Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos

The Rosetta Maru

THE ROSETTA MARU WAS ENORMOUS, nearly as big as the Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse. As I stood staring up at the ship, I saw her lifeboats way up on the very top deck. That was my destination.

It wasn’t nearly as difficult to sneak onboard as you’d think. First of all, the docks are absolute bedlam and it’s all anyone can do to keep track of themselves, let alone anybody else. I was in luck because there were several families traveling. I attached myself to the largest, noisiest one. I think there were seven children, maybe six. It was hard to tell. I trailed at their coattails as they followed their parents up the ramp. As soon as we’d cleared the boarding area, I scooted off to find myself a lifeboat.

And the ship had lifts — lifts! How grand was that? I made my way to one and punched the button to open the door.

The lift attendant did a bit of a double take, but I did my Lady Throckmorton bit, which worked. He took me to the uppermost deck. I waited till the lift’s door had closed, then began working my way forward until I reached the railing.

The entire city of London spread out before me like an enormous map. I stopped to watch all the people moving about, as tiny as ants. The salty breeze picked up, sending a spray of drizzle smack into my face. I looked up at the sky, where clouds like big purple bruises were rolling together. I needed to find cover. And quickly.

I hurried to the lifeboats, giving a small squeak of dismay when I realized they were all up high, like cradles hanging out over the railing. How on earth was I to get up there?

Like a monkey, that’s how. And I’d never be able to lug my bag up there. I’d have to find somewhere to stash it down here on the deck where no one would find it.

Well, getting into the lifeboat without taking an unplanned swim was quite a challenge, but I made it, safe and sound. It was a little colder than I thought it would be, but I decided to ignore the chill air and pretend I was quite cozy. It helped to think of it as a little cave I’d built for myself, like Henry and I used to do when we were younger. Thinking of Henry made me feel surprisingly lonely, so I pushed that thought aside. (I seem to be doing a lot of that lately.)

Stowaway

SLEEPING IN A LIFEBOAT is a beastly experience, I must say. They are surprisingly less comfortable than sarcophagi. Odd, you’d think wood would be softer than stone.

And one blanket was barely enough to keep me warm. I had intended to wad up my extra coat and use it as a pillow, but I had to keep it on during the night so I didn’t freeze. It’s very difficult to move when one is wearing two coats, let alone an Egyptian amulet. (It chafes!) Also, did you know ocean liner motors are very loud? And they vibrate.

In addition to being cold and hungry and bored out of my mind, there was far too much time to think. My mind had been playing over this solemn task I’d set for myself (or Wigmere set for me, I can’t quite remember if I volunteered or he volunteered me) like a cat worrying a mouse. I mean really, the more I think about it the more I think it’s a bit much to expect me to save the nation.

It was very difficult to stay hidden in a lifeboat all day. I was all cold and cramped and grubby, but I could hear people wandering about on deck, laughing and talking and having a grand time.

Oh, the conversations! These intriguing bits of “Did you see what that woman did last night at dinner?” or “Has that man no shame?” Just when my curiosity got piqued, they wandered too far out of range and I couldn’t hear another word.

And why on earth didn’t I think to bring something besides jam sandwiches? I am quite sick of them and can’t help but wonder if a person can die from eating too many. That is, if they don’t freeze to death first.

I don’t know why I ever thought this stowing-away business would be a good idea. I was suffering — and I do mean suffering — from the cold and hunger and sleep deprivation. And what would I get when it was all finished? I’d get to take on von Braggenschnott and his lot while trying to put an ancient artifact back where no one can ever find it again. Not to mention that I was trying to outwit Amenemhab, one of the Egyptian New Kingdom’s most brilliant military minds. Honestly. What kind of fool would even attempt such a thing?

I couldn’t stand it a moment longer. I had to get out of there or I would go stark raving mad. Not only that, but I was desperate to find the lavatory!

I waited until dark, when it was cold and everyone had gone in to dinner. Then I crawled out and hobbled around, frantically looking for a lav. (Oh, the relief!) After I took care of my business, I allowed myself a brisk stroll around the deck to work out the kinks in my legs.

Just as I began to crawl back into my lifeboat, clinging to the rigging like a young monkey, I heard a voice say, “Hullo.”

I nearly fainted.

I stopped climbing and turned toward the sound of the voice. “Hullo,” I answered back. Croaked, really, as my voice was rusty with salt and disuse. A man stood there, dressed in his dinner jacket and sipping something elegant-looking in an odd-shaped glass. He turned to look out over the ocean, shook his head, then turned to look at me again.

“I say,” he said, peering at me rather closely. “Are you my pink elephant?”

I dropped down to the deck. Pink elephant? What kind of nonsense is that? I would have been horribly insulted except he seemed rather fond of pink elephants.

He decided to walk with me while I stretched my legs. We spent a few minutes chatting about the weather (cold gray drizzle) and where he was headed (crocodile hunting on the Nile) and what our favorite refreshment was (his — gin and tonic, mine — lemon tarts.) He didn’t ask me what I was doing there or if I was a stowaway or anything like that. And he promised to bring me a bit of dessert tomorrow when he came out for his evening walk.

Now that’s the kind of grownup I like!

It was much easier to sleep once I’d taken some exercise. I dreamed of what kind of dessert Mr. Wappingthorne (that was his name) would bring me tomorrow.

The next day, Mr. Wappingthorne brought me two buttered rolls that were still warm and a small raspberry tart from the dessert tray. He also snuck me a small pot of tea — such luxury! I savored the tea, letting its warmth fill me up. I was half-tempted to use part of it to bathe with. Did you know sea air makes one all salty and sticky? I have a dreadful layer of salt clinging to my face and hands.

Only two more days until we pass the halfway mark. Then, when it is too late to turn back, I will announce my presence to my parents.

Discovered!

THAT NIGHT, when Mr. Wappingthorne came for a visit, he brought his fiancée, a Miss Pennington. He wanted to prove to her that I was real.

Then the fat really began to fry, let me tell you. “Why, she’s a stowaway!” Miss Pennington said with a sly look, which was very unnerving. I’d hoped all would be well, since Mr. Wappingthorne got her calmed down and swore her to secrecy. Even so, I didn’t relax until they left for the evening. Breathing a sigh of relief, I made myself as comfortable as I could in my little nest. Just as I began to get warm again, I heard a footstep on the deck.

Had Mr. Wappingthorne returned? Or the annoying Miss Pennington?

I heard another creak, and then my lifeboat swayed. Someone was climbing up!

Before I could even think what to do, the canvas cover was ripped off the lifeboat and I found myself blinking into the glow of an oil lamp.

“Well, well, what have we here?” a very pompous voice asked.

Bother. The gig was up. Father was going to be furious.

I clambered out of the lifeboat (quite awkward, really, with people watching you). As soon as my feet touched the deck, an ensign, or something — I wasn’t sure what his title was but he had a few fancy things dangling about his shoulders and a terse look on his face — stood over me, glowering.

He started to grab me by the ear, until Mr. Wappingthorne called out, “Now see here, that’s not really necessary, is it?”

The man grabbed my elbow instead, which I much preferred to my ear, and, holding it at a high, painful angle, he began marching me forward.

To the dining room.

“Shouldn’t we wait for your captain in his quarters or on the bridge?” I suggested. “He won’t want to interrupt his dinner for this, I’m sure.”

The fellow glanced down at me. “He’ll want to talk to you right away. Don’t think we’re going to hide your sins for you. Ship’s policy.”

Saw right through that, he did.

My stomach grew queasy at the thought of being discovered so publicly. “You’re hurting my arm, could you please not twist it so?” I asked.

He looked down at me, threw open a door, and thrust me into the salon, nearly wrenching my arm out of its socket.

All conversation dribbled to a stop as I stumbled into the room. Everyone had finished their dinner and they were enjoying after-dinner drinks and quiet conversation. I wanted to cringe and hide behind this beastly ensign, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I stood tall and proud, as if I were a Luxury First Class passenger and not a grubby little stowaway. (If Grandmother Throckmorton could ever have got her mind past the stowaway part, she would have been very proud of me.)

The fellow marched me straight up to the captain.

“Look what I found, Captain, lurking about in one of the lifeboats. A stowaway.”

The captain turned from his conversation and stared at the ensign before turning his attention to me. He had a face that looked like a leather map, all lines and valleys and ravines across his deeply tanned skin. His iron gray mustaches matched his hair and put me in mind of a walrus.

My arm was screaming in agony from its unnatural position, making my eyes water. I was keeping my eyes open as wide as possible so it wouldn’t look like I was crying, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep it up.

“May I please have my arm back, now, sir? I’m really not going to run away. I give you my word.”

“The word of a thieving stowaway!” the ensign said. “And how much would that be worth? About the same as you paid for your ticket, I would imagine.”

“May I have permission to speak, sir?” I addressed the captain directly, and the formality took him by surprise.

He blinked. “Yes.”

“First of all, I have paid for my ticket. I put the funds in an envelope and if you send someone back to the lifeboat, you will see that it is all there.” (My life savings, as it were.)

One of the captain’s eyebrows quirked up. “Indeed.” He nodded once at the ensign, who released my arm and took off in search of the envelope.

“Why didn’t you just pay for your ticket first, like most passengers?” the captain asked.

That’s when I heard the familiar bellow “Theodosia Elizabeth Throckmorton!” This was quickly followed by a muttered “Bloody hell.”

Bother. I wrinkled my nose. “Well, that’s why, sir,” I said, nodding my head at my parents, who were hurrying over to us. “My parents didn’t want me to come, but I had to. Really.”

Mother reached me first. She clamped her hands on my shoulders. “Theodosia darling, are you all right?” She knelt down so she could see my face.

“Yes, Mother. I’m perfectly fine. Just a bit dirty, is all. And hungry,” I added, just in case they hadn’t cleared all the dinner dishes away. I risked a glance up at Father, who was glaring down at me.

“Really, Theodosia, you have gone too far this time.” He turned to Mother. “I warned you something was not right when we found those things of hers in your trunk.”

For being such an absent-minded sort, Father can certainly be perceptive when he wants to be.

