The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [62]
“Is it?” He put his hand to his head. “Oh. Yes, I remember now; I wasn’t wearing my hat at the time, I came away in something of a hurry. I suppose you didn’t observe the fellow, Mrs. Emerson—a shifty-looking native with a black beard? He was on horseback; I noticed him when you stopped to chat, for I thought it somewhat odd that he would wait all that time and then follow when you went on. I didn’t like his looks or the way he watched you …”
Emerson reached for him as he staggered, but it was Nefret’s arms into which he sank. His weight bore her slowly but inexorably to the ground, where she took his head onto her lap.
Ramses had not dismounted. Lounging in the saddle, he looked down on the tableau with a slight curl of his lip. “Very prettily done,” he remarked.
“Go to the devil, Ramses,” said Nefret.
Geoffrey’s faint lasted only a few seconds. Blushing, he quickly removed himself from Nefret’s arms and assured her he was quite unharmed. Such appeared to be the case; the abrasion that had scored his scalp was only skin-deep. However, I insisted he return with us to the house so I could clean it properly. My horse had apparently vanished into the Ewigkeit where, so far as I was concerned, the confounded beast could remain; so Emerson took me up with him on Risha and we let the young people draw ahead.
“What have you been up to now?” my husband inquired.
“I don’t know what you mean, Emerson.”
“Yes, you do. What did you say, and to whom, that might have provoked this performance?”
“Nothing, I assure you.”
“No veiled hints? No random threats?”
“No, Emerson, truly. At least I don’t think so.”
“Instigating an attack is one way of identifying an enemy, I suppose,” Emerson mused. “It is not one of which I approve, Peabody.”
“Honestly, Emerson, I do not understand it. Our investigations have been singularly—embarrassingly, one might say—unsuccessful. The only encouraging aspect of this attack—”
“I felt certain you would find one.”
“Well, but it must mean that the forger is here—in Egypt, in Cairo, perhaps in Giza! The disguise he assumed this morning was the same he used in Europe.”
“Including the shifty look and the sinister appearance?”
“Don’t be sarcastic, Emerson. Geoffrey may have exaggerated a trifle after the event—he is a sensitive, imaginative young fellow. It was the man’s behavior that aroused Geoffrey’s suspicions.”
“Hmph,” said Emerson. “I wonder.”
FROM MANUSCRIPT H
The old fakir ambled aimlessly along the narrow lanes of the suk. Nefret gave him only a passing glance; he was obviously a member of one of the orders of dervishes, a little taller and a great deal dirtier than most. Daoud, who had been proud to be asked to escort her that evening, drew her out of the path of a vendor balancing a huge tray of bread and indicated the open doorway of one of the shops. Racks of slippers of all types and sizes were on display outside; Nefret did not pause to inspect them but entered the small room, in whose doorway the merchant stood bowing and smiling.
When she came out of the shop sometime later, the old fakir was surrounded by a group of young hooligans who were jeering and laughing at him. With a shocked exclamation Daoud started toward them. The fakir was not in need of his assistance, however; he began laying about him with his tall staff and cursing fluently. The young villains dispersed and the fakir sat down in the middle of the path, mumbling and dribbling. He wore no turban; long straggling strands of graying hair fell over his face.
“They are bad boys,” Daoud said disapprovingly. “He is a very holy man.”
“But perhaps a little lacking in his wits?” Nefret suggested delicately.
“His mind is in heaven and only his body remains on earth.”
“God be kind to him,” Nefret murmured. Something about the weird figure seemed to interest her. She edged closer. “Rather an attractive arrangement of rags. A thing of shreds and patches, or would one call it a coat of many colors?”
“It is called a dilk,” said the literal-minded Daoud.
“Hmmm. Oh, I almost forgot—go back, please, and tell Mr.