He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [177]
He yanked on the head rope to slow the beast and whacked it on the side of the neck to turn it toward the front of the house and the window. I winced as my tenderly nurtured roses crunched under four large flat feet. At Emerson’s command the camel settled ponderously onto the ground, crushing a few hundred marigolds and petunias, and Emerson dismounted.
“Ah,” he said, peering in the window. “There you are, Peabody. Move aside, I am coming in.”
I found my voice. “Emerson, get that damned camel out of my garden!”
“The damage is done, I fear,” said Ramses. “Father, where did you acquire it?”
“Stole it.” Emerson climbed over the sill. “Got the idea from David.”
“You can’t just leave it there!” I exclaimed. “How are you going to explain its presence? And the owner—”
“Don’t concern yourself about the camel, I’ll think of something. What did you do to the car?”
“Put it in the stableyard, of course.”
“In what condition?”
“Let us not waste time on trivialities, Emerson. The most important thing is that you are here; Ramses is here; I am here. I suggest we all go to bed and—”
“No point in that, it will be light in an hour or two,” said my indefatigible spouse. “What about breakfast, eh, Peabody?”
“It would be unkind to rouse Fatima at this hour, when she was so late getting to bed last night.”
“Good Gad, no, I wouldn’t do that. I will just cook up some eggs and coffee and—”
“No, you will not, you always burn the bottoms off the pans.”
“I would offer,” said Ramses, “but—”
“But you always burn them too.” The idea of breakfast had some merit. I wanted to hear how Emerson had carried out his task, and I knew he would be in a much better humor after he had been fed. The dents in the motorcar were bound to provoke some recriminatory remarks, and the missing lamp . . . “Oh, very well, I will see what’s in the larder.”
There was quite a lot in the larder, and Emerson tucked into a roast chicken wing with a hearty appetite. Between bites he gave us a description of his adventures.
“It went off without a hitch. What did you expect? After I had stowed the stuff away I drove the cart back to Kashlakat and left it outside the mosque.”
“You walked off and left it?”
“The donkeys weren’t going anywhere. As for walking, I concluded I would rather not.” He stopped chewing and gave me a reproachful look. “I had become very anxious about you, my dear. I expected to find you not far from where I had left you.”
“Oh, you did, did you?”
My interest in Emerson’s narrative had not prevented me from noticing that Ramses had put very little food on his plate and had eaten very little of that. He finished his cup of coffee and rose.
“No,” I said. “Please, Ramses. Don’t go out again.”
“Mother, I must. I ought to have taken care of it earlier, but I wanted to make certain Father got home all right. I should be back by daylight.”
“The others will sleep late,” Emerson said. “But—er—don’t be any longer than you can help, my boy. Do you know who it was?”
“What—” I began.
Emerson waved me to silence, and Ramses said, “Not for certain, but Rashad is the most likely candidate. If he wakes to see me squatting on the foot of his bed, glowering like a gargoyle, he’ll be in a proper state for interrogation.”
I said, “What—” and Ramses said, “Tell her, Father. I must hurry.”
“You aren’t going on foot, I hope,” said Emerson.
Ramses’s tight lips parted in a smile. “I’ll take the camel.”
He was gone. I put my elbows on the table and my face in my hands.
“Now, now, Peabody.” Emerson patted me on the shoulder.
“How much longer is this going to continue?”
“It can’t be much longer. If the last delivery has been made, der Tag must be imminent. Don’t you suppose he is as anxious as you are to get this over?”
“I know he is. That is what frightens me. Desperation drives a man to recklessness. I take it Rashad is one of Wardani’s lieutenants? Not another of the same ilk