Guardian of the Horizon (33 page)

Merasen was back sooner than I had expected, scowling so blackly that I felt a brief surge of hope that we had succeeded in calling his bluff--or that Ramses had got away. It was only too brief. "Come," he ordered, beckoning to me. "Bring your medicines. And bandages." This time I knew he wasn't bluffing. I turned in mute appeal to Emerson, who had risen to his feet and was watching Merasen like a cat who is being prevented from getting at a particularly toothsome mouse. "Don't lose your head, Peabody," he said. "He's still alive." "Yes, and you will keep him alive," Merasen said. "You did not believe me when I said he was my prisoner? Now you will see. You, Sitt Hakim. Not the Father of Curses." "Don't lose your head, Emerson," I implored. Emerson had begun growling and his fists were clenched. "I will be back before long. Won't I, Merasen?" "Oh, yes, Sitt. The Father of Curses has called me a liar. I will prove I spoke truth. Get the things you need." As I collected my supplies I heard Merasen holding forth in the next room. He must be very sure of himself, for the facade of boyish goodwill had been replaced by arrogance. "You are the liars," he declared. "You told the king you would speak for him, but you did not mean what you said. You sent your son to plot with Tarek. I am the defender of my father's throne, I am the one who sent spies into Tarek's camp, and now you will do as I say or your son will die." "You can't have it both ways, you know," said Emerson. "If he dies you will have no hold over us." Merasen smiled. "I did not say he would die quickly. Come, Sitt." "We are going with her," said Emerson. "As far as your house, at any rate. That is not negotiable, so don't bother arguing with me." Merasen snarled but gave in. I found this worrisome, and said so to Emerson as we walked behind him. "Ramses must be badly hurt, Emerson, or Merasen wouldn't be so anxious to have me tend to him." "You forget our son's histrionic talents," said Emerson. "Good Gad, Peabody, Ramses has as many lives as a cat and an inventiveness equal to your own." "That is true. Thank you, Emerson, for reassuring me." "He was wrong to give Merasen the benefit of the doubt, anyhow," said Emerson. "Villains are not always villains, and heroes are not always heroic; it is a pleasure to find a villain who is exactly what we took him to be." Merasen's men held Emerson and the other two back while Merasen marched me up the stairs without giving me time for fondfarewells. Emerson's final words were not a fond farewell. "If you do not bring her back, Merasen, I will find you and tear you limb from limb." I had never visited any of the Holy City's prisons, but I knew each nobleman had his own. It was quite a feudal system, really. Merasen's cells were at the back of the house and below it. Stygian darkness filled the narrow passages. Torches were lit and the escort proceeded along a tunnel lined with heavy barred doors. My sympathies went out to the other hapless prisoners who lay behind those doors. Moroney must be one of them. I did not have to feign my cry of distress when I knelt beside the still form of my son. He was covered with bruises, and patches of dried blood marked his body. His long lashes fluttered pathetically, and then one eye opened--and closed in an unmistakable wink. "Meine geliebte Mutter," murmured Ramses, softly but, of course, with perfect articulation. "Wo bist du? Warum kommst du nicht?" "What does he say?" Merasen demanded. "What language is that?" "He always reverts to German when he is ill or delirious," I said, grateful for the hint and weak-limbed with relief. "Ich bin hier, mein Sohn. Any broken bones? Dizziness or clouded vision? Your father and I have not been harmed. What have you with the girl done?" "Talk English!" Merasen shouted, jumping up and down with aggravation. His shout covered the gurgle of amusement that had escaped Ramses, and his murmur of "Straight to the point as always." "I only asked about his injuries," I explained indignantly. "Someone give me a bowl of water. Thank you--oh, it is you, Captain Moroney. Forgive me, I neglected to wish you good morning. I was concerned about my son, you understand." "With good reason, ma'am," said Moroney, blinking rapidly. "What can I do to help?" "Keep quiet," I said. Ramses had started talking again. In broken but coherent phrases he brought me quickly up-to-date on thesituation. It was useful information, especially his arrangement with Tarek. "Yes," I exclaimed, forgetting myself for a moment. "That should--er--das ist ganz praktisch." "What does he say?" Merasen shrieked. "Ask him what Tarek plans! When will he attack?" "He is babbling about his childhood," I said, sponging the dried blood away and splashing the cuts with alcohol. "I can't get a sensible word out of him, Merasen, not while he is in this condition. You must bring him back to our house so that I can take care of him properly." I didn't expect he would be fool enough to go along with that idea, but nothing ventured, nothing gained, as I always say. He refused, using several English bad words he must have picked up from Emerson, and I said in German, "I have this as much as possible prolonged, but he will soonest me remove. I have a plan to rescue her--you know of whom I speak. Then we will a way of delivering you discover." "Stop," Merasen said. He caught me roughly by the