Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [140]
As I had suspected, she was greedy and perhaps venal. Excellent, I thought. “I will give it when you come next,” I said. “And more, much more, if you bring my daughter the High Priestess to visit me.”
I had intended to work up to the suggestion more subtly, but Emerson hadn’t given me time. The girls glided out without replying.
The king had sent Amenislo and a dozen guards, commanded by the rude young officer. I was beginning to feel quite sorry for the poor count. Wasn’t there anyone else who could speak English well enough to interpret? A good many of the younger nobles, including Tarek, had learned the language from Nefret’s father. Were they all dead, or exiled with their king?
The count was so relieved when I announced we would come at once he collapsed like a deflating balloon and with the same sort of dying whistle. I delayed only long enough to take Selim aside for a brief whispered conversation.
“What was that all about?” Emerson inquired as we were led along the corridors.
“I will tell you when we are not likely to be overheard.” I glanced at Amenislo, who had edged up to me. He seemed to have something on his mind. “Yes?” I inquired politely.
“The woman disappeared,” Amenislo whispered. “From the guarded rooms of the High Priestess. How? Was it magic?”
I smiled enigmatically. “Guards do not impede us, Amenislo. Does His Majesty not know that?”
The count wiped the sweat from his face. “The king says do not speak of this. The people must not know.”
“Not much chance of that,” said Emerson, who had listened with interest. “A good many people already know, and they won’t be able to resist spreading the story.”
“And it will be embellished as it spreads,” I agreed. “Did we, perhaps, render the girl invisible? Or supply her with wings?”
“Wings?” Amenislo gasped. He flapped his arms. “She flew to the sky, to the god?”
“Oh, do go away, Amenislo,” I said impatiently.
The count fell back a few steps. I heard him whispering to one of the guards.
“Well done, Peabody,” said Emerson.
“Matters are developing quite nicely,” I agreed. “This is going to be a busy day, Emerson. I have just had another idea.”
“My blood runs cold,” said Emerson, grinning.
Once again we found ourselves alone with his illegitimate majesty, as Emerson termed him, and this time he had thoroughly lost his temper. He was stamping up and down the room, brandishing a sword, and he began shouting at us as soon as the entourage had been dismissed.
“What seems to be the trouble?” Emerson inquired interestedly.
“He is in such a temper I didn’t understand everything,” I replied. “But I believe he is demanding to know what we have done with the servant girl—I presume he means Daria—and Ramses. He appears to be threatening us with a number of unpleasant things if we don’t tell him where they have got to.”
“Tell him they flew away,” Emerson suggested.
This reply only aroused Zekare to greater fury. “I didn’t suppose he would believe it,” I remarked, as the king advanced on Emerson. His weapon was like that of Merasen, of steel instead of iron, with a handsomely decorated hilt. It appeared to be very sharp. Emerson, of course, stood his ground, even when the naked blade was only an inch from his chest. I raised my parasol.
“Back off, Peabody,” said Emerson out of the corner of his mouth. “I would as soon be run through as die of humiliation.”
“Now, now, keep calm and don’t move. Nobody is going to run anybody through.”
As I had expected, Zekare had no intention of killing the goose that might still be persuaded to lay golden eggs. Slowly he lowered his blade. “You lie,” he growled.
“Not lie,” I said quickly. “We have not enough words. You have not enough words. Your son—Amenislo—they have the words. Bring them to talk for us.”
The excuse obviously made sense to him, but after thinking it over, he shook his head. “Not Merasen. Not Amenislo.”
Ha, I thought. He doesn’t trust his son and he has doubts about the count. “Who?” I asked. “Who knows the words?”
I didn’t want to propose