The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [82]
“Obviously,” I said. “I am going to Gurneh to fetch—no, not Abdullah, worry and exertion would be bad for him—Selim, and Daoud and—”
“Peabody, you are not going anywhere. And neither are you, Nefret; stay here and try to keep your Aunt Amelia under control. It is a damned difficult job, take my word for it. I will go to the dahabeeyah. It’s a far-out chance, but someone may have seen something of them. I will bring Reis Hassan and another of the crewmen back with me, and then we will think what to do next.”
Another grisly hour dragged by. Emerson did not return. It was Reis Hassan who came instead, with a message from my husband. Someone had claimed to have seen the boys walking toward the ferry landing. If they had gone over to Luxor he would follow the trail. Mahmud was with him, and Reis Hassan would stay with us.
Nefret did not react or even look up. For the past hour she had not moved. All at once she started to her feet; Horus, who had been on her lap, rolled off it and bounced onto the floor. Over his yowls of fury, I heard her say, “Listen. Someone is coming.”
The individual was on horseback, coming at a gallop, and I assumed it was Emerson. Even at a distance, however, I knew the slighter form could not be his.
“Selim,” said Nefret calmly.
There could be no doubt. Selim was an excellent horseman and he was waving his arms in a wild manner that would have unseated any rider less skilled. He was shouting too, but it was impossible to make out the words until he stopped.
“Safe!” was the first word I heard. “They are safe, Sitt, safe with me, and you must come, come at once, and bring your medicines, they are sick and bleeding and I have left Daoud and Yussuf on guard, and they are safe, and they sent me to tell you!”
“Very good,” said Nefret, when the enthusiastic youth had run out of breath. “I will go with you, Selim. Ask Ali the stableman to saddle Risha.”
She put her arm round my waist. “It’s all right, Aunt Amelia. Here, take my handkerchief.”
“I do not require it, my dear,” I said with a sniff. “I believe I may have a slight touch of catarrh.”
“Then you should not go out in the night air. No, Aunt Amelia, I insist you stay here and wait for the Professor. You might send someone to ask Mr. Vandergelt for the loan of his carriage, in case they are . . .”
She did not give me time to suggest alternatives, but dashed into the house and came back with her bag of medical supplies. It was, I supposed, the most sensible arrangement. I had no fear for her; Selim would be with her, and nothing less than a bullet could stop Risha when he was in full gallop.
As I had expected, Cyrus and Katherine accompanied the carriage, full of questions, and demanding to be allowed to help. I was explaining when Emerson returned.
“So you’re at it again,” Cyrus remarked. “I thought things had been abnormally quiet this season. Emerson, old pal, you okay?”
Emerson passed his hand over his face. “I am getting too old for this sort of thing, Vandergelt.”
“Not you,” said Cyrus with conviction.
“Certainly not,” I exclaimed. “Katherine dear, you and Cyrus must stay here. There won’t be room for all of us in the carriage.”
“I will make tea,” Katherine said, pressing my hand. “What else can I do for you, Amelia?”
“Have the whiskey ready,” said Cyrus.
From Manuscript H
When Ramses opened his eyes he knew he wasn’t dead or delirious, though the face that filled his vision was the one he would have preferred to see under either of those conditions.
“I think I’m supposed to babble about angels and heaven,” he said faintly.
“I might have known you’d try to be clever,” Nefret snapped. “What’s wrong with ‘Where am I?’ ”
“Trite. Anyhow, I know where I—hell and damnation! What are you . . .”
The pain was so intense he almost blacked out again. Off in the distance he heard Nefret ask, “Do you want