arm. I saw Ramses's eyes flash before he closed them again. "Der andere Englander," he muttered. "Vorsicht. Er ist--" "I know," I replied in English. There wasn't time to ask how he had found out, though I was burning with curiosity. Merasen kept tugging at me. "Just give me time to pack my medical supplies," I said with a sob. "Dein Vater knows not," I added, stroking Ramses's cheek as if bidding him a loving farewell. "Tell him not." "Ja, Mutter," said Ramses. Between Emerson's relief at seeing me safely back and his concern for his son, he was somewhat less than coherent at first. Daoud and Selim kept peppering me with questions too. After I had got them all to be quiet I told them what had happened. "Are you sure he is only pretending to be seriously injured?" Emerson asked anxiously. "My dear, I have seen him in worse condition--worse and often! I don't doubt he was on his feet as soon as the door closed." "We will go to that place and take him out of it," said Daoud fiercely. Emerson snorted and rolled his eyes, but I said, "That is one of the possibilities. However, I have another idea." "You have too damned many ideas," said my loving husband. "Good Gad, Peabody, you have come up with a dozen different schemes. Isn't it time we settled on one?" "We must remain flexible, Emerson. What do you think of Ramses's arrangement with Tarek?" "I am perfectly willing--in fact, I would be delighted--to cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war on old Zekare, and," Emerson went on modestly, "I might be able to carry it off. But I am not noble enough to risk Ramses's life for a noble cause. Merasen would murder him out of sheer spite if we won. And what about Nefret?" "I have a few ideas," I began. "Now, Emerson, don't lose your temper. You are right, we need to settle on a plan. As a last resort, and in the--in my opinion--unlikely possibility that we are not able to free either or both beforehand, we will refuse to take part in the ceremony unless Ramses and Nefret are present. Merasen will have to produce Ramses, at least." "With a knife at his throat," Emerson growled. "We will have knives at people's throats ourselves, my dear. And Daoud's guns. Before that, we have a few details to attend to. Ramses promised Tarek he would bring back our answer within two days. Since he can't, we must do so. If Tarek doesn't hear from us, and if he learns of Ramses's capture, he may do something rash." Emerson nodded grudgingly. "Right as usual, Peabody. The lady in the village?" "If we can do it without endangering her. I will write a message. She will know who it's for and pass it on. The rekkit must also be warned of the change in plan. Under no circumstances are they to take up arms." Emerson fingered the cleft in his chin. "I suppose you didn't get a chance to look for the guns while you were at Merasen's place." "He hustled me in and out before I could. I'll try again later." "What makes you suppose Merasen will let you come again?" "He will have to let me if Ramses continues to fade away. Of course it is possible that Ramses will free himself and Captain Moroney before that." "How, in God's name?" Emerson demanded. "He is locked up and unarmed." "Not exactly, Emerson. I left him a weapon."

THIRTEEN

My optimism received a hard blow when we entered our sitting room and found a delegation waiting. It was headed by Amenislo, who informed us that in a few hours we must begin preparing for the ceremony. "No, surely not!" I exclaimed. "Tomorrow is the day." "You must have miscalculated, Peabody," said Emerson, fingering his chin. "I told you they don't reckon time as we do." I don't believe my brain has ever worked as rapidly as it did then. This was an official and religious event, and there was no hope of demanding it be postponed, any more than there would have been to change the date of Christmas. We had only half a day in which to revise our plans or be forced to the last expedient, which in my opinion had never been very satisfactory. "What of my son?" I demanded. "Does the king know he lies wounded and suffering in Merasen's cell?" "He knows," Amenislo said. "After the ceremony--" "Ha," exclaimed Emerson. "Not after the ceremony. Now." "The king will not agree to that." The count wrung his hands. "The Brother of Demons cannot be with you. He must remain a prisoner." "But not in that nasty dark cell," I exclaimed. "If he could be moved to a more comfortable place, still under guard, but with someone to tend his injuries . . ." A light--the light of hope, perhaps--shone in Amenislo's eyes. I said, "You can order this,Amenislo. You are high in the king's favor. If he questions your act, tell him you had to agree in order to win our cooperation." Amenislo's expression indicated that he had no intention of being available to answer questions. "I will try," he muttered. "I feel sure you will. It must be done soon," I added. "So that my mind will be at ease before the ceremony. I presume we will be supplied with proper garments and ornaments and instructed in what we are to do?" "Attendants will come to you later." "When? At what hour does the ceremony take place?" "When the moon rises. They will come before that. Now I go." Amenislo hurried out. "Confound it," said Emerson. "I thought we had more time. Tarek is probably gathering his men at this very moment. We must get word to the rekkit immediately. Give me a sheet of paper, I