He began talking to the captain, and Mother started fussing over me. Quite frankly, I was very happy to be fussed over. I hadn’t realized until that moment how exhausted I was. Between sleeping in a lifeboat, the slimmest of rations for the past few days, and living with the constant worry of being found out, I was feeling rather wet-raggish.

Just as Mother started talking about getting me some food, the ensign showed up again, interrupting that precious thought. “Here’s the envelope, sir.” He tossed a smug look my way. “But there’s not nearly enough in there for a full passage.”

The captain’s mustaches twitched as he took the envelope and opened it. “You forget, she’s only to pay a child’s portion.” He glanced down at the money, then at me. “Well, Miss Throckmorton, it appears you are not a stowaway after all. At least not from us.” He looked shrewdly at my parents. “I think I’ll leave the three of you to sort this out.” He headed off to his other guests after, much to my surprise, winking at me.

“Come along, dear,” Mum said. “Let’s go get you something to eat and some warm dry clothes.”

“And a bath,” I added.

Mum smiled. “And a bath.”

“Oh, really, Henrietta,” Father interrupted. “Don’t coddle her. She’s just stowed away for heaven’s sake!” He turned to me. “What I want to know is what is so bloody important that you thought you had to stow away on this trip?”

His furious glare drove all the good excuses right out of my head. “I really wanted to see Egypt? And I thought you could use my help diverting the British Museum’s attention while you went after the Was scepter?”

Thankfully, Mum shushed Father at that point and kept him from interrogating me any further. I was soon bundled away, warm and snug in their cabin, sipping hot chocolate and telling Mother of my exploits. (Father still wasn’t speaking to me.) Soon, however, I was yawning into my cup, so Mum took it away and tucked me in for the night.

Just as we were all drifting off to sleep, Father sat bolt upright in bed. “Bloody hell, Theodosia! Do you know how dangerous that was?”

I winced. “Sorry, Father,” I said in a small voice.

He harrumphed, then lay back down. I decided that now was probably not a good time to ask what a pink elephant was.

A Welcoming Gift

A FEW MORNINGS LATER, I stood on the deck of the Rosetta Maru as we approached Alexandria. The city rose up in the distance, its towers and turrets and flags outlined against the sharp brilliant blue of the sky.

Oh, the sun! I cannot tell you how marvelous it was to have it shine in my face and feel its warmth against my shoulders. It had been absolutely ages since I’d seen a single ray of sunshine.

I did finally manage to point my face away from the sun long enough to look out over the deep blue water of Alexandria Harbor. Alexandria. The name alone conjured up feelings of mystery and the ancients.

This was the land of Antony and Cleopatra. Where the Lighthouse of Pharos had stood for hundreds of years, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. I couldn’t help but think of the lovely ancient library at Alexandria that had burned to the ground centuries ago. Oh how I wish it still stood. I bet they had loads of fascinating scrolls and texts on ancient Egyptian magic and curses.

The Rosetta Maru nosed her way through the harbor, which was full of more ships than I could even imagine. And the docks — what a huge disappointment. I was expecting something foreign and lovely. Instead they looked exactly like the docks back home. Only, the faces were somewhat darker. And the noise! The jumble of foreign sounds beat upon my ears like an exotic drum.

We were met by one of Mother’s contacts, a dragoman, she called him. I must say, it was a comfort to have someone to guide us through the turmoil and confusion.

Our guide herded us up into a carriage, and bustled away just as quickly as you please to the station where we could catch the train to Cairo. It was a hair-raising journey. Alexandria’s narrow streets were filled with small, crowded shops and unfortunate beggars everywhere. In some small odd way, it reminded me of the Seven Dials back home. Their mournful pleading for backsheesh was heart-wrenching.

I was relieved when our carriage turned into the large railway station. Our dragoman once again herded us (I suspect he is a shepherd during the off-season), this time toward our train. With luck, we would be in Cairo by dinnertime.

As we pulled out of the station, I vowed to return to Alexandria some day when I had time to see the sights. But today, I let myself be rushed along. After all, I had a mission to accomplish.

It was a pummeling train ride, as if the tracks had been laid down directly over the sand with no railway ties to anchor them. When I mentioned this to Father, he said, “Well, you wanted to experience the romance of travel, so don’t complain now that you have.” Funny, I never thought romance would be quite so dusty or jostley.

We arrived at a hotel called Shepheard’s, which was very grand. It rose four stories high and took up nearly the whole block. Enormous potted palm trees lined the front terrace. Men in turbans lounged on the front steps. A little brown monkey clung to one of the men’s shoulder. The concierge (I don’t know the Egyptian word for him) greeted Mother warmly and looked at Father rather dubiously. Whether it was because Father was being so narky (I think his leg was paining him) or for some other reason, I couldn’t be sure.

We were all quite tired by then, and only had a bit of time to dress for dinner. Father managed to hang on to his temper long enough for one of the porters to show us to our lodgings. Two men struggled behind with the bulk of the baggage.

As soon as the porter unlocked the door, I rushed in and headed straight for the window. A thrill of excitement ran down my spine. How exciting to be in Cairo at last!

The window looked out over a small garden with a little pond and more tall palm trees bowing their heads gracefully in the purple twilight. One or two stars began to show in the sky. I breathed in deeply and caught the fragrance of dust, dates, and sand, glad to have found a bit of romance and atmosphere at last. As the men hauled the luggage into the room, I heard a faint, dry scratching noise. I tilted my head to listen more carefully, but the men were making too much noise. I frowned at them, but they were busy trying to get the trunks to the ground without breaking them or their backs.

Father came to join me at the window. I looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back and I was struck by the mixture of excitement and longing in his expression. Then the scritching sound started up again, ruining the mood.

He sighed deeply. “Must you make that noise, Theodosia?”

“But it’s not me, Father. I noticed it too.”

We both stood very still and listened for a moment, then an apologetic look passed over his face. “Well, it’s probably nothing. Why don’t you go find something to change into for dinn—”

A small dark shape emerged from under the curtain, and I shoved Father back from the window.

“I say,” he began.

My eyes were nearly popping out of my head as I pointed to the carpet, right next to where he’d been standing. A large scorpion was scuttling across the floor. I took two giant steps back, then stretched my arm out and gently lifted the curtain away from the wall. A whole nest of scorpions was skulking under the curtains. That’s what had made the horrid scritching sound.

Father reached out and yanked me away from the wall and began yelling at the porters for putting us in a room with a nest of scorpions. This sent them into a panic as they had no idea their perfectly good room had pests, especially poisonous ones.

Pandemonium ensued. The porters bowed and begged a thousand apologies. The concierge himself rushed up to the room and spent the next half-hour assuring us that nothing like this had ever happened before in their illustrious hotel, and they begged a thousand more pardons.

As they carried on, I used the opportunity to make a quick examination of the room (staying well away from the scorpions, who were in fact not moving very much). I glanced over at the dresser and saw a small figure sitting on it. I snatched it off the dresser just as Father bellowed at me to come out of there.

When I stepped into the hallway, I looked down and slowly opened my hand. In my palm lay a small, thumb-size carving of Selket, the scorpion goddess. These scorpions hadn’t been a random nest, but called to our room by someone who knew of such things.

Who would have done this? And why?

The only explanation I could come up with was that it must have something to do with the Heart of Egypt. But only Wigmere and Stokes knew that it was here, so that didn’t really make any sense. Unless von Braggenschnott and his lot had somehow figured it out, or guessed. But how?

Was it possible that von Braggenschnott discovered the Heart of Egypt was missing before he boarded his ship that day? Could he have guessed that Will pinched it when he bumped into him? Then stayed in London and not returned to Germany with the others?

But that still didn’t explain how he would have known it was here in Cairo. Unless he was just following Mum’s movements, assuming she had got it back somehow. Or unless Mum — no! I would not let myself even voice the thought. Perhaps it was part of Amenemhab’s original curse. Either way, what did that do to my chances?

We finally got everything settled and moved to a new room. My parents spent quite a long time checking under the beds, behind the curtains, anywhere and everywhere a small scorpion might hide. But I didn’t join in. I knew they would find nothing.

Our enemies hadn’t known we’d be in this room. I was certain we’d be safe. At least for the night.

My head ached and my stomach was a gnawing pit of emptiness by the time we made it down to dinner. We didn’t have time to dress, which was quite mortifying as all the other diners looked us over the minute we stepped into the dining room. Mum assured me that this happened often, as travelers arrived at the hotel at all hours and not always with their dinner clothes to hand. Still, I would have liked to have made a more grand appearance for my first night in Egypt.

The Street Bazaar

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, my parents were up and off to the Antiquities Services or some such in order to speak to the proper officials about gaining access to Mum’s dig.

Luckily, Mum left her dragoman, Nabir, with me. They expected us to stay around the hotel, explore the gardens, that sort of thing — but of course, I had other plans. Tomorrow we were leaving for Thebes, which meant I had exactly one day to see all of Cairo. I wasn’t going to waste it in a silly hotel. Not with mosques and palaces and bazaars and marketplaces and all sorts of things to experience.

It took a bit of doing to get Nabir to agree to any of it. He just kept shaking his head and pretending like he didn’t understand me. Eventually I gave up trying to reason with him, and slammed a loathsome straw hat on my head so I wouldn’t get burned to a crisp in the hot Egyptian sun. Then I marched toward the door.

What could the poor man do but follow? Once he realized I was going with or without him, he began muttering something about “into the hands of Allah” and shaking his head.

I stepped outside into the bright yellow light of the morning, surprised at how different the air in Cairo feels. It’s not just hotter or brighter or drier, but also older somehow. The ancientness of the city pressed against my skin, drawing me into its age-old mysteries, begging me to explore its secrets.

Once Nabir had finished praying to Allah for assistance, he became much more helpful and steered me to the bazaar. I was dying to see all the Turkish carpets and fancy Eastern goods. Besides, I needed something to get my poor mind off worrying over who had set the scorpion trap. I wasn’t terribly anxious to wait around the hotel until they happened to show up again. Who knew what they’d try next time? Cobras? Asps? I had a feeling that scorpions were only the beginning.

The streets of Cairo were bustling with activity. Dark-skinned men were everywhere, some in funny little red felt hats and others cloaked in layers and layers of white cloth. Donkeys and camels shared the streets with carriages driven by half-naked natives. Swarms of people filled the narrow lanes, speaking more languages than you could imagine. It was almost as if the Tower of Babel had come to life! I was very glad to have Nabir at my elbow.

