Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [40]
“It’s his private correspondence.” I tried to keep my voice as soft as his. “What a story I could write if I had some of these letters!”
“And what a pretty sight you would be hanging upside down from the gate of the palace with crows picking at your eyes.” He struck the paper from my hand, added it to the others that had fallen on the floor, and put them back in the cupboard.
“Uncle Ismail and Mama won’t bother pursuing a worthless female they were about to send on her way anyhow, but if you had those letters they wouldn’t rest until they got them—and you—back.” He went to the window and then turned, holding something I couldn’t identify in the darkness. “I don’t suppose you can climb down a rope? Young women today have so few useful skills. I’ll lower you. As soon as you’re on the ground, untie it and get out of the way.”
He fastened the end of the rope round my waist and hoisted me unceremoniously into the embrasure. The window gave onto a walled garden, shadowy with trees and flowering shrubs; the sweet scent of some night-blooming flower reached my nostrils. The ground looked a long way down.
I took a deep breath and turned round, so that I was lying across the sill, with my feet dangling and my hands gripping the window frame.
“You took the jewelry to make him believe you are a common thief,” I whispered.
“My dear girl!” His voice was light with laughter. “I took the jewelry because I am a thief, though not a common one. The turban pin alone is worth several thousand pounds. Stop talking and let go. I’ve got you.”
The only thing that gave me nerve enough to loosen my grip was the knowledge that if I hesitated he’d shove me out. The rope tightened; it felt as if it were cutting me in two. He lowered me in a series of quick, breath-stopping jerks. My feet hit the ground so hard my knees buckled. He was already halfway down before I had loosened the slipknot and stepped aside.
“How did you get up there?” I asked breathlessly.
“Climbed the wall. I took a rope along since it is sometimes advisable to beat a hasty retreat. Good Lord, you talk almost as much as she does. Follow me and keep quiet.”
He led the way through shadowy aisles of shrubbery to the far wall. It was of mortared stone and over ten feet high. Moonlight glittered off a fractured surface.
“That’s broken glass,” said my companion informatively. “I cleared a space, but it’s only about two feet wide, so be careful where you put your hands. You’ll have to stand on my shoulders. How are you at acrobatics?”
“I’ll soon find out, won’t I?”
His lips parted in a smile. “Quite. Here we go.”
I managed it by leaning against the wall to keep my balance while he lifted me and pushed from below. Nimble I was not, but I got there. Squatting, I looked down and saw two astonished faces looking up.
“Allahu akhbar!” said one. “It’s a woman. Where does he find them?”
The other man said, more practically, “Turn, Sitt, and lower yourself by your hands. I will catch you.”
My palms as well as my knees were bleeding by the time I got myself down. We must have been outside the confines of the palace now; a narrow lane led off to right and left. The high walls on either side cut off the starlight; I couldn’t see anything except the pale robes of the two men and some shadowy shapes that appeared to be horses. A few moments later my rescuer dropped down beside me.
“Stand still,” he ordered. “Don’t move.”
Taking the other two aside, he spoke to them softly and urgently. I couldn’t make out the words, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t speaking Arabic; the rhythms of the language are quite distinct from those of English. One of the other men laughed; their leader, for so he must be, responded with a curt reprimand. Then he came back to me, leading a horse. He pulled his robe off and handed it to me. “Put this on.”
I got the thing over my head and tried to find the sleeves. He swung himself into the saddle and reached down. “That’s good enough. Leave your head and face covered.”
It sounds so romantic when one reads about it. Held in the curve of his arm, my face pressed