The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [190]
“Ramses. My brother …” David was on his feet, his hand outstretched, his face distorted by emotion.
“It’s all right,” Ramses said quickly. “Don’t distress yourself. That was a rhetorical question; you cannot comprehend Percy’s motives any more than I can.” He went to the window and stood looking out. “The truth is, I’m afraid of him, David. He’s got a mind so devious and dirty it’s impossible for me to anticipate what he might do. However, I am taking no chances with Sennia. Kalaan wouldn’t dare injure someone who is under Father’s protection, but Percy …”
Her father. That word had a new and painful poignancy for him now, and not only because of the little girl who had given him the love her natural father didn’t want or deserve. His mother’s blunt announcement about Nefret’s condition had literally knocked him off his feet. A blessing in disguise, she had called it…. I’ll never know for certain, I suppose, Ramses thought. Perhaps it’s better that way.
But he was glad David couldn’t see his face.
I do not often trouble the Almighty with petitions, since I am sure there are others far more in need of supernatural assistance than I. I prayed that night, however, as I lay awake beside the sleeping form of my husband. His presence comforted me as it always does, but my aching heart demanded further reassurance—hope that the future would be brighter than the sad present.
There was no answer to my wordless request. But I soon fell asleep, and I dreamed.
“Well, Abdullah,” I said. “You warned me of storms ahead. If I had known how bad they would be, I might not have been able to face them. I don’t know that I can face them now.”
The rising sun illumined his handsome, hawklike features and the strong white teeth that shone in the blackness of his beard. “Do you remember the Snake, Sitt Hakim? He who stole Emerson away and kept him prisoner, so that we did not know whether he lived or not?”
“I remember. As I remember it was you who saved him, Abdullah.”
“You did not lose heart then.”
“Oh, but I did,” I said, remembering the night I had wept uncontrollably, huddled on the floor with a towel pressed to my face so that no one would hear.
“And then you went to the window, and after your long night of weeping, you saw the dawn.”
“So you know about that, too? Really, Abdullah, I am not sure I appreciate this omniscience of yours. Is there anything about me you don’t know?”
“Very little.” His black eyes shone with laughter.
“Hmmm. What can I do to help them?”
Abdullah shook his head. “How can a woman be so wise and yet so blind? It is well, perhaps, that you do not know everything. You would try to help, and you would blunder, Sitt. You are not always careful.”
It was such a comfort to hear his old joking complaint and see the twinkle in his eyes. He took my hand in his; it was as warm and firm as that of a living man. “The worst of the storm is yet to come, Sitt. You will need all your courage to survive; but your heart will not fail you, and in the end the clouds will blow away and the falcon will fly through the portal of the dawn.”
Turn the page for a sneak peek at
A RIVER IN THE SKY,
the all- new Amelia Peabody adventure
by Elizabeth Peters,
coming soon in hardcover from William Morrow.
Emerson looked up from the book he was reading.
“The Old Testament,” he remarked, “is a tissue of lies from start to finish.”
As I have said before, and never tire of repeating, my husband is the greatest Egyptologist of this or any other century. It cannot be denied, however, that he holds somewhat unorthodox opinions on certain subjects. Prejudiced he is not; his critical