As the jumble of other languages floated by, I vowed to keep an ear out for German. I was betting it was the Germans who had set the trap last night, although I hadn’t the foggiest notion of how they would have learned I was in Cairo.

I followed Nabir as he led me through the maze of streets. High, close buildings loomed on either side and most of the windows were covered with a wooden trellis kind of thing. The skyline was pierced by scores of minarets that topped the many mosques peppering the city. I sighed in contentment. It all felt very foreign and adventurous. There were veiled women carrying jars on their heads and a shopkeeper working out of a doorway. I tried not to stare at the beggars running alongside the carriages pleading for baksheesh or sleeping on the nearby steps.

I had expected the dirt streets to be dusty, but they weren’t. They were muddy. Nabir explained that the streets were watered to keep the dust down. I couldn’t help but wonder why they felt dust was worse than mud. Personally, I think I would have preferred the dust.

When we finally reached the bazaar district, I gaped in amazement. The shops were tiny, and so crowded together they looked like cupboards, or maybe closets. There were pipe bowls and brass urns, saddles, and colorful Moroccan slippers hanging from poles. I was quite taken with an embroidered red pair with cheerful turned-up toes and wished I hadn’t spent all my money on the passage on the Rosetta Maru. The old shopkeeper saw me eyeing the slippers and gave me a toothless smile. He took one of them off the pole, then thrust it at me, saying something I couldn’t understand.

“He says little miss should try it on,” Nabir translated. “These finest of slippers will suit your bright-as-the-sun self.”

I smiled at the shopkeeper. I did rather fancy myself a turned-up-at-the-toes sort of person, and I was pleased he’d noticed. But I had to shake my head. “I’ve no money, Nabir,” I explained. “But tell him his slippers are as beautiful as, as…” I struggled for an appropriately grand compliment. “A thousand lotus blossoms.”

Instead of frowning and shooing me away like the shopkeepers in London would have, the kind man just gave me another grin and put the shoe back on the pole. He folded his hands inside his billowing black sleeves, content to let me browse.

Next we passed sweetmeats, then tobacco, then gold and silver trinkets as well as every color of silk imaginable, wrapped in brilliant bolts or hanging in colorful swags.

As we turned the next corner we had to step back sharply in order to avoid being run down by a large lady dressed in violet silk riding a round little donkey. Her dark eyes studied me above her veil, and I nodded my head in greeting.

When she had passed in a jingle of gold bracelets and silver bells, we continued down the street. There seemed to be nothing but carpets everywhere you looked. There were stacks and stacks of them piled higher than my shoulders, some hanging from the walls like curtains, others displayed on tables. And the colors! Every shade imaginable could be found in that street. The shopkeepers sat cross-legged amid their wares, talking among themselves and keeping an eye out for customers.

We turned on to the next street and Nabir grabbed my elbow, trying to get me to hurry past it. I stopped walking and peered down the narrow street to the jumble of stalls. “What’s down here, Nabir?”

“No good. Missy not go down there,” Nabir said firmly.

“But why?” I looked at him and stuck my chin out. If there was something interesting down there, I wanted to see it.

Nabir stepped forward and lowered his voice. “Artifacts for sale. Black market. Missy mother avoid them. Missy should, too.”

A real live black market — but of course I had to explore!

I reached out and patted his arm. “It will be just fine, Nabir. You’ll see.” I headed down the street, knowing Mum’s dragoman would have no choice but to follow. He did, cursing the whole time in very irate Arabic.

The street was crowded, like all the rest, but there were many more Europeans here. Tourists, most likely, all determined to come away from Egypt with some mysterious artifact as a souvenir.

I moved through this street much more slowly than the others. For one thing, with this many Europeans about, I wanted to keep an ear out for Germans. You would think they wouldn’t look much different from the British, but they did. I first noticed it back in the Seven Dials when I’d seen them following Stokes. Their posture was a little more rigid through the shoulders, as if they were marching in a military parade.

I took my time in each shop, examining the bits of pottery and stele fragments. They had an unending supply of these, each one claimed to be a long-lost piece of great value. There was also an enormous number of amulets. My hands positively itched to get ahold of them. There was a fetching little statue of Hathor, and quite a few of Isis, who was very popular. I recognized Osiris and Annubis, Thoth and Bastet. One man was selling an old mummified finger, claiming it had belonged to Ramses III.

As I examined the finger, the shopkeeper motioned to a large round Frenchman standing next to me. The Frenchman stepped closer and the shopkeeper whispered something in his ear. My French is appalling, as I’ve ignored it in favor of hieroglyphics, but I was fairly certain he said something about mummies. Of course! I’d heard that mummies were available on the black market. I inched closer to see if I could overhear.

The shopkeeper motioned the customer back behind a draped doorway. I hesitated, dying to follow. Of course, I’ve seen plenty of mummies, but never (to my knowledge) a black-market one.

Just as I went to step inside, I felt a tug on my sash. “Missy not go back,” Nabir said. “Not safe.”

“Whatever do you mean?” I asked.

He wouldn’t explain further, but he also wouldn’t let me take a step closer, herding me down to the next shop, which boasted piles and piles of multicolored scarabs. After looking at those for a bit, we headed to the next stall, passing a stone archway as we went. I gave a start when I saw a mummy propped up in the doorway, right out in the open.

I leaned in for a closer look. It was hard to tell how old she was — and it was a she. I could tell that much by the veil that covered the lower half of her face.

Faster than a striking cobra, her long bony hand reached out and grabbed my wrist, drawing me closer. I bit back a scream and tried to pull away, but she was surprisingly strong for a mummy, er, old woman.

Her bright black eyes studied me intently as she said something I couldn’t understand. My hand still clenched in hers, I looked over my shoulder at Nabir. “What’s she saying?”

“She offering to tell missy fortune,” he explained.

“Ask her if she’ll let go of my hand first.”

Nabir translated this and the old woman cackled and let go of my hand. The motion sent the silver bracelets on her arm to jangling.

“Very well. I wouldn’t mind having my fortune told, but tell her I have no money to pay her,” I asked Nabir.

Again he translated, and she replied with something that made him frown.

“What?” I asked. “What?”

“She say she will tell missy fortune for free because missy marked by the gods.”

Her words gave me a sharp thrill, but I couldn’t tell if it was fear or excitement.

The fortuneteller shook a small black bag, then dumped the contents out onto the dirt. There were shells and bits of wood and what looked like bones.

She rocked back and forth murmuring as she studied the objects in front of her. She poked at a bone, watched it closely as it rolled over, then her eyes glazed and a rapid string of words began flowing out of her mouth in heavily accented English.

“Chaos swirls around you. It dogs your heels like a jackal. But the thumbprint of Isis lays glowing on your forehead. Isis will protect you. Look to the ancients for help. They smile down upon you.” Her eyes widened, then she looked up at Nabir. “They are coming,” she whispered.

At her words, a sliver of icy fear wormed its way into my heart. My senses had been heightened all morning, but I’d assumed it was because I was in the land of antiquity itself. And while I may have occasionally felt I was being watched, whenever I checked, there was no one there. I had thought it was the merchants being as curious about me as I was about them.

I muttered my thanks and backed away from the door. I looked down the street, half afraid I’d see giant serpents undulating toward me.

Instead, there were three men in billowing black robes, with turbans and scarves wrapped around the lower half of their faces, headed our way. They didn’t stop to look at any of the shops, but kept moving relentlessly forward. Something else wasn’t quite right.

It was the way they walked. It wasn’t fluid and graceful like the other natives I’d seen, but stiff rather.

Then I noticed their coloring.

They were fair-skinned.

“Nabir…” I said, beginning to inch away. “She’s not joking.” I turned on my heel and broke into a run, tearing down the street, weaving my way between the stalls and the milling people. Nabir was close behind.

I dodged a heavily laden donkey and just missed tripping over a rolled-up carpet sticking out of a stall. I sorely missed Will. He would have known exactly what to do in this circumstance. “Nabir!” I called out. “Where can we go that is safe?”

“A mosque!” he shouted back.

A vivid picture of Stokes trying to claim sanctuary at St. Paul’s Church came to me. These people didn’t believe in sanctuary. “Something else!” I called back.

I turned onto another street and saw a tramway station. There was a whole mob of people waiting to board. “Over here!”

I ran full tilt into the crowd, annoying several people, but I didn’t slow down until I was smack in the middle of them, hopefully hidden from my pursuers. The crowd pressed forward and I realized that this was a line to get on the electric tram. I looked frantically for Nabir and found him skirting the edge of the crowd. My pursuers reached the tram station and looked around, puzzled. One of them barked out an order and they separated, spreading out.

Just then, I was swept along by the crowd and found myself stepping onto the tram. Again, I tried to keep myself to the middle of the pack and breathed a huge sigh of relief when I saw Nabir climb on board.

I was on pins and needles waiting for the tram to start and take me away from danger. I especially wanted to get away before they worked out where I was. Finally, with a lurch, the tram got under way. I was safe. They hadn’t seen me.

An Unexpected Jaunt

I QUICKLY DISCOVERED that the tram was taking us to Giza, to the Great Pyramids there. Which was most excellent because I had been hoping to see them while I was in Cairo. Safe for the moment, I gave myself over to the wonder of being in Egypt and watched the three triangles on the horizon grow bigger and bigger the closer we got.

When Nabir and I got off the tram, I found myself almost reluctant to go forward. Standing before such ancient, timeless creations was humbling. Mesmerized, I walked until I reached the edge of the desert. I climbed up a steady, sandy slope, then gaped as the majestic pyramid towered over me.

Like a set of giant stairs, the rich reddish-gold stone rose up from the base, rugged and uneven. I had to touch it, to lay my hand on the same stone that the ancient Egyptians had worked with their own hands. The rough surface was warm to the touch, and seemed almost alive, almost as if it were breathing. But of course it wasn’t. Even so, the palm of my hand tingled lightly, even after I drew it back.

