Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [39]
“Cairo.” Nefret sat down on the edge of the bed. “Open the curtains, Ramses, I need more light.”
“Better not,” Ramses said. “I’ll get a lamp.”
“I will do it,” Fatima said. She slipped out.
“She is ashamed,” Selim declared. “As she should be. To deceive the Sitt Hakim—”
“There was no damage done,” said that lady coolly. “At least I hope there wasn’t.”
“No one followed me,” Sethos muttered. “I wouldn’t have come if I had thought…”
A violent fit of shivering ran through him.
Fatima crept in carrying a lamp and Nefret said, “Everybody out. You can’t question him now.”
“No,” her mother-in-law agreed. “But you are not going to sit with him. I will do that. I beg you will not argue, Nefret. I know precisely what to do. Go and tidy up for tea with the children—and get Kareem to make a fresh pot.”
“Kareem?” Fatima let out a gasp of horror. “Did he serve the tea? It is not time! Oh, oh, oh, it is my fault. Did he break any of the beautiful dishes?”
“Not yet,” Ramses said.
“Go and take charge, Fatima,” his mother said. “You can join me here later.”
Fatima twisted her hands together. “You are not angry with me, Sitt Hakim?”
“Not very.” A forgiving smile took the sting out of the words. “Run along.”
Remembering the usual course of the disease, Ramses knew it would be morning before they could get any sense out of Sethos—even supposing he was inclined to tell the truth. If his mother had hoped Sethos would wax confidential while alone with her, she was disappointed. When Fatima relieved her and she joined the others on the veranda, her lips were tightly set and she indulged in an extra glass of whiskey.
“Remember,” she said, when Daoud and Selim were ready to leave, “no one must know he is here.”
“Yes, Sitt Hakim,” said Daoud. He considered his reply, decided it was somewhat ambiguous, and to be on the safe side, added, “I hear and obey.”
“He’ll tell Kadija,” Nefret said, after their friends had left.
Her mother-in-law smiled. Daoud’s wife, a massively dignified woman of Nubian extraction, was one of their closest friends, and a natural-born healer. “He thinks of her as part of himself. She will understand the situation and keep her own counsel.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon entertaining the twins and trying to keep the Great Cat of Re from abusing the dog. Over dinner they engaged in futile but irresistible speculation. How was Emerson going to react? How could they keep Sethos’s presence a secret? Would Kareem manage to serve the soup without spilling it?
Nefret insisted on having another look at Sethos after dinner, but was then persuaded to go to bed and leave the nursing to Ramses and his mother. Sethos was in the next stage of malaria, burning with fever and semicomatose. When the fever broke later that night, they had to change the sheets. His mother modestly turned her back while Ramses got Sethos into a dry nightshirt.
“His arm is bandaged,” he said. “Was he injured?”
His mother said, over her shoulder, “A bullet graze. It’s become infected. I must change the bandage. Is he…er…covered?”
“Yes.”
The bullet had ripped out a sizable strip of flesh. It looked ugly, inflamed, and oozing. Sethos twitched and muttered while she disinfected it and replaced the bandage, but did not waken.
Ramses succeeded in sending her off to bed once the patient was cool and comfortable. “Call me if there is any change” was her last order.
“There won’t be. Good night, Mother.”
He extinguished the lamp and made himself as comfortable as possible in an overstuffed chair brought from Fatima’s room. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he kept his eyes on the shaded window. No movement, except for the swaying of the fabric in the night breeze.
He considered the afternoon’s activities, wondering if there was anything else he could or should do. The trouble was that most of their questions could only be answered by Sethos. Should they notify “Smith,” and if so, how? What about Margaret? Sethos might know how to reach her; they sure as hell didn’t. Ramses had had a long heart-to-heart talk with Kareem, and he