Theodosia and the Last Pharoah

by R. L. LaFevers

  Bing looked grimly at the mob. "Let's get you ladies home before it gets ugly," he said, leading us to where he had parked the carriage. It was nowhere to be seen.

  "What happened to it?" I asked.

  "No doubt all available carriages have been snatched up as people try to get away from the demonstration." He gave Mother an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Throckmorton. It looks as if we must stay here until the crowd disperses or hire donkeys." He grimaced at the second option, his glance flickering to the small crowd of donkey boys gathered at one end of the square.

  "How long till the crowd disperses?" Mother asked, eyeing the safety of the museum. Little did she realize, the place held more danger than a mere mob.

  Bing shrugged. "Hard to say. Last week there was a demonstration that lasted for two days with the participants camping in the streets."

  "Well, we can't wait that long!" Mother exclaimed. "We've a train to catch in the morning. Plus, we are quite tired from our trip." She glanced uneasily at the crowd. "I suppose we shall have to use the donkeys."

  "Why can't we simply walk?" I asked.

  "No one walks in Cairo, darling. It just isn't done," Mother said. "Besides, the donkeys will help force a path."

  "Very well." Bing gave a resigned nod and strode toward the asses. Not wanting to get separated, we followed close on his heels.

  At our approach, the donkey boys converged around us like a cheerful swarm of buzzing hornets. In a loud jumble of Arabic and English, they vied for our business. In spite of the unholy racket they made, they were all smiling and seemed to be having a marvelous time of it.

  Bing pointed at a small cluster. "You. There. We'll take you." The boys snapped to attention and four of them jostled forward. "We only need three," Bing said testily.

  One of the boys, the smallest one, was pushed aside by the others. As he sent them a hot glare, I saw that he was misshapen, his back hunched up. How wretched! And how cruel of the others to exclude him like that. "Excuse me, Mr. Bing," I said, "but I'd like to ride that donkey." I pointed at the one next to the crippled boy.

  Bing sighed in exasperation. "One donkey is not any different from the others, but very well. You heard the girl," he snapped at the boys. One of them sent a scathing glare in the smallest one's direction and shuffled back to wait with the others.

  The crippled boy flashed me a grin of thanks and stepped forward to assist me up into the saddle. He had a bright, intelligent face and moved quickly in spite of his infirmity. By the time he had me settled on my donkey, Mother was delicately perched on hers and Bing ... well, the reason for Mr. Bing's distaste for riding was quite clear. His legs were so very long, and the animal's so very short, that his feet nearly dragged on the ground. He looked utterly ridiculous, and it was hard to keep from laughing. I did not, however, crack so much as a smile.

  "Let's get going," he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

  My donkey boy lightly flicked his beast about the head with a small, thin whip. The donkey lurched forward, then settled into an ambling walk. The donkey boy turned back and smiled at me. "Miss is wanting to go faster? Gadji's donkey very most fast. Get effendi miss there double quick."

  "No, thank you." I held on more tightly just in case he ignored me. "I don't want to risk losing the others."

  Looking somewhat disappointed, he shrugged and turned his attention to navigating the busy streets. I risked a glance over my shoulder, not surprised to see Carruthers slinking along behind, trying to hide among the masses of people. I tried to catch Bing's eye, but he was too busy keeping his feet from dragging in the muck.

  As we headed away from the museum, the crowd continued to grow, its ranks swelling as more and more people poured in from side alleys and streets. Their mood—not quite menacing, but certainly not friendly—was almost as palpable as the heka in the air around us. I steered my donkey closer to Mr. Bing. Besides, I needed to tell him of von Braggenschnott.

  Pedestrians managed to fill in the space between us, and I wasn't able to get close enough to avoid being overheard by Mother.

  As we turned down the next street, we came to a full stop. The entire thoroughfare was clogged with demonstrators. Mr. Bing gave an exclamation of frustration.

  My donkey boy flicked his whip and called out instructions in Arabic, trying to get my donkey to back up, but there was no room. The sea of people had closed in behind us. We couldn't go forward; we couldn't go back.

  "Now what?" I called out to Mr. Bing.