I wanted to climb to the top. To sit perched on the pinnacle and look down over all of Egypt. It seemed sacrilegious somehow, but the other tourists were doing it. Nabir said he would wait for me at the foot of the pyramid, so I began climbing to the top, a long, exhausting process, I must say. Some of those stones were nearly as tall as I was!

Perched on the top of the pyramid, I had the oddest sense of not being alone. As if there were someone there with me. Someone with a kingly presence who looked out at his vast domain as he had for thousands of years. As if the great pharaoh Cheops himself was standing next to me, watching over his land with love and pride. In that moment, I couldn’t help but wonder if the archaeologists had got it all wrong. Perhaps Cheops hadn’t built the pyramid as a tomb, but so his ka would have a place near the heavens to watch over his land.

Except I’m sure he never imagined that he’d be looking down at a motorcar driving across the sand, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. Really, I hadn’t even realized they had motorcars in Egypt…

A sense of danger flickered inside me. I squinted, trying to see how many people were in the car, but it was too far away to tell. I suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable and hurried down off the top of the pyramid, where I could be easily seen.

At the lower gallery, there were two corridors. One led up and the other down. All the other tourists headed up, so I chose the downward passage. True, it was roped off, but I was sure that was only because the passage was so low it would be hard for an adult to get down there. As it was, I had to duck my head.

It was a bit of a squash, and very, very steep. I was half-tempted to slide down, but that seemed highly disrespectful, so I didn’t, even though I knew that Cheops wasn’t buried here, but in the upper chamber. (The fickle pharaoh had changed his mind three times while building the pyramid. Can you imagine? Must have driven those poor workers batty.)

The passageway finally opened up into a large, unfinished chamber hewn out of the red stone. It was hard not to think of the tons and tons of stone perched over one’s head, pressing down. It was a little difficult to breathe down here as well, as if not quite enough air was making it into the chamber.

I found a charming little crevice in the rock wall and settled myself into it. It was so easy to close my eyes and almost see the workers from four thousand years ago hacking away at the walls, clearing the chamber with their simple tools. If I tried very hard, I could almost hear the scrape of those tools on the rock walls.

Wait a minute. I opened my eyes. I could still hear the sound of scraping. It was coming from the passageway. But who else would venture down a roped-off corridor? I had just talked myself into believing it was another overcurious tourist like myself when I heard the first footstep reach the chamber. Someone whispered.

In German.

I glanced around, looking for options.

There weren’t any.

The chamber was a dead end with no good hiding places.

Another voice whispered back. And that second voice sounded familiar! I’d heard it before, but where?

I sensed the bodies coming farther into the chamber. I pulled back against the wall as far as possible and looked downward so as not to call attention to myself.

Three shadowy figures passed by. The men from the bazaar crept forward, heading toward a small cavelike enclosure at the back of the chamber.

I readied myself. As soon as they were as far back into the chamber as possible, I would make my move. Oh, how I wished I had one of Henry’s diversions!

Slowly, trying to make no noise, I stood up. There was a slight rustle from my skirt. I froze.

“Was war das?” a voice asked in German.

When they heard no further noises, they continued on to the back. When they reached the cave, one man knelt down on the ground while the other two peered over his shoulder.

Now.

Stepping as lightly as I could, I made a mad dash for the passageway.

“Dort ist sie! Ihr nach!”

My heart hiccupped in terror and I forced my feet to go faster. I reached the passageway and tucked my head low and began running up the steep slope. My pursuers would have to nearly double over to make it through the passageway. That should slow them down enough to give me a chance.

My legs soon ached from the steepness of the climb, my calves burning and twitching in annoyance. I was getting a crick in my neck from keeping my head tucked low.

I could hear them behind me, the clatter of their pursuit echoing loudly in the passageway. They were breathing hard, and I could almost feel their hot breath on my neck.

At last. Light ahead. Almost there. I risked a glance backward, pleased at the distance between us.

Finally, I burst out of the shaft at a dead run, startling a half dozen tourists who’d been milling about the lower gallery. I clamped my hand on my hat and flew down the pyramid steps, startling Nabir.

“Come on,” I called. “They’ve found us.”

Nabir didn’t need to be told twice. We both headed for the tram station at a gallop.

I heard a shout as my pursuers cleared the pyramid and spotted us.

We were almost at the tram station now. In dismay, I saw one of the electric trams just beginning to pull away, heading back to Cairo. There wouldn’t be another one for ages. Which meant we’d be sitting ducks.

“We’ve got to get on that tram,” I called to Nabir. He nodded and pulled ahead of me. Luckily, electric trams aren’t all that fast, especially when they’re just getting started. Nabir leaped onto the tram, upsetting quite a lot of people. He turned back and held his hand out to me. I took it and clambered up, apologizing profusely to everyone I saw.

As we pulled away, I got a chance to see my pursuers. I immediately recognized von Braggenschnott. Even if I hadn’t seen his picture in the paper, I would have recognized those cold, cruel eyes from St. Paul’s churchyard. The second man’s face was still covered by his scarf, but I could clearly see the face of the third man. High pale cheekbones, long thin nose slightly crooked at the end, and a conspicuous lack of chin. It was Tetley! From the British Museum!

A Race to Thebes

MOTHER AND FATHER NEVER FOUND OUT about the close call at the pyramid. Nabir is almost as good at keeping secrets as I am.

We were up at the crack of dawn the next day so we could hustle off to catch another beastly train. Imagine spending twenty hours in a hot, dusty oven being bounced like a rubber ball and you’ll get the idea.

We arrived in Thebes in the dead of night. Even so, we were immediately greeted by a local official. At first I thought this was a sign of respect for my parents’ position. Then, as my parents became distressed at the official’s rapid Arabic, I realized it was something else altogether.

Father could stand it no longer. “Confound it!” he shouted. “When did this happen?”

Following my father’s lead, the official switched to English. “Two days ago, most kind sir.”

I snuck up close, trying to hear what was being said.

Father ran his hands through his hair. “It’s that blasted Snowthorpe, I know it.”

Mum put her hand out to try to calm him. “Alistair, I truly doubt he would have gone so far as to burn our lodgings down around our ears. It could have been an accident. Fires are not unheard of in this part of the country, you know.”

But of course, Father had the right of it. Mostly. There was no doubt in my mind that it hadn’t been an accident. But it was von Braggenschnott and that traitor Tetley, not the British Museum.

I had so hoped I’d lost them at the Great Pyramid. Although really, now that I thought about it, that was rather stupid of me. If they knew where the Heart of Egypt had come from, and they did, they would know where we were headed.

There were quite a lot of explanations given (from the officials), and quite a lot of shouting (from Father), and quite a lot of soothing (by Mother). Finally, everyone calmed down and we were hustled off to a bungalow that had been hastily arranged for us. We would see about finding new lodgings in the morning.

No sooner had the porters set down our trunks than there was another pounding on our door. Honestly! Does no one ever sleep around here?

“What is it now?” I heard Father ask as Nabir opened the door.

“A telegram for most kind sir,” Nabir informed him.

A telegram… That didn’t bode well.

The man from the telegraph office handed Father a thin envelope. He bowed as Father thanked him, then waited while he opened it.

Mum looked over Father’s shoulder and read along with him. She clutched her hand to her throat and let out a gasp. “Oh, no! Alistair!” There was true despair in her voice and the back of my neck prickled uneasily.

Father put his arm around Mum’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, Henrietta. He’s a strong boy. He’ll pull through.”

Henry! Something had happened to Henry!

“We must get back to him at once,” Mother said. “I would never forgive myself if…” her voice faltered. “If something happened to him while we were this far away. You know how nasty the influenza has been. I can’t bear the thought—”

Her words broke off suddenly as she buried herself in Father’s shoulder.

Henry had caught the influenza! I wrapped my arms around myself and hugged tight. Influenza was uncomfortably close to the plague. Try as hard as I might, I couldn’t block out Amenemhab’s words.

May your retribution upon these enemies of Thutmose be swift and terrible, may Sehkmet devour their hearts, and Ammit feast on their heads. May all the lands run red with their blood until they return the Heart of Egypt to its rightful resting place, and lay it back at your feet, so that Thutmose’s glory will be whole once more.

And Mum wanted to go home immediately! Which would be the worst possible thing because I hadn’t put the Heart of Egypt back yet. If Mum was this distraught at being far away from Henry when he was ill, just think how she’d feel if she found out she was responsible for his illness in the first place.

I’d just run out of time. I had to get the Heart of Egypt back to the tomb as soon as possible.

The Valley of the Kings

I WAS TRUNDLED OFF TO BED while Mum and Dad stayed up late into the night, trying to make arrangements and inquiries about Henry’s health.

They were still sleeping when I snuck out of my room just as dawn broke. I had an appointment with the tomb of Thutmose III.

The hardest part was convincing Nabir that he needed to take me to the Valley of the Kings alone. Luckily, he had sufficient experience with just how single-minded I could be. The argument didn’t last long and we soon set off.

The sun quickly turned viciously hot. It felt like my frock was on fire, and the pack I carried grew terribly heavy. For the first time in my life I was truly grateful for a hat. Mum’s old pith helmet kept my brain from frying like a breakfast egg.

We wound our way through a perplexing maze of canyons until at last Nabir led me to a narrow gorge at the very bottom of the Valley of the Kings. I cannot begin to tell you the thrill of finally seeing the necropolis up close, not to mention the tombs of the pharaohs. I have heard about them all my life, dealt daily with their historic finds, and spent hours trying to cipher out their meaning. And now, to finally experience one in its entirety, as it was originally built and conceived, not in crumbled bits and pieces… it was as if I stood at the pearly gates of heaven itself.

The tomb of Thutmose III was the very last in the valley. There was a single guard on duty. He recognized Nabir, and they exchanged a few words in Egyptian, then he let us pass. Nabir led me to the farthest corner, then stopped at a small cave. He darted inside, then reappeared a moment later carrying a long ladder.

This did not look promising.

He carried the ladder to a fold in the rocky wall. When I looked up, I could see a small opening in the face of the mountain, some ten or fifteen meters up.

Nabir set the ladder at the base of the wall and leaned it against the mountainside. It was just long enough. Barely. It was obviously meant to bridge a grownup-size gap between the ladder and the opening. Not an eleven-year-old-size one. I sighed.

Nabir motioned me over to the ladder.

