Children of the Storm - Elizabeth Peters [109]
This time it passed directly overhead, so low that I could see the concentric circles of red, white, and blue on the wings, and the heads of two persons protruding from the body of the machine. Their faces were concealed by helmets and goggles. One of them raised an arm and gestured.
“Damnation!” Emerson exclaimed. “What does the damned fool think he’s doing?”
“He wants to land,” Ramses said in disbelief. “On this side of the river.”
He ran toward the shelter where we had left the horses, vaulted onto Risha’s back, and set the stallion at a gallop toward the road that led around the hill of Kurnet Murai toward the river.
“Where is he going?” Nefret demanded. She tore her eyes from the plane, which was making another circle, and started after Ramses.
Emerson moved with long strides toward the horses. “To guide them to a suitable landing place, I presume. Why they aren’t landing on the East Bank, where there are great stretches of empty desert, I cannot imagine.”
“Wait for me!” I cried, and ran after him. Nefret and David had already mounted.
Our assistance, I felt sure, would be needed. The stretch of low desert between the cultivation and the cliffs was rock-strewn and hilly, with pits and tombs and ruins all over the place. How much space an aeroplane required to land I did not know, but the main tourist road seemed to offer the best possibility. When we reached it the aeroplane was circling again, while Ramses tried to get donkeys, carts, camels, and people off a relatively level stretch. It was not an easy task, since they were running in all directions, some scampering for cover, the braver and more curious trying to get closer. By dint of shouting, shoving, and, in a few cases, towing balky mules and arrogant camels, we managed to empty a part of the road, though it was lined with spectators.
“That should do it,” Ramses panted. Turning, he shouted Arabic curses at a camel driver who was edging closer. “Keep back!”
“What is he waiting for?” Emerson asked.
“Something to do with the wind,” Ramses replied. He rose in the stirrups and waved. The import of his gestures eluded me, but they must have meant something to the pilot, for on its next approach the machine came in for a landing. The wheels touched the ground; in a series of alarming bounces and at considerable speed it rushed toward us. The remaining spectators scattered, shrieking and braying, and finally the machine jolted to a stop.
“Nobody hurt, thank God!” Emerson growled. “I will just have a word with the damned fool and ask him what he means by this.”
The aeroplane had stopped several hundred feet away. Everyone converged on it except the donkeys, who were unaccustomed to loud noises and were kicking and braying. I followed more slowly. I had just had one of my premonitions.
When I arrived on the scene the pilot had removed his headgear and was shouting cheerfully at the audience. “Get away, you fellows. Imshi! Clear off or I will tell the big bird to bite you.”
The second man, in the observer’s seat, waited until I came up before unmasking. “Ah, Amelia, there you are. Good afternoon, everyone.”
“You!” Emerson croaked.
“Weren’t you expecting me?”
“Not in this fashion,” I said.
Sethos gave me a provoking smile. Like his brother, whom he closely resembled, he was a handsome man, but his face was discolored and not so well-shaped as usual. It looked to me as if someone had given him a severe beating. “I was in a hurry,” he explained. “Rob was good enough to give me a lift. Flight lieutenant Wickins, may I present you to Mrs. Emerson, her husband, Professor—”
“Not now, for pity’s sake!” I exclaimed. “Get out of that cursed machine at once!”
Sethos shifted position, winced theatrically, and reached out to Emerson. “Give me a hand, will you, old chap? I am a trifle stiff.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lieutenant Wickins politely declined my invitation to join us for tea.
“Can’t leave the old bus unguarded, ma’am, these beggars will strip off everything they can carry. Must start back anyhow. Due for a nasty wigging from my C.O. as it is. Absent