The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [99]
“My God, you’re beginning to romanticize the fellow,” Ramses said in disgust.
“He is romantic,” Nefret said dreamily. “Suffering from a hopeless passion for a woman he can never have, watching over her from the shadows . . .”
“You’ve been reading too many rotten novels,” Ramses said caustically. “If Sethos is still in love with Mother, he’ll be after her himself. If he isn’t, he won’t bother defending her.”
“Goodness, what a cynic you are!” Nefret exclaimed.
“A realist,” Ramses corrected. “Disinterested passion is a contradiction in terms. What man outside a romantic novel would risk his life for a woman he can never possess?”
“Didn’t you risk yours, for Layla?”
Ramses shifted uncomfortably. “How the devil do we get onto such subjects? What I meant to say was that a second party who has designs on Mother is a complication we don’t need. When is Sir Edward joining us?”
“Tomorrow. There’s plenty of room if Uncle Walter and the others don’t come.”
Ramses nodded. “I only hope . . .”
“What?”
“That they can be persuaded to return home.” Absently he rubbed his side.
Nefret put her hand over his. “Does it hurt? Let me give you something to help you sleep.”
“It doesn’t hurt, it itches. I don’t need anything to help me sleep. I think I will turn in, though. It’s been rather a long day.”
It was a longer night. He dreamed again of fighting blindly in the dark, of hands that clawed and pounded at his face, of his own hands fumbling and flailing, and finding at last the only hold that might save them. Again his stomach turned at the sound of shattering bone, again the brief flare of a match illumined the dead face. But this time the face was David’s.
•
Nine
•
When I approached the verandah next morning I heard the murmur of voices and wondered who was up so early. Emerson had been splashing and sputtering over his ablutions when I left the room, so I concluded it must be the children.
I was in error.
“Good morning, Sir Edward,” I said, surprised. “And—Fatima?”
“I intended to creep onto the verandah without disturbing anyone,” he explained, rising to his feet. “But this kind woman found me and brought me tea.”
Fatima ducked her head. “She has been good enough to allow me to practice my Arabic,” Sir Edward went on easily. “I hope I am not too early? I wanted to be in time to accompany you to the Valley, and I know the Professor’s habits.”
“Excellent,” I said. “The others will be here soon, Fatima; you may serve breakfast. Thank you.”
“She understands English?” Sir Edward laughed ruefully. “I might have spared her my appalling Arabic had I known.”
“She has been studying English, and learning to read as well. Ambition and intelligence and the love of learning are not limited to the masculine gender, or to a particular race, Sir Edward. We are all brothers and sisters in the eyes of heaven, and if education were available to Egyptians—”
“Lecturing again, Peabody?” said Emerson from the open door. “Good morning, Sir Edward. Come and have breakfast, we must be off in a quarter of an hour.”
It was nearer half an hour before we left the house, primarily because Ramses and Nefret got into another argument. She wanted him to wear the sling and he said he would not.
“You will keep hitting your hand,” she insisted.
“It will be my own damned fault if I do,” said Ramses.
I told Ramses not to swear and Nefret said he was a damned stubborn fool, and everyone added his opinion, except Sir Edward, who would have feigned a courteous deafness had that been possible, which it was not, since all their voices were quite loud. Emerson finally put an end to the discussion by shouting louder than anyone else and demanding that we get off at once.
I was especially glad that day that we had got into the habit of hiring horses for the season instead of relying on donkeys and our own feet. One feels—and is—much more vulnerable mounted on a little animal not much taller than oneself, which