  His response was lost over the noise of the crowd. Shouts went up as a procession made its way down the middle of the street, the sea of people parting just enough to make room. As the crowd surged back, it drove a wedge of people between me and Bing. I shouted at him for assistance, but he and Mother had been shoved back up against a shop and were stuck in place. The jostling and pushing continued until my donkey, the boy, and I were pushed into a side alley.

  Uneasy now, I searched the faces for the man from the museum but saw no sign of him. It would be just like Chaos to engineer a near riot in order to work their own mischief.

  Actually, all they needed to do was be in place to take advantage of such a thing, I realized.

  There were fewer people in the alley. I could still see the street as the crowd streamed by, but there was no sign of Mother or Bing. The city, which only hours ago seemed charming and picturesque in its exoticness, now felt ominous and threatening. Not knowing what else to do, I looked down at the donkey boy. "Now what?" I asked.

  He shrugged. "Now we wait."

  "Where does this alley lead? Can we double back?"

  The donkey boy studied the stream of people trying to make their way past us to the main demonstration. He gave me a thumbs-up sign and then, holding firmly to the bridle and whispering something to the donkey, he got the poor beast turned around without tramping on anyone's toes. We began picking our way carefully to the other end of the alley. It was very much like trying to force water back up a spigot.

  When we reached the street at the far end of the alley, we found it, too, was wall to wall with people. "We is going this way instead." The donkey boy pointed in the opposite direction. "Take longer but we get there still."

  We surged along with the crowd for a bit, and then the boy turned down another alley, where we nearly stumbled into a group of wild-eyed men destroying an office of some kind. This wasn't good. "Maybe we should go back," I whispered to the donkey boy.

  Too late. One of them spotted us, then nudged his neighbor. Within seconds all the rioters were staring at us with hard, angry expressions. "Inglaize!" one of them said.

  "Inglaize!" another deep voice shouted.

  I did not like the look in their eyes.

  Neither did the donkey boy. He turned the donkey around and began running back the way we'd come, pulling the donkey along behind him while I held on for dear life.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Cornered!

  WE TURNED ONE CORNER, then another. The crowd followed, their voices getting louder as they drew near.

  We slipped into the next alley and passed a tiny, narrow lane with barely enough room for the donkey. I stopped, but the donkey boy shook his head and kept going.

  "But the alley is a dead end!" I protested. "We have to take this side street!"

  "No. Gadji outsmart them crowds. Watch." He didn't look nearly as panicked as I felt. Perhaps because he wasn't Inglaize.

  About halfway between the main street and the dead end, Gadji stopped the donkey. "Get off," he said.

  "What?" Was he abandoning me to my fate? I'd be completely helpless—a sitting duck!

  "Do you wish Gadji should risk his neck for you or no?"

  "Why would you help me against your own people?"

  Gadji shrugged. "Effendi miss is paying me. And they is not my peoples. Now, hurry."

  As I swung my legs around and prepared to dismount, he reached a grubby hand out to stop me. "Gadji get big tip for this, right, miss? Saving miss's skin
much harder than steering dumb donkey."

  "Yes, yes. Of course. Please let me down." The sounds of the mob were quite close by now. Surely they would be rounding the corner at any moment.

  I dropped to the ground, ready to ask, Now what? but the words froze in my throat at the donkey boy's antics. He had bent over at the waist, as if he was going to be sick, and was pulling at the back collar of his robe. I watched in horror as the hump on his back began to gyrate and wiggle. Thinking it rude to witness his physical struggles, I turned away, only to jerk back around at the sound of high-pitched scolding chatter. There really was no other word for it.

  My mouth dropped open in shock as I saw that the hump on his back was gone, and on his shoulder sat a small, scrunch-faced monkey. It was he who was chattering.

  "Sefu will help," the donkey boy said, then lifted the monkey up into the saddle I had just vacated. "Your jacket, miss."

  Quickly grasping his plan, I started to peel off my jacket, stopped by the wretched reticule. With a sigh of frustration, I took it from my wrist, hung it on the saddle horn for a moment, then slipped all the way out of my jacket.

