Every Whispered Word (35 page)

“I would never have consented to mining the land, Elliott. I always believed in the existence of the Tomb of Kings. I would not have done anything to imperil it.”

“He knows that, Camelia.” Simon regarded Elliott intently, debating whether to heave the diamond in his palm at him then, or wait until he was certain Zareb and Oliver were in a position to relieve Stanley and Bert of their pistols. “That's why he never showed you the diamonds. He didn't want to try to convince you to sell the land to De Beers because of its potential value as a diamond mine. He knew you were too much like your father to ever agree to such a thing. He wanted to scare you off it, while convincing you that the land was virtually worthless anyway.”

“But why?” Camelia regarded Elliott imploringly. “Even if I did finally decide to give up and sell the land, how would that have profited you?”

“It wasn't my initial intention to drive you away.” His voice was gentle as he continued, “You know I cared for you, Camelia. I hoped you would marry me, and then after that I planned to tell you about the diamonds. I believed I could make you understand it would be better for us to sell the land and make a life for ourselves in England.” A shadow fell across his gaze. “But you absolutely refused to accept my courtship of you. Then I realized I would have to take firmer measures to get you to give up Pumulani and turn to me. Yet no matter how many accidents I arranged here, or how much I paid these two harebrained fools to frighten you, you simply would not surrender your father's dream.”

“Here now, who are ye callin' harebrained?” demanded Bert.

“The lass has a stout heart.” Oliver observed, gazing fondly at Camelia. “She doesna shrink—she shakes off the water.”

“Tisha is African.” Zareb looked at her meaningfully. “She is a warrior.”

“That must have been very frustrating for you, Wickham,” mused Simon. “I'm guessing by that point you had already approached the De Beers Company and told them about the diamonds.”

“I made some overtures to them,” Elliott admitted. “And after they saw the diamonds, they were naturally very interested in acquiring the land. I promised to get Camelia to agree to sell it to them at an extremely desirable price, in return for which I would be paid a generous fee for my services.”

“I'm surprised you didn't negotiate for a percentage of the mine as well.”

“They offered that, but in exchange for a smaller fee. As I had no way of knowing whether the land would produce more than the few stones Lord Stamford had already found, I preferred to have my money immediately.”

“Very pragmatic. I see you aren't much of a risk-taker.”

“I have devoted most of my life to taking risks, Kent,” Elliott informed him tersely. “My father vowed to disinherit me when I told him I wanted to be an archaeologist. He said I was an idiot, and promised I would never receive a penny from him in support. Before I left for Africa he threw me out and cut off my allowance, convinced I would never have the courage to go to Africa without his financial assistance.”

Camelia's eyes widened in surprise. “You never told me that, Elliott.”

“I never told anyone—except your father. I had to tell him. Lord Stamford had agreed to train me, but suddenly I had no way of securing passage to Africa. I asked your father if he would lend me enough money to buy my ticket. Instead he gave me a ticket as a gift and offered to pay me a modest salary. He enabled me to stand up to my father and follow my dream. For that I was forever indebted to him.”

“And yet you betray him by damaging his site and hurting his daughter.” Zareb's voice was laden with fury. “The spirits will not be pleased.”

“I repaid him by staying with him for years, believing him when he kept assuring me that we were on the brink of an incredible find,” Elliott insisted. “And all it got me was a mountain of debt and the amused contempt of the British Archaeological Society. They thought I was a fool to have wasted so much time digging up Africa with Lord Stamford.” His mouth tightened into a bitter line as he looked at Simon. “But it wasn't until Kent came here that I realized just how much of a fool I had been.”

His meaning was unmistakable. “Be careful what you say, Wickham,” Simon warned, clenching his fists.

“Do you honestly think I don't know what game you two have been playing in your tent at night?”

“Here, now,” said Oliver, scowling, “we'll have none o' that snash!”

“I advise you to hold your tongue, Lord Wickham,” added Zareb, barely containing his rage, “or else I might be forced to hold it for you.”

“Ah, yes, the ever-loyal Kaffir comes to Lady Camelia's defense, even though he has two pistols pointed at him,” drawled Elliott acridly. “You're part of the reason she turned out as she did.”