“Give me an hour or two,” I told him. “I’ll be ready to leave then.”

Nabir nodded. “Two hours. Nabir wait here.”

“Good.” I took a steadying breath, placed one foot on the bottom rung of the ladder, and began to climb.

Even with Nabir holding on to the thing, it was a rickety, wobbly climb, and I kept reminding myself to not look down.

Halfway up the ladder I realized Nabir would have a lovely view of my knickers. Blushing furiously at the thought, I glanced down, relieved to find his eyes politely averted.

A good man, our Nabir.

I finally reached the rung that was second from the top, then hesitated. Once I stepped up onto that top rung, there would be nothing to hang on to except the mountain itself.

I eyed the distance from the top rung to the small ledge above. I thought I could reach it. Hopefully.

Taking another steadying breath, I placed a foot on the top rung. My stomach gave a sickening lurch as the whole ladder gave a nasty wobble and my fingers bit painfully into the rocky scree. I reached up until I grasped the outcropping ledge. Relief poured through me, until I remembered the scorpions in our room at Shepheard’s. This hot dry wasteland was much more to their liking.

Cobras and asps, too.

It takes a surprising amount of courage to place one’s hand into an unseen area when your mind is thinking about vermin.

Gritting my teeth, I brought my other arm up so that I could hoist myself onto the ledge. I pulled upward with my arms and felt the soles of my boots leave the security of the ladder. My feet scrabbled for purchase, trying to gain an additional boost up.

I strained and pulled, wishing mightily that I had stronger arm muscles. (I made a note to myself to take up boxing when I returned to London, or possibly arm wrestling with Henry.)

With a long, sharp scrape across my midsection, I finally managed to haul myself up onto the ledge. I lay on my stomach, my feet still hanging out into thin air, panting and letting my weak, trembling arms recover.

“Is miss all right?” Nabir called up.

I quickly scooted away from the edge and turned around so he could see my face (instead of my knickers; I made another note to myself: trousers would be nice). “Yes, Nabir. I’m fine. Thank you.” I held up two fingers. “Two hours.”

Nabir smiled, toddled over to a bit of shade, and made himself comfortable.

When I stood at the mouth of the cavern, a strange prickling sensation ran over me, and every hair on my body stood on end. The air was so thick with ka and heka, I was half afraid I would choke on it.

The daylight barely penetrated the darkness of the shaft, so I stopped long enough to pull a torch out of my pack and light it. There was an ancient, crumbling stairway leading downward, and I could only hope I wouldn’t slip and break my neck.

Stepping onto the first stair, I tested it to see if it would hold my weight. When it didn’t collapse, I held my pitiful light up to the walls and proceeded cautiously.

Figures in bas relief danced in the flickering light thrown off by my torch, but I couldn’t make out what they were. I dragged my gaze away and pushed onward, promising myself that once I had returned the Heart of Egypt, I would study these more closely.

I reached the first corridor (where the walls were covered with more stunning carvings), which led to a second set of crumbling stairs, also leading downward. At the end of the second stairs was a deep shaft. I stared into the yawning blackness at my feet. Why on earth was it here? Did it have some earthly purpose, such as diverting water in case of flooding? Or was there a ritual magic purpose, such as catching falling spirits, perhaps?

Luckily, Mother’s workers had fashioned a plank bridge to cross the chasm. I went forward, placing each foot very carefully, horribly aware of the great darkness gaping beneath me.

Once safely across, I found myself in a larger chamber. I took another step, then tripped over a pile of something long and thin — bones, was my immediate thought. I cringed at the incredible racket they made, and the phrase “loud enough to wake the dead” came painfully to mind.

I swung the light around, relieved to discover it was only a pile of torches. Well done, Mum! Of course she would leave some means of lighting her way.

I quickly lit another torch and saw that Mother’s team had rigged holders in the walls. I placed one of the lit torches in it, then lit enough to fill all the holders scattered around the chamber.

It’s amazing what a little light can do for one’s morale.

Most of the chamber walls were covered with carvings. The east wall was covered with hieroglyphs. It looked to be the complete text of The Egyptian Book of the Dead. The next wall showed Thutmose III being taken by the hand by Anubis. In Anubis’s other hand was… the Was scepter! Hesitant, I reached out with my hand and ran my finger over Anubis, marveling that nearly four thousand years ago, some ancient Egyptian worker had cut this image into the stone.

Enough! I scolded myself. I was never going to get the Heart of Egypt to its final resting place and restore the fate of Britain at this rate.

Resolute, I crossed over to the doorway that loomed darkly on the far wall. Holding the torch firmly in my hand and shoving back a sense of trepidation, I crossed the threshold.

A whispering noise rushed by me, as if a thousand ancient voices in long-forgotten tongues fluttered past my ears, invoking gods and curses and blessings. The thickness of the magic and power swarming around gave me goosebumps.

As I made my way down the stairs, the ancient magic was so powerful it felt like swimming against a current. The thousand voices rose slightly and moaned, whether in warning or resignation I couldn’t be sure. I found myself whispering back, “Don’t worry. I’ve come to return something that belongs to you.”

The whispering quieted a bit and the resistance in the air around me grew weaker. Fascinating!

I squared my shoulders and came off the last step into an even larger chamber, gasping at the sheer force and weight of the magic in the room. It pressed down heavily on me, so much so that I feared my knees would buckle. How could Mum and her team bear this? It was like trying to breathe under water.

I ignored the sensation as best I could and held my torch up high. The burial chamber of Thutmose III glowed eerily around me. An enormous red sarcophagus sat on the other side of the chamber.

Wouldn’t it be lovely if all I had to do was lay the Heart of Egypt in the sarcophagus and be on my merry way? But of course that wouldn’t work. The first person to come in here after me would find it and the wretched curse would begin all over again.

I walked past an image of Osiris waiting patiently while Anubis weighed Thutmoses’s heart — the Devourer sat with his wide, gaping crocodile jaws, hoping for a nice snack — and moved on to the eastern annex, the one that led toward Mum’s most recent discovery: the Minister of War’s tomb.

The air in this corridor was even worse. The magic that hung in the air was different; heavier, blacker, smelling slightly of sulfur. I ignored the feeling of a whole battalion of icy-footed beetles storming down my spine. Luckily there was a fresh supply of torches in this chamber, so I lit a few and set them in the holders on the walls.

I could see that Mum had barely touched the surface of Amenemhab’s cache. Piles and piles of artifacts were scattered on the ground. Only the most rudimentary sorting had begun. At first glance, I saw nothing that looked remotely like the Was scepter. But there was loads of stuff to look through. It could take hours.

Hours I didn’t have.

Hoping the paintings on the wall might tell me something about the Heart of Egypt and what I had to do to put it back, I turned my attention to them, then stepped back with a gasp.

These walls were covered with war scenes, grisly and terrifying. Thutmose III stood out, towering over his enemies, his feet crushing their heads, his spear piercing their breasts. Slain bodies lay at his feet, detached heads all in a nearby pile. The tomb artists had given themselves over to a garish job with the red paint. It spilled everywhere on the walls, as if the artisans had truly wanted to indicate the bloody nature of Thutmose’s reign.

As I studied the carvings, I heard a shuffle of feet on the sandstone steps. I froze. “Nabir? Is that you?”

There was no answer. It was possible that the noise was just the tomb shifting and settling. But if that was the case, why were all the fine hairs at the back of my neck standing straight up?

I glanced wildly around the burial chamber, looking for a hiding place that wouldn’t end up being my tomb.

Not the altar. The cupboard underneath it would hold me, but would most likely be the first place they looked. (Plus, that’s usually where the Canopic jars were kept, and I really didn’t want to hide next to Amenemhab’s entrails. My nerves were skittish enough.)

I thrust the torch into one of the holders on the wall and hurried over to wedge myself into a small space between two large statues of Anubis. No sooner had I ducked out of sight than a footstep crunched on the gritty floor of the chamber itself.

Then I heard something that confirmed my worst fears.

“Come out, come out wherever you are, little girl,” a singsongy voice called out in a thick German accent.

Von Braggenschnott! Or one of his henchmen.

Hearing that dreadful voice in such a twisted version of a nursery game made me want to stick my fingers in my ears and start humming. Instead, I grasped my amulet in my hand and tossed out as many prayers as I could think of to anyone who was listening.

What on earth was I going to do? I’m only an eleven-year-old girl, not a secret agent! Even if I am rather cleverer than most, I do still have some limitations. And I think I’d just run smack into one.

Unwelcome Company

I HEARD ANOTHER STEP COME INTO THE CHAMBER, then another. Three of them! How was I to get by three of them? And how did they get past Nabir?

A hideous thought struck me. Had they harmed Nabir? Guilt rose up in my throat and I almost retched. I had cajoled and pleaded with him to bring me here. If he was hurt, it would be my fault.

Von Braggenschnott started up his little song again. “Come out, come out wherever you are. You have something that doesn’t belong to you and I want it back.”

The footsteps echoed loudly in the silent chamber as the others fanned out and began searching for me. There was a scrape of something heavy as they dragged things around, trying to peer into every nook and cranny.

I shrank back against the walls. As my moist palms pressed into the rough wall behind me, a piece of magic lore from Ancient Egyptian Magical Thought and Procedures by Cyril Profundicus popped into my head. Ancient Egyptians believed that dust scraped off the carvings in tombs had magical properties. If ever I needed an extra magical advantage, it was now.

Using my fingernails, I began scraping at the rough sandstone, trying to collect some dust.

I kept my attention on the searchers and ignored the jagged ripping of my nails against the wall. The sandstone was soft with age and it didn’t take long before I had a small amount of dust in each of my hands. I carefully transferred all the dust into my right hand, then thrust it into my pocket and hoped the ancient Egyptians hadn’t been pulling old Profundicus’s leg.

Von Braggenschnott barked out an order in German and there was a low, rumbled reply.

Perhaps they were only guessing that I had the Heart of Egypt. There was no way they could be absolutely sure. Perhaps I could bluff my way out.

“There really is no point in hiding, fräulein,” von Braggenschnott continued. “There are three of us and only one of you. You will not get away, and you only risk making us angry.” His voice rose up harshly on the last word.

