Close Up the Sky (37 page)

"I'm not
talking about escaping. I hope to make bail before too much longer."

"You speak
very strangely. What is bail?"

"It doesn’t
matter. I doubt you'd understand the concept anyway."

They ate and drank
in silence for a while. The sun dropped below the horizon and long shadows began
to form inside the compound. Some of the prisoners were already stretching out
on piles of straw or rough mats preparing for sleep. Matt felt the same
himself
, but was too keyed up to think of anything but
getting out of the prison. It had been over two hours since he had been
arrested, and he wondered what Summerhour and Williams were doing. He was
uncertain about Summerhour, but was confident that Williams would not abandon
him. Moreover, by now Taylor probably knew about his imprisonment and would be
doing everything possible to have him released. The thought brought a smile to
his face. If everything else failed, he knew she was not beyond using force.

He scanned the
walls for the tenth time in the last hour looking for an escape route in case
it became necessary. The heavy doors through which he had entered were the only
break in the walls. The walls themselves were at least twenty feet high on all
four sides and made of smooth limestone, so climbing was not an option. Inside
the main walls, a smaller wall about five feet high crossed the compound on the
north side. There were two gates in it, both guarded by men armed with swords
and spears. The guards stood on a long catwalk just behind it so they would
have a clear view of anyone coming near the gates. Behind the wall was a row of
one-story buildings that he guessed were the guards’ quarters and courtrooms. He
decided that in an emergency his best chance would be to jump the low wall and
make for the buildings. Once inside, he would have to play it by ear. It was
likely that he would be hit by some of the spears while jumping the wall. He
would have to depend on the L-suit to protect him, but was unsure about how
well it could withstand pointed weapons. He knew from experience that police
body armor was ineffective against knives, but the L-suit was far superior to
the material from which bulletproof vests were made. If it became necessary he
would just have to take the risk. He would also need a diversion to distract
the guards. The two magazines loaded with
nine millimeter
ammo were still in his pocket. When the time came it might be possible to
explode some of the ammo. The noise had frightened the Morruks, so maybe it
would work again here. The memory made him think of Nessif. This was the second
time he had been imprisoned through the work of the Morruk. If Nessif was still
in the city, and an opportunity presented itself after his release, he resolved
that there would not be a third time.

Setari and the
other men had stretched out on the ground, preparing for sleep. Matt realized
that the wine was going to his head, so he decided to do the same. He
lay
down on his back and put one arm behind his head. The
first stars of twilight were beginning to gleam, but not as strongly as they
had in the desert. He could hear the sound of voices coming from the street
beyond the walls. The laughter of women and the calls of men shouting to each
other filled the night. The festival of Amen seemed to be well underway. He
closed his eyes, listening to the muted chatter. Strange but beautiful music
was coming from somewhere far off. In his mind he relived the few precious days
he and Taylor had spent together at Apache Point. He had no doubt that he would
soon be with her again, but the waiting was almost unbearable. He felt her soft
hand stroke his face and smelled the subtle perfume she wore. He was about to
drift off to sleep when someone kicked the sole of his sandal.

"Get up, you.
It's time to see the magistrate."

A burly guard
stood over him holding a torch. Matt got to his feet and dusted the dirt from
his robe. The commotion caused Setari to sit up and take notice. The other two
men were also awake but remained lying down.

"Will I be
coming back here?" he asked the guard.

"Back
here?" the guard scoffed. "You'll be lucky if you live through the
night. Now get moving."

"May the gods
go with you, my friend," Setari called out as they turned to go.

"Shut your
mouth, worm," the guard spat. "Your holiday will soon be over,
too." He shoved Matt roughly on the shoulder to get him moving.

As they passed
through one of the gates in the small wall, Matt noted that there
was
a number of other guards sitting around at tables inside
the inner compound eating and drinking. Another group was visible inside a
building that apparently served as their squad room. He began to realize that
his earlier plan of escape by going over the little wall would have met with
certain disaster. There were four times as many guards milling around inside
the enclosure as there were on the catwalk.

