He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [49]
“Curse it,” I muttered, cutting away the last of the cloth. There was unfortunately no doubt about the nature of the bloody hole in his upper arm. “Where were you tonight?”
“I was supposed to have been at the bar at Shepheard’s. The habitués only snub people they dislike, they don’t shoot at them.”
“You might have been attacked on your way home, by a thief.”
“You know better than—” His breath caught painfully, and Seshat put a peremptory paw on my hand. Her claws were out just enough to prick the skin.
“Sorry,” I said—to the cat.
“It’s all right,” said Ramses—to the cat. “That story won’t wash, Mother.”
“No,” I admitted. “Cairo thieves don’t carry firearms. The only people who do . . . Are you telling me you were shot by a policeman or a soldier? Why, for heaven’s sake?”
Before I could pursue my inquiries Emerson came back carrying my medical kit and, I was pleased to note, wearing his trousers. Between us we got Ramses out of his filthy garments and into bed, removing from it the heaped-up pillows and black wig. Emerson filled a basin with water from the jug, and I began cleaning the injuries.
“Could be worse,” Emerson announced, though his grave look belied his optimistic words. “How far away were you when the shot was fired?”
“As far as I could get,” said Ramses, with a faint grin. “It was pure bad luck that—”
He broke off, sinking his teeth into his lower lip as the alcohol-soaked cloth touched one of the ragged cuts, and I said sharply, “Stop trying to be heroic. Ramses, I don’t like the look of this. The bullet has gone straight through the fleshy part of your arm, but it must have scraped another surface immediately afterward. You appear to have been struck by several fragments of stone. One is rather deeply imbedded. If Nefret is not already on her way home we can send for her. I would rather leave this to her.”
“No, Mother! Nefret mustn’t know of this.”
“Surely you don’t think she would betray your secret!” I exclaimed with equal vehemence. “Nefret?”
“Mother, will you please try to get it into your head . . . I’m sorry! But this isn’t one of our usual family encounters with criminals. Do you suppose I don’t trust you and Father? I wouldn’t have told you either. I wasn’t allowed. This job is part of a larger game. The Great Game, some call it. . . . What an ironic name for a business that demands deceit, assassination, murder, and betrayal of every principle we’ve been taught is right! Well, I won’t kill except in self-defense, no matter what they say, but I swore to follow the other rules of the game, and the most important of them is that without permission from my superiors I cannot involve anyone else! The more you know, the greater the danger to you. I shouldn’t have come home tonight, I should have gone—”
He stopped with a sharp catch of breath, and Emerson, who had been watching him with furrowed brows, put a hand on his perspiring forehead.
“It’s all right, my boy, don’t talk anymore. I understand.”
“Thank you, Father. I suppose it was Seshat who gave me away?”
“Yes,” I said. “Thank God she did! But how do you plan to explain to Nefret why you are bedridden tomorrow?”
Ramses’s lips set in a stubborn line. “I’ll be at the dig tomorrow as usual. No, Mother, please don’t argue, I haven’t the energy to explain. Can’t you just take my word for once that this is necessary, and get on with it?”
He fainted eventually, but not as soon as I would have liked.
•
Four
•
After I had extracted the last fragment of stone I handed it to Emerson, who wiped it off with a bit of gauze and examined it intently. “No clue there, it’s just a bit of ordinary limestone. Where was he tonight?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“We’ll have to get it out of him somehow,” Emerson said. “But not now. Shall I do that, my dear?”
“No, I can manage. Lift his arm—gently, if you please.”
By the time I finished bandaging the injuries, Ramses had regained consciousness. “The novocaine will wear off before long,” I said. “Would you rather have laudanum