Kiya and the God of Chaos

  Chapter Eleven: A Mystery Solved

  At dawn Kiya and Laylos left the compound. They had not yet breakfasted and munched on bread and dates as they hurried down the riverside path. The world was perfect at this time of day, the air fresh and cool with a light mist kissing the heads of the papyrus rushes. By the time they neared the village, people were stirring and the smell of baking loaves filled the air. Laylos slowed her pace.

  “We must hurry,” said Kiya. “Now that daylight has come the donkey might be noticed.”

  “I know. But it would be foolish to attract attention,” Laylos said and led a leisurely stroll through the village.

  “Hello, Laylos. Have you come to sell your medicines?” called out the butcher. He was laying meat on the counter in front of his shop and covering it with wetted linen to keep it cool.

  “Not today, Janais,” replied Laylos. “But I must thank you for keeping me well supplied with customers for my stomach pills.”

  The butcher laughed good-naturedly and turned his attention to Kiya. “I saw you in the village with some fishermen yesterday. We were worried about your welfare.”

  Not enough to intervene, thought Kiya. She was anxious to keep going and did not confront him, but merely said, “I was fine.”

  There were more greetings and more curious looks at Kiya. Most of the early risers were shopkeepers and had seen her dragged through the square.

  “They are cowards, the lot of them,” said Kiya as they left the village.

  “They are good people but they hardly know you,” said Laylos. “Why should they risk their lives on your behalf?”

  Their pace quickened and Kiya was almost running by the time they reached the grove of palm trees. To her dismay the donkey had gone.

  Laylos came panting up, “It must have turned to wax,” she said. With desperate haste, the two of them knelt and searched through the layers of dried palm fronds at the base of the tree.

  “I can see no model, the animal must have escaped," said Laylos. “You could not have tied it properly.”

  Kiya shook her head. She knew how to secure an animal. “It must be here. Let’s look again.” As they widened their search, they heard distant shouting.

  “Something is going on in the village,” said Laylos. “It sounds like trouble.” She got up from her knees. “Let’s go and investigate, it might have something to do with the donkey.”

  Kiya was reluctant to abandon the hunt, but she followed her aunt to the village. Within the crowd that had gathered in the square, Kiya saw a man with a donkey. She stared at the animal with a flicker of hope, but it was too large and darkly coloured to be the one she had lost.

  “What is going on, Nenwef?” said Laylos as they joined the gathering.

  The man with the donkey grinned. “Hello, Laylos. I might have known you would turn up. Fai-Nofre has called a village meeting. He and his barman have arrested someone.” He indicated two men, who held a third between them, his hands tied behind his back.

  “What has he done?” asked Laylos.

  “I don’t know. I was cutting barley when I saw them passing on the road, so I followed them here."

  “Hey, Fai-Nofre,” called Laylos, addressing a small fat man, who Kiya assumed was the innkeeper. “Why is that man under arrest?”

  Fai-Nofre ignored her and waited for more to join the throng before announcing in a loud voice, “I want you all to witness that this vagabond exchanged a donkey for a night of feasting and a room at my inn.”

  “Not much of a bargain,” said one of the villagers. “It sounds as if Fai-Nofre cheated the vagabond.” There was a smattering of laughter.

  “At midnight,” continued the inn keeper, “I went into my yard to give the animal food and water and what did I find?” With a dramatic gesture he held up a wax image of a donkey. “The donkey had disappeared and in its place was this!” The villagers gasped and Kiya groaned as any hope of destroying the figure vanished. “Fortunately, one of Massui’s soldiers was drinking at the bar and promised to report the incident to the priest. Massui will know how to deal with such a man.”

  At the sound of the dreaded name, Kiya and Laylos stepped back until they were hidden in the shadow of one of the alleyways.

  “How did the traveller steal the donkey?” whispered Kiya. “I couldn’t get it to move.”

  “Perhaps it just needed a rest,” said Laylos. “In your impatience to get home you may have abandoned it too readily.”

