Free The Golden One by Elizabeth Peters

stupefied. If you are really unaware of
the strength of your wife’s affection, you have not been paying her the proper attentions.’
    He didn’t dare ask what she meant by that. Her prim circumlocutions always amused him, but he said humbly and without a smile, ‘You are right, Mother, as always. I haven’t said
anything to her, and I never shall. Please don’t tell her.’
    ‘Why, Ramses, I would never betray another individual’s confidence.’ She patted his hand. He flinched, and she let out an exclamation of distress. ‘Oh, dear. I forgot I
was holding the needle. Suck it.’
    Ramses dutifully obeyed. ‘What is that you’re making?’ he asked. It was hard to tell the bloodstains from the pattern.
    ‘It’s just a little something to keep my hands occupied. Stop fretting, dear boy, I will talk to Nefret myself. Tactfully.’
    She stuck the needle into the fabric and folded her work. ‘It is past time for luncheon. Emerson is late as usual.’
    He turned up a few minutes later, with Sennia, and dropped rather heavily into a chair. Emerson could work under the hot Upper Egyptian sun from dawn until sunset without any sign of fatigue,
but a few hours with Sennia left even him worn out. ‘Are we ready for lunch?’ he asked.
    ‘Nefret isn’t back yet,’ his wife said.
    Ramses had been watching the clock. It was after one. His father gave him a critical look. ‘Is she waiting for you to fetch her?’
    ‘No,’ Ramses said, and went on, before his father could voice his opinion of a man who would allow his wife to walk the alleys of el-Wasa unattended. ‘I expect she’s got
involved and lost track of the time. The rest of you go down, I’ll run over to the hospital.’
    He wasn’t worried – not really – but she knew they were due to leave that evening, and she had said she’d be back before luncheon.
    He took the most direct way to the hospital, the one they always followed, expecting at every turn of the street to see her hurrying towards him. The foul alleys were deserted; the denizens were
indoors, resting during the heat of the day. Anger, born of concern, quickened his steps. She had no business worrying him like this, after he had done her the courtesy of leaving her free of his
escort.
    He had almost reached the hospital when a man stepped out into his path. ‘You must come with me, Brother of Demons.’
    ‘Get out of my way, Musa. I haven’t time to listen to el-Gharbi’s compliments.’
    ‘You must!’ the other man repeated. He held out his hands. Stretched between his palms was the filmy scarf Nefret had worn round her neck that morning.
    Seeing Ramses’s expression, Musa jumped back a few feet and began to babble. ‘Do not strike me, Brother of Demons, she is not hurt, she is safe, I will take you to her.’
    ‘Damned right you will.’ Ramses’s hand shot out, catching Musa’s stringy arm in a bruising grip. ‘Where is she?’
    ‘Come. Come with me, it is not far. She is unharmed, I tell you. Would any of us dare injure – ’
    ‘Shut up. Which way?’
    Knowing he was no longer in imminent danger of violence, Musa said plaintively, ‘You are hurting my arm, Brother of Demons. I can walk faster if you do not hold on to me. I will not run
away. I was ordered to bring you to her.’
    Ramses didn’t bother to ask who had given the order. He released his grip and brushed at the enterprising fleas that had already found his hand. ‘Where?’
    ‘This way, this way.’ Musa trotted ahead, around a corner and through a pile of discarded fruit rinds and peelings that squelched under his bare feet. ‘This way,’ he said
again, and turned his head to nod reassuringly at Ramses. ‘Do you have a cigarette?’
    ‘Don’t push me too far, Musa.’
    He was no longer worried about Nefret, though. The man who must be responsible for this would not harm her. They ended up where Ramses had expected: in an outstandingly filthy alley behind the
house el-Gharbi had once