The Amulet of Power - Mike Resnick [66]
“Based on the intimations you’ve received, wouldn’t the Amulet itself have something to say about that? Nothing wants to die, or be hidden away, not even a mystic artifact.”
“It might be able to contact you or me,” said Lara, “but if it tried to influence Gordon, he’d never have touched it again. He’d have locked it in some box and gotten rid of it as soon as he could.”
They fell to discussing Gordon for the next hour, and then there was a gentle knocking at the door. Hassam walked over to it, dagger in hand, cracked it open, saw that it was Ismail with a pile of books, sheathed his blade, took the books, and closed the door again.
“Good!” said Lara. “Tonight’s homework.”
Hassam set the books down on a coffee table.
“Six volumes,” she said to Mason. “That’s three for each of us.”
“Fair enough,” said Mason. “They look pretty old, and it wouldn’t hurt to run a cloth over them. I’ll wager they haven’t been read in years.” He studied the spines. “At least they’re all in English. Have you any preference?”
She shook her head. “Take the top three when you leave; I’ll go through the others.”
They waited another twenty minutes, and when Omar still hadn’t shown up they decided to go out for dinner.
Hassam looked at her strangely as she made for the door.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Your robes,” he said. “Are you not going to wear them?”
“Why? Is there something wrong with how I’m dressed?”
Hassam’s eyes flicked over her bare legs and the open top buttons of her shirt, but he said nothing.
“You won’t be able to wear your guns,” Mason observed. “At least with the robes, you could still wear them underneath.”
“I’ll have the Scalpel of Isis tucked in my boot. That will have to do for now.” Then, looking at their doubtful faces, she added: “Guns are useful, but it’s a weakness to grow too dependent on them.”
As they passed through the lobby Hassam told Ismail, who was working the reception desk, where they would be and to send Omar along if he appeared within the next half hour.
The Al Bustan was on Sharia al Baladiya, just a few blocks in from the Nile, and offered what most foreigners considered to be a typical North African bill of fare. Lara ordered the grilled chicken, as Mason had suggested, while he himself had lamb. They both had sweet figs for dessert, then splurged with a pair of lemonades.
She was aware that she was attracting a lot of stares. Being a beautiful woman, she was used to it, but on this occasion she knew that most of them were coming from people who were offended by her bare arms and legs, and a few were probably coming from men who wanted her dead.
They finally returned to the hotel and went back up to her suite, where she gave Mason the books and sent him and Hassam off to their room, while she prepared to sit down and plunge into the remaining volumes after making sure that Abdel el-Dahib had left while they were at dinner.
She had just opened the first book when Omar entered the room.
“You should lock your door,” he said severely.
“I knew you’d be coming by,” she said. “I’ll lock it when I go to bed. What did you find out?”
“They were not my men, but they were men who did not want you to find the Amulet.”
“That’s strange,” she said. “Kevin’s source said they were Mahdists.”
“Then his source is mistaken.”
“He seemed pretty sure.”
“I’ll check further tomorrow,” said Omar. “Or perhaps even tonight.”
“Go ahead,” she said. “You don’t have to chaperone me. I’m spending the night reading.”
Omar walked to the door, then turned to her. “He was certain, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe I had better check my own sources.” He opened the door and stepped into the corridor. “Remember to lock the door behind me.”
“I will.”
Then he was gone, and Lara locked and bolted the door. She knew there was no fire escape, but she walked over and closed the French doors to the balcony just to be on the safe side, then bolted them shut.
Finally she settled