Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [95]
This was grossly unfair, and an example of Emerson’s prejudice against religious persons, but I let it pass, for in this case his accusation might have a basis in fact. The priesthood of Aminreh, chief god of the Holy Mountain, had supported Tarek’s brother for the kingship, and the High Priest had been one of his bitterest enemies.
Daoud swallowed a mouthful of bread and looked at me. “Have you made a plan yet, Sitt?”
“By God, Daoud is right,” Ramses burst out. “We should be planning what we mean to do, not engaging in idle speculation on the basis of insufficient information.”
“What do you propose?” I inquired, resisting the temptation to point out that he was as prone to that error as I.
“The most important thing is to find a way of communicating with Tarek. There must be people who are still loyal to him—an opposition party. No doubt it has gone underground, but we’ve got to find some of its members and offer our support, in return for theirs. We have firearms, but not enough of them. We can’t get the girls away without outside help.”
“That makes sense,” said Emerson, puffing away. “It may be significant that our servants this time do not include any of the common people—the rekkit. The majority of them probably support Tarek, but they are powerless and it won’t be easy to reach them. You remember how much trouble we had last time getting permission to visit their village.”
“That’s the next step,” Ramses said. “Or the first, really. We must be free to move about. That means convincing the new regime that we are on their side. Father, can you bring yourself to be ingratiating to the king and Merasen?”
“More easily than you, I fancy,” said Emerson, giving him a sharp look.
“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” I mused. “People who love power are extremely susceptible to flattery.”
“I will leave the flattery to you,” said Emerson. “What I’ll propose is a practical quid pro quo: our loyalty, publicly demonstrated, if necessary, in exchange for permission to record the reliefs in the temples and explore the tombs.”
“No man who knows the Father of Curses will believe he would be disloyal to a friend, or let his daughter be taken from him,” said Selim, who had followed the discussion with furrowed brow.
“He doesn’t know me,” said Emerson, trying to look sly.
“He knows you well enough, by reputation, at least, to know you would never consent to remain here indefinitely,” I retorted. “You must ask when we will be allowed to leave. He will lie, of course. He can’t afford to let us go, with or without Nefret.”
A united outcry from the others arose. “Of course we won’t leave without her,” I said impatiently. “But since we cannot enforce our will, we must, for the moment, pretend to believe any lies the usurper chooses to tell—especially about Nefret. The High Priestess does not serve for life. Once she has chosen a successor—”
“Do you know what happens to the High Priestess after she gives up her position?” Ramses asked quietly.
“I can guess. That isn’t the point, Ramses. I will ask the king if we may take her with us after she has appointed another in her place, and he will say yes, we may, and he will be lying, and we will pretend—do you hear me?—we will pretend to believe it. I am only trying to gain time—time enough to locate Tarek and figure out how to overthrow the usurper.”
“Where is this friend, this Tarek?” Selim asked.
“That’s a good question,” Ramses said. “He must be holed up in a place which is defensible and/or well hidden, or the king would have crushed him and his followers already. One doesn’t leave a pocket of rebellion to fester if one can easily clean it out. The difficulty is that we learned very little about