Daisy Gumm Majesty 06-Ancient Spirits by Alice Duncan

Author:Alice Duncan
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Paranormal Mysteries
ISBN: 9781432825706
Publisher: Five Star
Published: 2012-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Except for being swarmed by indigent Egyptians of all ages and sexes as we wandered the streets of the various souks, and in spite of the crushing heat, I managed to find gifts for everyone in my family, Flossie and Johnny, Edie and Quincy Applewood (as I think I’ve mentioned before, Edie was Mrs. Pinkerton’s lady’s maid, and Quincy looked out after Mr. Pinkerton’s horses), Pudge Wilson next door and a few other neighbors. I even bought a pottery sphinx for Sam. I was pretty sure Pudge was going to love his turquoise scarab. The thing was so cheap that I doubted it was made of real turquoise, but I didn’t think Pudge would mind. He liked bugs and stuff like that.

Fortunately for me, Harold had thought to hire one of the non-guardsman dragomen who haunted the street around Shepheards to carry our many packages. I felt sorry for the man, although he seemed quite cheerful about his burdensome occupation, probably because Harold was lavish with his baksheesh. This was a smart move on Harold’s part because the fellow, named Mohammed of course, was adept at bargaining with the various souk keepers, a form of exchange at which I would have been lousy, not being inclined to argue with anyone at all, much less a native to a land to in which I was every inch an outsider.

Harold bought I don’t know how many sphinxes, scarabs and pieces of pottery, all of which were lovely to look at but incredibly bulky, not to mention expensive.

During one bargaining session—Harold wanted to purchase a perfectly gorgeous golden urn, which the souk proprietor said had been discovered in a pharaoh’s tomb—Harold whispered to me, “I’m sure he’s lying through his teeth. Somebody probably made it the day before yesterday.”

Shocked, I whispered back, “Good Lord, Harold. Do you mean that?”

“Sure. Making fakes with which to fool tourists is the national industry in this part of Egypt.”

“But . . . but that urn is positively beautiful, Harold. What a shame if the merchant is lying about it.”

With a shrug, Harold said, “Honestly, Daisy, I’m not a collector of Egyptian artifacts. I don’t care if the thing is brand new or three thousand years old. I just think it’s pretty, and I want to get it for Del. Thanks to our guide there, maybe I’ll get a deal on it.”

“Oh.” And since I couldn’t think of anything more cogent to say, I remained silent as the dragoman and the shop’s proprietor argued and argued.

As they argued, I gazed at the item in question. It really was quite charming in all its gleaming goldness. Figures of ancient Egyptians had been engraved or carved or etched, or whatever the proper artistic term for the process is on the sides of it, and it contained one panel that looked as if someone had pasted tons of tiny tiles together and then had it inlaid into the gold. The top of the thing featured the head of a cat, I presume the god Bastet of Egyptian lore.

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