The City of Refuge: Book 1 of The Memphis Cycle by Diana Wilder

each cluster lay dome-shaped ovens, some shattered and open, others as spruce and spotless as though they had been used the day before. A cat, busily washing its face on a high, sun-flooded ledge, fixed them with an unblinking stare as they passed.
    Khonsu turned to look over his shoulder at the 'Northern Sentinels' that Nebamun had pointed out the night before.
    “Splendid, aren't they?” said Mersu. The sculptor was looking around with unabashed enjoyment.
    Caught in the growing grip of a thought, Khonsu said, “You're well-acquainted with His Grace, Master Sculptor, aren't you?”
    Mersu's bleary features contracted in a wry smile. “I know him as well as anyone does,” he said. “But that isn't saying much. I know him well enough to trust my life to him and believe anything he tells me.”
    “How long have you known Lord Nebamun?” Khonsu asked, a corner of his mind remembering the past night.
    Mersu considered. “Lord Nebamun?” he repeated. “Oh, I came to the temple of Ptah from Akhmin in the third year of His Majesty's reign. That was...just over ten years ago. His Grace had just been named Second Prophet. That was the first time I met Lord Nebamun.”
    “I see,” said Khonsu, frowning ahead at the Second Prophet's back. “He has never been to Akhet-Aten, then.”
    Mersu smiled and shrugged. “To my certain knowledge Lord Nebamun hasn't been to Akhet-Aten in this life.”
    Khonsu nodded. “This life's the only one I'm concerned with,” he said.

VIII Akhet-Aten
     
    The ships had arrived at Akhet-Aten half a day in advance of Khonsu's group, giving his second, Karoya, time to assemble his men in the central square and await the arrival of the main force. His bearing was a mixture of relief and defensiveness that deepened as Khonsu, hiding a smile, gravely presented him with the hyena pelt.
    Karoya stared blankly at it. “What's this?” he demanded.
    “A ghost,” Khonsu replied. “Brought down by His Grace himself last night. We saw another, as well: an owl. Did you think to look for owls, Karoya? They're good at haunting cities.”
    Karoya's dark cheeks reddened. “They may explain the noise and the shadows, but I would like to see the owl and the hyena that collapsed the section of quarry and killed those men!”
    “As do I, Captain Karoya,” Lord Nebamun said calmly from behind them. “Perhaps you can tell me of these ghosts while we have a quick tour of the palace before we dine.”
    **   **   **
    Khonsu gazed down at the frescoed marsh beneath his feet. The painting covered the floor of the antechamber to the audience hall. The reeds seemed to sway in the unseen breeze that ruffled the surface of the water. Brightly colored birds darted in and out of the sun-stippled greenery. Khonsu could almost catch the rich, heavy scent of the Lotus blossoms floating on the river. If he closed his eyes, he thought, he would hear the wind rustling through the reeds and the sigh of the Nile against its banks.
    So beautiful, like the rest of the palace, resplendent with inlays of faience, with splendidly frescoed walls and floors in all the shades of the river and the marshes, built to catch the breezes and cool the glare of the sun. He could catch the last lingering echoes of a faint, almost sweet aura of peace and affection, but it all seemed to be coming from far away and somehow overpoweringly sad...
    Nebamun had been fingering his Udjat amulet and gazing around almost with the bemused air of one returning home after a long absence. He asked Karoya, “Where have you been living since your arrival time at this city?”
    Karoya bowed. “We stayed here in the palace until the “ghost” appeared, Your Grace,” he said. “We policed the palace buildings for you. The smaller places were wrecked. I suspect some of the intruders were looking for hoards of jewelry. A goldsmith's house in the northern sector was all but torn apart.”
    Nebamun gazed at the beautifully tiled and painted walls pricked