A River in the Sky

AT THE LAST MOMENT the bandit, for such he appeared to be, veered away from me, toward the spot where Selim and Emerson stood. I cried out a warning. Emerson spun round and assumed a posture of defense as the apparition rushed toward him. Avoiding the blow directed at him, the fellow threw both arms round Emerson, pulled his head down, and planted whiskery kisses on both cheeks.

“It is you!” he cried. “It is indeed you. We heard you were come to the Holy City but I did not allow myself to believe I would see you so soon. You will come to my house, you will stay with me and make my heart rejoice.”

“Well, well,” said Emerson, freeing his head in time to avoid a second round of kisses. “If it isn’t Abdul Kamir. What are you doing here, you old villain?”

I had of course risen to my feet, parasol at the ready, when it appeared my husband might be in danger of attack. Now I sank back onto the stony seat. Another of Emerson’s dear old, disreputable old, friends. Was there no spot on earth free of them?

Upon closer examination Kamir did not look so menacing or so disreputable. His gray beard was neatly trimmed, the robes he had tucked up under his belt in order to run were clean and without holes. A pair of cracked spectacles perched on the end of his nose gave him a whimsical appearance, reinforced by his rotund frame and broad smile.

“An Arabic Father Christmas,” said Nefret, chuckling. “He looks much jollier than the Professor’s old friends usually do. Perhaps he can solve our housing problem.”

“We are certainly not staying with him,” I remarked-but softly, since Emerson was leading Kamir toward us. He presented all of us in turn. It took a while, since Kamir kept interrupting with effusive words of praise and plea sure at having the honor of meeting us.

“Are you then the sheikh of this village?” I asked, when Kamir had run out of compliments. I knew the word could mean any number of things, from an actual position to a generalized title of respect.

“No, no. But I am a man of importance here, with a fine house. You will stay with me, you will be my guests.”

“No, we won’t,” said Emerson, who considers courtesy a waste of valuable time. “We need a house of our own, Kamir. Can you find one for us?”

“Yes, yes. Come, I will show you now, you and your honored wife and your daughter. A light she is indeed, fair as the sun on the-”

“Mrs. Emerson will decide on the house,” Emerson said, shifting restlessly from one foot to the other. He had come upon something that intrigued him and could hardly wait to get back to it.

“But you will come and drink tea?”

As Emerson was well aware, it would have been a serious affront to refuse the invitation. “Er-yes,” he said resignedly. “As soon as I…er. Go on, go on, Selim and I will be there shortly.”

I asked Daoud to come with me, since I felt certain he would have come anyhow. He had not been favorably impressed by the locals he had met so far, and I had to admit that Kamir’s array of weaponry did not inspire confidence. “You, Daoud,” I went on, “and…Confound it! Where is Mr. Plato? Emerson, was he with you? Do you see him?”

Emerson did not pause or look back. “He was here a few minutes ago. The devil with him. Proceed, Peabody, proceed.”

“Really,” I said to Nefret, “the man is impossible. Emerson strictly forbade him to wander off.”

“He is probably close by, Aunt Amelia, examining the terrain as the Professor asked him to do. Shall I try to find him?”

“The devil with him,” I echoed. “Time is getting on and I want to find a house this morning.”

I had assumed the task of selecting a suitable abode would be mine. In fact I would have insisted upon it, since Emerson’s notion of suitable does not agree with mine. Followed by Daoud, Nefret and I made our way toward the village along a steep but manageable path.

“And where did you know the Father of Curses?” I inquired of Kamir, who was walking along next to me.

“In Babylon, Sitt,” said Kamir, referring not to the city of the famed Hanging Gardens but to an area of Cairo. “I came here to-uh-retire. Is that the word? Yes, retire from my labors. It was many years ago, but who could forget the Father of Curses?”

I did not inquire into the nature of Kamir’s “labors.” They had probably been illegal, and his “retirement” a hasty departure to avoid arrest.

Our arrival had been heralded by some of the children, dashing ahead to announce the news. In such villages the arrival of strangers is always of consuming interest. Women came to their doorways to stare; some called out greetings and questions. When Nefret and I responded in their language, cries of admiration rewarded us. I noticed that there were no appeals for baksheesh from the children who tagged along at our heels, and that even the village dogs kept their opinions to themselves. Whoever the sheikh might be, he kept good order in his domain.