Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 2 - Samarkand Solution (17 page)

"Venetians!" spat Tuhorus in contempt.

"Would we were so powerful and rich!" shot back Hatsotef. "Those astute businessmen, however, were wise enough to form a government which they themselves control!"

"This is leading us nowhere," Magister In-lietep finally said. "I take it that you four are basically in agreement with Nerhat-ab?"

T here was a chorus of assent, each quickly giving their own account of how they sought to extricate themselves from the conspiracy and asserting that there was documentation. "We all waited only for banker Nerhat-ab's advice before going to the authorities and revealing the whole plot," avered Nenef-Kheru. "He never would ;il low us to do so," the merchant concluded accusingly.

"But I too awaited instruction," the banker whined in reply. "Prefect Ankh-ra was attempting to find a sympathetic channel, if you get my meaning."

"You suggest that the metropolitan prefect of Innu was involved in this terrible business?" demanded Tuhorus.

"No, never! He might have eventually suspected my own involvement in something illegal, though," Nerhat-ab confessed. "Pabar—Prefect Ankh-ra—had friends in the royal household to whom he spoke frequently. He said that if information passed through them, it would be well-received and serve to mitigate any crimes committed by the party coming forth to expose the criminal activity. . . ."

"So you were also dragging your feet in order to make yourself appear as little involved as possible and throw blame on whomever else was handy!" Magister Inhetep accused.

The banker couldn't deny that. He looked down in guilt, and his four associates glared at Nerhat-ab. It was evident that he had planned to throw them to the lions in hopes of saving himself. Furthermore, his delay now placed all of them in dire peril. "But it seemed so far-fetched a plan that it would end up collapsing beneath its own weight," he cried to his four comrades and the policeman. "Had Ram-f-amsu's death been otherwise, say when he was alone, or even there in the meeting as it occurred, but without Magister Inhetep present, this whole affair might have evaporated as rain in the desert! I applaud the assassination," Nerhat-ab defiantly said, "and the killing of that insufferable high priest, too! Yet I curse the killer now, for whomever is responsible has brought me to destruction as well."

Inspector Tuhorus had all five men taken outside to record formal confessions. Inhetep sat back and finished his cold tea, trying to make sense of all he had heard so far. The picture he formed was absolutely incredible in its complexity and stupidity. More facts had to be uncovered, certainly, but . . .

"What do you make of it all?" asked Tuhorus as soon as he returned.

"Just what I was considering, Inspector," Inhetep replied slowly. "There emerges a very strange collage of crime and betrayal which is more befitting a fable or play than real life."

"Yes, just so. Had someone suggested all these events, I would have laughed aloud," Tuhorus concurred. He paused, wiped his hands on his tunic as if to cleanse them from contact with the conspirators, and then queried, "Is it to be Lasuti or Aufseru next? I believe the Parthians must come last."

"I agree. Let's save the alchemist for a bit and put Prince Ram-f-amsu's aide to the question now. He should have some choice bits for us now that this whole stinking mess is in the open."

Chief Inspector Tuhorus's eyes were narrow. "If only the whole were so revealed, Magister. I ill ink you hold some information which gives vou a better perspective than is afforded to me, however."

"No need to concern yourself about it much longer, my friend. I'll give you that bit of detail as soon as the last of these men has been questioned and we are ready to follow the track."

"Which track, Magister? It seems as if we are standing at the cross-roads between oases!"

Inhetep nodded. "There are too many marks, I agree. Yet I think when we are finished, it will be Absobek-khaibet we will track—and that one will lead us to the mastermind behind the false trails."

"My men are hunting Absobek now," Tuhorus said. "You think the uab priest will talk so readily?"

"Not at all, Inspector. I am betting he'll avoid capture."

Before more could be said between them, however, they were interrupted by the arrival of Aufseru, purported aide to the dead governor.

He came in with tight lips and an expressionless face, standing stiffly even when told to sit by the police official. "Come, come, Aufseru," Tuhorus chided. "You'll get nothing from such behavior. Make it easier on yourself, man and perhaps ..."

