The Right Hand of Amon by Lauren Haney

his breath, stunned by the news. "He's one of the most powerful men in the land of Kemet!" "Puemre was his only son, Bak, the joy of his life. He'll not rest easy until this death is avenged."
    A chill crept up Bak's spine. Most violent deaths were crimes of passion, as easily resolved as Commander Woser had told Imsiba this would be. If Woser erred, if Puemre's slayer had struck with care, bent on hiding the truth, even the most diligent investigation might not reveal his name. If that should happen, Nihisy would draw the queen's attention to Wawat. Heads would roll, figuratively if not literally, all the way along the Belly of Stones, beginning with the man who failed to catch the slayer.
    "I'd like to break Woser's neck!" Thuty paced across his reception room to the courtyard door, swung around, and glared at Bak and Kenamon as if they were as much at fault as Woser.
    "He had no way of knowing Nihisy would be named our new chancellor." Kenamon shifted in Thuty's armchair to set his drinking bowl on the low table at his elbow. "A messenger was never sent south from the capital. I was asked to spread the word as I travel up the river."
    Bak, leaning against the jamb of the open stairwell door,
    sipped from his drinking bowl. The wine was pungent and heady, the best to be had in the whole of Wawat. The scent of onions, lentils* and roasting beef filtering through the courtyard door promised a feast worthy of a god, a feast he had been asked to share. Yet he could savor neither taste nor smell. He could think only of the decision the commandant was sure to make and the weight that would rest on his shoulders once the decision was aired.
    "Woser should've drawn my attention months ago to Puemre's noble birth, yet he made no mention in his reports. And now..." Thuty's voice hardened. "Now the wretch has been slain and still he blinds me with silence."
    Again Kenamon tried to mediate. "He may have believed Puemre had registered here, as he was supposed to, and assumed your chief scribe told you of his presence."
    "Even if true, it doesn't explain why he made no report when the wretch turned up missing." Thuty beat another path across the room, pivoted, scowled at Bak. "Nor does it explain his failure to send back with Imsiba a written account of the whole matter."
    Bak was too anxious to hear Thuty's final decision to spend time on useless speculation. "Do you wish me to go to Iken, sir?"
    Kenamon gave him a look of worry mingled with pride. He had made his feelings clear during their walk from the house of death to the commandant's residence. He feared for his young friend's future, but was proud of his nobleness of purpose.
    "No, Bak, I don't!" Thuty glared. "I wish you to travel to Semna with the lord Amon. But that imbecile Woser has made that impossible. Go! Go to Iken. Get this matter over and done with."
    "I'll do my best, sir. That I promise."
    Thuty scooped his baton of office off a nearby stool and sat down in its place. "I'll send a courier to Iken tonight with a letter giving you authority over Woser as far as Puemre's death is concerned. He'll not like it, but I'll leave him no choice."
    What if my best isn't good enough? Bak wondered. What if this time I fail? He had already asked Kenamon to speak with the lord Amon on his behalf, but perhaps he should make an offering to the god as well. A plump goose. Maybe more than one.

Chapter Five

    "Take care, my friend." Imsiba's eyes were clouded with worry. "I fear danger will greet you at the gates of Iken." Bak clapped the big Medjay on the shoulder. "I wish you could come, too, but you must stay behind with our men, make sure they're well prepared for the journey upriver. And you must arrange with Nebwa to divide the duties throughout the trek. And offer the physician Kenamon any aid he may need. And . . ."
    Imsiba staved off the spate of words with raised hands and a stingy smile. "I've tasks without number, I know, but I'll worry nonetheless."
    "You've told me many