Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [143]
Margaret nodded brusquely.
“As for you,” Ramses went on, returning his gaze to his uncle, who stared back at him without blinking, “we met you at the Vandergelts’ last night and brought you here when it was apparent you were coming down with malaria. You don’t trust these ‘native’ hospitals and you refused to be examined by a male physician.”
Nefret let out a gurgle of laughter. She was always quick. Sethos wasn’t far behind her. Ramses had expected—had, in fact, rather hoped for—an outraged protest. “A woman,” he said flatly. “You’ll tell the crew I’m—”
“Cyrus’s spinster sister. Very proper, very modest. First trip to Egypt. Hates everything about it.”
“Don’t tell me how to play a role,” Sethos grunted. There was a glint in his eyes that Ramses didn’t like at all.
“Control your histrionic urges,” he said sharply. “No one will set eyes on you. Our steward wouldn’t venture to intrude on a maiden lady.”
“But I ought to have a wig or a nightcap,” Sethos insisted. “Just in case. And a flannel gown.”
Nefret’s laughter shook her whole body. Margaret’s face grew even grimmer. She got to her feet.
“Is he feeling better?” she asked Nefret.
“Obviously,” Nefret gasped.
One long step brought Margaret to the side of the bed. She raised her hand and brought it down with stinging force across Sethos’s unshaven cheek.
“That,” she said, “is for making a fool of me in Hayil. And this—”
He caught her hand before it connected a second time. Margaret called him a name that made Ramses blink. She was choking with rage. “For being a supercilious, ungrateful, selfish pig!”
She pulled her hand free and flung herself out of the room. The door of the adjoining room slammed.
“That’s got rid of her anyhow,” said Sethos. “Now—”
“You are a pig,” Nefret snapped.
“The sentiment seems to be unanimous,” Sethos said, meeting Ramses’s hostile stare. “As I was about to say, your plan is admirable as far as it goes, but it doesn’t go far enough.”
“I know. I’ll take care of the rest tonight.”
“No,” Sethos said. “I think I know what you have in mind, and it makes a certain amount of sense, but I’ll see to it myself.”
“With a temperature of a hundred and three? By nightfall you’ll be burning with fever or shaking with chills. There’s just one little thing. Before I mount my fiery steed and ride out to challenge your enemies, I’d rather like to know who they are, and what they are after.”
His uncle’s expression made his palms itch; he was in complete sympathy with Margaret’s desire to slap that supercilious smile off his face. Sethos knew it was not concern for him that had prompted Ramses’s plan. If word got out that they were harboring a stranger on the Amelia, someone might hear of Margaret’s visit earlier that same evening and put two and two together. “The Master” must be seen and recognized after that visit, so that his enemies would not come looking for him here.
“This hasn’t anything to do with the Senussi or Sahin Bey or the damned Department, has it?” Ramses demanded. “It’s the same old antiquities game. You let things slip for a time, and a new player has jumped in. Who?”
“If I knew, don’t you suppose I’d have dealt with him? You had better believe me, Ramses, reluctant though you may be to do so. I’ve been trying for weeks to identify the fellow. If he’s an Egyptian, he’s an unusual specimen, because he’s utterly ruthless. He’s killed at least three people. I don’t want you to be the fourth. Amelia would take it badly.”
“You aren’t going to evade the issue again,” Ramses snapped.
He sat down on the side of the bed and took his exasperating kinsman by the shoulders. “What’s he after?”
The muscles under his hands contracted in a series of shivers. “What?” Ramses demanded. “Queen Tiy’s jewels?”
“Sorry,” Sethos muttered. “I’m feeling a bit . . . The jewels? There weren’t any. That entertaining episode, and the rumors I spread about, were just my way of announcing my return.” He closed his eyes.
Ramses’s hands tightened