will write the note myself. Come with us, Daoud and Selim. From now on we stick together." But we got no farther than the Great Temple. The guards had gathered round a shaven-headed priest who was waving his hands and shouting. Emerson stopped. "What's going on?" "He keeps saying 'The king, the king must be told!' And . . . Good Gad!" "What? What?" Emerson bellowed. " 'She is gone. She has vanished.'' Emerson whirled round and pelted back toward the stairs to our rooms. None of the guards seemed anxious to break the news to the king; they gave way before Emerson, and the rest of us followed in his wake. Selim forged ahead, leaving me to Daoud, who assisted me with such zeal that my feet seldom touched the ground. Emerson and Selim were not in sight when Daoud and I dashed into the sitting room of our suite. Of course I knew where they had gone. "Put me down, Daoud," I gasped. "Get the servants out of here, I don't care how, then close the door and don't let anyone in." I stopped only long enough to snatch up a lamp before I ran toward the dark chamber at the rear of our quarters. I was pleased todiscover that one of them had had sense enough to do the same-- Selim, probably, since Emerson was in such a state he could not even find the concealed catch. He was tugging at the slab and swearing when I came in. I pushed him out of the way and pressed the indentation that released the spring. The slab lifted. Below, at the foot of the stairs, was a pale crumpled shape. It raised a white face. As Nefret stumbled up the stairs Emerson reached down and pulled her up into his arms, narrowly avoiding braining her on the raised stone slab. I took the lamp from Selim's shaking hand; he was laughing and praying and, I think, crying, all at the same time. "There, there," I said, patting him on the shoulder. "Emerson, take her into our sleeping chamber. I expect she could do with a restorative sip of whiskey. If there is any left." Emerson picked her up. "Air," she gasped. "Air and light, that's all I need. I've been there for hours. In the dark." "It can't have been hours," I said. "Your disappearance has just now been discovered. How on earth did ... er ... he manage it?" "Don't badger her now, Peabody," said Emerson. "Nefret, my dear, are you all right? Did they hurt you? If anyone dared--" "I'm all right now." She clung tightly to him. "Don't let them take me away again." "No," said Emerson. Daoud was standing by the door of the sitting room. When he saw Nefret he ran to embrace her, and I had to remind him of his duty. "No one tried to come in," he reported after he had calmed down. "They will," Emerson said. "They cannot accuse us of being responsible for her disappearance, since we were here the whole morning, but they will look everywhere." "I can't go down there again," Nefret said faintly. "Please don't make me." "Not under any circumstances," said Emerson. "They will search the subterranean passages too," I said. "It will take them a while, though. I wonder what has become of ... Put her down on the bed, Emerson, and get the whiskey." The white robes and veils of the High Priestess were crumpled and dusty, and her pretty hair hung tangled over her shoulders. I found a comb and began gently working out the tangles. As every woman knows, this has a soothing effect. She began to relax, and after she had taken a sip of the whiskey the color came back to her face. "Where is Ramses?" was her first question. "At the moment he is in a cell under Merasen's villa," I replied. Nefret let out a gasp, and I went on, "But we have taken steps." At least I hoped we had; the news of Nefret's disappearance might make the king decide to keep Ramses in close confinement. I certainly would have done. "How did you get away?" Selim asked. "We had given up hope." "So had I. It was the most amazing thing. I told you--didn't I?--that Amase took me to a separate room every day in order to instruct me in the rituals?" "No, you didn't," I replied. "It doesn't matter. Go on." "Sometimes there was another priest with him, hollow-eyed and stony-faced. Even stonier than that look of Ramses's. Aunt Amelia, how are you going to get Ramses--" "Have another sip of whiskey," I said. "And go on." "It was the priest who took me away. He hit poor old Amase on the head and tied him up with his own robes. I was too astonished to move until he came toward me, and then I would have cried out if he hadn't put his hand over my mouth and spoken to me in English. In English! I asked him who he was, but he just shook his head and told me he would bring me to you. The priests know where the entrances to the subterranean passages are located; so did I, once, but I couldn't get to them. I was never alone. "He led me along those awful dark passages for what seemed like hours. Some of it was familiar to me, but I couldn't have found my way here. He left me at the foot of the stairs while he went up and had a look round; but you weren't there, and the servants were, and when he came back he said I would have to wait while he went to find you and tell you, and I did, and the lamp went out . . ." "It's all right," I said soothingly. My thoughts were in a whirl,but I managed to concentrate on the most important matter. "We must think of a way of hiding you. I have an idea--" "So do I," said Emerson. "Yes, Peabody, I do occasionally have ideas of my own, and this time mine is the one we will follow."