Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [68]
“It could be worse,” she reported, before her mother-in-law could demand details. “He got a nasty thump on the head, but there’s no sign of concussion. Looks as if someone went at him with a club and another someone with a knife.”
“What happened?” Emerson demanded, looming over the bed.
“Just a minute, Father.” Nefret stirred drops into a glass of water and held it to Nadji’s lips. “Drink this, it will help the pain while I disinfect these cuts.”
“I will assist,” said her mother-in-law eagerly.
“Not necessary, Mother.”
Nadji let out a sigh of relief and let his head fall back on the pillow. Obviously the Sitt Hakim terrified him even more than her formidable husband.
“I will tell you, Father of Curses, what little I know. I had gone to a coffeeshop in Luxor, and when I started back toward the landing two men attacked me. I do not know who they were, their faces were covered, but I took them for ordinary thieves. At first I fought back, but I was losing and no one answered my calls for help, so then I thought, if it is my money they want, let them take it. I fell on the ground. They went on kicking and pulling at my clothing, and I had visions of Paradise and believed I would die. Then…” His brow furrowed. “Then I thought I heard a far-off voice say, ‘Fools. A man may increase his height but not lessen it.’ It must have a been a dream, for the words make no sense.”
Not to him, perhaps. Ramses looked at his uncle, standing silently in the corner.
“What happened then?” Emerson asked.
“I fainted,” Nadji said simply. “When I woke no one was there. So I came here. I am sorry, Mr. Vandergelt, that I was late.”
Cyrus patted him on the shoulder. “Not your fault, my boy. How do you feel?”
“Sleepy.” He flinched a little as Nefret dabbed antiseptic on the head wound.
“The worst is over,” she said. “You should have been wearing your turban.”
“They pulled it off.” Nadji let out a weak giggle. “They pulled at my hair too. It hurt.”
He had talked more that night than in the entire time they had known him, Ramses thought. Talked sensibly…even glibly. As if he had thought his story out in advance.
“Sleep now.” Nefret pulled the sheet up to the patient’s chin. “I will leave more medicine. You’ll need it tomorrow morning, because you will be stiff and sore.”
“How is he? What happened to him?” Suzanne was waiting outside the door. She had kept out of the way until then, and Ramses couldn’t help thinking her inquiry sounded somewhat perfunctory. They assured her that the attack had been an ordinary attempt at robbery, and that Nadji had not been much hurt.
“Can I do anything to help?” The question was directed at Cyrus, and accompanied by one of her sweetest smiles.
Picturing Nadji’s face if the girl was allowed to sit by his bedside, Ramses assured her that her assistance was not needed.
They refused Cyrus’s invitation to stay for a drink. He was eager to discuss the revelations of the evening, but it couldn’t be done in the presence of Katherine and Suzanne. Ramses knew they would have to take Cyrus into their confidence before long. His mother had told him what Cyrus had said about Sethos: “Whenever that fellow turns up it means trouble.” Ramses couldn’t have agreed more. They had managed to put their old friend off so far, but Cyrus was too shrewd to miss that revealing statement Nadji had overheard from his attackers. It could only mean that they had mistaken the young man for someone else. And, given his checkered past, Sethos was the logical suspect.
They held the horses to a walk so they could talk. Sethos edged close to his brother.
“Congratulations,” said Emerson, who had observed this maneuver. “Once again an innocent took the beating meant for you.”
Sethos didn’t bother to deny it. “They’re getting closer. Why did they pick on him?”
“Because not even you could disguise yourself as a petite Frenchwoman,” Nefret said.
“Then that only leaves Anthony Bissinghurst, doesn’t it?”
“Not necessarily,” Ramses said grudgingly. He didn’t at all mind seeing his uncle in a