Guardian of the Horizon (38 page)

deep breath, and looked him straight in the eye. "I am not going with you." "What?" He felt as if someone had hit him hard in the pit of the stomach. The sight of her had revived the memories of their night together, reminded him of how much he wanted her. "But, Daria . . . You must come with me. You don't understand, darling, I want--I want to marry you." "I thought you would say that. Sit down." He dropped onto the cushions beside her. She took his face in her hands. "What you have said is foolishness. No, don't speak." Her fingers brushed his lips. "There are many reasons why it is foolish; you know what I was and what I am. Shall I return to your England and be a good little Englishwoman and go out every year to Egypt with you to play at archaeology? You are a sweet boy and a wonderful lover, but I shall be a queen here. What woman could ask for more? I am sorry if I hurt you, but hearts mend quickly." She patted his cheek, as she would have patted a child's. "I think we should not see each other again. Maassalameh." Ramses got slowly to his feet. There was nothing he could say. She had anticipated every plea he might have made, countered every argument, and the kindly condescension in her description of him had cut like a whip. He was some distance down the hall outside her rooms before he realized he had forgotten to give her the flowers he had brought. He was still clutching them, bruising the stems. He turned and went back, meaning to throw them on the floor or onto her lap, or maybe in her face, if he could forget for a few seconds that he was supposed to be an English gentleman. He was wearing the comfortable local clothing and his soft leather sandals made little sound. She wouldn't have heard him anyhow. When he entered the room she was lying facedown on the cushions, her body shaking with sobs. Ramses fell on his knees and gathered her into his arms. She clung to him and raised her wet face. The salt taste of her tears only made her kisses sweeter, but after a while the little hands that lay on his breast stiffened, and she pushed him away. "My heart is hurt too," she whispered. "I hurt you again, because I love you too much to hurt you even more. But what I said was true, my love. One day you will find a worthier mate, and I will learn to love Tarek, who is kind and good, and I will give him the sons he wants. Please go now. Please. Do not speak, do not look back."

