Theodosia and the Eyes of Horus

CHAPTER ELEVEN Five Impossible Things Before Supper

THE NEXT MORNING when we arrived at the museum I put Henry on sentry duty and went immediately to the reading room. I liked having someone keep an eye on the curators and report on their whereabouts, as it helped cut down on the number of surprise visits I received. Since the tablet had passed the Level-Two Test with flying colors, I was feeling optimistic that it was important most likely only to those who studied occult lore. Of course, to be thorough, I would have to conduct a Level-Three Test, but I needed moonlight for that, and who knew when we'd spend the night at the museum again? That happened much less often when Henry was home.

After my conversation with Stilton, I wanted to spend some time researching the Chaldeans. According to the book he'd given me, the Chaldeans had ruled Babylonia until it was conquered by the Achaemenid Empire, in 539 B.C.

The interesting thing was that the Achaemenids had also ruled Egypt for a time. I fetched A History of Ancient Egypt by Sir Bilious Pudge from the shelf. Yes! Here it was! The Persian emperor Cambyses II had taken Egypt in 526 B.C.

Which meant that the Chaldeans and the Egyptians had both been conquered people under the same ruler. Was that when the Chaldeans became interested in Egyptian gods? Or when the Egyptians decided to use Chaldean cuneiform to make the tablet more difficult to decipher? Nothing united two distinct factions like a common enemy. For example, just look at me and Fagenbush.

Speaking of which, it had been awfully quiet all morning. I paused in my reading and looked at my watch. Deciding I needed to stretch my legs, I went to check on Henry. I found him nestled next to a suit of armor in an alcove near the foyer. "Excellent cover, Henry! What's your report this morning?"

He squeezed out of his hiding spot, being quite careful of the armor, I was glad to note.

"Rather boring, really. Everyone's been working on the exhibit this morning. Well, except for Fagenbush. He's hiding out in his office and keeps squirming and fidgeting as if he had ants in his pants."

Er, try desert sand, I thought, but all I said was "Excellent work."

"The stuff you do around here is pretty boring," he complained. "I don't understand how you find it so exciting."

With luck, he never would. "If you'd rather, you can go play marbles or read in the family room for a while."

He perked up. "Did you find my marbles then?"

I winced, regretting bringing up the subject. "No, Henry. I didn't. I'm sorry."

His face fell. "They were my favorite ones," he said sulkily.

"I guess you'll just have to read then, won't you?"

He sighed in frustration and went down the hall. Before I could head back to the reading room, a "Pssst!" emanated from behind one of the pillars. There was only one person I knew who announced his presence in that manner.

"Will?" I poked my head around the pillar, making him jump.

"Oy, miss. You startled me."

"Sorry about that. Have you got a message for me from Wigmere?"

At the mention of Wigmere's name, Sticky Will scowled. "I 'ave, miss. 'E says we is not to keep sending messages through me. You is to use your other contact. 'E says, 'If you wish to be a part of this organization, you must follow the proper channels.'"

Oh dear. It was just as I'd feared. "I'm so sorr—"

"Aren't I good enough to carry messages for 'is Nibs?" Will's fists were clenched, but he looked at me with a question in his eyes. A glimmer of hurt lurked behind all that bluster.

"Maybe it has less to do with us," I said slowly, feeling my way, "and more to do with Fagenbush? Maybe this is Wigmere's way of getting his training's worth out of him or doing a trial run before sending him out on real missions? He's only a Chosen Keeper in training, after all."

Will's face cleared and returned to his normal cheerful countenance. "Oy, then. That's all right. So wot are we goin' to do now, miss?"

"Did he say anything about the Emerald Tablet?"

"No, miss."

Bother. I'd been so hoping he'd have a recommendation. "We'll lie low for a day or two and see what develops," I said at last. After that, we agreed that Will would come around again on Friday morning, and he took his leave.

And just in time! No sooner had he disappeared down the west hall than Grandmother's voice rang out from the foyer. "Theodosia?"

As I was rushing forward to greet her, Grandmother spotted me. "There you are, child."

"Hello, Grandmother," I said, using my best manners.

Grandmother sniffed. "Took you long enough. It's not as if we have all day, you know." She motioned with her cane to the long-nosed sallow-faced woman trailing behind her. "This is Madame Wilkie, the seamstress who will measure you for your mourning gown."

Oh no! I'd completely forgotten about the mourning clothes.

"Come along." Grandmother strode forward, grabbed my arm, and began dragging me toward the family room. "We can't get you fitted out here."

There are few things I hate more than being measured and fitted for gowns. For one thing, it is beyond tedious, nothing to do but stand there as some sour-lipped missus pokes and prods with her bony fingers, trying to measure every last inch of you. To make matters even worse, you're never allowed any say in the design or fabric of the frock being made. All the really lovely stuff is too loud or too garish or completely unsuitable (whatever that means!).

