Read Online Guardian of the Horizon by Elizabeth Peters - Free Book Online Page B

temperaments were quite different; Willie was a serious soul and Johnny as ebullient as a schoolboy. He was livelier even than usual that day, playing the clown to keep spirits high; for parting is always painful. He had one arm round David's shoulders and the other round Lia. The twins had been unwavering in their support for the lovers; their influence, as much as my own, had helped to win over their parents. Catching my fond eye, Johnny raised his voice to a bellow. "Don't worry, Aunt Amelia, we'll make sure they behave themselves." He directed a low-voiced comment to David, who blushed. The ship moved away. David cupped his hands round his mouth and called out to Ramses, "Good luck, my brother!" "Good luck in what?" Nefret asked. "Nothing in particular," Ramses replied. Carefully he detached the little hands that clung to his arm. "Excuse me. I must unpack." If we could have proceeded directly from Port Said to the Sudan, avoiding all our friends and acquaintances, I would have been sorely tempted to do so. I have no moral objection to prevarication when it serves a good end, but--as I had learned from painful experience-- it is cursed difficult to avoid slips of the tongue. I was not worried about Ramses, who could look Saint Peter straight in the eye and lie, nor even about Nefret. Emerson was my chief concern. When in a temper, into which he is easily provoked, he is apt to blurt out the most appalling statements. To have behaved so unusually would only have invited speculation, which we had to avoid at all costs. A few days in Cairo, collecting supplies, a few more days in Luxor with our Egyptian family (Abdullah's kin), telling them the news for which they hungered, and preparing them for our removal to the Sudan, and then we would be on our way. We should arrive at Wadi Haifa by the first week in September. Another fortnight should complete our preparations, and by that time the weather would be, if not comfortable, endurable. My complacency received its first check when we docked at Port Said and I beheld a too-familiar form amid the throng of porters, customhouse officials, and souvenir sellers who vied for the attention of the arriving passengers. It was impossible to mistake Daoud, Abdullah's nephew and assistant reis; his elaborate turban towered a full head over those of the people around him, and his large, benevolent face bore a smile of welcome. I had to look again before I recognized the slighter man who stood next to him. Selim, Abdullah's youngest son, seemed to have grown several inches since the previous spring, and the beard he had decided to grow in order to give him greater authority as Abdullah's successor had got out of hand. It was neatly trimmed--Selim was a handsome man and something of a dandy--but it stretched clear down to his breastbone. "The devil," said Emerson. "What are they doing here? I didn't telegraph. Peabody, did you?" "No." I returned Daoud's salutation. Slouching against the rail, Ramses said, "The Cairo newspapers print the passenger lists of incoming boats. The word spreads. I assumed you had anticipated that, Mother." Nefret chuckled. "Just look at Selim's beard." "Hmph," said Emerson, staring enviously at the appendage. Daoud was at the foot of the gangplank when we descended. He never pushed or shoved, for he was the gentlest of men (unless provoked); he simply moved forward with ponderous inevitability, clearing a path. Not the slightest shade of reproach marred the sunshine of his smile, but after he had gone off with Ramses to deal with the luggage and the customs people, Selim bent a freezing frown upon me. "Why did you creep into the country like thieves, without telegraphing us?" "We wanted to surprise you," Nefret said, taking hold of his arm. "Selim--the beard! Magnificent!" Selim preened himself, but his grievance was too strong to be so easily overcome. "We heard it from Mohassib, who had been told by Abdul at the Winter Palace, who overheard a guest reading it