Theodosia and the Staff of Osiris

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE A Test of Wills

FAR TOO EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, I was awakened by a soft rap on my closet door. "Who is it?" I asked, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

"It's Miss Sharpe, lazybones."

The sound of Miss Sharpe's voice woke me up as thoroughly as a pitcher of cold water poured over my head. Come to think of it, that might just be what she was planning.

I hopped out of the sarcophagus and hurried to the wash-stand. "Coming!" I called out.

When I heard the door open, I fumbled for a towel and ended up using my extra pinafore in my haste. "Theodosia, why on earth aren't you up yet? Oh my!"

Miss Sharpe studied my small room with a look of marked distaste. "This will never do," she announced. "Everyone knows that a bedroom should be spacious, dry, and airy. Not some small, dank corner like this." She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "We simply must get you out of this museum before it's too late."

I wanted to ask, "Too late for what?" but was certain I wouldn't like the answer. Instead, I followed Miss Sharpe to the reading room, where I was forced to begin my lessons without any breakfast. ("No breakfast for lazy girls who can't bestir themselves from their slumber!" were Miss Sharpe's exact words.)

The only good thing about the morning was that I was able to pretend to be working on translating Virgil's Bucolics while I was really translating Moribundus's grimoire.

Even with my familiarity with Latin, it was fairly slow going. Moribundus did have a tendency to ramble on and on about ancient secrets accessible to only a learned few. But finally, halfway through the morning, I came across the word baculu—the Latin word for staff. At last he was discussing the Staff of Osiris. Farther on, my eyes caught the word necro.

I didn't need my dictionary for that one! I recognized the prefix nec from the words necropolis and necromancer. Necro meant "death." My sense of discovery heightened, I kept going, excitement mounting. To extinguish the flame of eternal life, turn the jackal on his head and let Nun swallow him whole.

Was he really saying that the staff could be used to kill as well as to resurrect? The idea was so shocking, I was half afraid Miss Sharpe would sense me reading it. I cast a furtive glance her way, but she was still reading about womanly virtue.

Nun was the Egyptian god of the primordial waters from which all life sprang. Suddenly, I remembered Wigmere's tale of Rameses III using the staff to create a Fog of War that prevailed over his enemies. I flipped back to the page and double-checked my translation.

Not only was I correct, but Moribundus was giving veiled instructions as well. If one turned the staff upside down and submerged it in water, it could be used to kill.

And frankly, killing sounded much more up Chaos's alley than resurrecting!

This wasn't good. Not good at all. Chaos had had the staff for only one day now, but from what I knew of the Serpents of Chaos, it wouldn't take long for them to put it to use.

I had to get this information to Wigmere.

Once again I glanced at Miss Sharpe. How could I get free of her long enough to get a message to Will?

If she thought I wanted a walk, she'd be certain not to give it to me. Therefore, I had to be rather sneaky. "Excuse me," I said around a yawn.

"Cover your mouth," Miss Sharpe instructed without looking up.

I refrained from pointing out that I had and if she'd bothered to look, she would have seen it. Instead, using my most pathetic voice, I said, "I'm so sorry, Miss Sharpe, but I'm afraid my head has begun to ache terribly. Could I possibly go lie down?"

Miss Sharpe laid her book down on the table and studied me. "I think not. No, Little Miss Lazybones does not need extra sleep. What she needs is exercise. I think it's time for a walk. Let's get our wraps, shall we?"

"If you say so." I tried to look disappointed, but in truth, I was ecstatic. If we went out for a walk, there was a good chance Will would spot us and I could signal to him that I had a message to be delivered.

Miss Sharpe stood up. "Come along, then."

I shoved to my feet and followed her to the coat rack.

"How is that Latin text translation coming?" she asked, putting on her wrap.

"Very well, thank you. I should be done in another day or two."

"Excellent. I can't wait for you to read it to me so I can enjoy the fruits of your labors."

But of course, I had no intention of sharing Moribundus's treatise on ancient artifacts of power with her. And not just because she would think it was ancient Egypt's version of a penny dreadful—the grimoire was too full of ugly, dangerous magic to even think of uttering aloud.

When we stepped outside, we were met by a brisk if biting wind. I noticed there were quite a lot of people milling about in the square. It took me a moment to recognize Will, who was masquerading as a chimney sweep, his face half covered in soot. When our eyes met, he doffed his cap.