"Hsst! What's that you say, Aufseru?" demanded the priest-wizard as Chief Inspector Tuhorus trailed off. Something about the prisoner had made the detective cease his speech, and then the aide to the murdered prince had spoken. Inhetep repeated his question. "What did you say?"

"I am a dead man . .." Aufseru said in a whispering monotone.

"That's likely," Tuhorus said brusquely, "yet there might—"

"Stop!" the magister interjected. "Listen to him!"

"... the Samarkand Solution," rasped from Aufseru's throat. "Only the gods can save you from the same fate unless you turn away now and close the case."

"Gods! What are you muttering about? Are you drugged? Tell us about the 'Samarkand Solution,' and forget threats," the policeman ordered sternly.

Magister Inhetep moved around to better view Aufseru, and he was immediately struck by the sight. Aufseru was unnatural and zombie-like. Not only was he rigid and expressionless, but something in his eyes bespoke mindlessness, and his skin was pale and seemed to have a putre-scent luminosity to it. Tuhorus had been too intent upon learning the truth to bother about such things. One pass using heka, however, showed Inhetep that there was more than that to consider.

"Careful, Inspector! He
is
a dead man— literally!"

That made the policeman draw back slightly, and he stared from Aufseru to the magister uncertainly. "Dead! Then what is controlling him?"

The ur-kheri-heb continued his magickal work even as Tuhorus spoke, using both the arts of the mage and the priest to scan the strange prisoner for clues as to what perils might lurk within the man. The phosphorescence of Auf-seru's skin brightened, but more evident to the priest-wizard was his inner core of energy which urew and brightened at the same moment. "Look out! Avoid him on your life, Tuhorus!" the magister shouted just as the Aufseru-zombie turned to a shimmering form of near-incandescent brightness and then flung out its arms, one in Inhetep's direction, the other toward the policeman. Globs of something flew, but the ur-kheri-heb was well out of range by then, and Inspector Tuhorus had dived to shelter behind his desk.

As suddenly as the thing had flared, a blackness replaced that furious energy. Aufseru's body seemed to be a lightless void, then it simply disintegrated into nothingness, pale gray ash drifted down to litter the floor where he had stood. "There are footprints burned into the sandstone!" exclaimed Tuhorus.

"So much for Prince Ram-f-amsu's aide," Inhetep said with an air of resignation. "Let's save the ash, Inspector, for analysis of it might tell us something."

"But by Bright Ra, man! I was nearly killed by that .. . that . . . thing!"

"So you were, Tuhorus. It attempted to send a part of that death at me as well—seems that whatever controlled the corpse didn't really expect that we'd listen meekly and close the case, so it was prepared to snuff us out."

"That would only bring in more men to investigate the matter—a hopeless tactic."

"Not so, dear Inspector. Any number of things might have resulted, including the assumption that Aufseru was the culprit and we all died apprehending him. No matter, for we won't know now what wheels would have been put in motion to cover this up had we died. The plan failed, so we are going to keep right on sussing out the evil behind this little act in the drama, Tuhorus. After we get this down, and the remains of the fellow are swept up, let's see about jobo Lasuti. I think that the Nubian alchemist must have some very interesting information for us."

"You're a cool one, Utchat-neb. I think I am beginning to understand how you've earned your reputation. What about the 'Samarkand Solution' business, though? It keeps coming up."

Magister Inhetep shook his head. "Samarkand—by any name—has long been known as a stronghold which refuses surrender to invaders. Three times the city has done so, been besieged, and eventually fallen. The victors have then razed it, but eventually a new city bearing the old name springs up, as does the phoenix from the ashes of the fire which consumed it."

"The place last fell centuries ago," Tuhorus responded, "and Samarkand is now a rich and important trading center, a city-state of import in central Azir, yet . . . how is any of that connected with the governor's plot and these murders?"

"There might be something linked to destruction—I'm not yet sure," the magister admitted.

Those who try to stand before the force which is involved here seem to meet annihilation, but ..."

