Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [154]
The house was lit from one end to the other. She came running to meet him, holding out her arms. He brought Risha to a halt and met her halfway.
“Now tell us,” Selim urged. “Tell us all your adventure.”
No one could possibly think of going to bed. The return of the lost had revived all spirits, even those of Daoud. We had stopped at his house on the way back from Gurneh, to tell him we knew all about it and that we did not blame him.
Kadija was not so forgiving. “So that is why you have been pretending to be sick. Daoud, you great fool…”
When she heard about the boys having gone missing she left off berating Daoud and said she would come with him to the house. Hoping against hope that the wanderers had returned, we left them to follow (with, I expected, a pot of Kadija’s famous green ointment).
Having discovered that our hopes had not been fulfilled, I at once took steps, sending Daoud and Selim to gather our people and begin inquiries. It was Sabir who located the boatman who had taken the boys across. (He had added that the Brother of Demons had not paid for his passage, and that money was owed.)
“What are we waiting for?” Emerson demanded, after Sabir reported this. “They are somewhere in Luxor. I will—”
“Search the entire town, house by house?” I interrupted. “The boatman lost sight of them after they climbed the embankment.”
My rational arguments had no effect on Emerson, who was storming up and down the veranda knocking over tables and annoying the cat. It was Nefret, perhaps the only one who could have done so, who dissuaded him. “We don’t want to lose you too, Father. Give them a little more time.”
She wouldn’t have been so calm if one of her premonitions had gripped her. I would never forget the frantic girl who had begged for our belief and help when Ramses was in the hands of his worst enemy. She was the first to sense their coming. She ran out the door, and a few moments later we heard the shouts and saw the blazing torches. It is impossible to describe our feelings, but the sensitive Reader will have no difficulty in imagining them.
FROM MANUSCRIPT H
David was suffering the reaction Ramses had feared. The loving embraces and exclamations of relief had been like scratching a bleeding wound. Lips tight and brow furrowed, he stared at his folded hands and did not respond to Selim. He was leaving it to Ramses.
The pandemonium following their arrival had given Ramses no opportunity to plan what he would say. Fatima kept running in and out with platters of food, Kadija smeared both of them with her famous green ointment, and everyone talked at the top of their lungs. His arm round his wife, savoring safety and her presence, Ramses postponed his explanation by asking about Margaret. Seeing her sitting quietly in a corner was one less weight on his conscience.
“It seems,” said his mother, “that her disappearance had nothing to do with the—the other business. A certain individual took it upon himself to carry her off, for reasons of his own. She was never in danger. Let that suffice for the time being. We are eager to hear your story.”
Sethos, sitting some distance away from his wife, stared off into space with a look of innocence that didn’t deceive Ramses for a moment. Bastard, he thought. If it hadn’t been for you…
The story could not be put off any longer. He hoped to get through the first part of it as quickly as possible, with as few details as possible. “Not long ago the conspirators got in touch with David, who cleverly pretended to be sympathetic to their cause—”
“No, Ramses.” David raised his drooping head. “I won’t have you make excuses for me. I willingly cooperated with them. I didn’t tell Ramses or anyone else. I betrayed your trust.”
A stir of surprise