Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [109]
She took another sip of whiskey and Ramses said quietly, “Go back a little. The shrine is near the palace? What was it like? Where were you? Sitting, standing, at what distance from the statue?”
She gave him a rueful smile. “Dear me, I was not as coherent as I had hoped, was I? Well. The statue was at one end of the room, which was relatively small: fifteen feet by twenty, at a guess. I was at the other end, behind a row of columns—lotus columns. They had placed a chair for me. There were lamps near the statue, but none where I was sitting. It was a pretty little place, almost homey compared with the Great Temple; the statue shone in the lamplight. It was pale gold—a good deal of silver mixed in, from the look of it. The goddess was standing, hands at her sides.”
“Well done,” Ramses said.
“How kind of you to say so” was the response, in her normal brisk voice. His mother did not appreciate kindly condescension, especially from him.
“Go on,” Emerson urged.
“Certainly. There were curtained doorways, one on either side of the statue; I was somewhat puzzled by the ambience, but I still expected Nefret would emerge from one of the doorways and come to me. Instead, the handmaidens popped out, clacking their rattles and sistra, whirling and chanting. Nefret was the last to appear. It seemed rude to interrupt the ceremony, but when she left, without so much as a glance at me, I am ashamed to admit that I—er—I rather lost my head.”
“How do you know it was Nefret?” Ramses asked. “I assume the girls were all veiled, including the Priestess.”
“You are correct. But my dear, I couldn’t mistake her. I know the way she moves, and those little hands, so much paler than those of the other girls, and the glimpses of golden hair…” Her voice faltered.
“Yes, all right,” Ramses said quickly. “It must have been distressing to see her and not be able to speak to her, or receive even a glance of acknowledgment; but she may not have known you were there.”
“That isn’t what concerns me. She…Oh, dear. It is difficult to explain. She didn’t falter once during that complex invocation. Every step was confident, every word correct. It was as if something or someone else were controlling her.”
“Good Gad,” Emerson exclaimed. “Peabody, what are you suggesting?”
“An afrit, perhaps,” said Daoud helpfully. He was the only one who hadn’t displayed signs of shock at that horribly evocative description. “You will cast it out, Father of Curses, when we have her back.”
“Yes, yes, certainly,” Emerson muttered.
“Stop it!” Ramses said angrily. “All of you. Mother, think. How do you know she performed the ceremony correctly? It’s been years since you saw her do it. For all you know, she may have been improvising.”
“It is difficult to improvise in such a complex dance,” his mother retorted, practical as always. “Nobody ran into anybody. However—you are right to remind me that we must not yield to superstition.”
“What about Daria?” Ramses asked. “Was she present?”
“Why, no, now that you mention it. Unless she was one of the dancers.”
“Most unlikely. The handmaidens are selected from the highest-born girls in the land, and they go through a rigorous training period,” Ramses said. “I expect they took Daria only because she was with Nefret, and they didn’t want to leave a witness. We can’t simply dismiss the girl, Mother. We brought her here, we are responsible for her.”
His father was pacing up and down the room. “No one has any intention of abandoning her, Ramses. We must see the king again and demand to speak with Nefret.”
“We can try,” Ramses said. “But he’s a wily devil; he said Mother could see Nefret, and see her she did.