"Yes, and a very strong 'but' seems appropriate. The link is thin." The inspector paused and considered a few moments. "Still, there are easterners involved, for we have the Parthians, their shaman calling himself Tengri Ataman, and the virtual destruction of each of those who might have been able to shed light on the matter."

Inhetep shook his head this time. "That doesn't lead anywhere, for it doesn't tell us why the prince was originally assassinated, Tuhorus. We have to look behind the screen of events which now surround us like Darfur's jungle walls, so that we might get a glimpse of the sinister figure who is masterminding all."

"Jobo Lasuti is?"

"Something which is neither vegetation nor the lurker it screens. You'll see my reasoning, Inspector, in a few minutes."

As if in answer to a cue, the Nubian alchemist was brought into the office. Seeing the signs of Aufseru's recent demise, Lasuti asked, "Demonstrating parlor magick for your associate, Inhetep?"

Tuhorus was surprised by the magister's reply. "Address me as 'Lord,' you inferior black dabbler. Remember, I am an ur-kheri-hep-tepi," Setne sneered. "We aren't at some formal gathering of dweomercraefters now, where I must be polite. You are a Nubian savage on trial for your life, Lasuti. I think you will prove inadequate to the challenge."

"All you bloody Egyptians have such a distorted view," the alchemist shot back, referring to Inhetep as 'bloody' in combined sense, for the term was used by separatists to describe both skin color and the methods used by the ^Egyptians in the past. "I have made such discoveries, ineffectual priest-mage, as you kheri-hebu and all the rest who think they know heka have yet to have dreamed of, and my work will not be in vain even if you personally end my life now! Nubia will be free!"

Inhetep waved a hand arrogantly. "Bah! You rant as might a newly-caged baboon. The Oversight already has too much autonomy, its people are too generally considered equals to their betters. I think it is time to remove undue privileges—and recognize that you are a boastful savage, no more able to make discoveries than the ape I likened you to," the magister added snidely.

"Then explain how your fellow aristocrat died," Lasuti jeered, his face a mask of rage. "A
great
ur-kheri-heb-tepi, an
utchat-neb
can surely manage something so simple!"

"You poisoned him, Nubian ape, and for that you will die," magister Inhetep replied coldly.

Lasuti laughed in the tall man's face. "You couldn't be more mistaken. I merely supplied Ram-f-amsu with a draught which destroys all traces of magick, a discovery . . ." The alchemist's words suddenly trailed off as he realized what he had just said.

"I thank you, lmprimus, for that confession. While I suspected something of the sort, I had no means of proving it, of course. Your work was too good. Now, with that confession, we can move ahead."

"May you rot in the darkest and most damned regions of the Duat, Inhetep!" the Nubian snarled.

"I think not—nor will you, Jobo Lasuti, for you are a man of principle and conviction, albeit a misguided one. Did you hope that by assisting Prince Ram-f-amsu's plot, the Oversight would gain independence?"

"Not would—will! If not now, eventually. You are oppressors and tyrants who must one day be driven out of Nubia."

Even the policeman had to object to that. "Come now, Lasuti," the chief inspector said.

"Nubia is as much a part of the kingdom as the three divisions and Phillistia. There have been Nubian pharaohs! There are many in the royal household who have Nubian blood in their veins, princes and officials of the land who are pure folk of your race. No one in all the Oversight has greater or fewer rights than in the rest of /Egypt. How can you speak of sundering our nation thus?"

"He is mad," Inhetep said flatly. "Despite his misguided sense of nationalism and his irrational hatred for those not Nubian, Imprimus Lasuti had made great contributions to the art of dweom-ercrasfting and the profession of alchemy. I think his past accomplishments will earn him a reprieve from execution, Tuhorus. Confinement and treatment might serve to eventually cure him of his derangement."

"Judge, jury, and Pharaoh are you, Inhetep?" the alchemist snarled.

The magister shook his head. "No, but I think I can speak for the latter in regards to your case, Jobo Lasuti. Besides, there are, unfortunately, others of your ilk, and /Egypt needs no martyr for such a cause as you champion. You'll eventually come around."