Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [21]
“Asked where you meant to work this year.”
Emerson can only be pushed so far. My accusatory tone brought a wicked sparkle to his sapphirine orbs. “Curse it, Peabody, you told me to be open and aboveboard about our plans.”
“Well,” I said. “David is due tomorrow, and we are overdue for a conference. Shall we meet in the library in half an hour?”
When Emerson got there, now divested of his traveling attire and wearing comfortable rumpled garments, we were waiting for him. Emerson looked at me, settled at his desk with my papers spread out in front of me, and went at once to the table where the decanters were kept.
“Whiskey and soda, Peabody?” he inquired.
“It is too early, Emerson.”
“No, it isn’t, Peabody. Here. I admit,” Emerson went on, settling into a comfortable overstuffed chair near the bust of Socrates, “that perhaps I acted a bit rashly by taking Merasen to the British Museum. I allowed professional curiosity to overcome me.”
“I wonder,” said Ramses, “if we have fully considered the implications of this venture.”
“No doubt you will enlighten us,” I remarked.
“Let the boy speak, Peabody,” said Emerson, taking out his pipe. “Without, if you please, interrupting him!”
“Thank you, Father. I’ve been thinking it over, and I have reached the conclusion that this expedition must mark the end of the Holy Mountain’s isolation—or at least the beginning of the end. It was bound to happen sooner rather than later. The lure of the lost oases of the Western Desert has never faded, and lately there seems to have been a resurgence of interest. The Journal of the Royal Geographical Society had an article only last month about ‘The Zerzura Problem.’ ”
“But the lost city of Zerzura is a legend,” I exclaimed. “I remember reading about it in the Book of Hidden Pearls, which is nothing more than a medieval collection of fairy tales.”
“It is a little more than a legend, Mother, as you are well aware. The fellows of the Royal Geographical Society are too hardheaded to give credence to legends, but many of them believe there are undiscovered oases in the Libyan Desert. In another few years, if the technology continues to improve as it has done, someone will develop a motorcar that is capable of desert travel, and that will extend the possible range of exploration. As for our trip—I would take certain risks for Tarek, but I will be damned if I will take the risk of mounting any but a large-scale expedition. It is to our advantage to keep our purpose secret beforehand, since we don’t want a pack of curiosity seekers and treasure hunters following us, but if we do get there and return, the men who accompany us will spread the word. We can hardly imprison or intimidate all of them.” He straightened, hands still in his pockets, and looked challengingly from me to Nefret, who was biting her lip, to his father, who was placidly smoking his pipe. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“But that would be a catastrophe,” Nefret exclaimed. “Once the Holy Mountain is known to the world, it will be exploited by treasure hunters and adventurers.”
“And archaeologists,” said Emerson, scowling. “Men like Budge, who will tear the place apart collecting artifacts for his cursed museum. No doubt you have anticipated this little difficulty, Peabody, and have considered methods of preventing it?”
“I have a few ideas. However,” I went on, before Emerson could express his skepticism, “I see no point in discussing them in vacuo, so to speak. At present we have no idea what sort of reception we will receive or what conditions we are likely to encounter. We are agreed, are we not, that until we reach the point of no return—”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Emerson muttered.
“The point at which we set out on the final journey—”
“That’s not much better, Peabody.”
“Oh, Emerson, do be quiet. You know what I mean. Until our expedition is ready to go into the desert, we should be able to keep people in the dark as to our real goal. We have discussed this in general, but we must work out the details—what we must do, what we must