“I have spent my life protecting her from the dark forces.” Zareb regarded him with forced calm. “And from you.”

“She didn't need protection from me, you old fool! I would have taken care of her!”

“She was never yours to care for, your lordship,” Zareb countered. “You were not deserving of that privilege.”

Elliott shifted his gaze to Camelia. “There was a time, Camelia, when I truly believed we were meant for each other.” He reached out and trailed his fingers slowly across her dirt-smudged cheek. “But now that I understand the kind of filthy, common scum you are attracted to, I consider myself lucky you rejected my marriage proposal.”

“Is he sayin' her ladyship is attracted to me?” wondered Stanley, bewildered.

“Actually, Stanley, I believe his lordship is talking about me,” Simon returned.

“But ye ain't common. Ye're bang up sharp, what with all yer inventions an' all.”

“Thank you.”

“Shut up, Stanley!” snapped Bert. “Can't ye see we're doin' a job here?”

Stanley regarded him sheepishly. “Sorry, Bert. What do ye want me to do now?”

Bert looked at Elliott questioningly.

“Tie them up over there,” Elliott ordered, “and start carrying these pots of diamonds out. Hurry, damn it! I want this cave emptied and sealed back up before anyone can find them.”

“So that's it?” Camelia's voice was cold as Stanley and Bert reluctantly began to do as they had been told. “You just seal us up in here and leave us?”

“I'm sorry, Camelia, but at this point I really don't see any alternative. I never dreamed you'd actually find this tomb. Now that you have, you must admit, it does seem rather fitting that you and your friends stay here. You've spent your entire life trying to find this place. Now you'll stay here for all eternity.”

“But I already told Bert, that ain't right,” Stanley protested, pausing in his binding of Oliver's wrists. “I ain't leavin' 'em here to snuff it in this cave—there's spiders in here!”

“You'll do as you're told, you great big pudding-headed oaf, or I'll leave both of you in here as well,” Elliott threatened furiously. “Do you understand, or do you need your scrubby little friend here to explain it to you?”

Stanley regarded Bert imploringly. “It ain't right, Bert.”

“Shut yer cake-hole an' do as yer told, Stanley,” advised Bert, nervously eyeing Elliott's pistol.

“Sound advice,” Elliott mused dryly.

Camelia stood frozen, her hands fisted at her sides. An icy gust of air was wafting around her, making her acutely aware of the rapid pounding of her heart, the cool prickle of her skin, the powerful surge of blood pouring through her veins. She had found the Tomb of Kings. In doing so she had discovered that dearest Elliott, who had been a son to her father and an older brother to her, was willing to cast aside the years of friendship and devotion in exchange for a few vessels of diamonds.

Nothing was as it seemed, she realized painfully.

Let the stars be your guide.

“It is time, Tisha,” Zareb said quietly.

Camelia glanced at him in confusion. He gazed back at her with extraordinary calm, his dark eyes glittering with love and grim determination.

“The spirits have spoken, Tisha,” he whispered softly. “It is time.”

“You never give up, do you, Zareb?” muttered Elliott. “All your idiotic nonsense about evil spirits and dark forces and curses. Really, it baffles me why Stamford chose an ignorant old Kaffir to look after his daughter.” He glared at Camelia as he finished, “Things would have been much different if your father had left you in England under the care of a good English governess.”

“You're right, Elliott,” Camelia agreed softly. “Things would have been much different. But there is something I don't believe an English governess could have taught me.”

“What's that?”

“This.” She grabbed the little finger of his left hand and jerked it back as hard as she could, snapping it from its socket.

Elliott howled in pain and staggered back, accidentally firing his pistol.

Oscar shrieked and leapt onto his head, momentarily blinding him. As Elliott fought to tear off the attacking monkey, Harriet flew to Oscar's assistance, flapping her wings as she pecked violently at Elliott's face and head. A flash of orange and black rose from the ground as Rupert sank his fangs deep into Elliott's leg.

