Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 2 - Samarkand Solution by Gary Gygax Page A
Authors: Gary Gygax
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Matiseth with the comforts of his own apartment. Inhetep was certain that the paunchy little man would intercept the police just as efficiently, and that they would get the high priest's account first. This "consideration" for
Chemres was actually something altogether different, for it gave Setne the time he desired to question the rest of the witnesses.
The young subaltern was named Bekin-Tettu. The magister sought him out and explained that he would take sole charge of the detainees, and that this responsibility was now his alone should anything untoward occur. "You have performed very well, Subaltern. I shall keep the name Bekin-Tettu in mind and see that it is mentioned in my report as well."
"Thank you .. . Magister Inhetep. I ... I am uncertain as to how to properly address you now, hearing your most exhalted titles given to the maj—"
"Please!" Inhetep interjected with feeling. "You are to forget all that. The simple 'Magister' will suffice, thank you. I stand not on titles and am an utchat-neb now only honorarily, albeit under these circumstances I shall return to active service for a time, as is my prerogative. The murder of a royal governor is something which demands Pharaoh's attention, after all.
"When you have ushered your men out of the salon in which the suspects are held, I would appreciate it if you would find out if any of them noted unusual behavior of any sort while they guarded the suspects. When I am finished speaking with the guests, I'll find you and get that information from you. Agreed?"
"Yes, sir! I will be nearby, Magister," the subaltern said with a proud ring.
The room in which the group of men was being detained was large and had a dining table, chairs, and several couches. All fourteen of the murdered governor's guests were awaiting there, perforce. When Inhetep entered, they all tried to speak at once, demanding to know why they were being held, what was going on, and so forth. The tall priest-wizard raised his hands and motioned them to silence. "Gentlemen, if you please." His words were a command. "For those who do not know me, I am Magister Setne Inhetep. For the time, I am acting as an officer of Pharaoh's Utchatu, so consider this most official police business.
"You are each a witness to murder. There can be no question that His Excellent Highness Governor Ram-f-amsu was slain by some form of foul play." Someone started to protest, but Inhetep silenced that attempt. "Wait, wait. Each of you will have ample opportunity to speak. You are fortunate in a way. I was there to witness the final few seconds of the tragedy. None of you are now accused, but as each was there, you are material witnesses, if not suspects. You will be required to give full and complete statements. Formal questioning will occur soon, and what you have to say will be recorded by the agents of the metropolitan prefect of On. Meanwhile, I will have a few questions of my own.
"Some of you I know, and some are unfamiliar to me. No matter. I require that each of you state your name and the purpose of your being here tonight. To make this simple, let us begin at my left and work on round the room." Inhetep took out a small stylus, which was enchanted so as to have an inexhaustible supply of ink—an indispensable tool for the magister—then found his notebook. It too was magickal, and each word he wrote upon it shrunk and aligned itself so that a small page could hold what would literally fill a normal volume. Better still, unless one knew how to call up the material scribed there, his notes were no more than indecipherable little marks barely visible with a magnifying glass.
"Begin."
"Magister," said the first. "I am Nerhat-ab, a banker here in the city. The governor requested my presence in order to facilitate the changing of drafts and letters of credit. I was also called upon to assist in financing."
The magister nodded to the next man, a Levantine by his costume. "1 am Barogesh, a Phonecian investor with
Chemres was actually something altogether different, for it gave Setne the time he desired to question the rest of the witnesses.
The young subaltern was named Bekin-Tettu. The magister sought him out and explained that he would take sole charge of the detainees, and that this responsibility was now his alone should anything untoward occur. "You have performed very well, Subaltern. I shall keep the name Bekin-Tettu in mind and see that it is mentioned in my report as well."
"Thank you .. . Magister Inhetep. I ... I am uncertain as to how to properly address you now, hearing your most exhalted titles given to the maj—"
"Please!" Inhetep interjected with feeling. "You are to forget all that. The simple 'Magister' will suffice, thank you. I stand not on titles and am an utchat-neb now only honorarily, albeit under these circumstances I shall return to active service for a time, as is my prerogative. The murder of a royal governor is something which demands Pharaoh's attention, after all.
"When you have ushered your men out of the salon in which the suspects are held, I would appreciate it if you would find out if any of them noted unusual behavior of any sort while they guarded the suspects. When I am finished speaking with the guests, I'll find you and get that information from you. Agreed?"
"Yes, sir! I will be nearby, Magister," the subaltern said with a proud ring.
The room in which the group of men was being detained was large and had a dining table, chairs, and several couches. All fourteen of the murdered governor's guests were awaiting there, perforce. When Inhetep entered, they all tried to speak at once, demanding to know why they were being held, what was going on, and so forth. The tall priest-wizard raised his hands and motioned them to silence. "Gentlemen, if you please." His words were a command. "For those who do not know me, I am Magister Setne Inhetep. For the time, I am acting as an officer of Pharaoh's Utchatu, so consider this most official police business.
"You are each a witness to murder. There can be no question that His Excellent Highness Governor Ram-f-amsu was slain by some form of foul play." Someone started to protest, but Inhetep silenced that attempt. "Wait, wait. Each of you will have ample opportunity to speak. You are fortunate in a way. I was there to witness the final few seconds of the tragedy. None of you are now accused, but as each was there, you are material witnesses, if not suspects. You will be required to give full and complete statements. Formal questioning will occur soon, and what you have to say will be recorded by the agents of the metropolitan prefect of On. Meanwhile, I will have a few questions of my own.
"Some of you I know, and some are unfamiliar to me. No matter. I require that each of you state your name and the purpose of your being here tonight. To make this simple, let us begin at my left and work on round the room." Inhetep took out a small stylus, which was enchanted so as to have an inexhaustible supply of ink—an indispensable tool for the magister—then found his notebook. It too was magickal, and each word he wrote upon it shrunk and aligned itself so that a small page could hold what would literally fill a normal volume. Better still, unless one knew how to call up the material scribed there, his notes were no more than indecipherable little marks barely visible with a magnifying glass.
"Begin."
"Magister," said the first. "I am Nerhat-ab, a banker here in the city. The governor requested my presence in order to facilitate the changing of drafts and letters of credit. I was also called upon to assist in financing."
The magister nodded to the next man, a Levantine by his costume. "1 am Barogesh, a Phonecian investor with
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