Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [39]
“He did?” The unknown released his grasp and grinned. “That’s Ibn-Rashid for you. Can’t resist a joke.”
“A joke? How dare you? He was about to—to . . .”
“Oh, I doubt it. He knows better. Since his uncle was assassinated—they’re heavy on assassination here—his mother and his maternal uncles are the real power behind the throne, and he wouldn’t dare go against their wishes. Raping and/or murdering a British subject would get them in serious trouble, and they are not ready to risk that. Too busy playing one side off against the other.” Picking up a heavy brass vase, he bent over the Emir, who was beginning to stir, and struck him smartly on the head. “You’ve really complicated matters,” he said in tones of mild vexation. “You had better come along with me. Rashid is going to be a trifle annoyed about this, and he might take it out on you. At least you’re sensibly dressed. That fetching ensemble was another thing that misled me; she favors trousers too.”
“She? Who? What are you going to do?”
“First I’m going to tie him up.” He removed the Emir’s beautifully embroidered sash and bound his hands behind him. “If you hadn’t distracted me I’d have done the job and been gone without his knowing I was here.”
“Why should I go with you? I don’t know who you are. I could be going from the frying pan into the fire.”
“You could be. If I were in your place I’d risk it, though. The frying pan has begun to sizzle.” He finished binding and gagging the Emir with bits of his clothing and rose to his feet. “You can come willingly or draped inconveniently over my shoulder. I’ll have to knock you unconscious first, you understand. It will hurt. Well?”
“I—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, stop dithering.” He caught hold of my wrist and raised his other arm. His fist was clenched. He was going to hit me!
“Don’t, don’t! I’ll come.”
“I should damn well think so.” A muffled groan from the Emir drew his attention away from me. Ibn-Rashid was conscious. His eyes were the only part of his body he could move, but they were eloquent. I no longer doubted that a possible fire was preferable to a certain grilling.
My rescuer—if that is what he was—threw his shoulders back and planted his hands on his hips. His pose, the tilt of his head, a dozen small changes I could see but not define, turned him into the ruffian he had first appeared to be. “Forgive my rude treatment, lord,” he said in fluent Arabic. “But you see how it is. You are a rich man and I am a poor man. Does not the Prophet teach that helping the poor is pleasing to God?”
Bending over the Emir, he deftly removed the brooches and chains and unfastened the glittering turban ornament. “I will take the woman too,” he said, tucking the objects into his pouch. “She would not bring much from the brothel owners, but perhaps the Inglizi will pay.”
Ibn-Rashid’s eyes were popping and his forehead was beaded with sweat. I hoped he had begun to realize he might be in a spot of trouble if someone came looking for me, and he had to admit his impetuous behavior had caused him to lose me. The other man made him a mocking salute, hands together under his chin, head bowed, and then walked toward me, with a slow, insolent stride. I backed away. I would like to claim my movements were calculated and that I understood what he intended, but honesty compels me to admit my retreat was purely involuntary. His back to the Emir, he bared white teeth in what I hoped was a smile, and swung his fist.
It barely grazed my jaw. In case I hadn’t got the idea, he administered a brisk kick on the ankle, and as my knees buckled he scooped me up and tossed me over his shoulder. I had the sense to close my eyes and let my body go limp, though it was a damnably uncomfortable position. He carried me through the curtained doorway and set me on my feet. The room was unlighted except by moonlight, but I could see cupboards lining the walls. The door of one of them was open; papers had spilled out onto the floor. I picked one of them up.
“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was almost inaudible. “Put that down and come here.