His escort guided
him to the far end of the complex and into a building with a small holding
room. The room was empty except for a wooden bench. Wall-mounted oil lamps
provided just enough flickering light to see by.

"Sit down and
wait here," said the guard. "But let me warn you. If you stick your
head outside that door you'll get a spear in the face." He pointed to the
door through which they had entered. With that, he disappeared through another
door on the opposite side of the room. Matt believed him about the spear, so he
sat down and leaned against the wall. He could still feel the wine, but it was
wearing off fast. The guard was back in less than a minute. He stepped into the
room and beckoned to Matt with a jerk of his head. "Let's go."

They went through
the door into a corridor, and after a few paces came to another door. The guard
knocked on it with the haft of his spear and someone opened it from inside. He
pushed Matt through,
then
followed him. This room was
much larger than the last one and had more oil lamps. Benches and chairs were
arranged in rows along both sides of a center aisle, and a couple of man sized
statues of humans with animal heads stood in niches cut into the walls. A small
man dressed in a white smock sat behind a table at the head of the room. The
magistrate appeared to be in his early fifties and was completely bald. His
robe was unadorned except for a red collar. Two guards stood directly behind
him, one at each end of the table. Unlike the spearmen in the compound, these
men carried only swords. A few feet to the magistrate’s right was a set of
double doors leading to another room. The doors were open and Matt could see
someone sitting on a bench just inside, but his face and torso were in shadow.

"Come
forward," the magistrate directed. The guard took Matt's arm and ushered
him up to the table. "You have been accused of spying. Is this true?"

Matt looked
directly into the judge's eyes and said, "No, my lord. I am only guilty of
being a stranger in your land."

The judge gazed steadily
at him for several seconds. "You may address me as Memhotep," he
said. "What is your country?"

Matt decided to
stick with a limited version of the truth, regardless of the consequences. He
did not know enough about the ancient world to lie convincingly, and considered
it dangerous to try.

"I am from
America, Memhotep. It is a land beyond the great sea to the west."

Memhotep
considered the answer for a while. His eyes dropped to Matt’s sandals and
slowly worked their way back to his face. Matt felt as though the magistrate's
gaze could penetrate the dirty robe he wore. He became conscious of the L-suit,
and wished he had disposed of it when he tossed the pack into the river.

“There is nothing
beyond the western sea,” Memhotep replied. “I advise you not to lie to me
again.” He stared at Matt for a moment, as though studying him. "What is
your business in Thebes?" he finally asked.

"I am
searching for my friends. We were separated during a sandstorm in the desert
that lies west of the city. I walked two days to reach the Nile, and then came
by boat to the place where I was arrested. When I...."

"You have
been west of the river?" Memhotep interrupted him. His eyes narrowed and
he regarded the prisoner suspiciously.

"Yes." Matt
felt alarm rising, and knew he had to be very careful about how he answered. He
saw the guards glance at each other.

"Except for a
few villagers who live along the banks, only the dead inhabit the land west of
the river," Memhotep replied in a solemn tone. “Are you a grave
robber?"

"I swear to
you I am not, Memhotep. I cannot explain how I arrived in your land because I
do not know the words. But I am neither a spy, nor a grave robber." He
felt a knot forming in his stomach.

"Let me see
your hands," Memhotep ordered.

Matt stepped
forward and held them out. Memhotep reached out and turned the palms up. He
examined them for a moment then inspected the fingers. When he released his
hands, Matt stepped back to his place in front of the table.

“Your palms are
smooth, so you are obviously not a grave robber. But I intend to find out just
who, or what, you really are." He turned to one of the guards. "Bring
the witness forward," he ordered.

