The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [29]
Before I saw more than that, Ramses grabbed hold of me and turned me round to face him. He must have thought I was about to exclaim aloud or move closer to the light—which I never would have done! I scowled at him and he leered at me. You have no idea how horrible Ali the Rat looks close up, even when he isn’t leering.
The man said, “A new one, is he? You are a besotted fool to bring him here.”
“He is such a pretty thing I cannot bear to be parted from him,” Ramses muttered, leering even more hideously. “Go stand in the corner, my little gazelle, until we complete our business.”
They had reached an agreement on the price the night before, but knowing the way these people operate I fully expected Yussuf Mahmud would demand more. Instead Yussuf Mahmud shoved the ragged bundle at Ramses—keeping one hand firmly on it—and said brusquely, “You have the money?”
Ramses stared at him. Then he said—squeaked, rather—“Why such haste, my friend? I hope you are not expecting anyone else this evening. I would be . . . displeased to share your company with others.”
“Not so displeased as I,” the fellow said, with a certain air of bravado. “But none of us will linger if we are wise. There are those who can hear words that are not uttered and see through windowless walls.”
“Is it so? Who are these magicians?” Ramses leaned forward, smiling Ali’s distorted smile.
“I cannot—”
“No?” Ramses took a heavy sack from the folds of his robe and poured a rain of shining gold coins onto the table. We had agreed they would make a more impressive show than banknotes, and they certainly had the desired effect on Yussuf Mahmud. His eyes practically popped out of his head.
“Information is part of the bargain,” Ramses went on. “You have not told me where this came from, or through what channels it passed. How many people did you cheat or murder or rob to get it? How many of them will transfer their attentions to me once I have possession of it?”
He gestured unobtrusively to David, who took the papyrus and laid it carefully in the wooden case we had brought with us. The man paid no attention; his greedy eyes were fixed on that shining golden heap. Ramses glanced quickly from the shuttered window to the barred door. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t have to; the room was so small that the shadowy corner to which he had directed me was within the range of his vision. I didn’t see or hear anything out of the way, but he must have done, for he jumped up and reached for me as the flimsy wooden shutters gave way under the impact of a heavy body.
The body was that of a man, his face covered by a tightly wound scarf that left only his eyes exposed. He hit the floor and rolled upright, agile as an acrobat. I thought there was another one behind him, but before I could be sure Ramses tucked me under one arm and sprang toward the door. David was already there, the case that held the papyrus in one hand, his knife in the other. He flattened himself against the wall on one side of the door; Ramses pulled the bar back and jumped out of the way. The door flew open, and the man who had hurled himself against it stumbled into the room.
David kicked him in the ribs and he fell flat. I was tempted to kick Ramses, for handling me like a bundle of laundry instead of letting me join in the defense, but I decided I hadn’t better; he and David were operating quite efficiently and it would have been stupid (and possibly fatal) to break their rhythm. The whole business had taken only a few seconds.
That heap of gold was our second line of defense. Over Ramses’s shoulder I saw a writhing tangle of limbs as the newcomers and Yussuf Mahmud fought with teeth and knives and bodies to possess their prize. They fought on a carpet of gold; coins spilled from the table and rolled across the floor.
David had gone out the door. Another body fell into the room and David called out to us to come ahead. Ramses pulled the door shut behind us.
“I hope you didn’t hit him