I glanced around furiously, looking for something other than dust to defend myself with. I stared at the altar, practically willing something to appear. But the only thing there was a collection of small wax and clay figures. I started to turn away, then remembered something from Nectanebus. Hoping against hope, I picked up one of the figures. Bits of hair stuck out of the wax along with a piece of ancient papyrus with writing on it. Yes — an execration figure! (The Egyptian version of voodoo dolls.) With luck, I could tap into their magic and use them to smite my enemies. Or at least slow them down.

Shadows loomed on the walls as the men drew closer. They were unnervingly quiet as they steadily worked their way to my spot.

I quickly began to carve new symbols into the wax with one of my jagged fingernails. I carved the symbol to invoke power, then another symbol for smiting my enemies. Then I paused. This part was tricky because I had to guess the men’s names correctly or the magic would be useless. I was almost positive the one doing all the talking was von Braggenschnott, and nearly as sure one of the men was Tetley. But I needed to be certain.

“I am getting tired of these games,” von Braggenschnott called out. “If you don’t cooperate with us, I will have my men seal you up in a sarcophagus until you learn some manners.”

I took a deep breath. “Ha! I spit on your threats,” I called out. “I’m not afraid of a sarcophagus. Honestly, I’ve slept in those things before and there’s nothing to them.”

“Perhaps.” Von Braggenschnott chuckled, a truly horrid sound. “But I’m guessing there wasn’t a mummy in yours. And there is in the one I have in mind.”

My heart began racing in my chest and my palms grew clammy. To be shut up in a sarcophagus with a mummy? My knees nearly gave out at the thought. “You’re bluffing! Mother didn’t find any mummies here!”

“Tcht! Surely you don’t think this is the only excavation we pay attention to? No. We keep our eyes on all of them. However,” he said, his voice quite menacing, “if you really make me angry, we shall pull your brains out through your nose like the ancients used to do. Only you shall be alive to witness it firsthand, yah? Won’t that be an interesting thing for someone as curious as you?”

I gulped. There was a sound just off to my left. I looked up to see one of the men leaning over the Anubis statue, grinning at me. It was Tetley! Well, now I had one name I was sure of.

Playing for an extra moment or two, I duck-walked around one of the Anubis statues to the far side of the funerary chariot leaning up against the wall. As I carved Tetley’s name into the wax figure, I began whispering the execration rites. Just as I finished the final hieroglyph, Tetley’s ugly head reappeared, so close I could have reached out and tweaked his nose.

There was only one escape route open to me now. I would be out in plain sight, but at least I would have room to maneuver on either side and wouldn’t be caught like a rat in a trap.

I shoved to my feet and made a mad dash to the back wall.

The tomb fell deathly silent as all three of them turned to watch me.

I stood with the tomb wall firm against my back, the execration figure hidden along the side of my skirts, glaring at my pursuers. I recognized von Braggenschnott immediately. And Tetley. And — I gasped. “You!”

“Yes, me,” Nigel Bollingsworth said. “Who did you think, Theo?”

Finally, I found my voice. “I–I was sure Clive Fagenbush was the traitor!” A deep wave of relief swept over me. At least it wasn’t Mother.

Nigel laughed. “Fagenbush. I knew he’d come in handy. No, I’m afraid he’s not the traitor, merely a convenient diversion. Which is why I encouraged your father to hire him. He is so perfectly suspicious-looking that I knew all eyes would be turned to him if anything ever went wrong.”

“But why are you working for the Germans?” I asked. “You’re British!”

A slow, twisted smile drew across his face. “Haven’t you worked it out yet in that clever head of yours, Theo? I’m not working for the Germans. I’m working for the Serpents of Chaos.”

“The forces of chaos have risen once more,” I whispered.

“Ach,” von Braggenschnott interrupted. “So you know of our little group.”

“I’ve heard of it. Once. From the man you tried to murder in the churchyard.”

“Clumsy business, that. Normally we make no such mistakes.”

“It seems to me you’ve made several over the last few weeks,” I replied.

Von Braggenschnott shook his finger at me. “You are in no position to throw insults at us, fräulein. In fact, a little groveling might do you some good.”

I stretched myself to my full height, lifted my chin in the air, and pulled off my best Grandmother Throckmorton look. “I will never grovel.”

Von Braggenschnott narrowed his eyes and took a step forward. “You will regret your insolence.”

Playing madly for more time, I asked, “Why are the Serpents of Chaos working for Germany? Surely Britain could pay you just as much.”

Von Braggenschnott laughed, a wicked, grating sound that made me flinch. “But don’t you see? We aren’t working for Germany. We are letting Germany work for us. Right now it suits us to go along with Kaiser Wilhelm. His enormous ego and grand ideas for his country are perfect for our purposes.”

I was afraid to ask the next question, but even more afraid to not ask it. “And what exactly are your purposes?”

That smile again. “Why, I thought you understood. Total chaos, fräulein. We want Germany at Great Britain’s throat. We want Britain on the defensive, making stupid, hasty decisions she wouldn’t normally make. Then Austria will step in to back up Germany. Then Serbia will feel threatened, and rightfully so. France, of course, will have to stand by its good friend, Britain, and then of course Russia will need to toss its hat onto the pile as well. Finally, Italy will have no choice but to join in. All of Europe will be barking and snapping at each other’s necks like rabid jackals.

“While that is happening, we shall slip in, unobserved, and seize the tattered reins of world power.”

“You’re insane,” I said, rather less firmly than I meant to. “You’re talking about an entire world at war with each other. Of bringing total—”

“Chaos. Exactly. And what better place to find the powers we need than in ancient Egypt, where chaos is merely a curse or two away? The plagues of Thutmose III and Amenemhab have already fallen upon Britain. She has begun to weaken. In days she will be forced to sign a treaty that will play perfectly into Germany’s ambitions. And ours. Such a brilliant plan, don’t you think? All that was required of us was that we let your mother do what she was going to do in the first place.”

“Well, not exactly. You stole the Heart of Egypt from her so she couldn’t return it.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Ah, but would she have returned it, do you think?”

“Of course she would have! If she knew the whole story!”

He ignored me. “Egypt has been the seat of magical power since the beginning of time, but few people have had the courage to bend its powers to their will. Until us.”

“So you learned Egyptian magic?” I scoffed. “That’s not such a very grand thing. Lots of people know about that.”

“Like you,” von Braggenschnott said softly. He tilted his head and studied me. “Yes, your powers are very interesting. Which is the only reason you are still alive, fräulein. We are anxious to explore all that you know. And we will.”

I fought down a shudder at the thought of von Braggenschnott and his men trying to extract my magical knowledge from me. “There are others, you know. It’s not just me.”

“Bah!” Von Braggenschnott dismissed that threat. “That inept Brotherhood doesn’t concern me. They are nothing! Weak and stupid men who are afraid to grasp the power right under their noses. Now, enough of this!” von Braggenschnott called out. “Tetley. It is time to atone for your mistakes.”

Tetley came out from behind the funerary chariot and headed straight for me, a very unpleasant smile on his face. He was clearly unhappy that I’d got him into so much trouble.

Out of options, I grasped the small wax figure in my hands. I could only hope I hadn’t fudged the magic too badly.

I waited until Tetley had taken two more steps, then wrapped my hand around the wax figure’s left leg. Chanting the ancient words of power, I broke the leg clean off the statue with a soft snap.

Tetley screamed and clutched his left leg as it folded beneath him. Not stopping to think, I snapped again, this time the right leg. Tetley howled once, then crumpled to the floor.

Bollingsworth started toward me, but von Braggenschnott waved him back. “So you are not afraid to use the ancient magic for your own ends, eh, fräulein? And you have bested Tetley once again.” His voice cold and hard, he turned to the man lying unconscious on the floor. “That is twice he’s failed me. There will not be a third time.”

Von Braggenschnott turned his attention back to me and I fought the urge to cower. “Are you sure you’re not one of us, fräulein?” he said in a soft, seductive voice. “In fact, I will make you a rare offer. Come work for us. Someone with your skills could go far.”

“And abandon my parents? I think not,” I said, indignant.

“If your parents really loved you, would they allow you to face the Serpents of Chaos alone? Would they allow someone of your immense natural talent to clatter around an old wreck of a museum, alone? Come with us. We will treat you as you deserve to be treated. We have great appreciation for talents such as yours. Your skills, your cleverness, see how you are not afraid to bend the magic to your will? At heart, you are one of us. We will teach you how to increase this power until no one can stand in your path.”

One of them. I would belong to perhaps the most powerful group in the world. “I wouldn’t have your organization on a platter,” I spat.

“Ach, fräulein. Do not pass up this opportunity out of a misguided sense of loyalty. Those parents of yours don’t truly appreciate you. If they did, would they ignore you so much? Pay you so little attention? Allow you to battle ancient Egyptian magic on your own? They scarcely see you, let alone care for you.”

“That’s not true!” I shouted. “They’re just busy! They have important things on their minds. Museums to run. Great discoveries to be made.”

Von Braggenschnott continued. “You threaten them. They cannot admit your power, because then you’ll be greater than they.”

“That’s not how my parents think!” I yelled, my hands clenched into fists at my side. My parents loved me. Surely they did. And yet… all of what von Braggenschnott said made sense in a horrible, twisted way.

I heard a noise off to my right. As I glanced in that direction, I reached into my right pocket and closed my hand around the dust just before Bollingsworth plowed into me, knocking us both into the wall, narrowly missing the burning torch. He grabbed me from behind, neatly pinning my arms under his.

Holding me so tight that it was difficult to breathe, he leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Your parents don’t appreciate you like we would, Theo. Think of all we could accomplish together. Think of the power we can have!” He lowered his voice even further, so only I could hear. “We’ll answer to no one.” He glanced over at von Braggenschnott. “No one.”

I fought against his hold. “You’re as mad as he is.”

“Don’t play hard to get now.” His voice was teasing. “I have it on good authority that you’d planned on marrying me when you grew up.” He laughed softly.