I paid Sethos a final visit on the day of our departure, allowing myself plenty of time since I had a good deal to say. He was lying down when I entered--after, of course, announcing my presence before I did so--and his greeting was typically unorthodox. It consisted of a bottle, which he held in his hand. Offering it, he remarked, "Since you were good enough to administer your last drops to an invalid, the least I can do is provide you with whiskey enough for the trip home." "I wouldn't want to leave you without," I said. But I took the bottle. Sethos laughed aloud. "Nothing surprises you, does it? Say thank you, Amelia." "Thank you. As you know, we are leaving shortly. I thought you and I might have a little chat." Grimacing, Sethos pulled himself to a sitting position. I shoved a few cushions behind him, and he leaned back with a sigh. "If you can keep Emerson away from me, I'll tell you everything you want to know. It is a fascinating story," he added with the familiar twistedsmile. He was obviously in pain still, so I opened the whiskey and joined him in a libation. Sethos had a number of maddening attributes, but he was never boring. "I came here for the first time eight years ago, after you had confirmed the truth of Willy Forth's fantasy about a lost civilization. You were fairly discreet, even though you believed you were confiding in a dear old friend, but you gave me enough information to begin my inquiries, and to assure me that any effort I put forth would be worthwhile. I knew there was a map, and had a good idea where it was kept. Breaking into Emerson's strongbox presented no difficulty for my people; they took a copy and replaced it without leaving the slightest trace that they had been there." The lines of pain in his face relaxed into a reminiscent smile. "That first journey was a unique experience, even for a jaded sybarite like myself. To see the city in all its fading glory, the shadow of what was once ancient Egypt, the temples and palaces . . ." He took a sip of whiskey and went on, with his old cynicism. "Your name was my password. It got me past the first oasis and into the presence of Tarek himself; and after I had described--in great detail and with my customary vivacity--your appearance, mannerisms, current activities, and affection for your dearest friend--me--Tarek came down from his throne and embraced me. He was particularly interested in how Nefret was getting on." "But you didn't know that," I exclaimed, torn between fascination and fury. "I knew quite a lot, as a matter of fact. You have never been far from my protective gaze, Amelia dear. Have a little more whiskey and don't shout. He's still in love with her, you know." I recognized his maddening habit of dropping in provocative statements to get me off the track. "How many times have you come here?" "This is my fourth trip. As I said, Tarek and I got on like a house afire. I was happy to supply the things he wanted, none of which was likely to cause me future trouble, and he was happy to pay for them with various trifles that had been confiscated from his defeated opponents. Since I know you are about to ask, I will explainthat I sold them, at a considerable profit, to selected clients whose greed and discretion I could trust. If they ever do appear on the market, the world of archaeology will be set on its collective ear; but by that time there will be no way of tracing them back to me." "This will have to stop, you know." "I do know. In fact, when I set out this time I anticipated that it would be my last visit. I meant to get in and out before you arrived, even though it meant traveling at a deuced uncomfortable time of year. Don't you want to know how I learned of your plans?" "You were spying on me, I suppose, disguised as one of the maids," I said with a sniff. "No, no. I get around quite a lot, but even I am not omnipresent. I heard of it, and of the mysterious Merasen, through Wallis Budge. You had better not mention that to Emerson," he added with an infuriating grin. "Curse it," I muttered. "Then MacFerguson--" "Quick as ever, my dear. Yes, Hamish MacFerguson is a legitimate scholar, though, to be honest, he hasn't contributed a great deal to the field. He has been very useful. I've taken his place on a number of occasions. He was working at the museum when Budge happened to mention Emerson's visit, and of course he notified me immediately. So, as I was saying, I realized that my lucrative arrangement with Tarek was about to end. He was bound to tell you about your generous friend, and you would of course deny all knowledge of such a person. I didn't know he had been supplanted. When I found out, it was too late to head you off. Incidentally," he added, with a sidelong look at me, "I was not responsible for the accidents that befell your men. Newbold committed the first of them, in order to deprive you of a loyal aide, and Merasen cut the other fellow's throat. I'm not certain why; he enjoyed violence for its own sake. Ali may have got wind of his plans to leave that night." "How do you know about those incidents?" I asked suspiciously Sethos grinned. "You have a mind like an awl, my dear. Sharp and straight to the point. I heard of them from one of my gang, who accompanied you from Shellal." "Daria. How could you--even you--hand that girl over to a creature like Newbold?" "Amelia, Amelia!" Sethos threw his head back, laughing. "You are incomparable. She was a criminal, my dear, and a prostitute-- though a very select and expensive one. What do you care for a woman like that?" "I do care." "I know." Sethos sobered. "Take comfort in the fact that she did not have to submit to Newbold's--er--attentions. I am telling you this partly in the hope of getting back into your good graces ..." He was quick to catch my change of expression and revised his statement. "Getting a little further out of your bad graces, then. This will give you a hold over the fellow. He's impotent." "What?" I cried. "An elephant got--er--got him," said Sethos, with an evil grin."Ramses will enjoy hearing that. Newbold will do anything you ask to keep that information under wraps. He keeps a woman on hand solely to maintain his reputation." "What will happen to her now?" "That's up to her. I promised to set her up in her own establishment in return for her help in this little venture. She may have something else in mind." "Dana's future plans interest me less than her past history. What precisely was she supposed to do to earn her reward?" "Watch over you, of course. Newbold was my principal concern. I passed through Cairo a few weeks before you, and learned, from one of my many illicit sources, that he'd been asking questions of all and sundry about your plans. He'd heard about Merasen from a military gossip. If he got on your trail he could be dangerous; the man is obsessed with gold. Daria was supposed to keep his temper under control--she's good at insinuating ideas into male heads-- and warn you if he meditated a direct attack. Pitching your man into the jaws of the crocodile was not premeditated, he acted on the spur of the moment, according to his nature, so there was no way she could have prevented it. "That leaves us," he went on before I could respond, "with only one remaining topic for discussion. The survival of the Holy Mountain. I won't betray its location--why should I let anyone else in on it?--but by the time we all get back to civilization, too many people will know. How do you propose to keep all of them quiet?" "I don't. I have another idea in mind." "Not a bad idea, either," Sethos said smoothly. "You cannot possibly know--" "But I do. You see, I took the liberty of searching your luggage." Sethos's mouth twitched with suppressed laughter. "It filled my patriotic heart with pride to see the dear old Union Jack unfolded. I don't know how you concealed it from Emerson all that time--" "Emerson respects my privacy," I said angrily. "And you had it wrapped in a pair of ladies' underdrawers. Now, Amelia, I beg you will control your temper. As I said, it's an excellent idea. The Holy Mountain's location cannot be concealed forever. When the first invaders arrive, be they marauders or Egyptologists or treasure seekers, they will find the British flag floating bravely over the palace and a British agent in residence. That should give them pause." "I am not an imperialist by conviction, but it was the only way I could think of," I admitted. "British agent? Not you!" "Good Lord, no. I won't be ready to travel for a week or so, but I will leave as soon as I can. Moroney's the man. He has nothing to go back for, and he's become fascinated by the Holy City. He is also under the erroneous impression that God has demanded he make amends for his little slip by serving others. It's a perfect arrangement. Tarek would agree to fly the skull and crossbones if you asked him to, and Moroney has a number of talents that should be useful here." "How do I know you will keep your promise to leave this place and not come back?" "Because," said Sethos, "you will give Tarek a postdated letter exposing me and informing him that if I haven't gone by the time he reads it he has your permission to do a number of unpleasant things to me." "Quite right." I finished my whiskey and slipped the bottle into one of my useful pockets. "Good-bye," I said. Sethos lifted his glass in salute. "A bientot, Amelia." The camels reached the crest of the first great dune. Walking beside the animal on which his mother and Nefret were riding, Ramses turned and looked back. The ramparts of the Holy Mountain rose up against the sky in a fretted fringe of pinnacles. He wondered if he would ever see that fantastic sight again or learn what happened to Tarek and Daria. His mother would have said it had all worked out for the best. Daria and Tarek would get on well; her practical, somewhat cynical intelligence would help guide his idealism, and he was a man any woman could learn to love. Whatever love might be. He wasn't sure he knew, not anymore. He had loved Daria, though one part of him had known all along that he was thinking like a romantic idiot when he contemplated a marriage between them.

The camels passed in stately procession, and his father joined him. They stood in silence, taking their last look at the Holy City. "Best move on," Emerson said gruffly. "All right, are you, my boy?" "Yes, sir." They went on together, beside the camel on which the women were riding. The curtains of the bassourab were open. His mother called to them to hurry, and Nefret smiled at him. Perhaps it had all worked out for the best. "Hearts do not break . . ." How did it go, that favorite quotation of his mother's? "They sting and ache, for old love's sake . . ." But not forever.

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