The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog - Elizabeth Peters [52]
“How much longer?” he asked, as we started back.
“A week at the outside,” Emerson replied. Glancing at me, he added provocatively, “Vandergelt Effendi is coming soon. I want to be out of his house before he arrives.”
We had received a telegram from Cyrus the day before, announcing his imminent arrival in Cairo and saying that he looked forward to seeing us shortly.
“Perhaps,” said Abdullah hopefully, “the cat will stay here with the Effendi.”
“That is a difficulty,” Emerson agreed. “We will be camping out at Amarna; we cannot be bothered feeding and caring for him.”
A rattle of rock and a pathetically abbreviated squeak nearby preceded the appearance of Anubis, with a limp brown shape in his mouth. “You needn’t worry about feeding him,” I said.
Abdullah said something under his breath. Daoud, a big silent man, whose placidity was seldom ruffled, glanced uneasily at the cat; his fingers twitched in a ritual gesture designed to ward off evil.
The cat disappeared with its prey and we went on in silence for a time. Then Abdullah said, “There is a fantasia tonight at the house of the brother of my father. It is in honor of my visit to the home of my ancestors; but it would be a greater honor if the Father of Curses and you, Sitt Hakim, would come.”
“It would honor us,” Emerson replied, as courtesy demanded. “What do you say, Peabody?”
The idea appealed to me. I was anxious to meet Abdullah’s uncle, who had a certain reputation in the Luxor area; born and raised in Gurnah, the notorious village of hereditary tomb robbers on the west bank, he had acquired, by means no one cared to investigate, wealth enough to purchase a fine house on the east bank outside Luxor. Family pride would require him to hire the finest entertainers for his fantasia.
The entertainment at these celebrations consists primarily of music and dancing. In the beginning I had found Egyptian music painful to my ears; the singers’ voices slide up and down a rather limited scale, and the musical instruments are primitive by Western standards. As with most art forms, however, prolonged exposure increases appreciation. I could now listen with relative enjoyment to the nasal singing and the accompaniment of flute and zither, tambourine and zemr (a form of oboe). The insistent rhythm of the drums (of which there were many varieties) had a particularly interesting effect.
I accepted the invitation with proper expressions of gratitude. Taking Emerson’s arm, I let the others draw ahead before I said in a low voice, “Have you canceled your interdict against evening activities, then? Nothing has occurred since we arrived in Luxor—”
“I have made certain it would not,” Emerson replied haughtily. “However, this is not the sort of evening activity I was concerned about. I defy the boldest of abductors to snatch you away when you have three such defenders.” Seeing my expression—for he knows how I dislike being regarded as a helpless female—he added, “We might have dinner at the hotel and drop in on the performance later. Carter is in Luxor; I would like to have a chat with him, and prepare him for the great discovery we are about to make.”
So it was arranged. We sent a message across to Howard inviting him to dine with us at the Luxor Hotel, and as the sun was setting we stepped on board the felucca that would take us across the river. Abdullah and Daoud looked like emirs in their best robes and most enormous turbans; the former’s long white beard had been laundered till it shone like snow. It was incumbent on us to put on an equally impressive show; Emerson accepted the necessity of this, though he remarked grumpily, as I was trying his cravat, that he felt like a little boy being taken to visit wealthy godparents.
The gangplank, which served as an oar in times of diminished wind, had been pulled in and we were gliding away from the quay when a long