Guardian of the Horizon by Elizabeth Peters Page B

thinking it over, and I have reached the conclusion that this expedition must mark the end of the Holy Mountain's isolation--or at least the beginning of the end. It was bound to happen sooner rather than later. The lure of the lost oases of the Western Desert has never faded, and lately there seems to have been a resurgence of interest. The Journal of the Royal Geographical Society had an article only last month about 'The Zerzura Problem.'" "But the lost city of Zerzura is a legend," I exclaimed. "I remember reading about it in the Book of Hidden Pearls, which is nothing more than a medieval collection of fairy tales." "It is a little more than a legend, Mother, as you are well aware. The fellows of the Royal Geographical Society are too hardheaded to give credence to legends, but many of them believe there are undiscovered oases in the Libyan Desert. In another few years, if the technology continues to improve as it has done, someone will develop a motorcar that is capable of desert travel, and that will extend the possible range of exploration. As for our trip--I would take certain risks for Tarek, but I will be damned if I will take the risk of mounting any but a large-scale expedition. It is to our advantage to keep our purpose secret beforehand, since we don't want a pack of curiosity seekers and treasure hunters following us, but if we do get there and return, the men who accompany us will spread the word. We can hardly imprison or intimidate all of them." He straightened, hands still in his pockets, and looked challengingly from me to Nefret, who was biting her lip, to his father, who was placidly smoking his pipe. "It's the truth, isn't it?" "Yes," I admitted. "But that would be a catastrophe," Nefret exclaimed. "Once the Holy Mountain is known to the world, it will be exploited by treasure hunters and adventurers." "And archaeologists," said Emerson, scowling. "Men like Budge, who will tear the place apart collecting artifacts for his cursed museum. No doubt you have anticipated this little difficulty, Peabody, and have considered methods of preventing it?" "I have a few ideas. However," I went on, before Emerson could express his skepticism, "I see no point in discussing them in vacuo, so to speak. At present we have no idea what sort of reception we will receive or what conditions we are likely to encounter. We are agreed, are we not, that until we reach the point of no return--" "I don't like the sound of that," Emerson muttered. "The point at which we set out on the final journey--" "That's not much better, Peabody." "Oh, Emerson, do be quiet. You know what I mean. Until our expedition is ready to go into the desert, we should be able to keep people in the dark as to our real goal. We have discussed this in general, but we must work out the details--what we must do, what we must say--and to whom it must be said--in order to add verisimilitude to an otherwise--" "All right, Peabody, all right. Have another whiskey and don't quote Gilbert and Sullivan at me." By the time David arrived the following afternoon, we had put together a convincing fiction, though it did not really cover all the contingencies and I had an uneasy feeling (I would have called it a premonition if Emerson did not object to my using that word) that we had not anticipated everything. At first David could talk of nothing but Lia--her grace, hersweetness, her beauty, the interminable years that must pass before he could call her his. She was not yet eighteen, and, as he admitted, he was in no position to support a wife. Not until after dinner, when we retired to the sitting room for coffee, did he ask about our strange visitor, concerning whom he had heard from Gargery. "Yes, a most interesting young fellow," Emerson said, fussing with his pipe. "His grandfather is an old acquaintance of mine-- sheikh of a village in the Sudan, who sent the boy to England to-- er--broaden him, and, incidentally, to tell me about some interesting ruins west of