  Guilt hit Kiya. One way or another this was her fault. She should have hidden the donkey better or waited for it to regain its energy. Through a haze of remorse she followed the drama being played out before her.

  “No! Don’t involve Massui. Please let me go,” moaned the unfortunate prisoner.

  “Can you return my food and drink? Can you pay for the use of my room?”

  “If I could pay for your flea-ridden room would I have had to exchange it for a valuable donkey?” said the man with a flash of spirit.

  “Valuable, eh?” said Fai-Nofre. “The only way I could get value from this donkey is to stick a wick up its bottom and use it as a candle.” The villagers laughed, but Fai-Nofre’s voice continued angrily. “This is no laughing matter. The performance of magic is forbidden to any but the priests. We will see what Massui has to say about this.”

  They did not have to wait long. The sound of galloping hooves, and the jingle of harnesses announced the arrival of chariots. Laylos pushed Kiya behind her so she was blocked further from view. "Massui is driving the first chariot," she hissed. "The other contains soldiers."

  Kiya shrank back and raised her head, testing the air for the aroma of frankincense that would reveal the presence of Seth. Apart from the normal smells of the village she could sense nothing.

  “Why have you called upon me?” Massui’s voice was harsh.

  “This man cheated me,” Fai-Nofre’s indignation fuelled his courage. “I gave him fine food and wine and a bed in my best room in exchange for a donkey. When I looked in my yard the donkey had gone, leaving just this wax model. It’s magic, your Lordship, wicked magic. I am a poor man, I cannot afford to give away my hospitality to such as him.”

  “Bring that to me,” said Massui.

  “Oh, by Horus! He has got the donkey,” Laylos said over her shoulder. Kiya’s heart sank even further. “He is staring at it and now he has put it into his belt pouch. We are in trouble, I have rarely seen him look so angry.”

  “What about the prisoner?” asked Fai-Nofre.

  “Death by pressing,” said Massui.

  The unfortunate traveller gave a wail of terror. Even Fai-Nofre sounded dismayed. “B-but my Lord. That will not recompense me. I was hoping he might become my slave for a while. A fine, strong…” His voice stuttered into silence.

  “My decision has been made,” said Massui. “See to it.”

  Kiya heard the grinding of axles and the swish of wheels as a chariot turned and then there was the sound of vanishing hoof beats. She peered around Laylos to see what was happening and hurriedly ducked back into hiding. Massui had gone, but a chariot still stood in the square and four soldiers had taken charge of the prisoner. Emboldened by the departure of Massui, the villagers started to protest.

  “Let him go.”

  “He has been punished enough.”

  “Get out of our way,” said one of the guards. “The sooner we finish the job the less he will suffer.”

  Kiya felt Laylos give a start of surprise. “Huy!” she gasped. “Can it really be him?”

  The voice continued. “I will hold the prisoner, you get a door, and you two bring the marker stone from over there.”

  A soldier with a drawn dagger strode past the entrance to the alley. Kiya stood motionless, fearing discovery, but he was concentrating on his task and glanced neither left nor right. Moments later he returned, dragging a door, its cut leather hinges dangling in the dust.

  “Have mercy!” screamed the unfortunate prisoner. Kiya heard the village
rs murmur in sympathy but what could they do against armed soldiers?

  “Drop that boulder from a height,” commanded Huy. “With any luck it should knock him out.”

  A heavy thump was followed by the sound of cracking ribs and a shriek of agony.

  Kiya was sickened at having to listen to such suffering. She had heard about pressing. It was a punishment reserved for the very worst of crimes, such as robbing a king’s tomb, and yet the Nomarch of Gesem was using it on a donkey thief. She risked a look and saw the prisoner lying beneath the door, which covered all but his head. A large boulder rested on his chest and soldiers were piling smaller stones around it. Directing operations was an older man. His face was lined and weather-beaten but he was handsome, with a straight nose and a square jaw. A death rattle drew Kiya’s attention back to the execution. A trickle of blood dribbled out of the traveller’s mouth then, shockingly, his eyes opened and stared upwards for a long moment before the light in them faded and the man was truly dead.