The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [117]
Daoud had begun to suspect something was amiss. A look of apprehension rippled slowly across his face, taking several seconds to complete the process because of the size of that countenance. “Did I do wrong, Sitt Hakim? You said to me, if one wishes to come—”
“You did not do wrong,” Ramses said, glancing at me. “Mother, get him a cup of tea. Now, Daoud, my friend, sit there and tell us all about it, from the beginning to the end.”
I had been told Daoud was the best storyteller in the family, but I had found it hard to believe; he was usually a silent man. Now, with an audience as rapt as any raconteur could wish, he came into his own. His voice was deep and musical, his metaphors were poetic, the movements of his hands hypnotic. In fact, his metaphors were so poetic I believe I had better summarize the story, and add a few interpretations that had completely eluded the innocent man.
I would never have supposed that inexperienced girl was capable of such cold-blooded, calculating manipulation! While her parents debated and argued, she had instantly determined on a course of action. There was one sure way to get them to go on to Luxor: to go herself. She had had sense enough—thank God!—to know she ought not attempt the journey alone, and it had not taken her long to realize she could never convince Selim to take her. Daoud—poor Daoud, the gentlest and kindest and not the most intelligent of men—was easy prey. And then there was my own careless statement—I could have kicked myself when I remembered! “If any of them decides to come on, he or she . . .” Ah, yes, I had said it, or something like it, and Daoud had taken it literally. Why not? He had seen me and Nefret, and even Evelyn, make our own decisions and act independently of men. It was not the way of the women of Egypt, but we were a different breed. And how could there be any danger if he was with her?
The whiskey and soda helped a great deal. I settled down to listen with interest to Daoud’s animated account of the journey. He had had the return tickets—first class, for we do not allow our men to suffer unnecessary discomfort—and plenty of money. Lia had met him outside the hotel, after pretending to retire. Exchanging her muffling cloak for the robe and veil she had asked him to purchase, she had accompanied him to the station and onto the train. It had been a long, tiring trip, but he had done all he could to make her comfortable, purchasing fresh fruit and food at various stops and bringing her water to bathe her hands and face. She had slept a good deal of the time, in the respectful shelter of his arm.
“And so we came,” Daoud concluded, “like a dove fluttering home to its nest she came, and I watched over her, Sitt Hakim, I let no bird of prey come near her.”
Darkness had fallen by the time he finished. Fatima had brought out the lamps, and had lingered to listen.
Emerson drew a deep breath. “Well told, Daoud. And—er—well done. I understand how it came about, and you are not to—that is, you acted for the best. You too must be weary. Go home and rest now.”
Nefret came out in time to add her thanks, in the form of a hearty hug, and Daoud went off looking as if he had received a medal. “She is asleep,” Nefret said, before I could ask. “David is with her; I thought it would be good for her to see a familiar face if she woke and could not remember where she was. Should we not go in? I think dinner is ready; Mahmud is banging his pans around, the way he does when we are late.”
Fatima let out a hiss of dismay and darted into the house. I could not blame her for forgetting her duties; we had all forgot everything except the interest of Daoud’s narrative.
“Well!” I said, after we had taken our places round the table. “I had believed myself an excellent judge of character, but I confess Lia has shaken that opinion. To think she is capable of such slyness!”
“And such courage,” Ramses said quietly.
“Yes,” I admitted. “When I think of that