Ignoring the tussle between Madame Wilkie and me, Grandmother turned to her favorite subject. "I'm trying to decide if the mourners should wear weeper veils," she said.

Honestly. Did I look like an undertaker? How was I to know if they should wear veils? Luckily, I was saved from replying when Madame Wilkie looked up from poking me with her vicious pins and said, "Weeper veils haven't been used for quite some time, madam." She spoke with some hesitation, as if not sure Grandmother would welcome her advice.

She didn't. Grandmother thumped her cane. "That's because people have no notion of how to organize a proper funeral anymore."

Madame Wilkie blinked at this onslaught, murmured, "Of course, ma'am," and retreated into her work.

Hoping to distract Grandmother, I asked, "May I see the pattern for the dress you've chosen?"

She sniffed. "Don't be vain. The dress isn't to make you look good but to show proper respect for the dead."

Which no doubt meant it would be about as becoming as a turnip sack. I sighed and said, "Yes, ma'am," then jumped as Madame Wilkie poked the measuring tape into my armpit.

"Hold still now," she admonished. Small beads of perspiration had gathered on her upper lip, and she smelled faintly of currants.

"But you're tickling," I protested. I glanced up at the clock and wondered how much longer I had to endure this torture. It was nearly two o'clock! Awi Bubu was due any moment. I could only guess how Grandmother would react to seeing someone of his nature calling on Mother. "Are we almost done?" I asked Madame Wilkie.

"This is the last one." She slipped the tape around my chest, pulled it tight, and noted the measurement, all before I had a chance to so much as blush in embarrassment.

Then she stepped away. "I have everything that I need, madam."

"About time." Grandmother sniffed.

Madame Wilkie looked as if she'd just been forced to swallow worms, but she held her tongue.

"Very well," I said brightly, trying to herd them to the door. "You probably have to get back to your funeral planning. Which reminds me, Grandmother—is there a date yet for the service?" They were nearly at the door now. Three more steps and they'd be gone and the coast would be clear for Awi Bubu's visit.

"I've already told you, it's Tuesday. Do be sure and tell your parents. I insist that they be there. If it hadn't been for Sopcoate's intervention, your father might even now be sitting in jail."

Well, not entirely. I'd had a little something to do with getting him out. "Of course, Grandmother. I'll let them know."

She opened the front door and let herself out, Madame Wilkie right behind. I sighed in relief as they both headed straight for the carriage, Grandmother's nose held so high in the air she never saw Awi Bubu approaching.

Not wanting to arouse the suspicion of the curators working in the foyer—especially Stilton, who had already asked far too many questions about the Egyptian magician—I waited until Awi Bubu knocked on the door before opening it.

"Hello?" I inquired politely, as if he and I had never met before.

His glitter-black eyes studied me. "I am Awi Bubu, and I believe I have an appointment with Madame Throckmorton."

At his announcement, Stilton, who had been in the process of setting the basket filled with grain-shaped stone in place, twitched violently. A clatter echoed all through the room as the miniature stones scattered on the cold marble floor.

Fagenbush looked up from the pieces of Thutmose Ill's war chariot he was attempting to reassemble. "Well done," he said, causing Stilton to blush beet red all the way to the roots of his hair. Luckily, just then Mother appeared on the top step.

"Mr. Bubu," she said, sailing forward with a smile of greeting. "I'm so glad you were able to join us today."

I produced a very quiet snort, one that only Awi Bubu could hear, but it let him know that I was onto him. However, the Egyptian simply ignored me and bowed at Mum. "I am honored to receive such a kind invitation as yours, madam."

"Come, let us go have our little chat. Theodosia? Would you mind preparing some tea? I lost track of the time and didn't get to it."

Seething in frustration—how was I to eavesdrop when I had to go for the tea?—I hurried to the staff room and put the kettle on to boil.

I opened a cupboard and rummaged around until I found a teapot and two cups that were barely chipped at all, and I slammed them on the tea tray. I hurried over to the kettle, which wasn't boiling yet. Could water take any longer to boil? My imagination ran wild with the sorts of information Awi might be revealing to Mother that I was missing. In frustration, I finally decided that the water was close enough to a boil, grabbed the kettle, and poured water over the tea leaves in the teapot. That would have to do. We didn't have any milk or lemon, so I stuck the sugar bowl on the tray and grabbed two teaspoons, and I was done. I snatched the tray by the handles and began carefully making my way to the staff room.

Only to find that Mum had closed the door. Honestly! I glanced around, but there was no place to set the tray down so I could free up my hands. Finally, in desperation, I knocked with the toe of my boot.

"Come in," Mother called out.

Gritting my teeth in embarrassment, I called back, "I can't. My hands are full." There was a low murmur of voices, and then Mum was at the door, apologizing. "I'm so sorry, darling! I forgot that you'd be carrying the tea. Here. Set it down on the table there in front of Mr. Bubu."