  There was the sound of breaking glass from just around the corner. "Hurry!" Gadji said, and I threw the jacket to him. He quickly draped it around the monkey. Of course, it was far too large and lay in a puddle around the small creature, but in a pinch it might look as if I was just leaning in low to avoid any thrown objects. "Here," I said in a burst of inspiration, and took my hat from my head and plopped it onto the monkey's. Gadji muttered some words in Arabic, then slapped the donkey's hindquarters.

  The creature brayed and bucked, then lurched forward in a jolting trot, the monkey crouched low.

  As the monkey steered the donkey toward the tiny little back street, the boy grabbed my hand and pulled me into a recessed doorway. If we squashed very close together and sucked in our stomachs, we would—just barely—be hidden from view.

  And none too soon. The sound of pounding feet and the angry roar of the mob reached the mouth of the alleyway. I closed my eyes and pretended I was nothing but a dilapidated wooden door, a trick I'd learned to help minimize my life force when dealing with angry mut and ahku in our museum at home.

  A single shout went up from the crowd as someone spotted the donkey. "Inglaize!"

  There was an answering roar, then the pounding of feet as the mob set off in pursuit. I kept my eyes closed and my breathing shallow for several more tense moments. Finally, I dared to open one eye and peek over at Gadji. His eyes were closed, and I briefly wondered if he knew the same trick I did about trying to disappear.

  His eyes popped open and he smiled cheerfully. "Gadji's plan work."

  I nodded. "It wouldn't hurt to check and be sure they didn't leave someone behind to act as a spotter."

  "Good idea." Gadji poked his head out from the doorway. He gave a quick grin, then stepped fully into the alley. "Is all clear now, effendi miss," he said, spreading his arms wide.

  Some of the tension left my body, but I peeked around the lintel to see with my own eyes before stepping out.

  Gadji's face fell. "Effendi miss not trust Gadji?"

  "No, no," I said. "I have just learned to be very, very cautious about some things. Being chased, for example. Thank you very much for risking yourself on my behalf."

  "Oh, Gadji is not risking anything. Crowd is not mad at Gadji. I not Inglaize." Then he smiled mischievously and held out his hand, rubbing his fingers together.

  The promised tip. "Er, I haven't got any money on me," I said, reaching for—"My reticule!" I whispered, whipping my head around to where the donkey had disappeared.

  "Is something being wrong, miss?"

  "My purse. I left it on the donkey's saddle." There was a hollow, sick feeling deep in my stomach. "Where will the donkey go?"

  "Back to his stable, miss."

  I began heading toward the side street the donkey had taken. "Can we catch up to him, do you think?"

  Gadji gave me an incredulous look. "No, miss. Donkey is being much too fast."

  "You don't understand," I told him. "I have to at least try. There is something very important in my reticule."

  "Is effendi miss forgetting the crowd?"

  Er, yes. In my panic over the orb, I actually had.

  "It is not safe for effendi miss to travel now."

  But it was even less safe for the orb to fall into the wrong hands. "Very well. Do you think you could fetch my reticule and return it to me? I'm staying at the Shepheard Hotel. I'll be there until tomorrow morning, when we'll be catching the nine o'clock train to Luxor."

  Gadji shook his head. "Gadji is not going back to stables, miss."

  I nearly stomped my foot in frustration. "Why not?"

  "He would receive beating for abandoning his donkey."

  I gawped at him. Saving me had cost him his job? "Why did you risk so very much for me?"

  Gadji rose to his full height, an almost imperious look coming over his face. "I am miss's guide. I am taking my duties most seriously."

  "And so do I," I muttered. I simply had to retrieve the orb. "Tell me how to get to the stable and I'll go and speak to the stable owner myself. I'll explain everything to him and get my purse back."

  Gadji burst out in great big guffaws, slapping at his knee. "Miss is making a funny joke."

  "I'm not joking. I am quite serious."

  Gadji stopped laughing and shook his head. "Any moneys in that purse now belong to donkey master."

  "But it is mine!" I protested.

  Gadji shrugged. "It is how you say: find it, keep it."

