Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [169]
“Now what?” Nefret inquired.
“Now we wait,” I replied, taking a seat on one of the divans. “The rest of you may as well sit down and be comfortable.”
“We could hide,” Nefret said. “When they come for us. In the subterranean passages.”
“I had of course considered that possibility,” I replied. “But I do not think it would be a wise move.”
In fact, I could not bear the thought of cowering in the dark, in ignorance of the fate of those I loved, while Emerson and Ramses were fighting for our lives. They might need me. Coups are never neat and clean, there are always pockets of resistance, and I felt certain that Zekare would make a last stand in the palace with the men who remained loyal to him.
We waited for some time. The delay did not sit well with Selim or with the captain; they paced restlessly up and down the room. I considered it a good omen, however, a sign that Zekare was too busy with other affairs, such as disaffection in the ranks of his men, to concern himself with us. Selim wanted to go out again, to see what was happening, but I would not let him. The longer we could delay, the better.
We had left the door open so we might have warning of persons approaching. When we heard the footsteps, Nefret let out a little cry. (What on earth was wrong with the girl?) Selim sprang to my side and Moroney clenched his fists. The only one who did not move was Daoud. He, sensible man, was waiting for my orders.
The delegation was headed by the High Priest of Aminreh himself. I looked in vain for Amenislo among the courtiers who accompanied him. That, I feared, was not a good omen. Had Zekare learned of his treachery?
Apparently the servants had had the good sense to go into hiding instead of reporting to the king. Bakamani’s formidable countenance took on an extremely foolish look when he saw Nefret and me sitting side by side on the divan, dressed alike in trousers and coats.
“Why is this?” he demanded. “Why are you not ready for the ceremony? Where are the others? And who”—he leveled an accusing forefinger at Nefret, who drew back a little—“who is she?”
“My doppelgänger,” I said. Nefret chuckled. It was a faint imitation of her melodious laugh, but I considered it was a good sign.
I had to admire the fellow. He was quick to comprehend a situation that would have baffled most people for much longer. His eyes narrowed. “The High Priestess,” he said flatly. “So she is here. Good. She will come too. Assume your robes.”
“No,” I said without moving.
“Yes! Do as I say!”
“No,” I repeated. “See here, Bakamani—er—curse it, Nefret, translate for me, will you please? Your Reverence, there is no need for a confrontation. Go back and tell the king we will come, but we will wear our own garments. The people will not know us if we are dressed differently. Is that not so?” I waved my parasol in an un-threatening manner.
“You will come?”
“Yes, certainly. All of us.”
“Where is the Father of Curses?”
“At the moment? I have no idea. No doubt he will join us in due course.” He hesitated, and I went on, “You had better take what you can get, you know. If you try to bring us by force, someone will be injured, and I do not think the king would want that. Now run along and tell Zekare what I have said. We will await your return.”
He swung round, the skirts of his long robe billowing around him, and stalked out, leaving several spearmen on guard.
“Good heavens,” said Moroney, staring. “Mrs. Emerson, you really are the most—”
“Thank you,” I said. “Conquer by confusion, I always say. I took Bakamani to be a man of sense rather than temper, and I was correct. I could not have dealt so easily with Merasen, who has no sense and a very bad temper. I wonder where the little wretch is?”
Nefret got to her feet and went into the garden. After a moment I followed. It was very still and peaceful there, the lilies on the surface of the water folding their petals and the vines rustling in the breeze. Nefret was looking up over the wall at the western sky. “It lacks less than an hour of sunset,