Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [180]
They had reached the top of the long staircase that led down to the road. Tarek took Ramses’s arm, to guard against a stumble, and Ramses let it remain.
“There is one thing more I must tell you,” Tarek said. “I put you under the spell ten years ago. The wisewoman had taught me how to do it. I meant to place a call in your mind that would bring you here. Do you know whose voice it was you heard?”
“Yes.” Ramses hesitated. It was insane, but no more insane than the whole conversation. “Hers. Nefret’s.”
“I thought so.” Tarek sighed. “I did not put her voice in your mind, Ramses. You heard what the god meant you to hear. Though you were only a child, the god knew she was the woman destined for you. And now you are a man, and it has come about as the god intended.”
“I wish you wouldn’t talk that way, Tarek,” Ramses said sharply. “I don’t believe in your god, or your destiny, and if what you’ve said is true, I’ve a damned poor chance of winning Nefret.”
“Forth’s spell is not easily broken,” Tarek said. “It is strong because it was forged of love. Only time can weaken it. Do not abandon hope.”
Talk about insane, Ramses thought. I’m listening to advice to the lovelorn from the Meroitic prince of a lost kingdom, who believes in magic.
“Thanks,” he said sourly.
“You have forgiven me?” They descended the staircase. Tarek’s hand was still on his arm.
“I suppose so. Yes.”
“Place her here.” Tarek indicated a stone bench. “It was here that she went to sleep.”
Ramses sat down, holding her. She was beginning to stir. Her lashes fluttered and she opened her eyes and looked up into his face.
“What happened?” she demanded. “I was sitting here…Did I fall?”
She sounded like the old Nefret, brisk and matter-of-fact. “You—uh—hit your head,” Ramses said. “Don’t you remember?”
“No.” She rubbed her eyes. “It doesn’t hurt…Where is the wisewoman?”
“She had to go back to the village,” Tarek said. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.” She smiled at Ramses. Her blue eyes were bright and clear. “Thank you, my boy. You can put me down now.” She squirmed off his lap and sat beside him. “What a beautiful day. I’m glad you suggested we go for a walk.”
Daria did not come to the city until shortly before they were to leave for home. Ramses’s offer to go and bring her back had been refused, but she sent for him as soon as she arrived. He followed the servant to a pretty little suite of rooms near theirs and found her sitting cross-legged on a heap of cushions, running a comb sensuously through her shining hair. When he bent over to kiss her, she turned her head.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come to get you,” Ramses said, thinking that was the cause of her vexation. “You told me not to. Are you angry with me?”
“No. I’m not angry.”
“We are leaving the day after tomorrow. Can you be ready?”
She put the comb down, took a deep breath, and looked him straight in the eye. “I am not going with you.”
“What?” He felt as if someone had hit him hard in the pit of the stomach. The sight of her had revived the memories of their night together, reminded him of how much he wanted her. “But, Daria…You must come with me. You don’t understand, darling, I want—I want to marry you.”
“I thought you would say that. Sit down.”
He dropped onto the cushions beside her. She took his face in her hands. “What you have said is foolishness. No, don’t speak.” Her fingers brushed his lips. “There are many reasons why it is foolish; you know what I was and what I am. Shall I return to your England and be a good little Englishwoman and go out every year to Egypt with you to play at archaeology? You are a sweet boy and a wonderful lover, but I shall be a queen here. What woman could ask for more? I am sorry if I hurt you, but hearts mend quickly.”
She patted his cheek, as she would have patted a child’s. “I think we should not see each other again. Maassalameh.”
Ramses got slowly to his feet. There was nothing he could say. She had anticipated every plea he might have made, countered every argument, and the kindly condescension in her description of him had cut like