He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [157]
“But they comfort you. I’m glad. I wish I could dream of the dear old fellow too.” She gave me a hug. “Fatima is cooking breakfast. They’re still here—Daoud and Selim and Kadija—and several of the others turned up.”
However, before we reached the breakfast room, our ears were assaulted by one of the most horrible noises I have ever heard. It grew louder and louder. I was about to clap my hands over my ears when it stopped, and in the silence I heard another sound—a sound as sweet as music to my anxious ears—Emerson’s voice bellowing my name.
Nefret must have recognized the significance of the racket before I did. She ran to the door. Ali had opened it, and stood staring.
I did not blame Ali for staring. Never had the Father of Curses appeared in such a contrivance. Motorcycles had always reminded me of enlarged mechanical insects. This one, which was bestrode by a pale young man in khaki, had a bulging excrescence on one side. The sidecar, as I believe it is called, was occupied by Emerson. A delighted grin indicated his enjoyment of the experience.
It took three of us, including Ali, to get Emerson out of the contraption. He is so very large that he fitted rather tightly, and—as I soon observed—he had not the use of his left arm. Eventually we extracted him, and I thanked the young man who was still sitting on the vehicle. He turned a glazed stare toward me.
“Are we there?” he asked stupidly.
“You are here,” I replied. “Dismount, or get off, as the case may be, and have breakfast with us.”
“No, thank you, ma’am, I was told to come straight back.” He shook his head. “He kept shouting at me to go faster, ma’am. I never heard such—such . . .”
“Language,” I supplied. “I don’t doubt it. Are you sure you wouldn’t like—”
The motorbicycle roared and rushed off in a cloud of dust.
“Splendid machine,” said Emerson, gazing wistfully after it. “I wanted to drive it, but the fellow wouldn’t let me. We must have one, Peabody. I will take you for a ride in the sidecar.”
“Not while there is breath in my body,” I informed him. “Oh, Emerson, curse you, how could you worry me so? What happened?”
Nefret had not spoken. Now a very small voice uttered a single word. “Ramses?”
“Coming,” Emerson replied. “He insisted on bringing Risha home himself. The brave creature will want a day or two of pampering; he had a tiring experience.”
“So did you, I see,” I remarked, inspecting him more closely. He was not wearing a coat. One arm was fastened to his body by strips of cloth. His shirt was torn and dirty, his face bruised, his hands scraped.
“I apologize for my appearance,” Emerson said cheerfully. “They offered us baths and bandages and food and so on, but I was determined to relieve your mind as soon as I could.”
“Considerate of you,” I said. “Come upstairs.”
“Upstairs be damned. I haven’t eaten a decent meal since yesterday morning. You can clean me up after breakfast. I hope there is a great deal of it.”
There was a great deal, and Emerson ate most of it. Nefret hovered over him, trying to examine him, but there was not much she could do when he refused to lie down and stop gesticulating. He was still eating when Ramses arrived. He had borrowed a mount and was leading Risha. He turned the stallion over to Selim, who crooned to the noble beast as he led him to the stable.
“You don’t look much better than your father,” I said. “What happened to your shirt? And your nice new tweed coat? That one you are wearing doesn’t fit.”
“Let him eat first, Aunt Amelia,” Nefret said somewhat snappishly.
“Thank you,” Ramses said. “I will just put on a clean shirt before I have breakfast; this is Father’s coat, and you are quite right; it doesn’t fit.”
It hid the bandages and the scars of his recent injury, however. I decided I had better go with him and make certain he was not in need of immediate medical attention, for he was not likely to tell me if he was.
He was waylaid in the courtyard by the entire family, including Emerson. After embracing him, Daoud announced, “I will go home. It is well now that you are here.”
“Hmph,” said