elizabethpeters.thegoldenone-第73部分

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　〃Faugh；〃　said　Sahin　Pasha；　wrinkling　his　nose。　〃It's　even　worse　than　I　remembered。　This　house　is　a　temporary　loan；　from　a　colleague　of　mine；　my　own　prisons　are　more　civilized。　I　will　return　in　the　morning　to　see　if　you　have　changed　your　mind。〃
　He　drew　his　elegant　robes　tightly　about　him　so　they　wouldn't　touch　the　filthy　wall　and　backed　away。　The　door　slammed　shut。　The　hinges　creaked　horribly。　They　would；　of　course。
　Ramses　sat　with　his　head　bowed；　breathing　steadily　and　slowly；　hoping　he　wasn't　going　to　be　sick。　Gradually　he　got　his　stomach　under　control　and　strength　began　to　return　to　his　limbs。　Cautiously　he　tested　the　fetters。　The　iron　cuffs　had　simply　snapped　into　place；　they　could　probably　be　opened　without　a　key；　but　his　hands　were　a　yard　apart　and　each　chain　was　less　than　six　inches　long。　He　entertained　himself　for　a　while　banging　and　rubbing　the　cuffs　against　the　stone　wall　but　succeeded　only　in　scraping　his　knuckles。
　He　leaned　back；　overing　an　instinctive　reluctance　to　touch　the　slimy　stone　of　the　wall。　His　mother　would　have　added　several　other　adjectives　…　hard；　cold；　wet；　dank；　crawling　with　curious　insects　that　were　gathering　to　investigate　a　new　source　of　nourishment。　A　few　of　them　had　already　found　his　feet。　He　smiled　wryly。　His　mother　would　also　inform　him；　in　that　brisk　way　of　hers；　that　he'd　got　himself　into　a　pretty　mess　this　time。　No　weapons；　no　useful　tools　concealed　in　his　boots　or　clothing。　They　had　even　found　the　needle…thin　knife　he'd　hidden　under　a　dirty　bandage　wrapped　round　his　forearm。　And　all　for　nothing。　He　was　no　wiser　about　the　identity　of　〃the　holy　infidel。〃
　He　closed　his　eyes　and　summoned　up　the　image　of　that　bearded　face　and　arrogant　nose。　He　had　a　good　visual　memory；　but　he　hadn't　seen　enough　for　a　positive　identification。　Remembering　the　innumerable　times　he　had　failed　to　recognize　his　exasperating　uncle；　he　had　known　a　single　glance　wouldn't　be　enough。　He　had　counted　on　being　able　to　observe　Ismail　longer；　watching　for　a　familiar　gesture　or　movement；　hearing　his　voice。　The　man　had　been　closely　guarded；　but　it　might　have　been　a　guard　of　honor。　Sahin　hadn't　actually　confirmed　or　denied　anything；　he　had　only　made　a　few　ambiguous　references　to　turncoats。
　It　had　been　a　restless　night　and　a　tiring　day。　He　fell　into　a　waking　doze；　jerked　upright　by　the　pressure　of　the　shackles　against　his　scraped　hands　whenever　deeper　sleep　loosened　his　muscles。　Dream　images　floated　through　his　mind：　Nefret；　first　and　last　and　always；　her　blue　eyes　tender　with　concern　or　blazing　with　fury　…　at　him；　for　being　stupid　enough　to　fall　into　this　trap。　It　had　been　a　trap；　he　had　been　lied　to；　used；　cold…bloodedly；　for　the　sole　purpose　of　getting　that　innocent…looking　assassin　into　Gaza。　Cartright　and　his　superiors　must　have　known　there　was　a　good　chance　both　of　them　would　be　caught　or　killed　if　Chetwode　carried　out　his　orders　。　。　。　The　trap；　a　cage　as　big　as　a　drawing　room；　swathed　in　folds　of　golden　silk　that　didn't　quite　conceal　the　rusty　bars；　soft　cushions　under　him；　and　a　girl　in　his　arms；　a　girl　with　long　black　hair　that　snaked　round　his　hands；　and　tightened　and　hardened　into　fetters。
　When　he　opened　his　eyes；　he　thought　for　a　moment　he　must　still　be　dreaming。　The　face　close　to　his　was　a　disconcerting　blend　of　Sahin's　strong　features　and　the　round…cheeked　houri　who　had　nestled　in　his　embrace。　But　the　pain　in　his　hands　was　real；　and　so　was　the　pocket　torch　whose　beam　wavered　wildly　before　she　put　it　down　on　the　bench　beside　him。　He　sat　up　straighter　and　started　to　speak。　She　put　her　hand　over　his　lips。
　〃Don't　speak；　don't　cry　out；〃　she　whispered　in　English。　〃I　will　help　you　escape。〃
　Her　hand　was　soft　and　plump　and　perfumed。　Her　hair　was　black；　it　had　been　twisted　into　a　knot；　but　long　strands　had　escaped　to　hang　limply　over　her　forehead。　Her　nose　was　her　father's；　large　and　curved；　and　her　mouth　was　the　same　shape；　though　it　was　now　tremulous　and；　he　noticed；　carefully　painted。　There　could　be　no　doubt　of　her　identity。　Was　this　another　trick　of　Sahin's　…　a　version　of　cat　and　mouse；　raising　hopes　of　escape　before　dashing　them；　with　his　daughter　as　the　very　visible　alternative　to　re…imprisonment？
