Theodosia and the Last Pharoah

by R. L. LaFevers

  His smile dimmed ever so slightly. "But of course." He bowed to me and I thought I detected a flicker of panic cross his face. I could not imagine why. Nabir and I had gotten on quite well last time, although I'd had to strong-arm him a time or two in order to carry on with my business. Surely he didn't hold that against me.

  "Have you assembled all the workmen?" Mother asked.

  "Most all, madams." He and Mother began walking toward the baggage car, discussing archaeological business. I hung back a bit, hoping to find Gadji. Score after score of dusty Arabs disembarked the train, but they were all adult size. Finally, a small figure appeared in the doorway, a monkey clinging to his shoulder.

  As Gadji stepped onto the platform, I cast one more glance in Mother's direction, but she was still occupied with the luggage. Good.

  "You made it," I said.

  He gave me an odd look. "Of course Gadji makes it. Why would I not?"

  "No reason. Do you have someplace to stay here in Luxor?"

  Gadji shrugged. "Not yet."

  "I thought you had family here?"

  "Gadji used to have familys here," he corrected. "I am not knowing if they are still here until I look for them."

  "Where will you spend the night?"

  "I will find someplace. A barn, a doorway. If all else fails, I will sleep under the stars and let Nut watch over me."

  I couldn't decide whether to be impressed by his trust in Nut, the Egyptian goddess of the sky, or horrified by his casual disregard for his circumstance. Horrified won. "But that's not safe, is it? How will you eat?"

  Gadji shrugged again. "I will beg." He nudged Sefu and the little imp scampered under the collar of Gadji's robe and settled onto his back, making him appear misshapen.

  "I don't think that's a good idea. Maybe you should come with us?" I suggested.

  Gadji flicked a glance over in Mother's direction with a look of scorn. "You think she is being pleased with that?"

  "I'll come up with some excuse," I explained, but before I could elaborate, Nabir spotted us and hurried over. He erupted into a quick spate of Arabic and tried to shoo Gadji away. Honestly, he wasn't a fly! Why did everyone insist on treating him so? Gadji flashed me a look as if to say, See, I told you so.

  "It's okay, Nabir. He's with me."

  Nabir's words stumbled to a halt, a look of wariness on his face. "What is he doing with you, miss?"

  He had me there. I grabbed the first explanation I could think of. "I had promised that I would hire him to carry my things once we arrived in Luxor. Here." I shoved my satchel at Gadji.

  Thinking quickly, he reached out and took it. Then he held out his other hand for Isis's basket. I hesitated. Conscious of Nabir's suspicious stare, I had no choice but to hand it over. "Do be careful not to jostle the basket," I told Gadji. "It contains very precious cargo."

  He gave a surprisingly regal little bow. "I am carrying it most carefully, effendi miss," he said just as Mother joined our little group.

  "What is going on, Theo?" she asked with a small frown. "Is he one of yours, Nabir?"

  I jumped in before the dragoman could say anything. "No, Mother. He's the boy on the train. Remember? I'd promised to give him baksheesh, but you said that wasn't a good idea since it only encouraged poor behavior. So I took your suggestion and offered him a job carrying my luggage instead." I smiled brightly, as if this was the most brilliant idea she'd ever had.

  "That was my idea?" she asked faintly.

  "Yes, and it is much better than begging, Mother. You said so yourself."

  "I suppose I did," she muttered. "Very well. Come along, then. Do we have everything, Nabir?"

  "More than enough, madams." He threw an annoyed look at Gadji, then began herding us all toward the exit.

  With both my arms empty except for the reticule, I couldn't help but feel as though I was forgetting something. I turned around to be sure I hadn't dropped anything and caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. A black-cloaked figure quickly stepped back behind a column. I sighed. With Mother having unwittingly told the Serpents of Chaos of our every planned move, of course they would be following us already.

  That just meant we'd have to come up with some unplanned moves.

  ***

  As I stepped out into the streets of Luxor, I braced myself for the impact of the magic that surely ran rampant in the city's streets. So close to the ancient monuments, it would be nearly overwhelming. Awi Bubu had warned me that this trip would be different from my first. On that first trip, I'd been wearing the powerful Heart of Egypt amulet, which had protected me from the worst of the old, powerful magic that hung over the land. This time, I had nothing but a few measly homemade amulets protecting me.

