Theodosia and the Last Pharaoh

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX The Rites of Maat

I DID NOT SLEEP WELL THAT NIGHT, knowing that I was to face an official trial in the morning. And Fenuku would no doubt be sitting in judgment. He'd made it clear that he held no love for me or Grindle or even—perhaps especially—Awi Bubu. Safiya awakened us when she came in with our freshly washed laundry and a hearty breakfast. After eating and donning my own clothes, I felt more like myself and ready to face our judge and jury.

We were led from the camp to the giant temple ruins nearby, although truly, they were the best preserved ruins I had ever seen. As we drew closer, I realized that this was no mere ruin whose shadow they camped in. It was a working temple, still used in the worship of their gods. Bald priests wearing pleated linen kilts bustled about the courtyard. Some carried vessels of purifying water, and others carried baskets of fruit or grain. A goat bleated nearby, and a scribe hurried into one of the side chambers.

We were led past the first pylon, then the second. As we entered the temple chambers, I saw that our trial was to be held in front of three sem priests. They sat in front of a wall that held a huge painting depicting Horus presiding over a Weighing of the Heart ceremony. Would our hearts be determined to weigh less than a feather? Did they have a Devourer nearby who would eat us if we failed the test?

Furthering the bad news was the fact that their ranks included Fenuku, just as I had suspected. The good news, though, was that Baruti, the kind priest who had sent the falcon to summon the wedjadeen that very first time, was also a sem priest, and he had proved himself quite friendly to us. The third appeared to be the high priest.

We were made to kneel on the hard stone floor. Once we had, the high priest began to speak. "You are brought before the judgment of Maat, to be held accountable for your actions in regards to the abduction of our pharaoh. Furthermore, you are to be examined so that we may understand how you came to be in possession of your knowledge of our existence as well as some of our most closely guarded secrets. Lastly, you are here to tell us what you know of the traitor, Awi Bubu, so we may determine if your actions in losing our pharaoh were carried out on his behalf."

"No!" I said, shocked. "Awi Bubu never mentioned the pharaoh to me—"

"Silence!" Fenuku boomed. "You will be given a chance to speak and will remain silent until then."

The unknown priest leaned forward. "The charges made against you are serious, child. To even know of our existence can bring a swift and terrible death. To have meddled in our affairs, to have lost what is most precious to us—those things have even more dire consequences."

"Although," Baruti interrupted, "those laws and punishments have been devised for adult transgressors. Trials such as these have never involved a child before."

"Then let her go." Major Grindle was quick to step into the opening Baruti gave him. "As you say, she is but a child, and a girl child at that. She has little value and should not be held responsible for what has transpired."

I appreciated what he was doing, trying to get them to free me, but I did not like being accused of having little value; it cut too close to the bone.

"That, too, will be decided over the course of this trial," the high priest said. Then he turned to me. "How did you come to know Awi Bubu?"

Before I could answer, Fenuku leaned over and whispered in the high priest's ear. After long moments of whispered debate, the high priest spoke again. "The point has been made that we have no way to be certain you speak the truth. We would ask that you willingly subject yourself to the Rites of Maat so we may determine the veracity of your words."

"Um, what is that, exactly?" I asked.

"With the goddess of truth guiding your tongue, false words cannot pass your lips. Are you afraid?" Fenuku smirked.

"No," I lied. "Just curious." And wondering if it would hurt.

"I will endure the Rites of Maat." Major Grindle's loud voice rang out through the chamber.

Fenuku looked surprised, while Baruti did not. The high priest merely clapped his hands. "Let the Rites of Maat begin!"

Three lesser priests hurried into the room. I could not help but assume they'd been listening at the door, so quick was their response.

They approached Major Grindle bearing vessels, bowls, reed brushes—all manner of strange equipment. They bowed before him, then got to work. One of them poured oil from an ornate vessel into a shallow bowl. Another one unstoppered a clay jar and transferred some dark, sticky paste from it to the bowl, then stirred. When it was the right consistency, they had Major Grindle open his mouth. While he said, "Ahhh," one of the men dipped a brush into the special ink and began to paint on Major Grindle's tongue. Burning with curiosity, I inched forward to see better.

The man was painting a figure on the major's tongue. A woman—a goddess, to be exact. But of course! The goddess Maat.

When he had finished, he dipped the reed brush back into the special ink and drew three more hieroglyphs next to the figure of the goddess. When he was done, he withdrew a respectful distance.

The major looked at me, and we waited a long, breathless moment. When it became clear he wasn't going to keel over dead from poisoning, he gave a brisk nod. "Nothing to it, Miss Throckmorton."

"What did it taste like?" I asked.

He tasted his tongue. "Honey and ashes, I think."

"And what of you, young miss?" Fenuku was leaning forward again, his dark eyes shining. "Will you, too, undergo the Rites of Maat to assure us that you speak nothing but the truth before us?"

"Yes," I said. "I have nothing to hide." But of course, that wasn't exactly true. I had many things I needed to hide from lots of people; the wedjadeen just weren't among them.

The lesser priest stepped forward with his mixing palette—I was glad to see that he'd picked up a new brush—and motioned for me to open my mouth. When the ink touched my tongue, it tingled, a faint burning on my taste buds. When he had finished his artwork, he motioned to the sem priests that they could begin the questioning.

