Children of the Storm - Elizabeth Peters [84]
“Good Gad,” I exclaimed. “You haven’t taken up archery again, have you, Nefret? You were once expert at the sport, I know, but with the children around—”
“I’ve been very careful, Mother.” Nefret avoided her husband’s critical look; I could see that this was news to him too, and that he did not much like it.
“Hmmm,” I said. “Evelyn, are you sure you feel up to working today?”
“Of course.” She looked up with a smile. “I am enjoying it more than I can say. Sennia, dear, get your books and we will go.”
Sennia no longer objected to her lessons with Katherine, since she was allowed to learn drawing from Evelyn afterward. She trotted off and I accompanied Evelyn onto the veranda. Drawing on her gloves, she said gravely, “Do you think I should be armed, Amelia?”
I wanted to laugh and embrace her; but the solemnity of her sweet face in its frame of silvery hair warned me not to hurt her feelings. With equal gravity I inquired, “What sort of weapon did you have in mind, Evelyn? A pistol?”
“Dear me, no, Amelia, I am terrified of firearms and would probably shoot the wrong person. A knife, perhaps?”
The idea of gentle Evelyn plunging a knife into a human body would have struck most people as impossible. I had seen her do something almost as unbelievable, though, when she pumped four bullets into the chest of a thug while under the (happily erroneous) belief that he had murdered her husband. Gentle persons can be extremely dangerous when they are roused to maniacal fury by danger to those they love.
She saw my expression. Vehemently she exclaimed, “Do you suppose I could not act, if Sennia were threatened?”
“I believe you could and would,” I said, and meant it. “But, Evelyn, Gargery will be with you, and Abdul, the coachman, is a strong, devoted young fellow. There is absolutely no reason to suppose Sennia is in any danger.”
“We don’t know who is endangered,” Evelyn replied. “Do we?”
“Well—er—no. I have it! Take one of my parasols. You have, upon occasion, wielded one effectively.”
“The sword parasol?”
It was not really a request. She meant to have it. I heard Sennia’s voice, and said hurriedly, “All right, I’ll get it. Just don’t tell Emerson!”
I didn’t have to warn her not to tell Walter. He would raise a great fuss. Good gracious, I thought, as the carriage drove off, what a bellicose lot we have become! Evelyn with a sword, Sennia and Nefret with bow and arrow . . .
I might ask Nefret to give me a few lessons too.
And not tell Emerson.
FROM MANUSCRIPT H
* * *
“Damnation!” said Emerson. “Look at that! It will take hours to get them settled down to work.”
Ramses brought Risha to a stop beside his father’s mount. A crowd had gathered next to the blocked-off area of excavation behind the temple. In the center, his head rising over those of the shorter spectators, was Daoud. From his sweeping gestures it was evident that he was relating the dramatic events of the previous night.
“He’s entitled to his moment in the spotlight,” Ramses said tolerantly. “Not only did he lose his boat, but he almost drowned.”
Daoud proceeded to drown, sinking slowly down out of sight. A chorus of awed exclamations greeted the performance, erupting into cheers when his head popped up again and he began waving his arms.
The others, who had been following at a more leisurely pace, drew up beside them. “What’s going on?” Walter asked.
Lia giggled. “Daoud is dramatizing his rescue. I think those arm motions are meant to indicate swimming. Bless his heart, don’t stop him, he’s putting on a splendid performance.”
“Bah,” said Emerson.
Selim, standing on the outskirts of the crowd, was the first of the absorbed audience to notice them. He called out, “He is here, the Father of Curses. It is time—”
“Yes!” Daoud shouted. “They are here, my saviors! The Father of Curses and the Brother of Demons, who lifted me out of the water, and the others, the brave ones who faced death with smiling faces. They are heroes!”
A great cheer broke out. Hiding his smile behind his hand, Emerson muttered, “What a showman the old