Children of the Storm - Elizabeth Peters [97]
“Good God,” he exclaimed, and ran forward to catch hold of the animal’s bridle. “Maryam, what are you doing here?”
She was wearing the absurd flowered hat his mother had given her. She pushed it back from her face. “Have you seen him?” she gasped. “Is he here?”
“You mean Justin, I presume,” said Nefret’s cool voice from behind him. “What made you suppose he would come here?”
“He wanted to see the goddess. He’s talked of nothing else all day. Thank goodness you’re here! Please help us look for him.”
“We’ve been here for several hours,” David said. “We’ve seen no one.”
“He could be hiding somewhere.” Her voice rose. “He could have fallen, hit his head, he has no more sense than a child.”
Ramses had to admit it was possible. The enclosure wall was climbable in several places, and the tumbled stones provided plenty of cover. He could imagine Justin crouching behind some of them, hugging himself in childish delight as he spied on them and waited for the epiphany of the goddess.
“Oh, very well,” he said grudgingly. So much for his moonlight idyll. “Nefret, why don’t you call him?”
He turned toward his wife, and bit off an oath when he saw that she was holding a bow. An arrow was nocked and ready. “For God’s sake, Nefret! How did you—”
“Never mind,” she cut in. “Are you two the only searchers? Where is the devoted François? Who is this man?”
The Egyptian was a stranger to Ramses too. He bowed over the donkey’s neck and—of course—replied not to Nefret but to her husband. “I am a crewman on the Isis, lord. The others are searching the ruins on the other side of the wall.”
“Justin would be inside the enclosure,” Nefret said. “If he wanted a proper view.”
Maryam shouted, so piercingly and unexpectedly that they all jumped. “Justin! Justin, where are you? Answer me!”
She dismounted, stumbled, and caught hold of Ramses’s arm. In the distance Ramses heard others calling the boy, François’s gruff, accented voice among them.
“Get the torches, David,” Ramses said. “You and Lia go round to the left. We’ll have to look behind every bloody boulder, the little devil is playing hide-and-go-seek. Nefret, will you please put that goddamned bow down?”
“Language,” said Nefret sweetly.
David started toward the place where they had left their supplies. Before he reached it a quavering cry from Maryam drew all eyes to the temple. “Look! There, between the pylons—a woman—shining—glowing—”
Ramses tried to free himself from her convulsive grip but she hung on, her fingers clenched. The figure stood in the gateway, pale as a shaped column of alabaster—but it was no statue, it moved, raised flowing sleeves. He thought he saw a glitter of gold. Something whistled past him; he flung himself around, breaking Maryam’s grip, and snatched the bow from Nefret.
Lia let out a gasp of incongruous laughter. “You killed her.”
A crumpled shape lay on the ground where the figure had stood. When they reached it, they found an empty white robe, with Nefret’s arrow caught in its folds. It took several more minutes to find Justin, stretched across a broken column base like an ancient sacrifice. His hands were folded on his breast and his upturned face wore an ecstatic smile.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I presume you searched the entire area thoroughly,” I said, neatly decapitating my boiled egg. “But perhaps I ought to have a look round myself.”
Emerson lowered the piece of toast he had held poised in midair ever since Ramses began his account of the Affair at the Temple of Hathor, as I may term it. Slowly he turned his piercing blue gaze from his son to me.