Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [124]
It ended with our agreeing to appear at a formal ceremony in five days’ time. It was longer than I had dared hope for. We ought to be able to think of a way out in five days! In exchange, I was to be taken to see and speak with Nefret.
“Today,” I said firmly.
The king nodded. “Go to your house. One will come for you. Today,” he added, and actually smiled.
“He is rather a pleasant chap,” I remarked, as we joined Daoud and Selim and started back to our quarters.
“Pleasant villain,” grunted Emerson. “I want to go with you, Peabody.”
“Impossible, my dear. Let us settle for what we can get. The language barrier proved quite useful, didn’t it? You were unable to agree to specific demands since you couldn’t understand them, and he was unable to pursue his questions about a number of matters we might have found embarrassing.”
“But I was unable to pursue my questions about a number of matters,” Emerson said grumpily. “Does he know Merasen is harboring an outsider? Does he know about the other white man? Who is on whose side? Whom can we believe?”
“One thing at a time, Emerson. The first thing is to talk with Nefret and tell her…What?”
By the time “one” came to fetch me, we had settled that question. “One” turned out to be Count Amenislo. I rejected the litter he had brought and made him walk with me instead of getting into his.
“A little exercise will do you good,” I informed him, setting a pace that made the count’s jowls and lower back area wobble. “We aren’t going far, are we?”
“The shrine of Isis,” Amenislo panted. “But this is not…proper. People…are looking.”
They were, and no wonder. I returned the stares of passersby with a wave of my parasol, while Amenislo covered his face with his sleeve in an attempt to avoid recognition. I trotted him all the way up to the courtyard of the temple, where he stopped and leaned against a column.
“I wait,” he gasped. “Go on. There.”
“You are not ritually pure?” I inquired. “Neither am I, you know.”
“Uh,” said Amenislo.
I felt rather ashamed of myself when I saw the perspiration streaming down his face. It was not worthy of me to torment such a hapless victim. I patted him on the arm.
“If it doesn’t bother the priests, it doesn’t bother me,” I said cheerfully.
One of them was waiting for me in the shade of the arcade across the courtyard. Shaven head and spotless white robes proclaimed his status; bowing, he ushered me into the chamber where the goddess gleamed from her pedestal. He picked up one of the lamps that rested on shoulder-high stands and beckoned me to follow him through one of the curtained doorways.
The lamp was primitive, if gracefully shaped, of some translucent stone like alabaster. It gave little light; the end of the stone-cut corridor we had entered was shrouded in darkness until we were almost upon it. Here the passage turned, first to the right, and after a short distance, right again. We were heading back in the same direction. Then came another abrupt turn, to the left, and I saw light ahead—a faint glow shining through a linen curtain. My guide swept this aside and motioned me to enter.
Several lamps burned here, illumining a small chamber whose walls were covered with hangings. How many doorways behind them? I wondered. How many intersecting passages had we passed? The place was a confounded maze, deliberately designed to confuse an intruder. I could only pray that Ramses had abandoned his idea of reaching Nefret through the temple. If he attempted this route he would be caught or hopelessly lost. This room was obviously not part of the High Priestess’s living quarters; it contained only a few stools and a small folding table.
The priest had gone. I was alone.
All to the good, I thought, squaring my shoulders. It will give me a chance to explore. Moving along the walls, I lifted one hanging after another, finding, as I had expected, other