  I needn't have worried. The unseen heka sat like an invisible haze over the city and prickled against my skin with a faint fizz and pop, much like the bubbles off ginger beer, but it wasn't dark or oppressive. Odd, that. I wondered if it was because the ancient monuments themselves were so close by and so steeped with centuries' and centuries' worth of good worshiping-type magic that it canceled out the darker kind?

  The house Nabir had secured for us was a large sun-baked bungalow that sat up against a slight hill, looking back down on the village of Luxor. There was a small husk of a stable, and the yard was mostly hard-packed dirt with a lone, valiant vine doing its best to earn its status as a garden.

  A figure swathed in black from head to toe—with only her eyes exposed—met us at the front door and bowed low. "This is Habiba," Nabir said byway of introduction. "Your new housekeeper. She is my wife's cousin and is very skilled in the ways of keeping a house." She looked rather like a tall, slender tent with eyes, I thought. She also looked unbearably hot in all those layers of black. Her dark eyes widened when she saw Gadji behind me and she sent a questioning glance at Nabir. His answer in Arabic put a scowl on her face and Gadji's. For one brief moment, I was afraid the donkey boy was going to kick the dragoman, but Habiba bustled us all into the house and the moment passed.

  She pointed Gadji and me down a short, narrow hallway, then disappeared in the opposite direction to take Mother to the master suite.

  My small room was stark and spare—a narrow bed, a rickety washstand, and a small chest of drawers. There wasn't even a desk.

  A low, impatient warble emerged from the basket. Gadji dropped it and leaped back.

  "Don't be silly," I said, hurrying over. "It's only my cat." I knelt and unlatched the basket. Isis came up out of its depths with a mad howl, going straight for the monkey who had emerged from Gadji's robe.

  Gadji and Sefu both squealed. Gadji ducked, but the monkey leaped away onto the top of the screen that covered my window. Isis prowled over to sit below and emit warning howls from deep in her throat.

  "What is being wrong with your cat, miss?" Gadji asked, sounding deeply offended.

  "I don't think she likes Sefu."

  The monkey, sensing it was out of harm's way, waggled its fingers at Isis and made a series of ugly little faces at her. She abruptly leaped up onto the windowsill, surprising the monkey. It screeched and leaped back onto Gadji's shoulder. Isis glanced at it, then hopped out into the garden, dismissing Sefu with a disdainful flick of her tail.

  When she'd left, the little monkey began chattering excitedly. Gadji said a few comforting words to the creature in Arabic, then turned his attention back to me. "I think we will be going now."

  "Will you stay here?"

  "No, I will look for my peoples. Someone might know where they have gone."

  "When was the last time you saw them?"

  "Five years ago."

  Curiosity won out over politeness. "How did you get separated from your family?" I asked, but my question was drowned out by a scream from somewhere near the kitchen, followed by Mother's voice. "Theodosia Elizabeth Throckmorton! Come get this cat! At once!"

  "We is definitely going now." Gadji hurried to the window and hoisted himself up onto the sill.

 
"You can use the door," I said.

  He flashed a grin. "This is being quicker," he said, then disappeared.

  "Theodosia!"

  "Coming, Mother!" I called back, then hurried to retrieve Isis from whomever she was terrorizing.

  ***

  The next morning after breakfast, Mother set out for the British consul office to check in with the Inspector of Upper Egypt. Nabir was off finalizing the work crew, and Habiba was doing something in the small, hot kitchen. I had assured Mother I would be happy to entertain myself, without actually specifying how. But of course, I had a visit of my own to pay, to Major Harriman Grindle, Supervisor of Security in Upper Egypt and my Brotherhood of the Chosen Keepers contact here in Luxor.

  But first things first. I studied my room carefully, trying to decide where on earth to hide the Emerald Tablet. Now that the Serpents of Chaos knew of our every move, I had to assume our rooms could be searched during the long hours we were away. But there were simply no good hiding spots. In a drawer or under the mattress was too obvious. Anyone would find it within seconds. And I simply did not see how I could carry it with me every day. I could never dream up an explanation that would satisfy Mother.

