Slayer of Gods (29 page)

“Majesty, Anath says she’ll give us the names of all Zulaya’s men if you will exile her instead of putting her to death.”

“You know my answer to that, Meren.”

“But, majesty—”

“No! She has betrayed my majesty and endangered the kingdom. She has plotted with one whose power threatened mine.” Tutankhamun
lashed his chariot whip against his thigh as he glared at Anath. “You will give me the names of Zulaya’s men and reveal every
plot and evil plan.”

Meren dropped to his knees before the king. “Please, majesty. I fear for the lives of my children.”

He bent down and touched his forehead to the ground before the king’s feet. He heard the whip slap rhythmically, then the
king ordered Anath taken away. Meren felt desperation begin to take hold of his thoughts. He was startled when Tutankhamun
spoke again.

“Rise, Meren.”

He stood and lifted his gaze to behold a chilly and ruthless youth. Abruptly the severity in the king’s expression faded,
and his voice softened.

“I will bargain with her for your sake.”

“I am grateful beyond expression, majesty.”

“You’ve nearly lost your life in my service once again. How could I not protect you and those close to you in return?” The
king smiled at him. “Anath will suffer no harm while she is in my kingdom, and she will be sent into exile.”

Meren bowed low to the king. As he did so Kysen and a complement of charioteers appeared across the marketplace. The king
gave a string of orders and stalked to his chariot.

Kysen hurried over to Meren. “Father, you’re all right? What happened? That’s Zulaya.” Understanding broke over him, and he
looked at Zulaya’s body again. “It was him?”

“Yes,” Meren said. He was watching the king and Anath. She was on her knees before pharaoh, and when the king barked out an
order, Karoya and another guard dropped to one knee and listened to their prisoner intently.

“What’s happening?” Kysen asked.

“Not now, Ky. You shouldn’t even be on your feet, much less out in the streets.”

Karoya and the guard stood, saluted pharaoh, and vanished into the crowd. The king beckoned to Meren.

When Meren joined him, pharaoh nodded to Kysen and said, “My majesty is pleased to allow Mistress Anath to go into exile once
it is proved she has revealed all the secrets of the traitor Zulaya. Until then she will be imprisoned.”

Tutankhamun left them abruptly and motioned Kysen to accompany him. As Meren watched them go, he was suddenly aware of his
misery and exhaustion. But he still had questions for Anath, though it cost him much to face her again. Released from fear
for his children, however, he could no longer ignore the personal betrayal that lay between them. She had exposed him, and
he hated feeling naked and defenseless. And it was painful to behold her fierceness, her courage, now that he knew she’d never
loved him.

Holding himself in check, Meren spoke quietly. “Thanuro was your father?”

“Why are you surprised?” Anath snapped, bitterness etching lines around her mouth and eyes. “My mother was bound to an old
man. Tell me you haven’t served as a refuge and giver of pleasure to a young woman saddled with an ancient partner.”

Meren had no answer to a commonplace problem. Young men were often without means to set up a household of their own. Older
ones could afford to do so, and many refused to admit that affording the company of several women was not the same as making
them happy.

“I can’t believe that you committed treason and murder simply to help your father.”

Anath snorted. “No, I don’t suppose you can, you with your golden lineage and place at the right hand of the king. What did
I have? Nothing but scraps from that old wreck of a man, until Fa—” A spasm of pain passed over her.

“But Ay trained you, gave you a position to which few women could aspire.”

“He did that for his own ends, not for me. No one ever thought about me except Father. Did you?” Anath’s voice trembled with
animosity. “None of you cared how I felt about being a spy and a whore. Did you ever ask me what I wanted? I would have told
you, back then, at Horizon of the Aten. Do you want to know now?” She spat at his feet. “I wanted to be like other girls,
curse you. I wanted a husband and children and to be called mistress of the house, like any woman of honor and good birth.
And because of Ay and the rest of you, I was denied all of that!”

Meren opened his mouth to refute her accusations, but no words came. How could he know what a young girl might feel in such
a situation?

“You could have refused,” he said.

Anath’s eyes glittered, and she gave a sharp laugh. “Do you know what my choice was? I could accept Ay’s offer, or marry an
ancient nobleman my father insisted upon. He stank, Meren, and he had no teeth.”