The guard stepped
to the double doors and spoke to the seated man. Matt was not surprised to see
Nessif Eguic Famaed stroll into the room. The Morruk stuck his chin out and put
a sneer on his ugly face. He looked at Matt with hatred in his eyes. The gash
on his cheek made by the bullet was dirty and swollen.

"Do you know
this man?" Memhotep asked.

"Yes,"
Nessif snarled. "But he is not a man. He is a demon."

Matt felt his
heart sink. He had just admitted to coming from west of the Nile and could not
give Memhotep a plausible explanation as to what he was doing there. Now Nessif
was accusing him of being a demon.

"I thought
you said he was a spy," Memhotep responded. "Now you say he is a
demon. Which is it?"

"He is both!”
Nessif shouted. “Some time ago, in the darkness of the night, I saw a strange
light coming from the desert near the dwelling place of my tribe. When my men
and I went to investigate, we found tracks coming from a great fissure in the
earth." He paused and smirked at Matt.

Memhotep's eyes
widened. "Go on," he ordered.

"We trailed
them through the desert hoping to see what manner of creature lived beneath the
earth. We eventually overtook this demon, but when we drew near he brought
thunder from the sky and would have destroyed us. My warriors fled in terror,
but I remained behind with a few brave men and eventually captured him. While
we were attempting to determine what manner of demon he was, he again called
forth thunder; this time with lightning, and did this!" He pointed to the
gash on his cheek. "But we continued to fight and did not permit him to
escape. We kept him bound and placed him in a pit. Then, when darkness fell, he
cried out in a loud voice and called forth another demon, one even mightier
than himself. This huge devil slew all of my men, tearing their bowels open and
spilling their insides onto the ground." Nessif paused for effect. He
walked over to where Matt stood and glared at him with vehemence. "I am
the only survivor, my lord, and have come forth as his accuser."

Memhotep said
nothing for a long moment, his expression blank. At last he spoke to Matt in a
quiet voice. "You have admitted to being among the dead of Thebes, and
this witness has accused you of being a demon. I must admit that you appear to
be only a man, but there is always the possibility that I could be wrong. You
said you came to Thebes looking for your acquaintances. Who, and where, are
they?"

Matt let out a
long breath. "They are explorers, Memhotep. I assure you that we are not
spies and I am not a demon. If I could find them, they would bear me out. The
witness you have called against me is a criminal who tried to rob and kill me
as I walked through the desert. It is true that something came in the night and
destroyed his men while they held me captive, but I have no knowledge as to its
nature. I feared for my own life even as his men were being killed. But I must
confess that whatever it was, it saved me from the fire that this man and his
friends had lighted to torture me."

"He
lies!" screamed Nessif. "Look under his robe and tell me if you have
ever seen a garment such as the one he wears!"

Memhotep jumped to
his feet. "Silence!" He gazed at Matt for a moment and then said to
the guard, “Remove his robe."

The guard stepped
forward, but Matt held up a hand. "I will do it," he said.

Memhotep nodded
and the guard moved back. Matt pulled the robe over his head and threw it on
the floor. Memhotep and the other men stared with open mouths at the L-suit. "It
seems your accuser is correct in this one area at least," he observed. "What
manner of clothing is that?"

Matt swallowed and
answered, "It is designed to protect us against the heat of the desert and
the cold of the mountains. Many of my people wear them." It was an
oversimplification of the facts, but they would not have understood the exact
nature of the garment even if he had told them.

One of the guards
standing behind Memhotep leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Whatever
he said apparently astonished the judge. He rose and stepped back from his
bench. "Search him!" he commanded.

Two of the guards
grabbed Matt's arms and held him while a third ran his hands over the L-suit. He
found the bulge of the two nine-millimeter magazines and fumbled the Velcro
fastener open. He took them out and laid them on the magistrate's bench. None
of them noticed the gleam that came to Nessif's eyes at sight of the magazines.
Next the guard found the pager and the copper knife that Tarel had given him,
which he also removed and placed on the bench.