Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [96]
“Do you suppose Tarek knows we are here?” I asked.
“If he doesn’t, he soon will. The usurper can’t make use of our prestige without announcing our presence. I wouldn’t count on Tarek’s being able to reach us, though. He’d be a fool to venture into the city when there’s a price on his head.”
“We need more information,” I declared. “Let us send word to the king requesting another audience. We will present him with a list of our demands. First and foremost, we will insist on seeing Nefret.”
“I share your anxiety, Peabody,” said Emerson. “But I think we ought not make the first move. It is poor diplomacy, especially in a society like this one.” He sauntered toward the right-hand wall and began examining the painted reliefs.
“Emerson,” I said, “if you begin copying inscriptions or taking notes I will—I will—”
“You had better do the same,” said Emerson, without turning. “We must convince old Zekare that our fascination with the culture of the Holy Mountain is great enough to win us over to his side, at least for the time being.”
“You are right,” I acknowledged. “Very good, Emerson.”
“So what is the plan?” Daoud inquired. “Is there time for me to finish eating? Is there more food?”
“Take all the time you like,” I said, indicating to the servants that they should replenish the bowls. “We can do nothing until…Tomorrow, Emerson? I cannot contain myself much longer than that.”
“Dear me, Peabody, I had not expected to find you so lacking in patience. Why don’t you make one of your famous lists? Selim, would you be good enough to find our notebooks and writing implements? I don’t know where they stowed the rest of our luggage, but I expect one of these pleasant young women will show you if you ask nicely.”
He winked in a vulgar fashion, and Selim’s lips relaxed into a knowing smile. “Yes, Emerson. I will ask very nicely—with gestures, since I do not know the words.”
“I expect gestures will work quite well,” said Emerson. “Now then, Peabody, feel free to speculate to your heart’s content, since that is all we can do at present. Perhaps a brief incisive summary of the situation to begin with?”
“Don’t patronize me, Emerson!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear.”
“Well…” I said. “To sum up, then: Merasen was sent not by Tarek but by the new king, whose position is less secure than he wants us to believe. Merasen was promised higher rank, possibly even the position of Royal Heir, if he succeeded. It does seem a trifle callous of the king, though, to risk his son on such a trip.”
“Unless he has so many of them he can spare a few,” said Ramses cynically. “It may not have been as great a risk as Merasen implied. I don’t doubt his escort was greater than he admitted. And it may be that the king doesn’t entirely trust him. I sure as hell wouldn’t. Don’t you realize he must have been brought up in Tarek’s household, where he was taught English—and other things?”
“You may be right,” I said. “The boy seems to have no moral sensibilities whatever. He has now allied himself with someone from the outside world—someone who could use a compass and get a caravan together. Does the king know about this, or is Merasen playing a double game with him too?”
Selim came running back into the room. “The guns,” he exclaimed. “The guns are gone!”
Eight
“It’s my fault,” Ramses said, eyes downcast and jaw set. “I advised against carrying weapons into the presence of the king.”
“No, it is mine,” Selim cried. “I should have stood guard over them.”
“I should have put a curse on them,” Emerson bellowed, waving his fists.
They were all pacing up and down the room, wringing their hands and beating their breasts (figuratively speaking), except for Daoud, who sat waiting patiently for someone to say something sensible. Daoud was a great comfort to me.
“There is no use crying over spilled milk,” I announced. “Are they all gone?”
“Yes,” said Emerson, so overwrought that he did not even complain about my voicing an aphorism. “We left our rifles and pistols in