Carefully avoiding Awi's eyes, I set the tray down and tried my hardest not to feel like a scullery maid. However, if I had to play servant in order to stay and hear what they said, then so be it. I lifted the teapot and turned to ask Awi Bubu if he'd like sugar in his tea when Mother appeared at my side. "I'll pour, dear. You've already been helpful enough. You can run along and play now."

Play! When have I ever played, I'd like to know? My cheeks went hot with embarrassment at being dismissed like a child in front of Awi Bubu, but I ducked my head so Mother wouldn't see my annoyance, bobbed a curtsy, and said, "Yes, ma'am." I walked as slowly as I could in case they started to talk before I left the room.

They didn't, except to discuss how Awi Bubu would like his tea. Then I closed the door, and their voices were reduced to indistinguishable murmurs. Checking quickly to be sure no one was in the hallway, I hurried into the next room, crossed over to the wall, and put my ear to it, hoping I would be able to hear something.

"A glass works better."

I jumped at the voice behind me and turned to find Henry sitting on the couch reading a book. He closed it and stood up. "Who is it and why are you listening?"

"It's Mother talking to that strange magician. I wanted to hear what they said."

Henry nodded, went to the cupboard, and got down two glasses, then came to stand next to me. He handed me one of the glasses and put the open end of the other one to the wall. He leaned close so that his ear rested on the bottom part of the glass. "Go on," he said. "Try it. This is how we stay two steps ahead of the bullies at school."

Marveling at Henry's previously unknown skills, I put my ear to the glass on the wall, relieved when I could clearly hear Mum's and Awi's voices. "It works," I whispered to Henry.

"Told you," he whispered back, looking awfully pleased with himself. I ignored his smugness and settled in to listen.

"...said you worked at the Antiquities Service, Mr. Bubu?"

"That is so, madam. I trained under Auguste Mariette, then had occasion to work as an aide to Gaston Maspero when he took over."

"Excellent!" Mum said. "We were hoping you might be able to ... enlighten us on how best to persuade Maspero to grant additional firmins in the Valley of the Kings. He's given one fellow an exclusive commission to dig there and shut the rest of us out. Most frustrating."

"What does she want vermin for?" Henry whispered.

"Not vermin, firmins," I told him. "It's when permission is granted to excavate an archaeological site. Now, shh! I can't hear."

Awi Bubu murmured something sympathetic, then said, "Well, it has been a long time since he and I have worked together," he demurred.

"Yes, but since you did work for him, surely you have some insight to offer?"

"Perhaps if madam told me more about the work being done there, I could help devise a request that would carry some weight with Monsieur Maspero?"

"But of course." There was a pause, then a faint clink as she set down her teacup. "Very well. Back in 1898, when Monsieur Loretti was in charge of the Antiquities Service, we obtained permission to dig in the Valley. My husband and I discovered the tomb of Thutmose III. Unfortunately, as you no doubt know, Loretti took credit for many digs he never even visited."

"That has been said of him, yes," Awi agreed.

"Even so, we did manage to acquire a great deal of knowledge as well as several artifacts. Using that knowledge, Mr. Throckmorton developed a few additional theories, which I had occasion to test last year when I returned to the Valley."

"But didn't Mr. Davis still have the exclusive firmin for the Valley, even last year?"

"My, you do stay current on things, don't you? Yes. He did. But after a series of disappointing seasons, he had begun to feel that there was nothing left to be found and so agreed I could continue the work we'd started years ago."

"And were you successful?"

"Yes, beyond our wildest dreams." There was a pause, as if she were weighing her words. "We even found the Heart of Egypt."

There was a clunk as someone—Awi Bubu?—set down a teacup in a hurry. "The Heart of Egypt, madam? That was a find, indeed. And Maspero let you take it out of the country?"

"Yes, after some persuading from a very helpful colleague, a Count von Braggenschnott, of Germany. He stepped in and used his considerable influence to persuade Maspero to let me take it."

"May I see this Heart of Egypt?" There was an odd note in Awi Bubu's voice, something I couldn't quite pin down but that made me very uneasy, nevertheless.

"I'm afraid not. You see, it was stolen soon after we returned."

There was a long moment of silence before Awi Bubu continued. "That is a true tragedy, madam."

"Yes, well. In January, we made a quick trip back to Egypt when we heard that someone was trying to take over our tomb. However, we didn't have time to pursue the matter, as our son became quite ill and we had to return home at once. Our daughter, however—"

"The one I just met?"

"Yes, Theodosia. She was with us—it's rather a long story. But suffice it to say she was desperate to see where we'd been working and she sneaked into the Valley. Incredibly enough, during her explorations, she discovered a secret annex that we had missed."

"She has the makings of a good archaeologist already, then."