A deep wave of mortification swept over me and a sense of betrayal sliced through me, so deep I thought I should die from it. Oh, how I writhed, my face boiling hot with shame and humiliation. To have one’s innermost secrets discussed and thrown about as if they were a joke! To have Father have so little regard for my confidences, to shatter my trust. Perhaps von Braggenschnott and Bollingsworth were right. Perhaps…

No. Father may have betrayed me, but he would never betray his country. Nor would I. My desire to sink to the floor and weep with humiliation quickly turned into something else entirely.

Rage.

How dare they?

I twisted my neck around so I could see his face. How could I ever have thought him handsome? Was there ever a time when he had truly been kind? Now he was only a vile worm to be ground beneath my boot heel.

Quickly, without giving myself time to lose my nerve, I jerked my arms up hard against his and flung the sandstone dust at him.

The effect was immediate and heart-stopping.

He screamed in agony, releasing me immediately as he stumbled forward and grabbed for his face.

Still clinging to the wall, I took a few steps away from him in case he tried to grab me again.

But he was in too much pain. Much more so than mere sand in his eyes would cause.

Still screaming, he pulled his hands away from his face.

I gasped. The sandstone had eaten into his skin like burning acid. Small pits and lines were etched into his flesh. His eyes were screwed shut, and I could see the flecks of sandstone burning into the skin around his left eye.

He roared, then lunged blindly in my direction. I threw myself backward and slammed into the wall with such force, it gave way. Suddenly there was nothing behind me and I was falling through a black nothingness.

I tumbled end over teakettle down a long, narrow shaft. I let all my muscles go loose, like Uncle Andrew had shown me after my first nasty spill off his horse. When I finally hit bottom (on something quite hard, I might add) I landed like a rag doll. Only I’m sure no rag doll has ever felt as dizzy and disoriented as I did.

I heard surprised shouts from up above, which meant that, for a few minutes, I had the advantage. Hopefully, with Tetley crippled and Bollingsworth half blind, I would have only von Braggenschnott to deal with.

I leaped to my feet and grabbed the torch that had landed just a few feet away from me. I appeared to be in a narrow corridor that went on for about ten feet, then opened up into an old junky closet. But that wasn’t right. Egyptian tombs didn’t have closets. Certainly not junk ones. Which meant… which meant… I clutched my hand to my throat as I realized what it meant.

I had just discovered a previously unknown annex to Amenemhab’s tomb! I’d just landed my first discovery!

Now, if only I could live to tell about it.

“Quickly,” I heard von Braggenschnott call out. “Get Tetley out of sight in case someone comes. I’ll follow the girl.” I glanced around the dusty artifacts in the room. Nothing big enough to hide in. I checked to see if there was another doorway like the one I’d just fallen through. Nothing but pictures of people dying in hunger, and more dying of disease, while even more lay beheaded at Thutmose’s feet.

I stopped when I reached Thutmose’s picture. The image was even more terrifying than in the previous paintings. Thutmose’s face was gaunt and his expression terrible. He looked like retribution personified. Heartless retribution, and there was a gaping hole in his chest, where his heart should have been, to prove it.

The noises coming from the corridor grew louder. It wouldn’t take them long to get down here. I needed to come up with a plan.

Desperate now, I turned and hammered on the wall, hoping it too might crumble and offer me an escape route. But it was solid, and I tore a gash in my hand on the sharp edge of the hole in the wall carving. I stared at the sharply cut indentation as awareness shot through me.

It was the exact shape of the Heart of Egypt. Suddenly, I knew.

Before I had time to act on that knowledge, I heard a sound close behind me. I whirled around to find von Braggenschnott standing just ten feet away, a slightly insane frenzy in his pale blue eyes. I glanced to the left, then the right, but it was hopeless. There was no place to go.

Von Braggenschnott’s cold blue eyes traveled down to my neck.

The Heart of Egypt had come out from under my collar sometime during my struggles. Von Braggenschnott stepped closer, then ever so slowly reached out to hook his finger under the chain.

Quickly, I yanked the chain from my neck, whirled round, and shoved the Heart of Egypt toward the wall.

Von Braggenschnott launched himself at my knees, knocking me to the ground. I struggled and kicked, trying to get back up. My foot made sharp contact with something. I heard a crunching sound and prayed it was his nose. Von Braggenschnott yelled and loosened his grip. I scrambled to my feet, threw myself at the wall, and thrust the Heart of Egypt into the indentation.

“Nooooo!” von Braggenschnott screamed. He grabbed my arm and viciously wrenched me away from the wall. Ferocious pain ripped through my shoulder and my vision blurred. I tried to move my arm but nearly fainted at the fresh wave of pain.

I stumbled back, clutching my useless left arm. The pain was so great I could barely think. I watched von Braggenschnott, blood streaming down from his nose, scrabble at the Heart of Egypt, trying to pull it from the wall.

I held my breath and hoped that I had found the one place that would prevent anyone from ever taking it again.

As he struggled, I noticed a swirling in the air, a thickening of the magic around us. It joined together in little eddies, and the smell of frankincense rose up in the chamber. The Heart of Egypt began to glow, as if lit by a warm, inner light. It lasted only a second, then the wall turned back to the way it had been. Except now the Heart of Egypt sat where only a gaping hole had been. And von Braggenschnott’s hand was stuck to it.

“What have you done, you stupid girl?” he yelled at me.

Saved Britain, I thought to myself. And Henry.

Then von Braggenschnott began to scream in earnest. “My hand! It’s stuck! It’s joined to the Heart. Help me get it free!”

I stared in horrified fascination at von Braggenschnott’s hand, which did seem to be stuck smack in the middle of the wall.

Realizing that this was my chance for escape, I turned toward the corridor, screaming when I saw Bollingsworth leaning against the doorway, one side of his face nearly eaten away.

I groped around behind me, looking for something to defend myself with. My right hand closed around a long, thick truncheon. I picked it up, shocked at how heavy it was. Perfect. The heavier the wood, the more solid the hit when I bashed him.

“Don’t let her get away!” von Braggenschnott called out, still stuck to the wall. Ignoring him, I held the stick loosely in my right hand and focused on Bollingsworth, gritting my teeth at the pain coming from my left shoulder.

Bollingsworth sneered. “You think you can stop me with that? I think not.” A sharp, nasty-looking dagger appeared in his left hand. Then he held it out in front of him, ready to strike.

I hefted the stick and, with as much force as I could muster, swung clumsily upward. It crashed into the knife, knocking it from Bollingsworth’s hand. Not stopping to think lest I lose my nerve, on the return swing I brought the stick down on Bollingsworth’s skull. There was a loud crack, like the sound of a breaking melon. My stomach heaved, and I was afraid I was going to be sick.

As Bollingsworth dropped like a ninepin, my vision went black and stars danced in my head as another wave of pain rolled through my shoulder. “You killed him, you wretched girl!” von Braggenschnott called out.

I struggled to the nearest wall, my knees no longer able to support me. “I did not!” Please let him not be dead. Please.

I leaned my head back against the cool stone, closed my eyes, and waited for my heart to quit galloping. Realizing I still held the stick in my hand, I flung it from me, as if it had attacked Bollingsworth, not I.

As it hit the ground, the wood shattered, falling off in large chunks and bits. I looked down and saw the glitter of gold shining through.

Using the toe of my boot, I kicked the rest of the wood casing off. Within minutes I had uncovered a long staff made of gold. The Was scepter.

The sheer good fortune of it nearly overwhelmed me. I looked from Bollingsworth’s still body to the back wall where von Braggenschnott still struggled to free his hand. Maybe that old fortuneteller had been right. Perhaps the Ancients were smiling down on me. Really. There was no other explanation for it.

There was a soft click. I turned and found von Braggenschnott pointing a gun straight at me. Fear rose up in the back of my throat.

“I was reluctant to use this when you were wearing the Heart of Egypt for fear I would destroy it. But that is no longer a problem,” he said.

Before I could say anything, I heard the faint sound of someone calling my name.

Von Braggenschnott swung his gun toward the doorway. “If they find me, I will shoot them. Do you understand? The minute they walk through that door, they are dead.”

I swallowed, then said, “I understand.” I grabbed the Was scepter and stumbled out into the corridor, then hurried over to the bottom of the shaft.

“Miss Theo? Are you here?” Nabir! He was unhurt!

“Theo? Theo darling, where are you?” Mum’s voice drifted down the shaft to me. Mum! Nabir must have gone back to get help. And if Mother was here, that meant—

“Theodosia Elizabeth Throckmorton!” Father bellowed. “Where in the blazes are you? Confound it all! Where is that girl? I’m telling you Nabir, if she is hurt or harmed in any way—”

“I’m down here,” I called up the shaft as my throat suddenly tightened. “I’ve discovered another chamber!” And wounded two men and possibly killed another, but I kept that part to myself. I didn’t want my parents wandering straight into von Braggenschnott’s trap.

“Have you really, darling?” Mother’s voice was closer now. A second later I saw her head, her lovely, familiar head, as she peered down the shaft at me.

Suddenly Father’s head appeared next to Mum’s. He surveyed the shaft and the long way down, then scowled. “What were you thinking, Theodosia? You could have been killed!”

His booming voice echoed down the shaft and reverberated throughout the tomb. An unfamiliar warmth spread through me. Father did care. In fact, the angrier he sounded, the more worried he was. Von Braggenschnott had got it all wrong.

I smiled. I couldn’t help myself. Father’s anger was like a balm to my soul. “Yes, I know,” I called back. The little shard of betrayal that had been lodged in my heart began to dissolve.

It took them a bit to work out how to get down to where I was and still have a way to get back up again. I kept glancing worridly over my shoulder, but no sounds came from the chamber. Von Braggenschnott wanted to remain hidden as much as I wanted to keep my parents alive.

Eventually Nabir had the brilliant idea of pulling the ladder up into the tomb and placing it down the shaft.

Father insisted on being the first one down, although I know climbing ladders can’t be good for his leg.

When he reached the bottom of the shaft, he never even glanced at the tomb around him. His eyes locked on mine and he stared at me as if I were the most precious artifact he’d ever encountered. I must confess, all that direct scrutiny made me a tad uncomfortable.

He took a step closer. “What happened to you? Are you all right?”

Funny how a little bit of sympathy can make a person positively weepy. I blinked back a few tears and found that I wanted to throw myself into his arms and sob out the whole horrid story. About how close I’d come to being killed, about how we’d had a traitor in our midst the whole time. About how even now von Braggenschnott had a gun that he would use on any of us in a heartbeat.