"How did you come to meet Awi Bubu?" Fenuku asked.

My tongue buzzed and hummed and began moving of its own accord. "I met him when he was performing a magic show at the Alcazar Theater in London." I tried to look down at my tongue, but my nose got in my way. "We went backstage to meet him and grew, er, friendly."

I saw no need to mention that I had sensed he was working true magic rather than tricks. I waited to see if my tongue would volunteer that information, but it did not. The magic seemed to be very literal—it only forced me to answer the questions asked, not volunteer anything extra. "He then came to visit my parents' museum, and while he was there he sensed an artifact of great power."

"Which was?"

"The Emerald Tablet that I returned to your men."

The high priest nodded. "Go on."

"It took him a while to convince me of what it was and its importance. There were a number of other men after it, and I didn't know whom to trust. Some of these men are the very ones that have Gadji now. Anyway, in the end, I guessed some of it—"

"What did you guess?" Baruti asked, eyeing me with a keen gaze.

"Well, he'd told me he was exiled from his own country. And I quickly became aware of his powers—"

"How did you learn of these powers?" Fenuku asked.

Honestly, would they just let me answer one question at a time? "I-I felt them. When he tried to use them against me or to bend me to his will, I was able to sense it. Anyway, I began to do some research, wanting to get to the bottom of the whole affair. In my research I came across the name wedja—" I hesitated.

Baruti nodded. "You may speak that name in this place."

I nodded. "I came across the name wedjadeen scribbled in a few books."

The high priest grew visibly disturbed. "What mention was made of us in these books?"

"Well, the book talked about the Emerald Tablet and claimed that it had been lost in the fire that destroyed the Alexandrian library."

Beside me, I felt Major Grindle stiffen.

"But in the margin was a handwritten note, and it said that there was a rumor that some of the books from the library had been rescued and were hidden in the desert by the wedjadeen."

The three priests grew upset and began talking in low, urgent undertones. After a moment, they turned back to me. "Is that all?"

I swallowed. "No. There was another mention of you made in a diary written by one of Napoleon's men during his occupation of Egypt."

There was more hushed whispering, and then Baruti turned back to me. "But how did these small pieces of knowledge lead you to us, child?"

Fenuku leaned forward. "Did Awi Bubu reveal our secrets to you?" He spoke kindly for the first time, clearly hoping to lull me into trusting him.

He needn't have bothered. I would have sooner trusted a cobra. But I had no intention of finding out what the goddess of truth and justice would do to me if I spoke falsehoods with her symbol painted on my tongue. "He did tell me some of them, sir, after I had guessed quite a lot. Once I read of the wedjadeen's existence, I pieced together that it was they who had once held possession of the artifacts of the gods—"

The high priest gave a bark of frustration. "You know of those? Which of our secrets do you not know?"

I ignored his outburst and waited to see if my tongue would answer on its own. It didn't. Interesting that the Rites of Maat allowed for rhetorical questions. "I had to discover whom to trust, you see. Whom to believe about the Emerald Tablet. When I presented Awi Bubu with what I had learned and told him I would not give him back the tablet without the full story, he finally filled in some of the blanks in my knowledge."

"Traitor," Fenuku spat out. "The man is still a traitor to his people."

"No, sir. It wasn't like that. He—he had another reason for telling me. Only me."

That got their attention. They all looked at me expectantly. "He said he thought I had a role to play in all this." I was finding it surprisingly difficult to stand in front of a group of strangers intent on judging me and try to convince them I was unique. "He said there was something special about me that he could see," I rushed to get out.

I felt rather than saw Major Grindle turn to stare.

The priests put their heads together again and talked among themselves. Finally, they calmed down somewhat and turned back to me. "And as for your role in the disappearance of our young pharaoh...?" the high priest asked.

I quickly told him all that I had explained to the mudir about meeting Gadji and his subsequent disappearance. At last they were satisfied and waved to the priest to let me rinse my mouth. I felt as limp and wrung out as an old rag.

Now it was Major Grindle's turn. Like me, he repeated the exact same story he had told the mudir, which corroborated my own. When he had finished, Baruti leaned forward. "And have you met or do you know of Awi Bubu?"

"No, sir, I'd never heard of the man before five days ago, when Miss Throckmorton and Gadji told me some of their stories."

"So she did not share his confidences with you?"

"No, she did not. Not until I had come face-to-face with your people myself at the request of your young pharaoh. When I demanded an explanation, she gave me one, although"—he tossed a recriminating glance my way—"not the full one."

"And now you know why," I murmured.

"Silence!" Fenuku barked. I must confess, that sem priest was getting on my last nerve. "The most serious charge against this Inglaize is that he put a knife to our pharaoh's throat and threatened his life."

"Nonsense!" Major Grindle said. "I was merely bluffing, and if you were ever to find your precious pharaoh, you could ask him and he would tell you. As soon as I knew he had value to your men, I pretended to be willing to harm him in return for her safety. And he knew I was bluffing. But I will remind you, you were the one that began using children as pawns," he pointed out.

They put their heads together for one more of those beastly, whispered conferences. "Very well," the high priest said at last. "We have heard your testimony and will render judgment on the morrow. You are dismissed until then, but you may not leave the camp."