“I’m sorry,” Meren said. “I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t care. The only one who did was my real father. He tried to buy me from the old man, but he was refused. So I became
one of the Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh.” Anath bowed mockingly. “Your servant.”

“And you’ve been Zulaya’s ally all along.”

“Why do you think I went to Babylon?”

Meren looked away. “So you came home to help him by spying on me.”

“Did you know he admired you?” Anath’s lips twisted in a parody of a smile. “When you began to investigate Nefertiti’s death,
he wasn’t alarmed. He thought he would rid himself of you easily. Later, when you survived all that he threw at you, he began
to respect you. I told him you were dangerous and that trying to control you was foolhardy, but he wouldn’t listen. He wanted
to keep you, like some kind of war trophy.”

“And you wanted to kill me.”

Anath met his eyes with resentment. “He was the only person besides my mother who ever really cared about me.
Me
, not the Eyes of Babylon. I didn’t have to earn his good opinion or his affection. He loved me, and I was afraid for him.
With good reason.” She turned to gaze at her father’s body, still lying on the packed earth of the market.

“I must know one thing.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Why did he poison the queen?”

“He never told me,” Anath said. “I think she discovered he was spying on her for pharaoh and threatened to ruin him. None
of you understood him. He was serving pharaoh by watching the queen and her daughters, protecting them against heresy and
seeing that they didn’t fall victim to misguided notions. It was long ago, and he must have had an overwhelming reason to
kill her. She must have tried to harm him.”

Vague dissatisfaction settled over Meren. At first he’d thought Zulaya was taunting him, trying to confuse him by saying he
ought to know who was really behind the queen’s murder. Now he wasn’t so certain. Something was missing. Before he could follow
this line of thought Anath suddenly moved into his arms and gave him an imploring look.

“Forgive me, Meren.”

Meren took her wrists and gently disengaged himself. “You told me what was between us was false.”

“Not all of it. I have always been fond of you, my love.”

“I don’t think so, Anath. One seldom contemplates killing one’s true love.”

“That was a mistake. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

Shaking his head, Meren said gently, “Anath, I think you’ve always known what you were doing. Right now you’re worried I’ll
seek to avenge myself upon you, and you must have a low opinion of me if you think I’ll succumb to you a second time.”

“Ah, Meren.” Anath faced him squarely, her gaze forthright. “You’re wrong to think I have no feeling for you. I do admire
you. How can I help it when we’re so alike?” She sighed, her eyes filling with tears. “You’re right. You’re not a fool. But
I would have won this battle of ours had it not been for a cat and a monkey. I think I wanted that victory more than anything
I’ve ever wished for in my life. So you see, I do love you, in my way.”

“I beg you to spare us both,” Meren said in a choked whisper. Unable to bear watching her anymore, he signaled the royal guards.
He kept his gaze fixed on a beer jar until he was certain she’d gone.

He was still staring at the jar when he heard an exclamation. Tutankhamun was kneeling on one knee beside Zulaya’s body. Meren
hurried to his side and dropped to the ground. Zulaya’s robes were wet with blood, and through the hole left by the knife
he could see part of a gold pendant suspended from a chain. A narrow shaft of gold ended in a stylized hand. Meren pulled
the chain so that the necklace came free, knowing what he would find. Beneath his clothing Zulaya had worn the old symbol
of the Aten—the sun disk with rays radiating from it that ended in those stylized hands. He exchanged startled looks with the
king.

“After all these years,” Tutankhamun said. “Why would he still carry the Aten disk?”

“Perhaps he was a true follower of thy majesty’s brother, Golden One.”

Tutankhamun pulled the necklace over Zulaya’s head, rose, and stood examining it. The sun disk had been set in a hollow gold
frame, and several of the stylized hands and rays were smeared with blood. The boy’s eyes took on that distant look of one
who is lost in memory, and his hand closed over the sun disk, squeezing it hard.

“It is unfortunate that he was killed so quickly,” the king said. “An easy death hardly serves my majesty’s justice.”

“He will face the vengeance of the gods in the Hall of Judgment, majesty.”

“No!” Tutankhamun hurled the necklace to the ground. “I am pharaoh. It is for me to condemn and destroy traitors. I wanted
him to face my vengeance!”

