Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [128]
I let him grumble on; his premise was absurd, but complaint relieved his feelings. In fact, I had had second thoughts about the button—not the object itself but the circumstances surrounding its loss. They did not fit the theory of attempted abduction. One man, not several, had stood outside my door and remained there long after Emerson’s deep respirations had betrayed his presence beside me—long after his actual presence must have been seen by the burning eyes of the watcher. The deep sighs, the silent contemplation brought to mind…But I feel certain my intelligent Readers have anticipated me. I had not determined what steps to take, but there was no doubt in my mind that it would be a serious error to mention the idea to Emerson.
Selim was surrounded by a staring crowd. He always enjoys being the center of attention, and he made the most of it, taking exposure after exposure with the camera and barking orders at Daoud, who was assisting. Among the audience were several shaven-headed priests, half a dozen soldiers, and a miscellaneous collection of ordinary citizens, including a few children and a lady in a litter, whose black-wigged head protruded through the curtains.
“They told me to stop,” Selim said, indicating the priests. “I did as you said, Sitt Hakim, and paid no attention. Did you see her?”
“Yes, and spoke with her. I will tell you about it later. Have you finished here?”
“One more,” said Selim. With his most charming smile, he pointed the camera at the lady in the litter.
“I explained to them what it was for,” Selim went on as the lady simpered and raised a ringed hand to adjust her wig.
“How?” I demanded, amused and bemused.
“With signs and pictures drawn in the dust. I have learned a few words…” He proceeded to use one of them, calling out, “Beautiful!” and smiling even more broadly at his subject.
“Astonishing, isn’t it, how people respond to a camera?” Emerson remarked. The lady bared her teeth and tilted her head, her eyes fixed on Selim. Several spectators tried to crowd closer. “They are hypnotized by the confounded thing. No one is even looking at us. I wonder what other words Selim has learned?”
“Never mind,” I said severely. “Come along now, we have a great many things to discuss.”
“And to do,” said Emerson. “What do you say we give a little soiree this evening, Peabody?”
“It is rather short notice, Emerson. Whom do you plan to invite?”
“Everybody, Peabody. The high priests, the captain of the guard, Merasen and his—er—guest, and His Majesty. He won’t come, but it would be rude not to include him in the invitation. We will also invite the High Priestess of Isis and her attendants.”
“She won’t be allowed, Emerson.”
“It can’t do any harm to ask, Peabody. From now on we will proceed as if we had every right to do anything we choose. We have come to a friendly agreement with Zekare, haven’t we? We are allies, aren’t we?”
It took a while to convey our wishes to the servants, but once they got the idea they scattered to make the necessary preparations and to send messages to our intended guests. While I was giving my orders, Emerson wandered out into the garden. He returned to report that there was no message attached to the vine we had lowered from the wall and no sign that anyone had been near it.
“It is too soon to hear from him, I suppose,” I said, attempting to conceal my disappointment. “But I do wish we could find a more reliable way of communicating with him. The situation is changing, almost hour by hour. We must…What is this?”
One of the women servants had entered carrying a large tray. Daoud politely took it from her and put it down on the floor. “She asked if we wanted food”—he rubbed his stomach and pointed to his mouth—“and I said yes. It has been many hours since the