The Last Camel Died at Noon - Elizabeth Peters [90]
Thereafter, as we reclined in the pleasurable aftermath of fulfilled connubial affection, Emerson hissed, “Now we can converse freely without fear of being overheard.”
I shifted position slightly, for he had spoken directly into my ear, which produced a not-unpleasant but distracting effect. Emerson tightened his grasp. “That was not my only motive for joining you, Peabody.”
“You have demonstrated your primary motive most effectively, my dear Emerson, but we may as well take advantage of the situation. I presume you have in mind some brilliant scheme of escape?”
“Escape? From what? Devil take it, Peabody, getting out of this building is not the problem. We could manage that, I expect; but then what? Without camels, water, and supplies we wouldn’t stand a chance of escaping from this place, even assuming I could locate the entrance to the tunnel by which we entered, which I could not.”
“What do you propose then? For I presume you have not arranged this romantic rendezvous solely in order to point out the things we can’t do.”
Emerson chuckled. “My darling girl, it is wonderful to hear you scolding me again. In case you have forgotten my real reason for arranging this rendezvous—”
“Now, Emerson, stop that. Or rather—please postpone what you are doing until after we have arrived at a solution to our difficulty, for I can’t think while you are…”
After a further interval Emerson remarked breathlessly, “You talk too much, Peabody, but it is a pleasure to stop your mouth in that particular fashion. What I was about to say, when your presence distracted me, was that I have yet to have it demonstrated to me that there is any need for escape. We haven’t even begun to explore this remarkable place. The opportunities for scholarly research are endless!”
“I am sure I needn’t tell you I share your enthusiasm, my dear. Yet I have seen a few ominous signs—”
“You are always seeing ominous signs,” Emerson grumbled.
“And you are in the habit of ignoring them when they conflict with what you want to do. Mr. Forth may or may not have wanted to leave this place; the one indisputable fact is that he did not. I am not urging a precipitate departure; I only want to make certain that when we are ready to go, we will be permitted to do so. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life here, I suppose? Even if they do make you a councillor and tutor to the royal children.”
“With no tobacco for my pipe and those swaddled females constantly hovering over us? Hardly.”
“It pleases you to be frivolous, Emerson. Another of the ominous—or, if you prefer, significant—signs I mentioned is the conflict between the two princes. You were quite right”— (I thought it time to apply a little flattery)—“when you pointed out that political struggles of this sort are pretty much alike. ‘He who is not for me is against me’ is a saying which I am sure applies just as forcibly here as in our part of the world. It can hardly be supposed that we will be allowed to remain neutral, and in a society like this one, political opposition is apt to take the form of violent attack.”
“It is a pleasure,” said Emerson, with several little demonstrations of that pleasure, “to deal with a mind as quick and logical as yours, my dear Peabody. I admit the force of your argument. We should anticipate the worst in order to be prepared for it. Almost certainly there will be a party, or parties, who will not want us to leave. Therefore we will require allies who can supply us with the necessities for a desert journey.”
“You propose we offer to assist one of the princely candidates in return for his promise to help us get away?”
“Nothing quite so Machiavellian. I am already inclined toward our friend Tarek.”
“So am I. I grew quite fond of him while he was Kemit,