Dream Boat (30 page)

His breathing was harsh and ragged. After that, I only need one other.

And by then it wouldn't matter who he'd seized, or how, because by the time the hue and cry was raised, Seth would have worked his spells and turned these women into gods, 
real
gods, not fakes like those who assembled in the temple and conned the people out of money.

'I,' he said, positioning the striking cobra mask on Berenice, 'am The Master of Darkness, the Sorcerer, the Measurer of Time. Only I have the power to transform my disciples into divinities and rule over you for all eternity.'

It occurred to him that the girl from the laundry was keeping very quiet while all this was going on. He hoped she wasn't jealous.

Shit! The bitch had gone and died on him! He kicked her hard on the shins, and slapped her face.

'Bitch!' He kicked her in the stomach. 'I haven't finished with you, yet.'

Laying into her with fists did not dampen his arousal, and he looked sadly at his magnificent erection. For a moment he considered taking the bitch anyway, but Seth was no barbarian.

He was the Commander of the Dark, Controller of Man's Destiny, Master of Restraint.

He did not shag dead whores for his satisfaction. Even when they cheated him.

He'd make her pay, that one. In the Afterlife, he'd bloody make her pay, you wait. Meanwhile, four masks remained unclaimed upon the table. He ran loving hands over them all. The vulture he'd allocated to that ugly duckling, Flavia and the gold mask of Osiris he would save till last. Oh, but how Osiris would be last! He thought of Mentu, with his wives and gold and cushions, and felt a prick of happiness at how the bastard would react when he finally realised that Seth the Dark One had prevailed.

Seth, who he had ignored and who had taken the ultimate revenge!

In resurrection he would rule the gods for all eternity. And when he died, that bastard Mentu would know who he would face the day his heart was weighed. Seth! To whom he for ever must bend the knee.

But he was doing something, what was it? Oh, yes, the masks. He had two choices, didn't he? The black jackal or the crocodile.

'There you go.' The man who had convinced himself that he was Seth set the heavy mask upon the shoulders of the little laundress. 'You worked with water, you treacherous bitch, you might as well spend eternity in it.'

The crocodile grinned inanely back.

The stables smelled of horse dung, donkey fur, fresh-mown hay and leather. Claudia, the city girl, pinched her nose and thought, this is a funny place to find a dog, among the mokes and mules. Stranger still the dogs weren't running free. Why kennel them? As she leaned over the rail, a variety of canine greetings issued forth, from low-pitched growls to yelps to barks and a score of hounds reared up, backed off, hunkered low or bared their teeth. And from this seething forest of paws squeezed a round, black roly-poly pudding.

'Hello, champ!'

Such was the little fellow's hurry that his jellified legs were going every which way except the right direction, then whoosh! all four were in the air at once as he tried to reach her, whimpering, squealing and (oh dear) wetting his little self in the happy process.

'Doodle-noodle.' Claudia lifted him out of the pen, ruffled his hard, black head and scrunched around his floppy ears. 'Much more of your exuberance, and I'll leave you behind!'

Doodlebug didn't fall for that one. His fat pink tongue continued swishing round her face and neck, his button eyes brighter than a dozen beeswax candles. Dogs, he licked, might be my species, but I'm much more at home with you and Flea. Can we go now? He rolled over, while he asked the question.

A shadow fell across his bald, pink tummy. 'Thought I'd find you here.'

Two curly slippered toes appeared beside the squirming pup. Dammit, with all that barking going on, she hadn't heard the Grand Vizier approach.

'Thought over my proposal, have you?'

Claudia felt a chill run down her spine. She stood up and looked him in the eye before she answered. 'You mean, your proposition?

Min smiled. 'I mean trade, m'dear. Man in my position carries influence. Be nice to me -' two hot hands closed over Claudia's breasts - 'and I can save that girl the ordeal of a public trial and, hrrumph, inevitable execution.'

Claudia willed her own hands not to swat his away. Flea's life hung in the balance, she daren't risk Min's wrath. His vengeance. Spurn him now, and he'd kill Flea out of spite.

