The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [70]
Ramses felt himself blushing—something he had not done for years. But then no woman had ever talked to him this way, or examined him as a buyer would examine a horse.
Or as some men examined women.
Sauce for the gander, as his mother would say. Wry amusement replaced embarrassment, and he cut off the catalog of his charms with a compliment on her English. Her vocabulary was certainly extensive.
“It is the new way for women” was the reply. “We go to school like obedient children, so that one day we will no longer be children but the rulers of men. Have you not heard of it, young lord? Your lady mother knows. Ask her whether women cannot be as dangerous as men when they—”
“Ramses!”
He started. Nefret’s voice held a note that was unpleasantly reminiscent of his mother’s. “I must go,” he said.
Her closed-lipped smile reminded him of one of the statues in the museum—the painted limestone bust called “the White Queen.” This woman’s skin was not alabaster pale, but a soft deep brown, lustrous as satin. “You obey when she summons you? You are more like your father than I thought. My name is Layla, young lord. I will be here, waiting, if you come.”
When he joined the others, he realized he was still holding the flower. Offering it to Nefret would probably not be a wise move. He did not toss it away until after they were out of the woman’s sight.
Nefret waited until they had reached the bottom of the hill. She let him lift her into the saddle and then said coolly, “Wait a moment. Stand still. I want to look at you.”
“Nefret—”
“I suppose you don’t do it deliberately. Or do you?”
“Do what?” He knew why she had mounted before she started on him. Her pose and manner were those of a high-born lady addressing a groom, and it cost him something of an effort to throw his shoulders back and meet her eyes squarely.
Nefret nodded. “Yes. It’s very interesting. The Professor has it too, in a different sort of way. David doesn’t, though you and he look enough alike to be brothers.”
David, already in the saddle, said lightly, “Is that an insult or a compliment, Nefret?”
“I’m not sure.” She turned back to Ramses, who had taken advantage of her momentary distraction to mount Risha. He knew she wasn’t going to let him off so easily, though.
“Who is she?”
“She said her name is Layla. That’s all I know.”
“Layla!” David exclaimed. “I thought she looked familiar. I haven’t seen her for five years or more.”
“You knew her, David?” Nefret asked in surprise.
“Not—not to say know. Not in that way.”
“I don’t suppose you could have afforded her,” Nefret conceded.
David let out a sputter of laughter. “Really, Nefret, you ought not say such things.”
“It’s true, though, isn’t it?”
“Oh, quite.” They had left the village behind and were riding side by side at an easy walk. David went on, “Don’t you remember her? She was the third wife of Abd el Hamed, my former employer. Hers was rather a remarkable career. They say she started out in the House of the Doves in Luxor—”
“The house of what?” Nefret exclaimed.
“One must assume the name is either euphemistic or ironic,” Ramses murmured. “I wouldn’t care to say which. Would you prefer to drop the subject? Mother would certainly disapprove of our discussing it.”
“Go on,” Nefret said grimly.
“You understand, I am only repeating what I overheard when I was living in Gurneh,” David insisted. “The place is the best—uh—place in Luxor, which isn’t saying a great deal. The girls are reasonably well paid, and some of them marry after they—um—after a certain time. Layla was one of these. With her help, her husband began dealing in antiquities and stolen goods, and acquired a small fortune. Then he died—rather suddenly, it was said—which left Layla a wealthy widow. Later she married that old swine Abd el Hamed, I never understood why. She refused to live in his house, so perhaps you never met her.”
“She had met Father,” Ramses said thoughtfully. “She commented on the resemblance between us.”
Nefret gave him an enigmatic