“Oh, Father. I’m fine. Really.” Except, my voice broke horribly and suddenly Father threw his arms around me and drew me into a fierce hug.

Pain surged through my shoulder, burning so brightly that it brought fresh tears to my eyes. But I didn’t mind because right that minute, in Father’s arms, my world was safe and warm again. The adults in my life were back in charge and I’d let them stay there.

For a bit, anyway.

I pulled away a little and narrowed my eyes. “Father, did you ever tell Nigel Bollingsworth that I wanted to marry him?”

“Good gracious, no! And embarrass all of us? I think not. Why do you ask?”

My knees grew rubbery with relief. Father hadn’t betrayed me. Bollingsworth must have been spying on us and overheard. “Never mind. But you should know I don’t want to marry him anymore.”

“I should say not.” He patted me on the shoulder. I squeaked as a jolt of pain crashed through me.

Father frowned. “What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

“Well, yes. I think maybe a little.”

Just then Mum reached the bottom of the ladder. “Theo, darling!” She hurried over and grabbed my face in her hands and kissed both of my cheeks, and I had to be careful I didn’t accidentally bean her with the Was scepter I’d forgotten I was holding.

“I say,” Father said. “What is that thing you’re waving around?”

“Why,” Mother gasped, her hand flying to her throat, “it’s the Was scepter!”

At last Father turned his attention to something other than me and had a good look at the scepter. “Very well done, Theo!” he said. Then he looked back at me. “Now show me where you’re injured.”

“Don’t worry about my shoulder,” I said. “You need to come back here.” I shoved the scepter at Mother, grabbed his hand with my good arm, and began to pull him toward the chamber where Bollingsworth and von Braggenschnott lay.

“Your shoulder, Theodosia. Now.”

“You are a bit pale, dear,” Mum said. “You should let your father have a look.”

Very gently, he touched my shoulder in a place or two and I nearly screamed.

“It’s dislocated,” he said. “Easy to fix, but painful. You’ll need to be very brave,” Father warned.

Brave! If he only knew… I nodded, sure that after what I’d been through, I could handle anything.

“Brace yourself,” he said, just before he twisted and shoved, sending the most blinding pain crashing through my shoulder.

Then I did what any brave person would do under the circumstances.

I fainted.

Homeward Bound

I DIDN’T BECOME AWARE of my surroundings again until I awoke in a deliciously soft bed with my left arm tightly bound to my side. There was a cool breeze coming in through the curtain and nothing hurt anymore. Delightful.

I breathed deeply and smelled dust and figs and Egypt’s own special fragrance. And a faint whiff of lilacs.

I turned my head to find Mum sitting on the chair next to me.

“How do you feel, dear?”

“Much better, thank you.” Then, with a start, I remembered. I tried to push myself up to a sitting position, wincing when my shoulder screamed in protest.

“Easy, darling. Easy. You must rest. Father’s booked us passage back to England so we can get to Henry as quickly as possible. We’d like to try and leave first thing in the morning. Do you think you’ll be up to it?”

I thought of the jostley train ride and grimaced.

“Father’s arranging for a steam ship to take us to Cairo,” Mum hastened to add. “You’re not well enough to travel by train.”

“Very well,” I said. “But Henry’s going to be all right. I promise you.”

Mother’s eyes were sad and worried. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

“I am,” I said, and she looked at me queerly.

“But Mother, what of the men in the tomb? What did you do with them?”

Mother frowned, clearly puzzled. My heart sank. “What men, dear?”

“There were three men in Amenemhab’s tomb! One of them was Bollingsworth. He’s a spy, working for the Serp — Germans! They were the ones who stole the Heart of Egypt from you.” It saddened me that even now I couldn’t tell her the whole story.

“Calm down, dear. Calm down. You’ve had quite a shock with your injury. Besides, our first priority was getting you out safely. When we went back, there was no one there.”

Which, of course, meant they’d got clean away. Then I realized what she’d said. “You didn’t take a moment to peek at the new section I discovered?” My parents had passed up the opportunity to explore a previously undiscovered tomb? For me?

“No. Not even a peek. We needed to get you out and find the proper medical treatment. Were there others down there?” she asked. She leaned forward. “Were they from the British Museum?”

I shook my head. “No. I told you. They were Germans. Er, looking for things to sell on the black market.”

She clucked her tongue in disgust. A wave of deep exhaustion swept over me. Since there was nothing more to be done, I decided to give up for the moment and let sleep claim me.

Henry and Grandmother Throckmorton were waiting for us at the train station. Henry looked wonderfully alive and well, but he kept giving me accusing looks, as if he were slightly put out about something. Grandmother Throckmorton, on the other hand, was so angry over my running away, she was barely speaking to me. I decided I rather liked this silent treatment of hers.

As we headed back to Grandmother’s carriage, I pulled my brother aside. “Look, Henry. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you I was going to Egypt, but I—”

“I thought you trusted me,” he said. “We were supposed to be partners from now on.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. “Or so I thought.”

Oh, dear. I sorted through all the excuses I could give him, but none of them felt right. In the end, I settled for the truth. “Henry, for years you weren’t interested in anything to do with the museum. Now all of a sudden, you are. You have to understand, it will take some getting used to. I’m so accustomed to going it alone…”

Henry shrugged and kicked at a leaf. His cheeks grew quite pink. “It wasn’t that the museum was so interesting this time around. It’s just that you finally quit treating me like a squashed bug you wished someone would put in the dustbin.”

“Oh, Henry!” Is that what he’d thought? Had he wanted my attention this whole time, just like I’d wanted Mother’s and Father’s? “I’m so sorry. Besides, it was Wigmere’s idea. Orders, really. And he swore me to secrecy.”

Henry’s head jerked around, his eyes wide. “Really? Wigmere? So are you working for him now, like Will?”

“Sort of. Sometimes, I suppose.”

“I say, Theo. That’s prime!” Admiration shone in his eyes, and I felt myself relax a bit.

A slight shift in the crowd right behind Grandmother Throckmorton drew my attention as a grimy little hand reached out for her reticule. I opened my mouth to say something, then clamped it shut. What was it she had said when I got off the train? That I was nothing better than a street urchin. Well, perhaps she ought to have a taste of a real street urchin’s antics.

Will looked up and caught my eye. He winked, then slipped back into the crowd.

“Theodosia?” Father said, turning around. “What are you doing back there?” he asked, scowling. “We’ve gone to a rather lot of trouble over you, and I don’t want to lose you so close to home.” Then he put out his hand for me to take. “Come along.”

A warm, syrupy feeling ran through me as I put my hand in Father’s. Then, hesitatingly, I put my other hand out to Henry. He looked at it, then rolled his eyes. “Girls,” he muttered, but he took it all the same. Then we all headed for home.

Safe — For Now

WE’VE BEEN HOME NEARLY A WEEK NOW and today is the first day I’ve been allowed back at the museum. Honestly! All this hovering is getting sorely on my nerves. Father, the dear, even brought Isis home to keep me company (and he was sporting a rather vicious scratch on his left cheek for his efforts).

Mum and Dad have decided the Was scepter will be a focal point of our new exhibit, and they are listing me as the person who discovered it! Can you imagine? Me, an eleven-year-old girl, will have my name listed on the museum exhibit. I was quite speechless with joy (which doesn’t happen very often).

As I sat in my workroom, trying to draw a diagram of my newly discovered tomb from memory, I heard a loud squeak outside my door. I froze. Fagenbush, maybe? Even though he wasn’t a spy, I still didn’t trust him.

Before I had time to get well and truly worried, there was a light rap on the door. Visitors who mean you ill rarely knock.

“Come in,” I called out. The door opened a crack and Lord Wigmere peeked in. “Are you up for a visitor, Miss Theodosia?”

“Oh, yes! Do come in. I’ve so much to tell you.”

“Yes,” he said as he closed the door. “I rather imagine you have.”

He limped to my desk and lowered himself into the extra chair. “How did you get in here?” I asked.

He lifted one of his bushy eyebrows at me. “My dear, I am the head of a clandestine society of the most highly trained operatives in the country. I should think I could safely make my way to your…” — he glanced around the room—“office.”

I leaned forward eagerly. “Did you use the spell Mordecai Quirke talks about in Black Magic of the Pharaohs? The one that allows you to pass by people undetected?”

“No. I told the watchman — Flimp, was it? — I was a doctor your parents had consulted.” He smiled rather sheepishly. “Now, then. Tell me all about your adventures.”

So I did. He listened with rapt attention the whole time, until the end.

“Blast it all!” he said, thumping his cane on the floor in his agitation. “They got clean away?”

“Well, I can’t imagine how, what with being stuck to the wall, and broken legs and such. But yes, they did. I’m sorry,” I said, hating the bitter taste of failure.

“Oh, I’m sure they had help. Probably had backup nearby. But even so, my dear girl, you’ve nothing to be sorry about! You served your country in a time of great need. You saved us all. It’s just a shame we don’t know where they are. It just means we’ll have to keep an eye out for them.”

“Yes, but you do realize it’s not just the Germans they’re helping, don’t you? Germany is only the beginning. The Serpents of Chaos are intending to reduce the entire world to chaos and then step in and dominate everyone. If we’re not careful, the whole world will be at war with itself.”

Wigmere sighed deeply. “I knew they had a grand design; I just didn’t know what it was. This information will be invaluable as we go forward. How indebted we are to you, I cannot even begin to say. Here. I have something for you.” He reached into his coat pocket and fiddled about, then pulled out a tiny silk pouch and handed it to me.

Nearly beside myself with curiosity, I opened the pouch. A stunning gold and lapis beveled ring fell into my hand. “It’s just like the one you and Stokes wear!”

“It is. We all felt you earned the right to become an honorary member of the Brotherhood of the Chosen Keepers. You’ve certainly played your part.”

“It’s lovely.” I sighed in satisfaction as I tried it on. It was small enough so that it fit me perfectly. I looked up at Wigmere. “If I’m an honorary member of the Brotherhood, does that mean I can have one of those tattoos?”

“On a young girl?” Wigmere looked startled, then began to chuckle. “I think not!”

Bother.