Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [147]
When he joined Nefret for luncheon he told her about the first part of the dream, thinking it might amuse her. The last two episodes almost certainly would not.
“You know what the Freudians would say about your letting Margaret drown,” she said gravely.
“They’d be wrong. God knows I wish she hadn’t complicated our lives, but I have a great deal of admiration for her. As soon as he’s fully recovered I’ll hold his arms while she hits him as often as she likes. You don’t suppose Cyrus does have a sister named Emmeline?”
“I don’t think he has a sister by any name.” She did smile then. “How did your unconscious come up with Emmeline? Someone I missed?”
“The only Emmeline I’ve met was Mrs. Pankhurst, and I assure you I never got within ten feet of her. Nor wanted to.”
They made conversation until Nasir had cleared the table and taken himself off. Ramses lit a cigarette. “Is she ready?”
Nefret nodded. “What about the dinghy?”
“It might be recognized. I’ll steal or hire a boat. See you in a bit.”
The first part of the plan went off without a hitch. By the time he got back to the Amelia in the small sailing boat he had hired, after the usual intensive bargaining, the crewmen had settled down for their afternoon rest and the only traffic on the river was a few commercial steamers and barges. With Nefret’s assistance he got the black-robed woman out the window and into the boat. Neither of them spoke much during the voyage. He was busy with the tiller and the sails and she didn’t seem inclined toward conversation.
As they neared the east bank she raised her bowed head. The veil hid all of her face except for her eyes. They were sunken and shadowed, but when she spoke it was in her usual brisk voice.
“You’ll let me know?”
“Yes. In person, sometime tomorrow, if we can manage it. Remember what I said about sticking close to the hotel. It would make my life much more difficult if you were abducted.”
“Or killed.”
“That’s the only positive aspect to the situation. If they do come after you they will want you alive.”
“Do you call that positive?”
“It’s much harder to carry off a healthy, hearty woman than to slit her throat.” He didn’t give her time to comment on that. “I’m going to put you ashore as close to the hotel as I can. You’ll have something of a scramble climbing the bank, but after what you did last night I expect you can manage it.”
She managed, with a certain amount of slipping and swearing. Ramses waited until she had reached the top of the embankment before he followed, in time to see her dart across the road and start up the long curving arm of the staircase that led to the door of the Winter Palace. She’d be all right now—if she remembered to divest herself of her Egyptian dress before she tried to go in.
The wind had died down, and it took him twice as long to get back across, using the oars a good part of the way. He returned his hired vessel, removed beard, turban, and aba behind a tree, and headed for the Amelia, scratching absently at his jaw. He’d been trying to develop an adhesive that didn’t itch, without success thus far.
The sun was sinking westward and cool gray shadows stretched across his path. As soon as darkness had fallen he could finish the rest of the program. He was rather looking forward to it. Action of any kind was easier than waiting, and he didn’t really anticipate any trouble. Nefret’s part was the hardest. She wouldn’t whine or cry, but she would be sick with apprehension until he came back.
It had gone well so far. He wondered, with a complacency he was soon to regret, why he had let himself get worked up. This situation was no more complicated than the messes his parents got into all the time.
It