Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [52]
The horseman had gone. “Nothing, Emerson.”
We took our places in the train. I have seen worse, though some of the windows would not open and others would not close. There were only two classes—first and worst. Except for our party, the train was almost empty, so we were able to spread out. Merasen announced he was going to find an unoccupied compartment and have a little sleep. “You may wake me when we arrive,” he informed Selim, who curled his lip but refrained from retort.
“How long?” I asked Emerson wearily.
“Only ten hours or so.”
“You may wake me when we arrive,” I informed him.
I thought sleep would be impossible, because of the jolting and the insufferable heat. It did not seem to me that I slept; but suddenly, between one heartbeat and the next, I was in another place, a place I knew well. A cool breeze touched my face, and the sky was the pale, translucent blue that precedes the rising of the sun. That rising was behind me, for I faced west—the western cliffs of Thebes, with the stately ruins of Deir el Bahri to my left, and straight ahead the winding path that led to the top of the plateau and onward to the Valley of the Kings. I began to climb, as I had done so many times before. It is a steep climb and I was breathing quickly when I reached the top. And there, coming toward me with long strides, was a man, tall and straight, black-bearded, his turban snowy white, the long skirts of his galabeeyah wafting round him.
“Turn, Sitt, and see the sun rise,” he said.
I pressed my hand to my heart. It was beating hard, and not with the effort of the climb. “Abdullah. Is it really you? You look so young!”
He stopped a few feet away and smiled, his teeth white against the unmarked black of his beard. “There is no time here, Sitt. It is a dream. Did you not know?”
“The happiest dream I have had for many a month,” I replied, and it was the truth. Joy filled me like water overflowing a cup, leaving no room for grief or surprise or doubt. I laughed aloud and held out my hands to him. Still smiling, he shook his head, and something told me I must not move closer, or touch him.
“Turn, Sitt,” he repeated. “And we will watch the sunrise again together.”
Of all the memories I had of Abdullah, this was the strongest, for as the years went on and his beard whitened, he found the climb harder. Being Abdullah, he would never have admitted it, so I had got into the habit of pretending I needed to stop and catch my breath before following the others to the Valley where we were working. To see the molten orb of the sun lift above the eastern cliffs across the river and watch the light spread across green fields and rippling water, ruined temples and modern villages was a glorious experience. I had sometimes thought that if I were allowed to return to the world of the living, this was the place I would choose. (After, of course, making sure Emerson was where I wanted him to be and the children were doing well.)
I turned obediently and felt his presence close behind me. He whispered something that sounded like an invocation and I said, “Are you a sun worshipper, Abdullah? I always suspected you were something of a pagan.”
“Then so are you, Sitt Hakim. But let us not talk religion, which is a waste of breath. What in the name of God (whichever name it may be) has taken you on the road you now follow? Turn back before it is too late.”
“So you have returned to warn me, have you?”
“I have. Though that too is a waste of breath,” said Abdullah grumpily. “You do not heed warnings. You take foolish chances.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” I retorted, and laughed again, his scolding and my defense were so wonderfully, realistically familiar. Impulsively I turned to face him. He moved back a few steps.
“Why do you laugh like a silly girl, instead of listening to me?” he demanded, scowling.
“Because I am so glad to see you. I have missed you, Abdullah.”
“Ah. Hmmm.” He stroked his beard and tried not to smile. “The time allotted me is almost over, Sitt. If you will not turn back, at least take care. Trust no one, not