Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [181]
He was wearing the comfortable local clothing and his soft leather sandals made little sound. She wouldn’t have heard him anyhow. When he entered the room she was lying facedown on the cushions, her body shaking with sobs.
Ramses fell on his knees and gathered her into his arms. She clung to him and raised her wet face. The salt taste of her tears only made her kisses sweeter, but after a while the little hands that lay on his breast stiffened, and she pushed him away.
“My heart is hurt too,” she whispered. “I hurt you again, because I love you too much to hurt you even more. But what I said was true, my love. One day you will find a worthier mate, and I will learn to love Tarek, who is kind and good, and I will give him the sons he wants. Please go now. Please. Do not speak, do not look back.”
I paid Sethos a final visit on the day of our departure, allowing myself plenty of time since I had a good deal to say. He was lying down when I entered—after, of course, announcing my presence before I did so—and his greeting was typically unorthodox. It consisted of a bottle, which he held in his hand. Offering it, he remarked, “Since you were good enough to administer your last drops to an invalid, the least I can do is provide you with whiskey enough for the trip home.”
“I wouldn’t want to leave you without,” I said. But I took the bottle.
Sethos laughed aloud. “Nothing surprises you, does it? Say thank you, Amelia.”
“Thank you. As you know, we are leaving shortly. I thought you and I might have a little chat.”
Grimacing, Sethos pulled himself to a sitting position. I shoved a few cushions behind him, and he leaned back with a sigh. “If you can keep Emerson away from me, I’ll tell you everything you want to know. It is a fascinating story,” he added with the familiar twisted smile. He was obviously in pain still, so I opened the whiskey and joined him in a libation. Sethos had a number of maddening attributes, but he was never boring.
“I came here for the first time eight years ago, after you had confirmed the truth of Willy Forth’s fantasy about a lost civilization. You were fairly discreet, even though you believed you were confiding in a dear old friend, but you gave me enough information to begin my inquiries, and to assure me that any effort I put forth would be worthwhile. I knew there was a map, and had a good idea where it was kept. Breaking into Emerson’s strongbox presented no difficulty for my people; they took a copy and replaced it without leaving the slightest trace that they had been there.”
The lines of pain in his face relaxed into a reminiscent smile. “That first journey was a unique experience, even for a jaded sybarite like myself. To see the city in all its fading glory, the shadow of what was once ancient Egypt, the temples and palaces…” He took a sip of whiskey and went on, with his old cynicism. “Your name was my password. It got me past the first oasis and into the presence of Tarek himself; and after I had described—in great detail and with my customary vivacity—your appearance, mannerisms, current activities, and affection for your dearest friend—me—Tarek came down from his throne and embraced me. He was particularly interested in how Nefret was getting on.”
“But you didn’t know that,” I exclaimed, torn between fascination and fury.
“I knew quite a lot, as a matter of fact. You have never been far from my protective gaze, Amelia dear. Have a little more whiskey and don’t shout. He’s still in love with her, you know.”
I recognized his maddening habit of dropping in provocative statements to get me off the track. “How many times have you come here?”
“This is my fourth trip. As I said, Tarek and I got on like a house afire.