Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [142]
“Clever,” he said. “I suppose there’s no use asking you to give me back my clothes?”
“That’s open to negotiation,” Nefret said. She looked and sounded a good deal brighter than Ramses felt. Stifling a yawn that threatened to crack his jaws, he leaned against the wall and folded his arms. Nefret opened her medical bag. The expression on Sethos’s face when he saw the thermometer cheered Ramses quite a lot.
“No,” he said firmly.
“Yes,” said Nefret. “Shall I have Ramses hold you down?”
His uncle considered the question. Ramses, who was beginning to enjoy himself, watched the struggle between common sense and an unreasonable but understandable desire to hit out at someone.
“At least get her out of here before you rob me of what remains of my dignity,” Sethos said, glancing obliquely at Margaret. It was the first time he had deigned to acknowledge her presence.
“That’s reasonable,” Nefret conceded. “Margaret, go and get dressed. Use the room next to this one.”
Sethos submitted to Nefret’s examination in tight-lipped silence. “Temperature and pulse normal,” she announced. “But you know what’s going to happen, don’t you?”
He responded with another question. “Malaria?”
“It looks like it. What time did the last attack begin?”
Sethos brushed this aside with a wave of his hand. “You needn’t stand over me like a prison guard, Nefret. I haven’t the strength to fight you off, much less the pair of you, and I’m not foolhardy enough to risk falling ill before I can find a safe hiding place. We need to come up with an explanation for my being here. Any ideas?”
The force of his personality was strong as ever, even though he was flat on his back looking like death warmed over, but this time his attempt to distract them failed.
“Have I your word you won’t try to leave?” Nefret asked.
“For what it’s worth.” His lips twisted. “Would a cup of coffee be asking too much?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Sethos’s eyes followed her as she went to the door, her white gown falling in graceful folds.
“Is there any chance of concealing my presence from your crew?” he asked.
“Not likely. However—”
The door opened again. Nefret thrust a bundle of clothes at Ramses. “You may as well get dressed too.”
“Bolt the door,” Sethos suggested. “Unless you want an audience.”
“She got you here, all the way from the Tarif,” Ramses said. He stood up, stamped his feet into his boots, and fastened his belt. “At considerable risk to herself and without anyone seeing you. Give the woman credit.”
“Never mind that. I presume you know that there are several unpleasant persons looking for me? You might put yourself and your wife in danger if I remain.”
“You can’t leave now without being seen, unless you mean to swim across the river. I have an idea . . .”
Ramses waited until the women had joined them before he explained his plan. The coffee Nefret brought finished clearing his head and he flattered himself that he managed to produce a clear, lucid argument, despite his uncle’s frequent attempts to interrupt.
“We can’t conceal indefinitely the fact that we have a guest. Misdirection is our only hope. They know Margaret was with you last night. They know, or will learn, that she came here earlier in the evening, alone. Ashraf saw her leave; he will swear she did not return. If we can get her over to Luxor unobserved, no one will know where she was for the rest of the night. I’ll have to take her across myself. She can borrow Nefret’s tob and veil. It will be a bit tricky, but I think we can manage it if we get the crew out of the way.”
“If she has any sense, which I doubt, she’ll refuse,” Sethos drawled. “D’you suppose they won’t want a chat with the last person known to be with me?”
“She only has to walk from the dock to the hotel,” Ramses said. “Once there, she stays—is that clear,