The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [163]
“Animal burials,” he muttered. “They were mummified; that’s a scrap of linen. All right, Selim, brush away the sand but don’t move anything until we get photographs.”
There were several layers of bones and horns—rams, goats, gazelles, oxen—separated from one another by layers of fine sand. Even with all of us concentrating on the area, progress was slow, owing to Emerson’s insistence on proper procedures.
We were still uncovering bones when I decreed a halt. It was sometimes necessary for me to do this, since Emerson would have gone on until dark or until everyone else dropped in his or her tracks. That day it was David whose increasingly clumsy and slow movements aroused my concern. Geoffrey had teased him about his drowsy looks until a sharp glance from me put an end to little jokes about bridegrooms.
I hadn’t been able to get any information out of anyone all day. My attempts to get David to myself had been foiled by Lia, who stuck close to him and ignored my hints that she should go somewhere and do something else. It became clear to me that David knew something he did not want me to know and that Lia and Emerson were both in the conspiracy to keep me in ignorance.
That is a state of affairs I never allow. I therefore demanded Emerson’s company on the way back to the house and held my horse to a walk. “What happened last night?” I demanded. “Were they able to learn the identity of the man they seek? What are they going to do next?”
“I don’t know,” said Emerson.
“Confound it, Emerson! I will not be kept in the dark. If you won’t tell me—”
“Don’t shout!” Emerson bellowed. Geoffrey, riding ahead with Nefret, turned his head to look at us.
“Now see what you’ve done,” I said.
“I haven’t done anything, curse it! He’s accustomed to our shouting at one another, we do it all the time.” But he moderated his voice. “I’ve not had an opportunity to speak with David at length. He said only that they had run up against a slight snag last night, but there was no harm done. They mean to give it one more try tonight, and if they are not successful we will discuss the matter further.”
“I suppose I must be satisfied with that.”
“You must, yes. And so must I.” The tight set of his lips and the whitened knuckles of the hands that grasped the reins betrayed the same sense of frustration that affected me. After a moment he added, “Don’t you suppose I want to go with them? I dare not; my presence would only increase the risk. There is nothing I can do to help them, except possibly to provide a distraction.”
“So that is why you announced you would investigate the substructure.”
“One of the reasons.” Emerson grinned. “I want to see what’s down there.”
Lia and David would not stay for tea. Ramses was to meet them at the dahabeeyah and would, Lia said casually, probably spend the night. He had taken to keeping toilet articles and changes of clothing there.
“Bring him to breakfast tomorrow,” I said.
It was an order, not a request; the only possible response was “yes,” and Lia gave it.
They left the horses and went on on foot, arms entwined. The others went up to change, except for Nefret, who intercepted me. “Geoffrey wonders if Ramses is avoiding him,” she said. “I promised him I would ask you.”
“Now why would he wonder that?” I said in some confusion.
She did not reply, but stood looking at me with a singular lack of expression. I wondered if she had learned the trick from me; it is more likely to induce a response than repeated questions.
“He is enjoying David’s company,” I said at last. “You know how close they are. He—er—no doubt he also means it as a delicate attention to the two of you.”
I hoped she would not ask me what I meant by that, since I did not know myself. Apparently she accepted it, for she nodded and left me.
The conversation at dinner was strictly archaeological and conducted almost entirely by Emerson and Geoffrey. The latter appeared to be very interested in our bones (the ones we had found, that is). “Were they, perhaps, sacrifices to the dead king?” he asked.
“The shaft was not dug