Doctor Who_ Set Piece - Kate Orman [57]
Kadiatu steered the Doctor around the littleboy and to the kitchen table.
From somewhere, a skinny woman in a grey dress emerged; despite the summer warmth, she had a black shawl wrapped around her narrow shoulders.
She brought cutlery, glasses, the remains of a leg of lamb. Kadiatu started removing great slices of meat from it while their hostess set down plates and a bowl of apples.
M Thierry did not bother to introduce his wife. ‘This poor old farmhouse has taken more shells than my other home in Paris. Whole trees blown up, pan!’
He made the explosion with his hands. ‘I’m sometimes not certain whether we’d be safer with Mlle Lethbridge-Stewart inside the walls of Paris. I remain here to try to continue running my business, but I sleep in the cellar with the wine!’
He patted Kadiatu on the hand. ‘I’m pleased you’re here. I feel a little guilty leaving you to the mercy of the Communards – or at least I did before today.
I think you would eat the rogues alive.’
109
The littleboy was playing with his mouse-trap, pulling back the killing bar and letting it snap against the bait.
‘It’s the Doctor’s safety I’m worried about now,’ said Kadiatu. ‘The Ants found him so easily.’
‘Yes,’ said the Doctor, ‘it makes you wonder why they waited for me to wake up first.’
Kadiatu threw him a sharp glance. ‘They would have ways to locate my ship,’ she explained to Thierry. ‘Anything from another time.’
‘There is nothing like that here,’ said their host reassuringly. ‘The worst we have to fear here is one army or other marching through my orchard in their big boots.’
‘Well, then,’ said Kadiatu, ‘what are we going to do?’
Life in Egypt was one long party. If you had the money. And the King’s parties were the best raves of all.
Ace stretched luxuriously, feeling muscles rippling below her tanned skin.
She felt at home, no images or memories throwing themselves up into her consciousness. No dreams. No distractions. Wu wei. She was an unsheathed knife – and nothing else.
The Setites milled about in the palace courtyard, chatting casually with acquaintances and friends. Some of them had been invited to this little soirée.
She hadn’t, but then, she was just a woman. Who was going to take any notice of her?
She’d thrown a scarlet sash over her shoulders, hiding the scar. Her skin was still too light, but it was night-time, and already the guests had stuffed themselves with food and drink and were sliding under the tables with wine running down their bellies. She’d just be part of the background blur.
Bloody typical. Bloody politicians. Filling their stomachs while Egypt fell apart.
She went to the door of the main hall, peered in. There were blind musicians playing, women dancing bare-breasted with great metallic spheres attached to their long pigtails, swinging and swaying as they moved. The air was a thick mixture of incense, perfume, alcohol.
The Pharaoh sat at the far end of the hall, on a raised dais. He was dandling a small girl on his lap. A woman, evidently the Queen, sat beside him. As Ace watched, she reached over, playfully tickled the child under the chin.
Pretty pretty. Happy families.
Just for a moment something bobbed to the surface of her empty mind. The image of a woman laughing, her embroidered sleeve in front of her mouth. A woman laughing because she’d been given an order, an order to do something silly.
110
She shook her head, and was empty again.
This was the first time Ace had seen Pharaoh. From what Sesehset told her, he was in the habit of making appearances with the wife and kiddies, being worshipped by his adoring subjects – while the soldiers looked on, making sure that everybody cheered.
It was simple. They went into the party. Ace waited for Pharaoh to leave.
She followed him, overpowered his guards and bore him away under cover of darkness. Then the