the whole city will perish?"

  "It is cursed, it is cursed by the best curse, and so are you!" Ma-Nefer again chortled.

  "The golden heart scarab," Ramesses said, not even needing Ma-Nefer to confirm it.

  Ma-Nefer taunted in response, "So you realized it went missing from your beloved wife's tomb, much use she is to you dead."

  Ramesses bit back the anger that rose within him, before replying, "How can it be here? You sent it east through the desert with one of your accomplices?" It was more of a question than a statement and Ma-Nefer laughed at him in response.

  "You think I would send an artifact that valuable through the desert, with a two-faced whore's son when a warrior shabti would do the job much better!"

  "You took a shabti!" Ramesses exclaimed, while trying to reconcile what could happen if one of those sacred statues was disturbed.

  "Yes, one of the mythical ones from your father's grave, one of the warriors," Ma-Nefer added, almost calmly, "from the mood of those within the city, it is safe to say that the curses have been activated."

  "Where is the heart scarab?" Ramesses demanded, trying to remember which curse had been selected for Nefertari's scarab, a band tightening over his heart as he realized that the disquiet and anger having moved through the city was a direct result. It was the curse that twisted a good heart, turning it against its friends, seeking wrath.

  Ma-Nefer laughed in response, which had Ramesses once again signal to the whip wielder. Again there was a loud thwack followed by an ear-piercing scream, followed by more laughing as Ma-Nefer answered, "It is here, under your nose. It is so fitting that a curse placed to protect your primary wife in the afterlife would end up taking your life and those of your followers. So even if you kill me, you will all die. Just like he has, just as that little witch will. You will all die!"

  "Where is the scarab?" Ramesses demanded, once again trying to contain his anger.

  Instead Ma-Nefer only laughed at him.

  Ramesses turned to look at the men surrounding him, saw the stricken look on their faces and knew that if such news were to spread beyond those present, many would panic and leave the city gates, possibly killing one another in the need to escape.

  "Not a word of this!" he commanded to those around him, repeating, "I do not want a word of this is spoken outside this yard."

  "Yes, keep the people of Thebes in the dark. Let them die of the curse. What better way to show them how powerful you are, how you will send them all to their deaths." Ma-Nefer had hardly finished the sentence when the whip again landed on his shoulders.

  "Where is the scarab?" Ramesses angrily demanded.

  "It is right under your nose," Ma-Nefer hissed between clenched teeth.

  Ramesses frowned at that and looked the man over and around him. There was no way that Ma-Nefer could have the scarab with him, and he replied, "No, it is not."

  "Yes, it is," Ma-Nefer again hissed. "What better way for one to be disgraced than to be found in possession of such a thing, to have what one should not have. The scarab is here, under your nose, but it is finding it in time that will determine your fate." Ma-Nefer again started laughing crazily. And even with the whip they could not get more out of him. His behavior was of grave concern to Ramesses, as much as the man's certainty that Shabaka had died.

  For the first time since their departure he longed for Neti's counsel, her understanding of the dead and matters relating to it would have proven comforting. He turned from Ma-Nefer and made for the doorway, calling to the captain of the guard, "I want every priest and embalmer summoned. Send out whomever you can." He then turned to one of the accompanying guards, "Summon Suten-Anu for me, he knows Neti and this man's affairs, he might be of service to me."

  * * *

  Suten-Anu was the first to heed the pharaoh's call and appeared before the pharaoh not long after the sun had cleared the walls of the palace.

  Bowing lowly before the pharaoh, he respectfully addressed the man, "You summoned me, my lord."

  The pharaoh indicated for him to rise from his position, before speaking, "You were one of the people who trained Neti."

  Suten-Anu shifted his weight from one foot to another, before hesitantly answering, "She is like a daughter to me, my lord . . . What has happened?"

  The pharaoh shook his head as he spoke, "I have not yet had any report from them. I was hoping you could provide me with some insight into her work."

  This time Suten-Anu shook his head, "No, my lord, I might have taught her the skills to read and write, but those of embalming were taught to her by her father and is something only embalmers understand."

  Ramesses nodded, "I appreciate your honesty. All too often I have seen tutors claim full praise for their student's work."

  "Neti is an intelligent and unique person, my lord," Suten-Anu warmly replied, "It is why she is loved by those surrounding her."

  "Yes, this I have seen." The pharaoh replied, growing silent for several long moments before asking. "You have dealt with her father's estate. How well do you know this Ma-Nefer?"

  "Do we really ever know others, my lord? Many of us struggle to even find ourselves. There are times that situations beget some of the most aberrant traits from others."

  Ramesses looked at him and nodded, wondering how it was that the man remained so calm when the rest of the citizens of the city seemed to be at one another's throats, for even he had difficulty remaining patient, even in the face of such a well-spoken man. "I have no time for rhyme-speak, scribe, although I am certain it is something you excel in." Ramesses started, not harshly, but enough to silence Suten-Anu. "I have just received disturbing news that the Nubian prefect might be dead, and if that is not enough of a shock to all those c
oncerned I have been told that the city is under a curse. I need to know if you understand enough of Neti's work and those involved to be able to assist me."

  Suten-Anu shook his head, "No, my lord, of her work you must ask the embalmers, although I do not think they would be of much help, as they do not deal in curses and chants. Those are the works of high priests and priestesses, but I am certain that as pharaoh you would understand that."

  "This I do understand," Ramesses replied, "However, it is not her work as much as the understanding of the passage into the afterlife that I need help with."

  "My lord, for that I can consult the records of the book of the dead, I have several scribes working on copies for embalmers at the moment. Although few ever see the full copy, they are each assigned a section of it. If my lord would tell me what he needs I will gladly assist."

  "I will have the palace scribe compile a list, although finding the artifact would be easiest."

  "What artifact, my lord?" Suten-Anu was quick to question.

  "A burial artifact, the man is crazy, he rambles on about it being under my nose, but I cannot see how so."

  "Which man?"

  "This Ma-Nefer character."

  "My lord, exactly what did he say to you? For he is not a stranger to rhyme-speak."

  "He said that the artifact is under my nose, and that the one who has it will be disgraced."

  Suten-Anu remained silent for several moments, before asking, "The 'under your nose' is easy enough to understand. He means that it is here in Thebes, possibly close to you. However, the question remains, who would be disgraced?"

  "Anyone with rank," the pharaoh quickly replied, "and there are many within the city."

  "Just as there are many in the city with whom Ma-Nefer has ill tidings with," Suten-Anu pondered, "the most logical would be the prefects."