He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [204]
The Senussi’s lips curled. “He is a coward and a fool. So we take him with us?”
“By force, if necessary,” Sethos said. “And you had better go at once. Leave the back entrance unlocked for me. I’ll have a final look round to make certain he hasn’t left anything else incriminating.”
“What about the prisoner?” Graybeard asked.
“I’ll take care of him on my way out—if there’s anything left of him.”
The gray-bearded man nodded. “Rather you than me.”
“Squeamish?” Sethos inquired softly.
“This is war. I kill when I must. But he is a brave man, and he deserves a quick death.”
“He will get it.” Sethos opened his elegantly tailored coat, and I saw the knife strapped to his belt.
There was no exchange of farewells or instructions. Graybeard and the Senussi simply walked out of the room, leaving Sethos standing by the smoking brazier. After listening for a moment, his head cocked, Sethos turned, knelt, and began sorting through the half-burned scraps, tossing them carelessly onto the floor after examining each. Whatever it was he was looking for, he did not find it; a soft but heartfelt “Damn!” was heard, and then he rose to his feet.
Nefret was trembling, but she remained motionless, and her well-nigh superhuman restraint helped me to control my own fury and anxiety. We could not take the slightest chance, not now. I had my pistol and she her knife, but Sethos had other weapons of strength and skill that could overcome us both. We must wait until he left the room and then follow him and catch him off-guard before he could carry out his grisly promise.
Sethos drew back his foot and gave the brazier a hard kick that scattered ashes across the rug. He was in a temper! So much the worse for us, or for anyone else who got in his way. He took one of the lamps from the table and strode out of the room, leaving the door swinging on its hinges.
Nefret pulled herself up and over the sill, as quickly and neatly as a lad might have done, and then reached down a hand to assist me. Through the open door I saw what appeared to be a narrow hallway, with another door opposite. I indicated this to Nefret, raising my eyebrows inquiringly. Her lips tightened, and she shook her head.
“This way,” she whispered, and led me along the hallway to a flight of narrow stone stairs. The light from the open door of the room we had left and the light of the lantern below enabled us to descend them quickly and noiselessly. There was no sign of Sethos when we reached the bottom of the stairs. He must have entered the room from whose open door the lantern glow came.
Nefret darted forward, with me close on her heels. She did not even pause in the doorway but flew like a stone from a catapult at the man we had followed, pushing him aside with such force that he dropped the knife he held and staggered back. I do not believe she saw him as an individual, only as an obstacle between her and her goal. Standing on tiptoe, she drew her own knife and sawed at the ropes binding Ramses’s wrists to a hook on the wall. His bare back was a sickening sight, covered with blood and raised weals, and he appeared to be unconscious; when his hands were free he sank to the floor, clasped tightly in her arms.
I leveled my pistol at the man who stood against the wall. “Don’t move! I might have known I would find you here!”
“And I ought to have anticipated you would turn up.” He had the effrontry to smile at me. “We always meet under the most extraordinary circumstances. Perhaps someday—”
“Be quiet!” I shifted position slightly, so that I could keep him covered while I shot quick glances at the tableau slightly behind me. Ramses lay sprawled across Nefret’s lap, her arms pressing him to her breast and his head resting against her shoulder. His face was bruised and bloodstained and his eyes were closed—but I saw his lips move, in a sigh or a groan, and I knew he lived.
“See if you can rouse him, Nefret,” I ordered. “We must make haste, and I doubt we can carry him. You might try . . . Oh.”