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“Let’s get back to the dispensary and organize ourselves. Then we can return to the vizier’s house when we have specific things to ask. Besides, Grandfather was going to wait there for us, remember? He must think we’ve fallen down a well.” As they approached the gate of the little property, they could hear the wild whoops of the orphans playing in the garden. “You know,” said Neferet to Bener-ib, “Qen and Shu-roy are getting old enough to be apprenticed. We need to talk to In-hapy.”
“Poor In-hapy.” Mut-tuy cast her eyes to the heavens. “Three of those snot-nosed turds.”
“Your brothers aren’t turds, Mut-tuy,” Bener-ib said. “And certainly Hu-may isn’t. In-hapy says he’s a serious boy and a very good worker. She lets him do a lot of grown-up jobs. You should be proud of him.”
The adolescent made sniffy noises of disbelief, but a reluctant smile twitched at her mouth nonetheless. As they pushed their way inside the yard, the four dogs swarmed them joyfully. Brute looked reproachful.
“I don’t think they would’ve appreciated you in the kitchen, boy. They would’ve thought you’d be stealing food. But we know you better than that, don’t we?” Neferet ruffled his ears back and forth.
From within the house, Grandfather called, “Are you finally back, then?” He appeared in the doorway. “I’ve performed several surgeries in your absence. I hope that’s all right.”
Neferet threw back her head and whooped with laughter. “Better you than me, Grandfather.” She led the way into the salon, which was fortunately empty of waiting patients. “We talked to Neb-ma-ra. He’s totally disagreeable and very ambitious, so I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he killed off the man who was in his way. And guess what? Until two years ago, he worked for Lord Ptah-mes. I didn’t even know it, but there he was, under our roof.”
Grandfather raised his thickety eyebrows. “And no one was poisoned? You got off lightly, my girl.”
“But here’s the thing—the infamous date paste wasn’t poison. What did Int-ef eat after all that killed him? Something nobody else seemed to touch. We’re sure it was his lunch.”
Everyone looked up as the four kittens entered in a line, like a donkey train from the desert. The sunets had named them for the Sons of Haru—Im-sety, Hapy, Dua-mut-ef, and Qebeh-sen-ef—but as far as Neferet was concerned, they were deceptively adorable creatures of darkness. Nothing was safe from their depredations. They knocked off jars of balm and broke them, pulled down drying herbs, and unrolled bandages. The old dogs wagged their tails in greeting—perhaps afraid of what the little thugs would exact from them otherwise—but Brute eyed them severely as the feline foursome approached him, and they turned away.
“I see they’re still alive.” Neferet stretched out a hand, and one of the four approached to sniff then capered off.
“Yes. I kept an eye on them. No convulsions. No vomiting. Behavior perfectly normal,” Grandfather said. “Why don’t I accompany you to the vizier’s kitchen next time you go, ladies?”
“Bored, Grandfather?” Neferet shot him an evil grin. “Just taking care of the infirmary not exciting enough?”
“I can vouch for that,” grumbled Mut-tuy.
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