“Go ahead into the house,” their host said, indicating this building. “Straight through and up the stairs to the saloon. I’m afraid you’ll find us ill-prepared for guests, but Mustafa and I will see what can be done in the way of food and drink.”
He drew the other man aside. Leaving his father to assist his mother, and Selim the girl, Ramses edged toward the pair. He caught only two words: “No message?” and saw Mustafa shake his head.
Mustafa looked like the sort of man who would be employed by Sethos – burly, black-bearded as a pirate, and wary. He shot a suspicious look at Ramses, and Sir Edward turned.
“This is the notorious – er – famous Brother of Demons, Mustafa,” he said in Arabic. “You have heard of him.”
“Ah!” Mustafa held out a hand. “We will shake hands as the English do, eh? It is an honor to meet you. And so the others are…?”
“The even more notorious Father of Curses and his family,” Ramses said. “If you will forgive me for failing in courtesy, may I suggest that there are important matters to be dealt with before we exchange additional compliments? The horses, for instance. Their owners will want them back.”
Mustafa threw his head back and let out a bellow of laughter. “You stole them? Well done. They will fetch a good price.”
“Control your mercantile instincts, Mustafa,” said Sir Edward. “They must be returned eventually. We – er – borrowed them from the Australians.”
“Hmmm.” Mustafa stroked his beard. “A pity. But you are right, the Australians are fierce fighters and they love their horses.”
Ramses stroked the friendly muzzle that had come to rest on his shoulder. “Take care of them, will you, Mustafa? Rub them down and water them.”
“If you have handled that to your satisfaction,” said Sir Edward, “shall we go in? Your mother will be waiting in the saloon for us.”
“No, she won’t,” Ramses said.
The saloon was an elegantly appointed apartment at the front of the house. I recognized Sethos’s refined tastes in the furnishings – cushioned divans, carved screens, and low tables of brass and copper – but it was clear at a glance that this was a bachelor establishment. There was a bird’s nest in one of the window embrasures, and dust covered every flat surface.
“Dear me,” I said. “This won’t do. Let us see what the rest of the house is like.”
“He told us to wait here,” Nefret said. She was supporting Esin, who looked as if she was at the limit of her strength.
“I have no intention of waiting for a man to make the necessary arrangements,” I replied. “That girl should be in bed. Let us find one.”
Two of the small rooms behind the saloon had obviously been used as sleeping chambers. Various articles of masculine attire hung over chairs and chests. The beds were brass, in the European style, rather at odds with the rest of the furnishings, but with comfortable mattresses and sheets and pillows. Selim and I straightened the crumpled bedding and put Esin on the bed. I did not bother removing her clothing, since it did not appear that the sheets had been changed for several weeks.
Sir Edward and Ramses were in the saloon when we returned to that room.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” the former inquired politely.
“I found a bed – yours, I believe – and got Miss Sahin tucked in. The poor child was worn out. Now, where is the kitchen? A nice hot cup of tea would be just the thing.”
“Mustafa is making tea,” Sir Edward said.
“Does he know about boiling the water long enough? Perhaps I had better go and -”
Sir Edward took the liberty of seizing me by the arm. “He knows. He knows! Mrs. Emerson, please sit down. I can’t until you do, and I am dead on my feet.”
“Oh, very well.” I selected one of the divans that did not have evidence of avian activity. Sir Edward collapsed onto another with a long sigh and Ramses took his place next to Nefret.
Emerson was still prowling about the room. “Ha!” he exclaimed, opening a cabinet. “My – er – old acquaintance does himself well. Claret, ’pon my word, and an excellent vintage too. It isn’t whiskey, Peabody, but would you care for a drop?”
“Not at this time of day,” I replied. “Ah – here is Mustafa with the tea tray. Just put it here, if you please. I will pour.”
He had slopped it all over the tray, of course. As he stood back, fixing me with a bold, curious stare, I had one of those moments of utter disorientation: the tea tray, set out in proper English style – that would be Sir Edward’s influence – the black-bearded ruffian who had served it; the filthy, ragged beggar who was Sir Edward; and the rest of us in a motley array of garments, from Nefret’s neat but crumpled trousers and coat to Emerson’s torn silken robes.
However, the situation was no more bizarre than many in which we had found ourselves.
Mustafa said suddenly, “You are the Sitt Hakim? I have a little sore, here on my -”
“Later, my friend,” I said graciously. Nefret hid her face against Ramses’s shoulder and Emerson shouted, “Good Gad! Even here! Curse it, Peabody!”
Mustafa retreated, visibly impressed by the volume of Emerson’s voice. I persuaded Emerson to sit down and take out his pipe. It soothed him; it usually did.
“I don’t know where you are all going to sleep,” Sir Edward muttered.
“At the moment my brain is too active to let me rest, Sir Edward,” I informed him. “We need to know where we stand. First and most important, where is Sethos? Did you expect him to be here?”
“I hoped for a message, at least. He usually finds a way to let me know if there is any change in his plans. When I saw him yesterday morning -”
“You were in Gaza? Goodness gracious, you all seem to walk in and out of the place as you please.”
Whether he would have confided in us under different circumstances I cannot say. It may have been exhaustion that loosened his tongue.
“The fortifications are like a sieve for a single man, if he knows where the holes are. Once inside I – and our other couriers – form part of the adoring mob that presses round the holy man asking for his blessing.”
“So he can pass messages to you, and you to him,” I prompted.
“Something like that,” Sir Edward said evasively. “I knew he planned to get Sahin’s daughter away. I’d have talked him out of it if I could, or at least tried to persuade him not to go back to Gaza. Sahin was bound to suspect he’d had a hand in the business and clamp down on him even more closely. I think that is what has happened.”
“Can you send someone to find out?” I asked.
Emerson cleared his throat. “My papers -”
“No,” Ramses and I said in the same breath.
“What papers?” Sir Edward demanded, his eyes widening.
Proudly Emerson drew them forth and handed them to Sir Edward. The sun was well up now; the gilt sparkled impressively in the light.
“I can’t read Turkish,” Sir Edward said blankly.
“Ramses can.” Emerson’s pipe had gone out. He struck a match. “He says they are perfectly in order.”
“Yes, very well, but you can’t – you can’t just walk up to the trenches and -”
“No, it will take some preparation,” Emerson admitted.
“That is quite right,” I said, seeing in my mind’s eye the preparations Emerson was planning. Camels, servants, gold-trimmed robes, and a huge scimitar… He would so enjoy it, and sheer effrontery might allow him to carry it off. For a while.
“Admirable,” Sir Edward murmured. He sounded more horrified than admiring. “Sir, give me a chance to use our regular channels first.”
“An excellent idea,” I said, before Emerson could object. “Sir Edward, I am curious to know how -”
“I beg you will excuse the interruption, Mrs. Emerson, but could we postpone the interrogation for a few hours?” Sir Edward rubbed his eyes. “I need to rest, even if you don’t, and there are a few domestic matters I must attend to.”