To the right of the museum entrance, a wide, stocky man in an ill-fitting morning suit sat on a bench under a beech tree. He looked vaguely familiar, and I finally realized it was Ned Gerton, code name Befen. Loitering in the doorway across the street was Basil Whiting (Mestafet), and Peter Fell (Petet) manned a pie cart.

Just what I needed—a troop of occultists following me about.

I glanced back at Will, wondering what he'd make of all the extra gentlemen, as I hadn't had a chance to explain yet about the scorpions, but my pulse quickened at the tall, lean form lurking against a lamppost a few feet behind him. The Grim Nipper!

"Theodosia? Are we going to walk or loiter?" Miss Sharpe's voice called my attention back to the matter at hand, and together we began to walk toward Cavendish Square. I couldn't help but wonder if Will even knew the Grim Nipper was there. It was clear that drastic action on my part was called for.

Grateful for the barrier of my heavy woolen coat between my arm and Miss Sharpe's pincher fingers, I took a deep breath, skipped ahead a few paces, then spun around to face Miss Sharpe. Walking backwards allowed me to keep an eye on all the goings-on behind me.

"What are you doing, Theodosia?" She glanced around, worried that someone would see my odd behavior. "Turn around before you trip and fall."

"Oh, I won't, Miss Sharpe! This is very good practice for balance, you know. In fact, it was my Grandmother Throckmorton who taught me this trick. You see, if a girl can walk backwards without tripping and stumbling, then she can certainly walk gracefully when doing it in the normal way." The whole time I chattered, my eyes darted behind Miss Sharpe, trying to locate all the players. Gerton had just gotten up from his bench, folded his paper under his arm, and begun sauntering behind us.

Will had pulled his cap low over his head and put the chimney broom over his shoulder. He walked slowly but purposefully, as if he were on the way to a job.

"Your grandmother never taught you any such thing," Miss Sharpe said. "Now we must add lying to your list of faults."

Miss Sharpe may have been a horrid cow, but she was nobody's fool, I'd give her that. "Oh, really she did! She said it was a good way to prepare oneself for ... dancing! That's it! Dancing is quite a lot like walking backwards, isn't it, Miss Sharpe." I paused. "You have been dancing before, haven't you?"

"Of course I've been dancing. But this ridiculous game of yours will do nothing to prepare you for that."

The Grim Nipper moved out of the shadows and slunk forward a few paces before scuttling into a doorway, just like a greasy shadow. Will seemed oblivious, but that could have been to keep the Grim Nipper off-guard.

Another figure appeared, this one quite small and sporting a large bowler. Snuffles was trailing behind the Grim Nipper. Thankfully, someone had Will's back. Although what an undersize eight-year-old could do to fend off the Grim Nipper, I wasn't sure. Perhaps he could sneeze at him.

As we neared the park, I noticed the Nipper drawing closer to Will. As I was wondering what Miss Sharpe would do if I called out a warning, the Grim Nipper put on a burst of speed. Just as I opened my mouth to yell (I'd decided to risk Miss Sharpe's curiosity), the Nipper grabbed Will's collar and yanked him into an alley. I squeaked.

"Theo? Are you all right?" Miss Sharpe asked.

Then, almost without conscious thought, as if my body had come up with the idea all on it's own, I pretended to get my feet all tangled up and tripped. "Ow!" I said, screwing my face up tight and clutching my ankle.

Miss Sharpe stopped walking, folded her arms across her middle, and pinched her lips in disapproval. "I warned you nothing good would come of walking backwards."

Honestly! Can no grownup resist saying, "I told you so"? I groaned as if in pain.

Miss Sharpe looked around, clearly unsure what to do. Finally, she knelt down and gave my ankle a sharp prod.

"I think I may have sprained it," I said.

She sniffed. "That is what happens to odd ducks who waddle backwards."

For a moment I was seized by an overwhelming desire to quack at her. Odd duck, indeed. Instead, I said meekly, "I'm sorry, Miss Sharpe."

"Do you think you could hobble back to the museum?"

I shook my head.

"I suppose you could lean on me," she suggested with a look that said she'd rather clean chamber pots without her gloves.

"I don't think so," I rushed to say. "I'm much heavier than I look." The whole point was to get rid of her for a few moments so I could go find out what had happened to Will.

She glanced around the square. "I can't very well just leave you here."