'So I'm supposed to go to your bedroom and—'

'Bedroom?' Pudgy hands moved in loathsome circles. 'Consider my getting your friend off the hook deserves something rather more adventurous than a quickie, don't you, m'dear?' Min tweaked her nipples before releasing them. 'You have imagination. Use it.'

'I'm using it right now,' she said. Bastard. 'I'm imagining you're bluffing. I'm imagining that, when Mentu sits in judgement, the Grand Vizier has no influence whatsoever on the outcome of Flea's - ouch!'

The stinging slap had sent her sprawling backwards on the hay. The dogs, on the far side of the barrier, went wild.

'Never misjudge the influence I carry,' Min hissed, breathing over her. 'Never underestimate my power, you don't know the half of it!' Then he straightened up and, just like earlier in the corridor outside his room, there followed a lightning switch of personality. 'Tonight we celebrate the Festival of Lamps,' he said pleasantly. 'I'll be outside the House of Life at midnight. Don't,' he snarled, 'keep me waiting.'

As quietly as he arrived, the stocky Grand Vizier departed, leaving no trace other than a throbbing, swollen cheek and a foul and sullied memory.

Claudia brushed her gown, as though she could brush away the reminder of his touch. Min wasn't bluffing about this kangaroo court and Flea's summary execution, it was another way of weeding out the trouble-makers, with no stain on

anybody's conscience! She rubbed the linen where his hands had touched her breasts. Damn that fat toad to hell! Oh, Flea, you stupid, stupid bitch. What possessed you to go stealing from the Barque of Ra, for heaven's sake? Claudia recalled the girl who Min had raped, and knew he hadn't taken her so much for sexual pleasure as control.

Claudia had a feeling that gratification came in many twisted forms round here.

'I'll be back,' she promised Doodlebug, kissing him on his cold, wet snout before returning him to his excitable companions. 'Only there's something I have to do that's rather urgent.'

The task entailed a return to Mentu's wing, and when Claudia smiled, it was like a lynx playing with a lizard.

Afternoon prayers were under way, a change in schedule to take account of some extra ceremony which had to be squeezed in before the Festival of Lamps began. Good. Under cover of these observances, Claudia could move freely when and where she chose. She cocked an ear, and caught a couple of 'Beautiful art thou's already being trotted out, followed by a few 'Mine eyes adore thee's. Brilliant.

'What in hell's all this commotion?'

Startled, Claudia spun round, stubbing her toe on the wooden board of the doggy pen. Standing right behind her, his face dark with an emotion she couldn't read, was Geb. The hairy godfather, whose fists were at this moment clenched into hams. Claudia pictured them laying about his battered wife.

'The noise,' he growled. 'What set the dogs off? You?'

She looked at him. Dark eyes, darker in the shadows of the stables. He advanced towards her, breathing heavily. He's enjoying this, she thought. The Keeper of the Store likes to watch his victims squirm. Waiting, while they cower into meek obedience.

Dream on . . .

'No,' she said, and watched her denial throw him off his balance. 'I saw someone moving around and came to investigate. The dogs were already barking.'

'Liar.' His face twisted in a sneer. 'You came for that damned puppy-dog down there.' Geb's wits were sharper than she thought, it had taken him merely seconds to recover. 'I told you yesterday, no personal possessions in the commune, and— What happened to your face?'

'Heatstroke.'

His lip curled. 'Yeah.' A man who beats his wife would recognise the symptoms on another!

She glanced at his big, broad, hairy knuckles and observed a bruise on his right hand, which she did not recall seeing last night. With a sharp bark of command, Geb quietened the dogs and cast his glance round the stables.

'Who was it you saw snooping about?'

She wondered whether he meant Min, and shrugged. Let him make of that what he wanted!

Too late she realised that what Geb wanted to make was an enemy, and her insolence was all the excuse he needed. 'Spies,' he said, baring his teeth, 'die by Ordeal of the Lakes.'

A bolt of ice shot through her. 'D-drowning?'

'Oh, no, no, no, no.' It was the first time she'd heard him laugh, and hopefully the last. 'First, we burn our spies in the Lake of Fire, then we throw them in the Boiling Lake.'

