Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [74]
“Do you suppose Tarek came back and retrieved them? He was a great reader.”
Emerson gave me a long look. “Peabody, don’t tell me you loaded us down with a supply of trashy novels for Tarek.”
“Naturally I brought gifts,” I replied composedly. “Mr. Rider Haggard has written several other novels in the interim, and I also thought Tarek might like The Prisoner of Zenda and The Scarlet Pimpernel.”
“I don’t doubt he would,” Emerson muttered. “He had a weakness for romantic twaddle! It is getting dark. We had better catch the rest of them up.”
He persuaded me to ride for a while, so I mounted his camel and he walked beside me, his long strides easily matching the pace of the beast. I had been about to ask him how much farther we had to go, but he kept mumbling to himself—the word “twaddle” was oft repeated—so I decided to work it out for myself. We had been approximately one marhala from the first oasis when the last camel perished, but our pace from then on had been slowed by my feverish malady and Ramses’s short legs, to say nothing of a deficiency of water. When we stopped that night, Emerson had predicted it would take us two more days to reach the oasis, and Kemit had replied—how well I remembered!—“Half a day for a running man.” We had waked next morning to find him gone. Though of course we went on, we hadn’t got very far before even Emerson’s giant strength at last failed, and I was unconscious when the rescue party Kemit led back along the trail arrived in the nick of time to save us.
So then…with a strange little thrill I realized we were within a few hours of our destination. I could not recall much about the place; on our initial journey I had been in a coma, which lasted until after we reached the Holy Mountain, and on the return trip—which might more accurately be called a “flight”—we had stayed only long enough to rest for a few hours and acquire fresh camels. It had been a pleasant spot, with flourishing palm trees and rich grass. One could easily understand why the desert men fought over such places, their emerald grass more precious than emerald gems in the midst of the wilderness. Would we reach it by the end of this night’s march? Now that we were so close, my impatience could hardly be contained. I yearned for greenery and shade, for cold, pure water instead of the foul-tasting liquid in the fatasses—and, of course, for word of our friend. When Emerson called a halt shortly after midnight I protested.
“Surely we can reach the oasis by morning if we go on, Emerson. I yearn for greenery and shade, for cold, pure—”
“Yes, yes,” said Emerson. “Come now, Peabody, you ought to know better than suggest we ride blithely up to the place in the dark. Tarek keeps a garrison there, and its purpose is to intercept curious travelers—by one means or another.”
“Oh. You are in the right, Emerson,” I admitted generously. “It is just that I yearn—”
“So does Nefret,” said Emerson, as the men began barrakking and unloading the camels. “I had to speak firmly to her. Try to talk some sense into the girl, will you? And get into your blankets, the cold is bitter. As soon as it is light Ramses and I will go on ahead and reconnoiter.”
By now the men had become adept at efficient unloading, so it was not long before the tents were set up and our personal baggage placed in them. Excitement filled me with energy, and I wanted a cup of tea before I retired, so I joined Selim by the fire he had started. He had already begun brewing—or stewing—the tea. The Arab method of making tea is to boil the leaves until the liquid is dark brown.
“This is almost the last of the firewood, Sitt,” he said.
“It does not matter, Selim. Tomorrow we will be with friends, who will supply us with everything we need.”
At least I hoped so. We had been proceeding on the assumption that though Tarek’s messenger might be untrustworthy, Tarek’s need of us was genuine. For our friend’s sake we dared not assume otherwise. Tarek knew we would come if we could, but he had no way of knowing when.
“Ah,” said Selim. “And we will be rid