The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [148]
Heeding the warning, I glided back into the shelter of the statuary group. The corridor was lit at intervals by oil lamps, and I was fairly sure that in my black cloak, and in the shadow, I would not be observed. In fact, neither man so much as glanced in my direction. Leaving the door open behind them, they walked down the corridor and passed behind the black curtain.
Both were masked and robed. I waited till they were out of sight before I emerged, and hearing no sound within the room they had left, entered it.
It was the strangest place, halfway between the robing room of a theatre and the vestibule of a church or temple. Hanging from hooks along the wall were several of the white robes. The door of a tall cabinet, left carelessly ajar, displayed shelves filled with staring masks. There must have been a dozen of them. But it was the sight of the objects on a long table that brought me to a stop, with my heart pounding painfully against my ribs. They were also masks but not copies of the one with which I was so familiar. Heads of ibis and baboon, vulture’s hooked beak and lion’s snarl – the animal-headed gods of ancient Egypt, moulded in papier-mâché and painted in bright colours.
I had almost forgotten that ghastly dream. But there were the animal heads, just as I had beheld them in nightmare . . . and nowhere else.
I dared not yield to the hideous speculations that assailed me. Here was my chance of passing unobserved into the very room where the others were gathering. But I had to move quickly, for there were several robes left and I did not know how many participants were yet to come. At any second I might be discovered.
I bundled my cloak into the cupboard and pulled one of the robes over my head. It was a good six inches too long, but that was all to the good, because it would hide my boots. The men had worn sandals, but the others I found, in the cupboard, were all too big for me. Besides, boots can be very useful in a scrimmage.
After examining the bits and pieces of ceremonial attire scattered among the masks on the table, I decided none was sturdy enough to serve as a weapon; maces, staffs and sceptres were of thin wood or papier mâché. It would have been madness to abandon my parasol, so I hooked it over my belt, under the robe, and held it in place with my elbow while I practised walking. It was a little awkward, but I thought I could manage.
I was ready to go – except for one thing.
His lordship and Mr Barnes had both worn the priest-mask. There were plenty of them left; Emerson’s little jest about a workshop that produced them had not been so far off the mark. They would need a good number of the cursed things; no doubt the priest had destroyed the one he wore after each performance. My hand had actually touched one of the damnable objects when I had second thoughts.
My decision rested on such a fragile strand of evidence – a dream. But in that dream only the high priest had worn the mask with the human features. The others, acolytes and attendants, had worn the animal heads.
Well, I would soon find out whether I had made the right choice. I selected the lion mask – Sekhmet, goddess of love, and of war. It seemed appropriate.
The corridor was as still as death. With stiff, hieratic stride, I paced its length. It was lucky for me no one was watching, because once the parasol got between my limbs and almost tripped me, but I recovered in time. My vision was limited by the eyeholes of the mask, so I could only see straight ahead, and I was conscious of a nasty prickling sensation in the middle of my back.
I lifted the curtain and passed through. Before me was a door, its surface carved in low relief, and gilded. The depictions were most extraordinary.
The latch yielded to the pressure of my hand; in smooth silence the panel swung inward. I came to a sudden stop.
There before me was the very scene of my dream, and I stood, as I had huddled then, on a balcony overlooking a vast chamber.
It was not exactly the same, however. The door had swung shut behind me, and