'Set alight then boiled alive?'
Claudia felt the icy terror grip her throat. He was on to her. Geb was on to her! She pictured the torture which lay ahead. The fire which would sizzle up her flesh, the boiling cauldron which would cook it on the bone.

Nausea washed over her. Would Orbilio rescue her in time? Would fire bring her henchmen running? And what of those who came here with her? Would Flea be doomed to the same fate? And suppose Mercy voiced her suspicions about Junius? Sweet Jupiter, he'd have been better off taking his chances in the arena.

'Enemies of Ra must face hell on earth before their Day of Judgement. Fire and oil purifies their soul, and then -' unbelievably, he tickled her under the chin - 'yes, only then will their hearts weigh light at the balance. Come with me.'

'I—' she couldn't speak, her teeth were chattering. 'Look, I—'

To her astonishment, Geb threw back his head and rocked with laughter. She noticed that several of his back teeth were missing, the rest were brown or yellow.

'Scared you shitless, didn't I? Ho, you should have seen your face, when you thought I was accusing you.' The roaring subsided, and she'd guessed right. By one means or another, The Keeper of the Central Store terrified his victims into submission. 'So now whenever I ask a question, little missy,' he snarled, 'you bloody answer me. Who - did - you - see - here?'

'The light's too dim to tell.'

Thick fingers closed around her earlobe and pinched hard. 'Really?'

'All right, all right. I do know who it was.'

'Who?' Grinning, he let go.

'Min. The Grand Vizier was here, we . . . spoke for a few minutes.'

'Min?' The news seemed to unsettle him and several seconds ticked past before he said warily, 'No guard? Or someone dressed up like a guard?'

'No!' It came out as a shriek. Jupiter! It's not me Geb's suspicious of, he's on to
Marcus.
'No.' She cleared her throat and forced her voice to be level. 'Just me and Min.'

'Very bloody cosy,' he growled, then glanced across the stables to the entrance. 'Well, if you see anyone else snooping around, you come straight to me, you hear? Not Min. To
me.' 
He leaned forward, and his eyes bored into hers. 'Got that?'

She nodded. A meek sister, cowered by the master.

Geb grunted his approval, or at least she presumed it was approval, then said, 'It's time for the test, we'd better hurry.'

Test? 'I - urn.' Think, girl, think. 'I need the latrines,' she said urgently. Dammit, she had to get away from him.

'No time,' he said savagely. 'You'll have to cross your legs, and by the looks of you -' his eyes raked over the curve of her breasts, then followed the contours of her belly,

-
'you're the stuck-up sort of cow who keeps her knees together quite a lot.'

'For you, I'm prepared to use glue.'

Something growled deep in his throat, but whatever rejoinder he'd planned to make was cut short by the braying of silver trumpets from the temple. He grabbed her by the elbow and propelled her into the yard.

'You and I, missy, have unfinished business, but this is not the time.' He pressed his face close to hers, the commune unguent sticky in her throat. 'Later,' he rasped. 'Later, you'll account to Geb, you mark my words.'

With that, he strode off away and out of nowhere Mercy was at her side. 'Luck of the gods, girl, what did you do to get on the wrong side of him?'

'Oh. Is he cross?'

'Are you serious!' Grey hairs stuck out like a porcupine from Mercy's bun. 'His expression is like thunder, he's in a right old mood!' She linked her arm through Claudia's, and Claudia prayed it was a kindly gesture and not one of imprisonment. 'Steer clear of him, child, he's a bad one, trust me.'

Trust you, Mersyankh? I don't think so.

On the temple platform, the Holy Council was already assembled. Horus, with his falcon head. Hathor, the cow. Bast. Anubis. Thoth, the ibis, from whom no secret may be hid. White-robed priestesses rattled silver sistrums, the negro beat the great bronze tortoiseshell, and the High Priest with his shaven head gleaming with the heat sprinkled sacred water all around. Coils of choking incense rose from braziers set around the Boat of Ra, ablaze with its inset jewels and gold, its oars lifted high into the air as though shipped in some celestial harbour. To a low hum from the assembly on the platform, a set of balances was laid with reverence upon a black table set in front an alabaster sphinx.