“Help! Get them off me!
Help!!
” Elliott raged, stumbling blindly over the skeletons of the dead kings and knocking over the vessels of diamonds. “Help!”

All at once the bats hanging from the cave's ceiling squealed and took flight, stirring up a frigid wind as they deserted the chamber.

“I guess they didna like the blast from that pistol,” mused Oliver, scratching his head.

A thunderous cracking sound shook the cave. Bits of stone and clouds of dust began to rain upon them.

“It's going to collapse!” roared Simon, racing over to Camelia and grabbing her hand.
“Everyone clear out!”

“Come on, Stanley—pike off!” shouted Bert, running toward the passageway as fast as his short little legs would carry him.

“Right behind ye, Bert!” Stanley said as he swiftly untied Oliver and Zareb.

“Oscar, Harriet—that's enough!” Camelia scooped up Rupert as he slithered toward her, and looped him around her neck. “We have to get out of here now!”

Harriet gave Elliott one last hard peck before flying back to Zareb's shoulder. Oscar angrily whacked Elliott on the head, then jumped off him and climbed up onto Simon.

“Are you all right, Elliott?” asked Camelia urgently. “Can you make it out of here?”

Elliott regarded her in confusion as dust and chunks of rock fell around him. “My diamonds!” He fell to the ground and began to rake his hands across the cave floor, trying to gather up the scattered stones and stuff them into his pockets.

“For God's sake, Wickham, leave them!” Simon shouted.

“They're mine!” Elliott scrabbled frantically through the dust on his hands and knees.

“Elliott, please,” Camelia pleaded, “we've got to get out now!”

“Just one more minute!”

An ominous crack began to streak through one of the walls, creating a fissure in the painting between a group of warriors and the lion they were trying to slay.

“Come, Tisha,” said Zareb. “It is time for you to leave this place.”

“Elliott, I'm begging you—leave them!” Camelia's voice was ragged.

“Just a few more,” said Elliott, groping his way across the floor.

“It's his choice, Camelia.” Simon took her arm. “Let's go!”

“I can't just leave him here!”

“If you stay, you will die,” Simon informed her brusquely. “And while that outcome might seem acceptable to you, I can assure you it is absolutely unacceptable to me.”

With that he swung her up into his arms and raced down the disintegrating passage, with Oliver and Zareb following close behind.

“Come on, Stanley—move it!” commanded Simon as they found him wedged in the cave's entrance.

“I can't—I'm stuck!”

“This night really couldn't get any better,” Simon muttered, setting Camelia onto her feet. “Bert, are you out there?”

“I'm here!” Bert answered. “But he's stuck tighter than a mouse hole, an' I can't get him to budge!”

“All right, we're going to pull him back a bit, and then see if we can't get him angled better so he can get out. Oliver and Zareb, each of you grab one of his legs. Camelia and I will take his torso. Everybody ready? Pull!”

“That's it!” shouted Bert from the other side of the entrance. “He's movin'!”

“All right, Stanley, I want you to twist your right shoulder down and bring your left shoulder up, so you're more sideways—got it?”

“I think so,” Stanley gasped. “I feel like I've a bit more breathin' space.”

“Excellent. Now pull your stomach in, and make yourself as small as you possibly can. When I say ‘three,' I want you to pull hard, Bert, and we'll push. Ready? One . . . two . . . three!”

There was a chorus of grunts and groans as everyone strained to free Stanley from the grip of the rock.

“'Tis like tryin' to shove an elephant through a bloody keyhole!” growled Oliver, his aged arms quivering with exertion.

More dirt and rock began to fall down on them. A sea of bugs and snakes surged over them as they sought to escape the rapidly crumbling cave.

“Come on, Stanley,” Simon grated out, “think small!”

“He's moving!” Camelia cried.

Stanley shifted an inch. And then an inch more.

And then he popped from the opening like a giant cork, landing heavily on Bert.

“Go!” Simon commanded Camelia after he pushed Oscar and Harriet out the hole.

“But Zareb and Oliver—”

“Will be right behind you,” he promised, unceremoniously shoving her and Rupert through the opening. “All right, Oliver, you're next!”