  "Finders, keepers, you mean."

  "That's it," he said, repeating it to himself for good measure. "But do not look so sad, miss. Gadji is still saving you."

  "No, you don't understand. I must get the purse back! It doesn't just contain money, but something very valuable. I'll be in loads of trouble if I lose it." I reached out and grabbed his thin shoulders. "You have to tell me where this stable is."

  Gadji shrugged. "It is in the old quarter, the seventh street, behind the carpet seller. But miss will not be finding it unless I am with you."

  "Then you must come with me," I said.

  "Very well. But I am only taking you there, not talking to stable owner. I am not wanting a beating."

  "No, of course not," I assured him. But his words made me uneasy. What chance would I have of reasoning with the stable master?

  We left our hiding place and retraced our steps to the main street. My pulse was still racing and I could feel panic nipping at my heels, urging me to hurry. The crowd was much thinner now, which gave me hope that we might catch up to the donkey, or at least reach the stables before he did. Gadji paused and put a hand out to stop me. A man riding a donkey was heading our way. I wondered briefly if I could talk him into letting me borrow his mount, then noticed his long limbs nearly sweeping the street beneath his feet.

  "It's Mr. Bing!" My initial relief at no longer being lost quickly evaporated when I realized I'd just lost my chance to go after the orb. I thought briefly about stepping back into the alley, but it was too late. Mr. Bing had seen me.

  He sat up in his saddle and waved. He urged his donkey to a bone-jarring trot that made my teeth ache to watch. I quickly turned to Gadji. "Say nothing about losing my purse." He gave me a startled look, and then Bing's donkey rattled to a stop in front of us. Mr. Bing lowered his legs to the ground and stepped off. "Miss Theodosia! I am so glad to have found you! Your mother is quite frantic with worry. As was I."

  The donkey boy stepped forward and tapped himself on the chest. "Gadji is keeping miss safe. Not let anything happen to her."

  Mr. Bing looked down his nose. "Who are you, precisely?"

  "He is the donkey boy," I reminded him. "He used his donkey as a decoy to keep the mob from finding me. I owe him my safety."

  "Oh. Very well done, then," Bing said, nodding awkwardly at Gadji.

  "I, er, promised him a tip," I said, feeling awk
ward. Now that he had no job to return to, it was even more important that he not be left penniless.

  "Ah." A look of cynical understanding appeared on Bing's face. "Did it for the money, did you?" He narrowed his eyes and studied Gadji more closely. "How do I know you weren't in on it? That it wasn't all part of some grand plan to extract ransom for the girl?"

  "It wasn't like that!" I said, horrified.

  "I don't expect you to understand how they are, miss. But I have a few coins I can spare."

  Again, Gadji drew himself up to his full height, a surprising nobility descending over his features. "Do not be bothering yourself, effendi. If the safety of the effendi miss is not worth a small gift, then I will make a gift to you of her safety." He bowed formally, then turned and retreated down the alley, his small shoulders stiff with pride. I wanted to run after him, to apologize for Bing's blundering ham-handedness and insist he take the money now that he had no job.

  "Come now, miss," Bing said gently. "Let's get you safely to your mother."

  I longed to confide in Mr. Bing, tell him of losing the orb, but I wasn't absolutely sure I could trust him. The shock of almost being nabbed by Carruthers, then coming face-to-face with von Braggenschnott at the museum this morning had planted rather significant doubts about Bing's trustworthiness. If my suspicions were unfounded and he was trustworthy, he would surely think very poorly of me for having lost the orb. He would most likely tell the other Chosen Keepers, and I could hardly bear the shame of all of them knowing of my mistake. I would just have to figure something out on my own.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  To Luxor We Will Go

  THE ONLY GOOD THING TO COME of Mr. Bing's rescue was that I was able to tell him about von Braggenschnott as Bing escorted me back to Mother. He seemed genuinely horrified and could not wait to deposit Mother and me at the hotel, then return to the museum and try to apprehend the man. I, however, was convinced von Braggenschnott would be long gone. His mission was accomplished, after all: to let me know in no uncertain terms just how intimately he knew of my every move.