"Oh, but you can! Don't forget—my parents let me go out and about on my own as long as I don't cross Oxford Street, and we're nowhere near Oxford Street. Besides," I said, playing my trump card, "it's hardly your fault, what with me being an odd duck and all." I hung my head humbly for good measure.

"Well, you're right about that part, anyway."

Would the beastly woman never leave? Will was in danger.

"Very well. I'll return to the museum and see if I can get one of the servants to bring round a cart."

"That would probably be best," I agreed. "I'll be right here when you get back," I assured her. But as soon as Miss Sharpe was out of sight, I leaped to my perfectly fine feet and made a mad dash for the alley down which I'd seen Will and the Nipper disappear.

Basil Whiting was just nearing the entrance when I reached it. "Stay there!" I hissed at him. I did not need to involve the Black Sunners in Will's problems. Whiting gave a curt nod as I slipped past him.

At first the narrow brick alley seemed empty, but then halfway toward the far end I saw the Nipper leaning into a doorway with Will pressed up against the door, shaking his head.

As silently as possible, I made my way toward a large pile of rubbish. I squatted down behind it so I wouldn't be spotted, then strained my ears to listen, but it was hard to hear over the pounding of my heart.

"You ain't been avoiding me, 'ave you, Willie, me boy?"

"N-no. Course not. Just been busy, that's all."

There was a loud, wet sniff somewhere off to my left. Snuffles must be nearby.

"Busy wif that new job o' yours, eh?" the Grim Nipper said. "Them fancy pants keeping you too busy for your old gig, then?"

Before Will could answer, the Nipper twisted the bunch of Will's collar he held in his fist, cutting off his reply. "These fancy pants of yours have led me to a right sweet gig now, they 'ave. People are taking their gold out of all their hidey places so as it'll protect 'em against these mummies, see. I'm tellin' you, Willie boy. There's plenty o' work for someone with fingers as light as yours."

"I-I got a new job, Nip! All the work I can handle."

"That's too bad, now, Willie, 'cause I'm needing an extra pair of hands to pluck with."

"Sorry, Nip."

He shoved Will against the door so hard, I heard the thunk as Will's head connected with the wood. "That's not the answer I was looking for, Willie boy. I'll give you another day or two to think on it. And next time, you won't let me down again or you won't like the consequences."

Then the Nipper shoved his hands into his pockets and left the alley, walking right by the rubbish heap. I shrank back against the turnip tops and ashes and made myself as small as possible.

The Nipper was trying to pressure Will into returning to his pickpocketing ways. That's why Will had been wearing disguises and keeping a low profile. He wasn't hiding from the police—he was hiding from the Grim Nipper!

I stood up, wanting to talk to Will, but he was already at the far end of the alley, making a quick getaway in the opposite direction.

To make matters worse, just then I heard Miss Sharpe's voice calling, "Theodosia?"

Drat and bother! I scurried back to the main street, being sure to hobble convincingly. Luckily, when I reached the sidewalk, she was looking the other way. "Here I am, Miss Sharpe."

She whirled around. "You're walking," she said, her tone accusing.

"Yes! Isn't it grand? It appears it was only a twist, not an actual sprain."

She didn't look as though she thought it grand at all. She seemed quite disappointed that I wasn't writhing in pain.

"Dolge said he'd be over as soon as he was free, but now it's clear you've just wasted everyone's time. Come along." She turned her back to me and began walking to the museum at a brisk clip, never looking over her shoulder to be sure I was following.

Even so, I made sure to limp all the way back to the museum, just for good measure.

We spent the rest of the afternoon doing sums. I loathe sums. Not because they're hard. In fact, they're quite easy. But governesses always make you do scads and scads of them—for practice, they say. Honestly. It's not as if the numbers have changed their values since the last time you did sums! The answers still work out the same way. Besides, I was anxious to meet up with Will. Hopefully, he and Snuffles had made their way back to the museum and were waiting for me to get them a message.

I had to find another way to get free of Miss Sharpe, at least for a few minutes. Deciding desperate measures were required, I cleared my throat. "Miss Sharpe? Could I be excused for a bit? I have to ... use the facilities."

She blushed slightly at my indelicacy, as did I. It was mortifying to tell someone I needed to go to the loo, but it was too important that I speak to Will. I was willing to suffer the pangs of embarrassment (just one of the many sacrifices I had to make). "I might be a while," I added, patting my stomach. "Last night's dinner didn't agree with me." Then I disappeared out the door so she wouldn't see the mortification flaming in my cheeks.

