saying to whoever would listen that his head was buzzing ever since we arrived here.”
“His head's buzzing because there's nothing inside it,” muttered one of the soldiers.
“If he were within reach,” whispered Mersu out of the corner of his mouth, keeping one half-amused eye on Nebamun's increasingly ominous expression, “I'd just bet His Grace would make his head buzz in earnest!”
Seneb was wide-eyed and glaring into the air. “The city seeks to bury us! It will kill us!”
The room broke into a spate of murmurs, people sprang to their feet, craning their necks in time to see Seneb rise to his full height and fling himself face forward to the ground, to lie flailing and shrieking.
Khonsu, watching in astonishment, caught the flinching moment when Seneb turned in his fall to avoid striking the pavement with his forehead.
Ecstatic fit? he thought. A very careful one!
Lord Nebamun waved the others aside and made his unhurried way over to Seneb. He gazed down at the man with a glint in his eye, and then spoke his name sharply.
Seneb, arching and thrashing against the floor like a beached Nile perch, ground his teeth upon crowing, incoherent cries, oblivious to everything else.
Nebamun turned and located a large water jar standing against the wall. He speared one of the strongest soldiers in his personal guard with a look and nodded toward it. The man took the jar by its sturdy handles and dragged it over, and, at a nod from Nebamun, he hoisted it with a grunt and upended it over the prostrate priest. Water crashed upon the floor in a solid sheet, spattered upward, and splashed down once more, leaving a pool that lapped against Nebamun's sandaled feet.
Seneb sat up with a strangled oath and spat out a quart of water.
Lord Nebamun smiled at the guard, stepped out of the puddle and twitched the soaked skirt of his robe away from his ankles. “This assignment appears too much for your delicate constitution, my lad,” he said with chill gentleness as he motioned to the grinning soldier to set the jar down. “You will return to Memphis by special ship tomorrow morning.”
He eyed the priest's stunned expression and continued, “I'll be devoting some thought this evening to the best place for one of your extreme sensitivity. Somewhere placid, deep in Nubia, I think: Mirgissa, maybe. Or the fortress at the cataracts near Uronarti. The priest of Ptah there reported, just before we left, that his assistant had died of an infected lizard bite, and he requested another. That billet should suit you perfectly.”
Seneb's jaw sagged. He drew a quick, gobbling breath. “Y–your Grace,” he gasped, “I never meant–!”
“You should have thought carefully before you decided to play such a stupid game with me,” Nebamun said. “Go to your quarters, gather your belongings and prepare to leave tomorrow. One of the servants will bring you some dinner.”
Seneb turned to Perineb. “Your Reverence,” he began.
Perineb pointed to the door.
After Seneb had left, Nebamun looked around at the rest of the group. “I'll tolerate no more of this nonsense,” he said. “We're grown men here to do a job, not little boys shivering over scary stories told around the hearth. I am sick of all this nauseous drivel of ghosts and curses and haunted cities. It is time that these 'ghosts' learn with whom they are dealing. We have a half-division from the Army of Upper Egypt. General Seti, you will assign your best men to patrol with Commander Khonsu's sentries. As for the rest–” He frowned at his audience. “Paser! Come forward!”
Paser leapt to his feet. “Your Grace?”
“I am sending Seneb back to Memphis at first light. You will travel with him to Khebet bearing a gift and a message for Mayor Huni. Report to me early tomorrow and I will give them to you. You can commandeer a ship at Khebet to bring you back. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Your Grace!” Paser cast a triumphant look at Ptahemhat.
Nebamun
“His head's buzzing because there's nothing inside it,” muttered one of the soldiers.
“If he were within reach,” whispered Mersu out of the corner of his mouth, keeping one half-amused eye on Nebamun's increasingly ominous expression, “I'd just bet His Grace would make his head buzz in earnest!”
Seneb was wide-eyed and glaring into the air. “The city seeks to bury us! It will kill us!”
The room broke into a spate of murmurs, people sprang to their feet, craning their necks in time to see Seneb rise to his full height and fling himself face forward to the ground, to lie flailing and shrieking.
Khonsu, watching in astonishment, caught the flinching moment when Seneb turned in his fall to avoid striking the pavement with his forehead.
Ecstatic fit? he thought. A very careful one!
Lord Nebamun waved the others aside and made his unhurried way over to Seneb. He gazed down at the man with a glint in his eye, and then spoke his name sharply.
Seneb, arching and thrashing against the floor like a beached Nile perch, ground his teeth upon crowing, incoherent cries, oblivious to everything else.
Nebamun turned and located a large water jar standing against the wall. He speared one of the strongest soldiers in his personal guard with a look and nodded toward it. The man took the jar by its sturdy handles and dragged it over, and, at a nod from Nebamun, he hoisted it with a grunt and upended it over the prostrate priest. Water crashed upon the floor in a solid sheet, spattered upward, and splashed down once more, leaving a pool that lapped against Nebamun's sandaled feet.
Seneb sat up with a strangled oath and spat out a quart of water.
Lord Nebamun smiled at the guard, stepped out of the puddle and twitched the soaked skirt of his robe away from his ankles. “This assignment appears too much for your delicate constitution, my lad,” he said with chill gentleness as he motioned to the grinning soldier to set the jar down. “You will return to Memphis by special ship tomorrow morning.”
He eyed the priest's stunned expression and continued, “I'll be devoting some thought this evening to the best place for one of your extreme sensitivity. Somewhere placid, deep in Nubia, I think: Mirgissa, maybe. Or the fortress at the cataracts near Uronarti. The priest of Ptah there reported, just before we left, that his assistant had died of an infected lizard bite, and he requested another. That billet should suit you perfectly.”
Seneb's jaw sagged. He drew a quick, gobbling breath. “Y–your Grace,” he gasped, “I never meant–!”
“You should have thought carefully before you decided to play such a stupid game with me,” Nebamun said. “Go to your quarters, gather your belongings and prepare to leave tomorrow. One of the servants will bring you some dinner.”
Seneb turned to Perineb. “Your Reverence,” he began.
Perineb pointed to the door.
After Seneb had left, Nebamun looked around at the rest of the group. “I'll tolerate no more of this nonsense,” he said. “We're grown men here to do a job, not little boys shivering over scary stories told around the hearth. I am sick of all this nauseous drivel of ghosts and curses and haunted cities. It is time that these 'ghosts' learn with whom they are dealing. We have a half-division from the Army of Upper Egypt. General Seti, you will assign your best men to patrol with Commander Khonsu's sentries. As for the rest–” He frowned at his audience. “Paser! Come forward!”
Paser leapt to his feet. “Your Grace?”
“I am sending Seneb back to Memphis at first light. You will travel with him to Khebet bearing a gift and a message for Mayor Huni. Report to me early tomorrow and I will give them to you. You can commandeer a ship at Khebet to bring you back. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Your Grace!” Paser cast a triumphant look at Ptahemhat.
Nebamun
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