City of the Dead

gold, the base sculpted into waves and the top in the form of a sea-beast, riding more waves and carrying a trumpet-shell. it is from Kheftyu. An ointment perfume made of mermaids’ milk.’
    She must not antagonise him. The jar was heavy. The glass it was made of must be very thick. She lifted the lid, and released a delightful odour.
    ‘Don’t use it now,’ he said, hurriedly, it would be a pity to waste it.’
    A faint warning sounded in her heart, but she dismissed it as part of the revulsion he had always engendered in her. And yet now he seemed a new man — perfectly sincere. Was it possible that his divided Ka had begun to find a way towards unity?
    ‘Thank you,’ was all she said.
    To her relief, he turned to go. ‘I must be at the House of Healing. I wanted to make my peace with you.’
    ‘You have.’
    ‘Good.’ He hesitated. ‘My offer stands. The love bond is there for me.’
    ‘I am sorry.’
    He bowed his head. ‘Well, if you change your mind...’ He left the sentence hanging. ‘There may come a time when you will be glad to.’

TWELVE

    Ay stood alone in his work room, watching the sun go down and dusk gather around the temple of Amun. The high priest would arrange for the god to show his approval of the succession to the people two days later. Soon after that, Ay would be alone in the Southern Capital. Little Ankhsi would be gone, and General Horemheb would be leading five falcon ships and five more regiments to the Delta, where he would take overall command of the northern army. Among the soldiers accompanying him, Ay had placed Kenna and four other men he knew he could trust. Horemheb had agreed to the proposal that he go north with surprising ease, and Ay was not such a fool as to think that he would not take advantage of the army if he could.
    But it was better to have him there than intriguing here. The longer the general stayed in the Southern Capital, the more Ay risked having his authority undermined. Once he was out of the way, it would be easier to pursue his diplomatic links with the Land of the Twin Rivers, with Mitanni, and with the peoples to the south of the Black Land. Ay planned to raise an army which would be able to stand against anything Horemheb could throw at him, if their conflict ever pitched the empire into civil war. But he hoped it would not come to that. Perhaps Horemheb would fall under a Hittite spear. Whatever else he was, he was a brave man, and always joined battle at the head of his troops. And if the Hittites could not do it, then an arrow fired by Kenna might do the job. Ay was the last person to deny Horemheb an honourable death and a state funeral, provided he could succeed in sending him to the Fields of Aarru; and a simple assassination would be so much less costly than a civil war.
    There was also the question of his succession to be settled. Ay had finally abandoned the idea of ever marrying Ankhsenpaamun — which was why he was letting her go so easily. A daughter of the Great Criminal was not, after all, going to get the unreserved blessing of the powerful priesthood. His thoughts were turning to a princess from one of the lands to the north-east. The world was changing. The Black Land could no longer stand alone and supreme. Survival lay in the realisation of that.
    It had grown dark outside, and the heat caressed his face, cocooning him, soothing him. He luxuriated in the quiet that follows victory. He thought about the little boat Taheb had supplied, tied up now at the southern quay. Soon Ankhsi would be embarking, and at dawn, before he had even awoken, perhaps, she would be gone. He had sent men ahead to Napata to watch her, but he doubted if she would trouble him again.
    He would keep his promises about the funerals. He regretted that there was not time to give Tutankhamun a magnificent one, for such a thing would unquestionably be to his credit. But his right to perform the Opening of the Mouth was inalienable now. Horaha, too, would be buried according to his dignity. Ay feared the dead. He was too close to them not to.
    As for little Setepenra, she, too, would go gloriously to Osiris. There was no doubt that Horemheb would be deceived into thinking that she was the queen: he wanted the queen dead, and he would not look for deceit in something which was to his advantage. Soon after dawn, a body servant would discover her. Kenna would be sent to investigate officially, and Merinakhte would pronounce that she had died of grief for her