  A sound at the window pulled me from my quandary and I found Isis up on the sill, needing to go outside.

  And then I got a great big wonderful idea.

  "Wait just one minute," I told her. I left her looking slightly put out and slipped into the spare room where all our supplies were stored. Just as I'd hoped, I found a flat, short-sided lid to one of the larger boxes. I snagged that and a spare canvas sack. Back in my room, I removed the tablet from the bottom of Isis's carrying basket, wrapped a layer of oiled cloth around the newspapers that currently hid it from view, then placed the well-protected tablet in the shallow box. Isis came over to inspect what I was doing. "Two seconds, I promise," I told her.

  I grabbed the sack and went to the window. Nobody was outside in the sad little yard. Perfect. I sat on the windowsill, swung my feet around, then dropped to the ground, careful to close the window right behind me. I kept near the wall, hopefully out of sight as I filled the sack with dirt. When it was full, I set it on the sill, opened the window once more, and climbed back into my room. I quickly shut the window, almost catching Isis's nose as she tried to get out. "I'm sorry! Two more seconds, I promise!" The poor thing was practically crossing her legs at this point.

  I dumped all the dirt into the box, then stood back. "All yours," I told Isis.

  Curious, she came over and sniffed, then climbed in and began scratching around, doing what all cats do when presented with a box of dirt or sand. "Good girl," I told her when she was finished. Because, of course, it was perfect! No one would think to search there. Besides, ancient Egyptian magic believed that Underworld demons were especially fond of such things as Isis had just deposited in the box. Anyone who knew enough about the tablet to understand its value would also know that and steer well clear.

  Of course, I was grubby now and had to have my second wash of the morning, but that was quickly done. When I was finished, I secured the reticule around my wrist and grabbed my pith helmet. I left Isis standing guard and went to find my Chosen Keeper contact here in Luxor.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Major Harriman Grindle, at Your Service

  ONCE OUTSIDE, I REALIZED I had only the vaguest sense of where I might find Major Grindle's quarters. Intent on protecting the tablet from discovery and escaping undetected, I had forgotten that I had no idea where I was going. I glanced back at the house. Should I ask Habiba? Would she want to know where I was going or, worse, tell Mother?

  Just as I decided I'd have to risk it, a shape darted out in front of me. I leaped back, then relaxed when I saw it was only Gadji's monkey, rather than a small demon, which is what it had looked like at first. That meant Gadji must be nearby, and he had lived in Luxor. Maybe he knew his way around.

  Almost as if reading my thoughts, Sefu turned and scampered back the way he had come, pausing once to be certain I was following.

  He stopped in front of a ratty abandoned shack with a pile of rags in the doorway. Except the pile of rags turned out to be Gadji. The small, sleeping boy tugged at my heart. It wasn't just that I was grateful to him for having helped me at such great cost to himself. It was more than that. With a niggle of surprise, I realized that I'd told Mother the truth; something about him made me homesick for my younger brother, Henry. Gadji was smaller and younger than Henry, but his outlook seemed older. Probably from having to live on the streets and make his own way. I imagine that would mature a person right up. But while Gadji was clever and shrewd, he was also remarkably cheerful for someone in his position. I found that most admirable.

  Sefu pinched Gadji and woke him. Gadji rubbed his eyes and sat up, then leaped to his feet when he saw me standing over him.

  "Good morning," I said, politely ignoring the fact that he'd been sound asleep.

  "Good mornings," he replied somewhat stiffly, no doubt feeling embarrassed about having been sound asleep.

  "No luck finding your family?" I asked.

  He scowled ferociously at me. "Not yet."

  "I could help you if you'd like," I offered.

  He thrust his chin out. "I am not needing your help."

  Talk about waking up on the wrong side of the bed! Or doorway, I amended. Ah, perhaps that was the problem. Or maybe he was hungry. Henry is always grumpy when he is hungry.

  "Would you like some breakfast?" I fumbled in my pocket for the small snack I had brought along for lunch.

