He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [53]
I put the lamp down on a table. David had wiped off the scar and removed the invisible tape that had pulled his mouth out of shape. He saw me staring and gave me a sidelong smile. “The resemblance needn’t be that exact, Aunt Amelia. They know Ramses is here and they know I’m not, so they will see him, not me. It will be all right—if I can get out of the house without encountering Nefret.”
“Later . . . on the dig . . .” I began.
“Precisely,” said Ramses. “David cannot possibly carry this off. If we were working at a larger site, such as Zawaiet, he might be able to stay at a distance, but we’ve only cleared one room of the tomb, and I’ve been—”
“We will have to extend the area of our operations, that is all,” said Emerson coolly. “Leave it to me.”
“But, Father—”
“Leave it to me, I said.” Emerson fingered the cleft in his chin. “If I understand the situation correctly, the important thing is that you must be seen today behaving normally and with no sign of injury.”
Ramses stared at his father. “How much do you know?”
“Explanations will have to wait. There is no time now. Am I right?”
“Yes, sir.” The lines of strain (and temper) that marked his face smoothed out. Emerson has that effect on people; the very sight of him, blue eyes steady and stalwart frame poised for action, would have been reassuring even to one who did not know him as well as did his son.
“In fact,” Ramses went on, “it would be helpful if David could put on a brief but very public demonstration of strength and fitness at some point.”
“Any suggestions?” David added a few millimeters of false hair to his eyebrows.
“You can rescue me,” I said. “I will persuade my horse to run away with me, or fall into a tomb shaft, or perhaps—”
“Control yourself, Peabody,” said my husband in alarm.
Laughing, David turned from the mirror and gave me a quick hug.
Our performance at breakfast resembled some energetic children’s game—a combination of musical chairs and hide-and-seek. Mercifully Nefret was not yet down; I cannot imagine what we would have done if she had been at table, since I scuttled in and out with baskets of food and pitchers of water, while David and Emerson pretended to eat twice as much as they actually consumed and David sat hunched over his plate speaking only in monosyllables and Emerson distracted Fatima by breaking various bits of crockery (not an uncommon occurrence, I might add). My rapid comings and goings reduced Ramses to speechlessness (which was an uncommon occurrence). After I had made certain he had everything he needed I ordered him to go to sleep, left Seshat on guard, and locked his door before I went downstairs. Shortly after I took my place at the table Nefret came in.
“Where is everyone?” she asked.
I put my spoon down and looked more closely at her. Her cheeks were pale and her eyes circled by violet shadows.
“My dear girl, are you ill? Or was it one of your bad dreams? I thought you had got over them.”
“Bad dreams,” Nefret repeated. “No, Aunt Amelia, I haven’t got over them.”
“If you could come to an understanding of what causes them—”
“I know what causes them, and there is nothing I can do about it. Don’t badger me, Aunt Amelia. I am perfectly well. Where is—where are the Professor and Ramses?”
“Gone on to the dig.”
“How is he this morning?”
“Ramses? Just as usual. A trifle out of sorts, perhaps.”
“Just as usual,” Nefret murmured.
“Promise me you won’t lecture him, my dear. I have spoken with him myself, and any further criticism, especially from you—”
“I’ve no intention of lecturing him.” Nefret pushed her untouched food away. “Shall we go?”
“I haven’t finished yet. And you should eat something.” Emerson obviously had some scheme in mind for getting David out of the way, and since I did not know what it was I wanted to give him plenty of time.
“Did you have