Meren bowed low as the king swore, got into his chariot, and drove out of the market, his face set. He thought about following
and trying to ease the boy’s temper, but the shine of the gold necklace caught his eye. He picked it up. Slowly, with hesitation,
he removed the wristband that covered the scar on his arm. He gazed at the white flesh distorted into the same hated symbol
as the one Zulaya had worn.

I am pharaoh. It is for me to condemn and destroy traitors.
Had Akhenaten been pharaoh, Meren would have been the traitor, not Zulaya.

“Pharaoh,” Meren muttered to himself. Then the necklace dropped through fingers gone suddenly cold. “Pharaoh!”

Around him soldiers helped vendors right overturned stalls. Others guided Anath’s chariot away, but Meren saw nothing. Zulaya
had been telling the truth. Meren had known who was behind the murder of the queen all along.

Many had a reason to fear the great royal wife, but there had been one whose fury would have been unparalleled. The one whom
she betrayed. The one who had already killed the old gods of Egypt, and thus would not hesitate to order the death of a mere
queen.

“Akhenaten,” Meren whispered.

Zulaya had said it himself as he died—Nefertiti betrayed pharaoh by reconciling with Amun. Zulaya had found out and told the
king, and Akhenaten had ordered him to kill his wife. Meren knew only too well how Akhenaten dealt with members of his court
who failed to adhere solely to the Aten.

The murder had been designed so that the manner of her death concealed how his own wife had betrayed pharaoh. And Akhenaten
had played the devastated royal husband with sickening accuracy.

No wonder Thanuro had left the royal court and arranged his own death. He had feared Akhenaten, and with good reason. No king
would tolerate the existence of one who knew such a secret. Undoubtedly Akhenaten had been quite willing to see Thanuro go.

Feeling ill, Meren heard his name called. Kysen was coming toward him accompanied by several royal bodyguards. He lifted a
hand in salute. Everything around him seemed unreal. It was the shock of the truth that made him feel as if the ground was
crumbling beneath his feet. What was he going to tell Ay? He’d meant to tell his old mentor everything once he’d exposed the
murderer. Could he tell the fragile old man that the husband he’d chosen for his daughter had ordered her death?

“Wait,” Meren said as Kysen walked up to him. He held his hand up for silence and walked away. He went back to the beer stall,
picked up a jar with a strainer, and poured beer into a cup the beer seller held out to him. He drained the cup and wiped
his lips.

For years he’d suspected that Ay had had knowledge of Akhenaten’s sudden and unexplained death. Had Ay discovered his daughter
had been murdered and avenged her? Meren griped the edge of the stall while he followed this line of reasoning. Ay might have
known all along that Akhenaten was to blame. This explained why he’d sent Meren away, so that he could devise the death of
a pharaoh.

And Meren dared not ask him for the truth. All he had was suspicion. He had no real proof that Akhenaten had been the one
who commanded Thanuro to kill the queen. Meren closed his eyes, and his shoulders drooped.

His inquiry must come to a halt. To pursue it further risked chaos, and Egypt had suffered enough. Tutankhamun had endured
too much. Meren wasn’t going to be the one to tell him that the murderer of Nefertiti was Akhenaten, Slayer of Gods.

Drawing himself up, Meren straightened and walked back to the waiting men. Kysen searched his face, and Meren smiled bleakly.
As he gazed at his son, the weight on his soul lifted. The long ordeal was over, and justice of a sort had been accomplished.
He might have played the fool along the way, but personal humiliation was nothing compared to restoring rightness and order.
Anath’s betrayal was a raw wound, and he needed a healing salve.

“Kysen, I’m going to visit Tefnut. We’re all going. With any luck, I’ll reach her in time for the birth of her first child.”

“A great event,” Kysen said.

Meren grasped Wind Chaser’s bridle and stroked his nose. “Indeed, my son. And one that will renew my ka, which has been sorely
tried of late.” They got into the chariot, and Meren slapped the reins. “Oh, and Ky, remind me to send someone to drag old
Dilalu out of hiding. If I forget, he’ll stay underground like a fat old scorpion and then escape completely.”

Turning the chariot around, Meren drove out of the market leaving the body of Zulaya to the royal guards, and the flies.