  He recoiled from the food. "Gadji is no beggar, miss."

  Hadn't he just said yesterday that he would beg if he had to? Maybe it was easier to beg from those you didn't know. Thinking fast, I said, "But I have a job for you and I have nothing else to pay you with."

  That caught his attention. "What sort of job?"

  "You used to live in Luxor, right? Do you still remember your way around?"

  Gadji nodded and eyed the small packet more hopefully.

  "Well, I need someone to act as my guide around town."

  Gadji nodded. "I will guide you, and for this thing I will accept your inadequate payment—"

  Inadequate? I thought I was doing him a favor.

  "—and then you are owing me," he finished brightly, grinning broadly as his good humor returned. He snatched the food from my hand and demolished it in about thirty seconds. Then he was ready to go. "This way, miss." The monkey leaped up onto his shoulder, and we were off.

  As he led me down the dusty streets, I nearly sprained my neck trying to take in all the sights. It turned out, I needn't have bothered. Luxor itself was basically a small village with a handful of grand hotels.

  The only area that gave me pause was a small cluster of streets just off the main thoroughfare. Gadji tried to hurry by, but I called him back. "What's down here?"

  He frowned. "Gadji not sure, but very bad. No place for effendi miss."

  "How do you know that if you're not certain what's down there?"

  His frown turned to a perplexed scowl. "Gadji just knows this thing, miss."

  The truth was, I could feel a foul, roiling miasma emanating from the alley. Could he? Was that how he knew it was very bad?

  "Antikahs," he said at last. "No good, very bad antikahs. Not like miss's."

  Did he mean a black market in antiques? Or something more ominous, such as horribly cursed artifacts? I made a mental note to ask my Chosen Keeper contact about it and let Gadji lead me away.

  Major Harriman Grindle lived in a small box-shaped house by the British consulate offices near one of the large hotels.

  "I wait out here so I can show you the way back." Gadji gave a snappy salute, then slipped away to settle in at the foot of a dusty palm tree that provided a small sliver of shade.

  I squared my shoulders and rapped smartly on the door. It opened immediately and I found myself staring into a large, broad chest covered in a rough goatskin tunic. Baggy bl
ack trousers were tucked into red leather boots, and a red cap with a rolled edge sat low on the man's brow. He wore a wicked-looking dagger at his hip. I looked up—and up, an impossibly long way—into a face not any darker than mine and a pair of eyes that were the color of aquamarines. He said nothing—not even hello—so I cleared my throat and spoke. "Um, is Major Harriman Grindle in?"

  The man gave a silent nod, then opened the door all the way, indicating that I should enter. It was cool and dark inside, and I had to blink a number of times so my eyes could adjust.

  "Follow me." His deep voice reverberated throughout the hall. He led me down a corridor, which descended in a series of steps and landings until we came to a closed door, which he opened to reveal a study of some sort. He ushered me inside. "Sahib will be with you shortly," he said, and then he shut the door behind him. I was alone in the cramped, dimly lit room.

  Or so I thought, for there was no one sitting at the desk. However, I had the distinct sensation of being watched. It wasn't quite the same feeling as when a curse was nearby. That was more of a beetles-marching-up-the-spine sensation. This was more like a few ants pirouetting along my shoulders—an entirely different feeling. Even so, it unnerved me, and I quickly turned around to see who was there.

  And nearly screamed when I came face-to-face with a small shrunken head. Three of them, to be precise. They were hanging from a brass hat rack. I took a quick step back and nearly tripped on the enormous leopard skin on the floor. I squealed and stepped back again, bumping into a large brass urn with ostrich plumes sprouting out the top. I grabbed for it, trying to keep the entire thing from tipping over.

  Completely unnerved, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths to steady myself. When my heart had quit racing, I slowly opened my eyes and tried again.

  The entire room was full of all manner of curiosities and oddities, like a macabre museum. Strange things, marvelous things, and some truly frightening things were tucked on shelves that ran all the way around the room, as if the room itself were one giant closet. Petrified crocodile eggs were displayed on a small table. Next to it on the floor was an