Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [100]
“Then she might visit the school. You can talk with your teachers, Jumana, and tell them what you are doing.”
“I will do that, yes, I will! They will be very proud of me!”
I must teach that child not to shout, Nefret thought.
Once they reached the other side of the river, Jamil tied the boat and sat down to chat with the other boatmen. As she and Ramses walked toward Luxor Temple, Nefret saw that Jumana had also stopped to talk with several girls of about her own age. It was no wonder news spread so fast. Gossip was one of the chief amusements in a semiliterate society where other means of entertainment were lacking. This was brought home to her a few minutes later, when a voice hailed them and they saw one of the clerks from the telegraph office trotting toward them.
“It came just now,” he explained, handing Ramses the telegram. “I was about to send a man to bring it to you when I heard you were in Luxor.”
Ramses handed over the expected baksheesh and ripped open the envelope. He let out a breath of relief and handed the paper to Nefret. “The Vandergelts will be arriving in Luxor on Sunday.”
“You expected bad news?”
“One always does, doesn’t one?”
“Telegrams are so damned uninformative,” Nefret murmured, rereading the brief message. “If this isn’t just like Mother! She doesn’t say why they are coming by train instead of sailing, but wastes four words on ‘Find Bertie new interest.’ What on earth do you suppose that means?”
“The phrase ‘shell-shocked’ comes to mind.”
“Yes, of course.” Nefret’s smile faded. “Poor boy.”
“It’s not really such good news,” Ramses went on. “With Sethos on the loose they could be jumping from the frying pan into the fire.”
“Shall we try to put them off?”
“I don’t suppose there’s any danger to them, really . . .” He stroked his chin, in unconscious imitation of his father, and his frown of concentration smoothed out into a smile. “However, I think I’ll wire Mother. Let’s go to the telegraph office.”
“You’re going to tell her about Sethos?”
“No.”
He wrote out the telegram and then showed it to her.
“All is discovered. Kindly refrain from conspiring with my wife against me.”
Nefret laughed, but shook her head. “Now you’re the one putting me in an impossible situation.”
“I am not. Your first loyalty is to me. It’s in the Bible, as Mother would say.”
The first shop they visited was near the Luxor Temple, conveniently located to catch the tourist trade. The proprietor greeted them with a show of surprise that didn’t fool either of them, sent one of his sons out for coffee, and began complaining. The thrice-cursed war had ruined his business. How could an honest man make a living when so few tourists came?
“That is why we came to you,” Ramses said. “Your honesty is well known, and since there are no tourists, you must have many fine antiquities for sale. What have you got to show us?”
After considerable hemming and hawing, Omar finally brought out a small bronze figure of a seated cat wearing a gold earring, and a fragment of carved relief. The latter showed the head and shoulders of a man wearing a short, tightly curled wig.
“Late Twenty-fifth or early Twenty-sixth Dynasty,” Ramses murmured, turning it in his hands.
“Very good,” Nefret said. “I wish I had your eye.”
“Eye be damned. This comes from the chapel of Amenirdis at Medinet Habu. It was in situ last time I saw it. How much damage—”
Nefret cleared her throat warningly, and he controlled his anger, as his father would not have done. There was nothing to be gained by berating dealers like Omar; they wouldn’t stop cooperating with the local thieves, but they would stop showing him the objects.
“Who was responsible for the robbery of Legrain Effendi’s storage magazines?” he asked abruptly.
He knew better than to expect a truthful answer but he hoped his sudden question would induce a reaction, however fleeting and faint, that might give him a clue. It did. The other man’s face became as hard and blank as a plaster mask, glazed with sudden sweat. He shook his