　Her　palm　and　fingers　slid　slowly　across　his　mouth。　〃Why？〃　he　asked　softly。
　〃Don't　ask　questions！〃　Her　voice　was　thin　with　nervousness。　She　straightened；　and　he　saw　she　was　wearing　the　enveloping　black　tob　over　a　rather　frivolous　pink　frock　of　European　style。
　It　took　her　a　while　to　open　the　manacles。　Under　the　perfume　that　wafted　round　her；　Ramses　could　sense　the　fear　that　made　her　hands　shake　and　soaked　her　with　sweat。
　The　iron　circles　finally　parted。　He　had　lost　all　track　of　time　in　the　eternal　darkness；　but　he　must　have　been　there　for　hours。　Slowly　he　lowered　his　aching　arms　and　flexed　his　hands。　She　was　kneeling；　working　at　the　chain　around　his　feet。　He　bent　over　and　pushed　her　hands　away。　〃I'll　do　it。　Hold　the　torch。　How　do　they　work？〃
　〃You　have　to　push　。　。　。　here　。　。　。〃　A　shaking　finger　indicated　the　spot。　〃And　pull　this　at　the　same　time。　They're　rusty；　stiff　。　。　。〃
　The　chains　clinked　and　he　swore　under　his　breath。　They　were　making　too　much　noise　and　taking　too　much　time。　It　was　too　damned　quiet。　Hadn't　Sahin　left　a　guard？　Maybe　it　wasn't　a　trick　after　all。　If　her　father　had　set　it　up；　she　was　putting　on　a　very　convincing　show　of　fear。　As　soon　as　he　stood；　she　thrust　a　bundle　at　him。
　〃Put　it　on。　Hurry！〃
　The　caftan　was　probably　one　of　Sahin's。　It　was　of　fine　wool　and　far　too　costly　for　someone　who　wanted　to　be　inconspicuous；　but　since　he　had　no　choice　in　the　matter；　he　put　it　on；　and　wound　the　woolen　scarf　over　his　head　and　face。　The　last　item　in　the　bundle　was　a　knife。　She'd　thought　of　everything　…　except　a　belt。　He　slashed　a　strip　off　the　bottom　of　the　caftan；　tied　it　round　his　waist；　and　slipped　the　knife　through　the　makeshift　sash。
　She　let　him　precede　her　to　the　door　but　stayed　so　close　behind　him　he　could　hear　her　agitated　breathing。　She'd　left　the　door　ajar。　Ramses　swept　the　torch　in　a　hasty　circuit；　half　expecting　to　see　Sahin's　grin　and　a　heavily　armed　guard；　but　the　corridor　was　empty。
　〃That　way。〃　She　extended　a　shaking　arm　over　his　shoulder。
　〃I　know。　Is　there　anyone　in　the　other　cells？〃
　〃What　does　it　matter？　Hurry！〃
　She　pushed　at　him；　but　he　stood　firm。　〃Is　there？〃
　〃No！〃
　The　light　of　the　torch　showed　that　the　doors　were　not　barred　or　bolted；　but　he　couldn't　leave　without　making　certain。　He　eased　them　open；　one　after　the　other；　just　far　enough　to　look　inside。　Despite　his　care；　the　hinges　gave　off　a　series　of　groans；　echoed；　on　a　higher　note；　by　the　girl。　She　tugged　at　his　arm。
　Ramses　let　himself　be　drawn　away。　The　cells　had　been　unoccupied　except　by　a　family　of　rats　that　had　set　up　housekeeping　in　a　pile　of　moldy　straw。　She　led　the　way　now；　tiptoeing；　her　black　skirts　raised。　Ramses　followed　her　up　the　stone　steps　and　through　a　mazelike　series　of　narrow　passages　and　small　storerooms。　She　certainly　knew　her　way　around　the　cellars。　He　doubted　very　much　that　she　had　explored　them　herself。
　But　they　had　met　no　one　and　seen　no　one　when　she　finally　stopped　by　a　wooden　door　and　tugged　at　the　handle。　Somehow　Ramses　was　not　surprised　when　the　portal　swung　silently　open。　Stars　shone　bright　overhead；　illumining　a　walled　courtyard。　It　was　strictly　utilitarian；　no　fountain；　no　flowers；　only　weeds　and　piles　of　trash。　They　were　at　the　back　of　the　villa；　near　the　kitchens。　He　looked　up；　scanning　the　night　sky；　and　found　the　Dipper　and　the　North　Star。　It　would　be　light　in　a　few　hours。　Time　was　definitely　of　the　essence；　but　there　was　one　question　he　had　to　ask。
　He　turned　to　the　girl。　〃Who　helped　you？〃
　〃No　one　helped　me！　I　did　it　myself；　all　of　it。　I　saw　you　today　when　they　brought　you　in；　and　I　。　。　。　There　is　no　time　for　this。　You　must　hurry。〃
　〃But　how　did　you　know　…〃
　〃No　questions！　It　won't　be　easy　to　find　your　way　out　of　the　city。　I　must　show　you　where　…〃
　〃No；　go　back　to　your　rooms　before　you　are　missed。　I　know　where　I　am　now。〃
　She　put　her　hands　on　his　arms。　〃A　horse。　I　will　get　one　for　you。〃
　〃Why　don't　you　just　paint　a　target　on　my　back？〃　Ramses　inquired；　and　immediately　felt　guilty　when　her　mouth　quivered　pathetically。　Her　face　was　so　close