And unfortunately, I came nose to nose with Stilton, who was lurking right outside. No doubt trying to protect me.

Had he heard my miserable excuse? I was afraid he had—he stepped away rather hastily and let me pass. The requirements for covert operations weren't for the faint-hearted or overly modest, let me tell you.

Once I was away from the prying eyes of curators and scorpion bodyguards, I rushed over to the west entrance, where, just as I'd hoped, Will was waiting.

I scanned the area to be sure we were alone. No Grim Nipper, no watchful scorpions—only Snuffles a short distance back, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "It's clear," I whispered.

Will popped up like a bobbing cork, then followed me inside.

"Am I glad to see you!" I said. "Although I haven't much time. I'm expected back at my studies in a moment or two."

"Well, quit jawing and spill it, then."

I blinked. Will wasn't normally this prickly. "Very well. There's some information you must get to Wigmere. Tell him according to a Dr. Moribundus, the staff not only has the power to raise the dead, but to kill as well. When it's submerged in water, I think it creates the Fog of War."

Will whistled.

"Exactly! Now you see why I was so desperate to meet up with you!"

"I'll get this news to him right away, miss."

"Good. Hopefully he'll know what our next move should be. Were you followed this morning?"

His face went immediately blank. "Followed?"

"Yes. By that Grim Nipper fellow who's been at your heels all week."

Will's face paled at the name. "I don't know what yer talkin' about, miss."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous! I saw the two of you arguing earlier today, over by Cavendish Square."

Will narrowed his eyes. "'Ave you been followin' me?"

"Of course not! But when you're following me, and someone else is following you, I can't help but see. And you are most definitely being followed. And then today I accidentally overheard you two talking."

Will snorted. "Accidentally, my bum. You're a blooming eavesdropper, you are!"

I gasped. "Am not," I said automatically. (Although, of course, I am. But only for the best of causes. Like a friend being in trouble.)

"Are too. A wretched busybody, you are. I'll thank you to keep your nose out o' my business."

"But I was worried about you! I heard Inspector Turnbull talking about the Grim Nipper. He sounds like a horrid person, and I hate the idea of him jeopardizing your new job with Wigmere."

"I can take care of me own self. You just stay out of my business. Now, you got anything else for Wiggy?"

"No, but—"

"That's all, then. I gotta go," he huffed.

"Wait!"

"What?"

"I wanted to give you this. It's for Snuffles."

Will looked down at the clean white handkerchief in my hand. "We don't take no 'andouts."

Stung by his rejection of my gift, I shoved it at him, snatching my hand back just as he closed the door, leaving a tangle of bad feelings in his wake.

I heard a grunt and a scuffle. "It's mine!" a muffled young voice said. "She gave it to me! I 'eard!"

"Oy—if'n you want it that bad, you can 'ave it," was Will's equally muffled reply, and then all fell silent.

Well, at least Wigmere would get the message about the staff. Will wouldn't be so mad that he'd ignore his job duties, would he?

I lifted my chin. I wasn't going to let one prickly hedgehog of a pickpocket get under my skin. I'd simply have to deal with this alone, as I had most of the problems I'd encountered in my life.

And my next step was to find out what Chaos had planned for the staff. No matter how I looked at it, I simply couldn't come up with a decent explanation as to why they needed so many mummies. No, their reason for wanting the staff had to be tied up with it's darker, more evil powers. It was all too easy to accept that Chaos would have occasion to use the staff to kill. The problem was, I couldn't be expected to provide all of London with Blood of Isis amulets, now, could I? Of course not.

As I passed the medieval exhibit, I heard Miss Sharpe trilling for me. Remembering how much she loathed raising her voice due to it's not being ladylike, I kept quiet, hoping to force her to screech.

"Theodosia! Your presence is required in the reading room at once! We've lessons to attend to!" The tone of her voice promised immediate retribution. I glanced longingly at the chain-mail shirts hanging nearby. Wouldn't those provide lovely protection against Sharpe's pinches! Unfortunately, Father would be most irate if I began wearing six-hundred-year-old chain mail. I did, however, snag my coat off the rack as I passed. It was thick, sturdy wool and would help dampen any vicious little reminders from Miss Sharpe's bony fingers.

I really needed to find a way to get rid of her. Right after I discovered what Chaos was up to.