Read City of the Dead for Free Online

will find answers, Hasina. I promise. Mentu will have justice.”
    She dropped to the ground again, and her children formed a circle around her, a shield from the truth. But what was the truth? Why had Mentu lied to his wife, and where had he gone after I had left him two nights ago?
    I escaped the house and ran to the central streets of the village, to the square where the leisure of old men and children fostered gossip.
    As expected, the square teemed with people. There a group of white-haired men huddled around a game board of square blocks, tossing clay pieces and grunting at each other’s good fortune. I slid onto a stone bench beside one of them. Their game paused, and one toothless man squinted up at me, wordless. Nonchalance seemed absurd, but I knew better than to begin with questions.
    “So whom do the gods favor today?”
    A puckered man at the end of the bench wheezed out a laugh. “We will be favored when our bodies are renewed to live again.” He coughed. “Here, we merely spend our days waiting.”
    I nodded as though I could sympathize and joined them in watching those who milled about the square. My presence drew glances from able men who should have been working, which led to furtive dodges into cross streets and alleys. These men could come up with a hundred excuses to be absent from the project, but the scribes kept careful attendance, and one could not escape their duties for long. Still, today there seemed to be an inordinate number of men at leisure.
    “You have heard about Mentu?” I finally asked, still watching the square.
    Grunts were returned to me.
    “I seek justice, but I know of no enemies who would wish him dead.” I turned and eyed each of the men. “Do any of you know who would want to send him to the west?”
    My question was met with shrugs and averted glances. The talkative one on the end leaned forward. His watery eyes wandered over me, and a spindly finger stirred the hot air before his eyes. “Leave justice—and questions—to the gods,” he said in a reedy voice. “There is nothing here that will bring good.”
    I frowned. “What do you know?”
    His shoulders hunched again, and he seemed to retreat.
    A hand on my shoulder startled me. The supervisor of designs stood beside me. “Grand Vizier, there is a problem with the new design. Itennu is fuming that your drawings for the upper corridor are off by two seqeds, and the corbelling will be faulty. He asks that you come immediately.”
    I growled. The old men were too slow to give up their secrets. “I will come soon,” I said to the supervisor. “Tell Itenna to push forward.”
    The men had returned to their game of Senet while I was distracted. “A man discovers divine truth and order by asking questions,” I said. “Why do you tell me to stop?”
    One looked up, but his eyes moved to something behind me. I turned to find Chuma, one of Khons’s supervisors.
    “What is it now?” I stood and stared him down.
    “The Aswan granite shipment, Grand Vizier.”
    “Yes? What of it?”
    “It has arrived.”
    I exhaled loudly and closed my eyes. “What concern is that of mine? Can no one do his job without my holding his hand?”
    Chuma cleared his throat. “Mentu-hotep usually receives the shipments and instructs the laborers as to where to place the granite.”
    I tried to roll the tension from my shoulders and looked away. Another man of working age passed through the square, saw me and scurried for cover.
    “Why are so many men about?”
    Chuma followed my gaze. “The Victorious Gang and the Enduring Gang are not working.”
    “What? Why?”
    Chuma shrugged. “Without Mentu, the supervisors are waiting for instructions. The men have no assigned tasks.”
    “This is madness! The incompetence and—” I clamped my jaw closed. At a time when we should be increasing our pace, the work had come to a standstill, unable to move forward without Mentu. A fresh pang of grief stabbed at me. I slapped Chuma’s