"Yes, she does, doesn't she? Anyway, we wish to go back and explore this annex in more depth, especially now that we've had a chance to decipher some of the tomb's writing. Their revelations are most ... interesting and we'd love to pursue the research further. However, Davis is refusing to let us back in now that we've actually found something worthwhile. I thought perhaps Maspero could be persuaded to step in and allow us to continue our excavations, since we had originally discovered the tomb."

There was another long silence. "This is a most—how do you British say? Sticky wicket? I shall have to think on it and see what approach would be the best for you."

Mother clapped her hands together. "Then you will help us? Oh, lovely; I told Alistair you might be able to," Mother said.

"I shall do all that is in my power to help you, dear madam, not least because of your kindness when the police would have arrested me."

I felt a nudge in my ribs and looked away from the wall to find Henry smiling at me. "So that's what you did when you stowed away!"

"Shh! And yes, I ... I had to see what Mother had been working on." That was the best excuse I could give him, even though it was far from the truth.

I put my ear back to the glass in time to hear Mother and Awi exchanging goodbyes. They were in the hallway now, and I heard Awi say, "I will see myself out, madam."

"Thank you, Mr. Bubu. I cannot wait to tell my husband you've agreed to assist us. He will be most grateful. As am I." There was the faint rapid click of Mother's heels along the hall, then silence.

Should I follow the Egyptian? I would so love to know why he'd zeroed in on our museum, but I wasn't sure if it were wise to put myself in his path.

"Little Miss." Awi Bubu's voice at the door had me jumping away from the wall in surprise.

"I-I thought you were going to show yourself out," I stammered.

"I will. Once I have a word with you."

I glanced over at Henry, who was staring at the magician with his mouth agape.

"You would like to go get some fresh air outside," Awi Bubu gently suggested to Henry.

A look of surprise appeared on Henry's face. "Yes. I would, actually." He set his glass down, grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch, and disappeared out the door.

"Stop that!" I hissed in annoyance.

Awi Bubu held his arms out to his sides. "Stop what, Little Miss?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you a mesmerist? Is that how you get people to do what you want them to do?"

"Surely Little Miss is just imagining—"

"Little Miss is not imagining. Do not play me for a fool. I can tell when you do that trick."

"Really?" Awi cocked his head like a curious bird. "And how can Little Miss tell?"

How could I tell actually? I wasn't sure. I just ... could. Just as I could tell when an object was cursed. "I-I can feel it. Somehow."

Awi's eyebrows shot up. "Little Miss has the power to detect mesmerism? That is unusual indeed. Do her parents know she has this talent? I wonder."

Blast him! "No. They don't. Not that they'd care," I lied. "And quit talking about me instead of to me."

Awi Bubu folded his hands together and bowed, then he came more fully into the room, closed the door, and waved his hand over the knob in a strange gesture. "I will make Little Miss—you—a deal. If you will tell me why you ran away to visit your parents' excavation in the Valley of the Kings and how you came to find the new annex your mother spoke of, then I will not tell them you are having hallucinations about my powers, and yours."

I couldn't tell him that! Wigmere had sworn me to secrecy, and rightfully so. I would have to make something up. "I-I just wanted to see where my mother spent so much of her time." I threw a grain of truth his way to make my lie more believable. "Wh-what was so wretchedly interesting that it took her away from us for months on end."

Awi Bubu studied me, his face impassive. "Or could it be because Little Miss was returning the Heart of Egypt?"

I gasped. I shouldn't have, because it let him know he'd guessed the truth, but I couldn't help it. "How—no! I was just—what makes you think the Heart of Egypt has been returned to the Valley of the Kings? Mum just said it had been stolen." The more time I spent with this Egyptian magician, the more confused I became. Who was he, and how did he know so beastly much?

"Even exiles have their ways of staying current on events in their native land."

"Yes, but it's not as if this sort of thing is reported in the newspaper, for heaven's sake."

"So you did return the heart to its tomb. Very commendable, Little Miss. But how, I wonder, did you know to do that?"

This man was dangerous. Oh, it wasn't his mesmerist tricks but the fact that he kept me so thoroughly off balance that I was unintentionally giving away vital secrets. "I have to go. I have lessons I must attend to."

"No one pays attention to your comings and goings, miss. No one is watching to see whether or not you do your lessons or wash your face or have proper supervision."

I gaped at him.

"Or else you wouldn't have been allowed to see my show with your companions," he said in answer to my unasked question.

I pressed my lips tightly together, vowing that no other words would slip out and confirm or deny his eerily accurate guesses. I lifted my arm and pointed to the door, indicating that he should leave. Now.

"Oh, no. Not yet." He shook his big bald head at me. "Not until I've gotten what I came for."

"And what is that?" I asked, curious in spite of my best intentions.

He met my eyes with his own depthless black ones. "The Emerald Tablet."