Children of the Storm - Elizabeth Peters [158]
Now that the moment had come, I had to force myself to speak. Ramses was watching me intently, and so was the procurer.
“You sent us a warning once,” I said. “You said, if I remember correctly, that the young serpent . . . er . . .”
“Also had poisoned fangs. I remember, Sitt. I hope the warning came in time.”
“That remains to be seen,” I said, avoiding the astonished gaze of my son. “She is staying with us now. I have no reason to believe she means us harm, but I must know what prompted your words. Her marriage to the American gentleman ended badly, and she is—”
“Marriage? American?” His eyes widened until the kohl rimming them cracked.
“You must have known of it,” I said. “You are reputed to know everything.”
“I knew. But, Sitt Hakim, it was not that one I meant. It was the other one.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
FROM MANUSCRIPT H
* * *
Nefret did not learn of her husband’s deception—as she viewed it—until midday, when her father-in-law burst into the surgery. The patient was a woman, whom Nefret was treating for a breast lesion. She let out a squawk of offended modesty, and Emerson backed out as quickly as he had entered. “How much longer will you be?” he shouted from the next room.
“Not long.” She sent the woman away with a little pot of ointment and went into the waiting room. Emerson was stamping up and down, swearing.
“Read this.” He thrust a crumpled paper at her. None of the chairs in the waiting room was occupied; if there had been other patients, they had beat a hasty retreat. “No man dares face the wrath of the Father of Curses.”
Wrathful he was, blue eyes snapping, teeth bared. “Well?” he demanded. “Do you know anything about this?”
Nefret’s own anger rose as she read the brief message. “ ‘Ramses and I have gone off on a little expedition. We will be back this evening. In the event that we have not returned by tomorrow morning you may look for us at a village called El-Hilleh, approximately three miles south of Esna, on the West Bank. I consider this contingency highly unlikely, however. À bientôt, my dear Emerson.’ “
“Damn him,” Nefret said, closing her fist over the paper.
“Ah,” said Emerson, in a less accusatory voice. “They didn’t tell you either.”
“No. She considers it highly unlikely that they will fail to return, does she? What is this village?”
“The name means nothing to me.” Emerson took out his pipe, remembered that she didn’t allow it in the clinic, and started for the door. “Let us ask Selim.”
“No!” Nefret whipped off her gown and tossed it onto a chair. “I won’t have Selim worried. Come outside, Father.”
A feathery tamarisk tree gave partial shade to a wooden bench which had been placed there for the accommodation of patients when the waiting room was full. Emerson sat down and filled his pipe. “Now, now, my dear, don’t be upset. She does this sort of thing all the time, you know.”
“He doesn’t. He swore to me he would never go off on his own again.” Nefret tucked a stray lock of hair under her cap. Her fingers were shaking.
“He’s not alone,” Emerson pointed out. “Don’t blame Ramses; if I know my wife, and I believe I do, she insisted he keep it a secret.”
“He could have refused. There are other loyalties.” The knowledge that Ramses was with his mother did not give her the comfort Emerson had intended. “She’s as bad as he is,” Nefret burst out. “The two of them together . . .”
“Hmmm, well, er.” Unable to refute this, Emerson smoked in silence for a few moments. “They must have caught the southbound train. There isn’t another until this evening.”
“We could take the horses. How far is this place?”
“Over thirty miles. It sounds as if they expect to catch the afternoon train back to Luxor. Hmph. That would give them only a few hours in the cursed place. I wonder what . . .” He shook his head in exasperation. “There is no sense in speculating, or in following them. If the northbound train is on time, they will be on their way back by the time we get there.”
“How can you be so complacent? Aren’t you angry?”
“I was briefly put out,” Emerson admitted.