Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [183]
“That leaves us,” he went on before I could respond, “with only one remaining topic for discussion. The survival of the Holy Mountain. I won’t betray its location—why should I let anyone else in on it?—but by the time we all get back to civilization, too many people will know. How do you propose to keep all of them quiet?”
“I don’t. I have another idea in mind.”
“Not a bad idea, either,” Sethos said smoothly.
“You cannot possibly know—”
“But I do. You see, I took the liberty of searching your luggage.” Sethos’s mouth twitched with suppressed laughter. “It filled my patriotic heart with pride to see the dear old Union Jack unfolded. I don’t know how you concealed it from Emerson all that time—”
“Emerson respects my privacy,” I said angrily.
“And you had it wrapped in a pair of ladies’ underdrawers. Now, Amelia, I beg you will control your temper. As I said, it’s an excellent idea. The Holy Mountain’s location cannot be concealed forever. When the first invaders arrive, be they marauders or Egyptologists or treasure seekers, they will find the British flag floating bravely over the palace and a British agent in residence. That should give them pause.”
“I am not an imperialist by conviction, but it was the only way I could think of,” I admitted. “British agent? Not you!”
“Good Lord, no. I won’t be ready to travel for a week or so, but I will leave as soon as I can. Moroney’s the man. He has nothing to go back for, and he’s become fascinated by the Holy City. He is also under the erroneous impression that God has demanded he make amends for his little slip by serving others. It’s a perfect arrangement. Tarek would agree to fly the skull and crossbones if you asked him to, and Moroney has a number of talents that should be useful here.”
“How do I know you will keep your promise to leave this place and not come back?”
“Because,” said Sethos, “you will give Tarek a postdated letter exposing me and informing him that if I haven’t gone by the time he reads it he has your permission to do a number of unpleasant things to me.”
“Quite right.” I finished my whiskey and slipped the bottle into one of my useful pockets. “Good-bye,” I said.
Sethos lifted his glass in salute. “À bientôt, Amelia.”
From Manuscript H
The camels reached the crest of the first great dune. Walking beside the animal on which his mother and Nefret were riding, Ramses turned and looked back.
The ramparts of the Holy Mountain rose up against the sky in a fretted fringe of pinnacles. He wondered if he would ever see that fantastic sight again or learn what happened to Tarek and Daria. His mother would have said it had all worked out for the best. Daria and Tarek would get on well; her practical, somewhat cynical intelligence would help guide his idealism, and he was a man any woman could learn to love. Whatever love might be. He wasn’t sure he knew, not anymore. He had loved Daria, though one part of him had known all along that he was thinking like a romantic idiot when he contemplated a marriage between them.
The camels passed in stately procession, and his father joined him. They stood in silence, taking their last look at the Holy City.
“Best move on,” Emerson said gruffly. “All right, are you, my boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
They went on together, beside the camel on which the women were riding. The curtains of the bassourab were open. His mother called to them to hurry, and Nefret smiled at him.
Perhaps it had all worked out for the best. “Hearts do not break…” How did it go, that favorite quotation of his mother’s? “They sting and ache, for old love’s sake…” But not forever.
NOTE TO THE READER: The Emersons’ first visit to the Lost Oasis is described in an earlier volume of Mrs. Emerson’s journals: The Last Camel Died at Noon.
Acknowledgments
For many of the details of desert travel I have drawn upon, and am indebted to, The Lost