Children of the Storm - Elizabeth Peters [185]
“No wonder she avoided me,” Sethos said grimly. “I knew the—I knew her well. That explains Martinelli. They were bitter enemies. That isn’t good news. She was one of Bertha’s most ruthless assistants.”
“Justin is equally ruthless,” Nefret said. “He—she—isn’t quite normal.”
She went on to describe her last conversation with Emerson, and his insistence that she leave him. “I would never have made it if he hadn’t been there,” she said simply. “It was impossible not to live up to his faith in my abilities and my nerve. But I did come close to breaking down when I saw the Amelia pass by earlier today.”
“It must have been horrible,” I said sympathetically. “Where were you?”
“On one of the islands in midstream. I was trying to swim to shore when I was struck by a floating log. I managed to hang on to it until it came aground, but my shoulder was hit—”
Ramses took his arm away. “Why didn’t you tell me when I grabbed hold of you? Did I hurt you?”
She touched his cheek. “I didn’t even feel it. I never dared hope I would see you so soon, even after I finally managed to attract the attention of a fisherman from the village. Once I had identified myself, they couldn’t do enough for me. Late in the afternoon they got word that the Amelia was heading back this way, and the whole village piled into their boats, they were so anxious to be the first to give you the news. Now tell me what happened after I left the clinic. Is everyone—are they—”
“Oh, my dear,” I said. “I ought to have reassured you immediately. The children are safe—they are all safe—and the house is well guarded.”
“So,” said Daoud, who had been listening with interest but with increasing signs of impatience, “now we must think how to rescue the Father of Curses.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
After Ramses had gone ashore, accompanied by Reis Hassan, I persuaded Nefret to rest for a while. She declared she was too keyed-up to sleep, but as soon as her head touched the pillow her weary eyes closed. I stood looking down at her, watching the lines of pain and worry smoothed by the benevolent hand of Hypnos, and thanking Heaven for her preservation. She had made light of her own suffering and struggle, but I knew what she must have gone through. I dared not think of what Emerson was still enduring.
The rest of us sat talking in low voices, so as not to waken her. Daoud had, with the acumen that sometimes marked him, hit the nail square on the head. We might be able to find the Isis before she waylaid the steamer, but while Emerson was a prisoner we were powerless to prevent an attack.
“I’d give up the whole goldurned treasure rather than see him come to harm,” Cyrus declared.
“That is very noble of you, Cyrus, considering that the treasure isn’t yours to dispose of,” I retorted, and immediately repented my rudeness when I saw his hurt expression. “Forgive me, Cyrus. I did not express myself well. What I meant to say was that M. Lacau may not share your sentiments.”
“That’s okay, Amelia, I understand.”
“We cannot allow them to take the steamer,” I went on. “And we cannot attack the Isis openly until Emerson has been freed.”
“Attack?” Bertie echoed. “What with, a few rifles, when they are probably armed to the teeth? I don’t like the odds, Mrs. Amelia. Cyrus is right, let ’em take the confounded treasure. They won’t get away with it. We’ll track them down.”
“It is not the treasure I am thinking of, but the lives of the men on the steamer.”
Bertie’s brow furrowed. “Oh, Lord. They wouldn’t really kill all those people, would they?”
“I am convinced of it. I remember Matilda well; she was a worthy disciple of her mistress. In my opinion, the young woman is even more dangerous. She has exhibited evidence of severe mental disturbance.”
“Then there’s my dear little daughter,” said Sethos. He reached for a cigarette. His hand was steady. “What a pretty trio they make.”
An uncomfortable silence followed. Cyrus looked away, and Bertie bit his lip. I had observed his increasing interest in Maryam. It is painful for a young fellow to