Even though my knees were still weak from the close call at the Luxor Temple, I dared not sit, not with him standing. Gadji remained standing, too. When Major Grindle's stern blue eyes settled on me, I tried not to squirm.
"Would you care to explain what that was all about, Miss Throckmorton?" he asked.
"I was returning the artifact I had told you about, sir." Which was only partially a lie. I was returning an artifact, just not the one I had mentioned to him.
"Did it never occur to you to ask for backup?"
"No, sir." I wanted to hang my head in shame at having deceived him and just barely kept from doing so.
He stared at me a long moment, his eyes boring into me. "Did Wigmere know what you were about? Or did you deceive him as well?"
"If you please, sir. It wasn't a question of deception," I rushed to explain. "Or not intentional deception, anyway. I had made a deathbed promise, sir, which I viewed as sacred. Part of that promise was not telling anyone else the details of the plan."
Major Grindle stared at me a few seconds longer, his brows beetled and mouth pursed. Finally, something shifted, something that gave me hope that all was not lost with him.
"Does the nature of that secret have to do with those men at the temple? For do not tell me they were Serpents of Chaos. I know that they were not."
I swallowed. "Yes, sir. The secret deathbed promise had to do with those men."
"Hmm," was all he said before turning the full weight of his regard to Gadji. "And you, young man. They seemed to be quite interested in you."
Gadji, who had been silent all this time, nodded his head, as if dazed. "They did most certainly," he said.
"Do you know why?"
Gadji snapped out of his trance and looked up to meet the major's gaze with a grin. "Because I am the last pharaoh, mister major."
The words fell into the room, a swell of silence growing around them. I cleared my throat. "Is it true? Was your father a pharaoh?"
Gadji shrugged. "My father works in Valley of Kings. He moves stone and dirt for the Inglaize, as his father and his father before him."
"Is that the family you've been looking for all this time?"
Gadji shook his head. "Father dies in great accident."
"Oh, I'm sorry. What about your mother?"
Gadji shrugged again. "She die many years ago, while having baby. Baby die, too. Only sister is left. Safiya."
"Did you recognize any of those men?" Major Grindle asked.
"No."
"So you don't know who they are, then?"
"No, mister major. But..." his voice trailed off and we all waited.
"But what?" Major Grindle finally burst out.
"But something about them is being familiar. I do not know. Perhaps they are friends of my father?"
"Why doesn't everyone have a seat and we'll start at the beginning. Gadji, let's start with you."
Gadji, unused to sitting in front of important Inglaize, perched uneasily on the edge of his chair. "I is born in Luxor. But it is changing much since I saw it last." He scrunched up his nose. "Too many new buildings and tourists."
"Hear, hear," Major Grindle agreed.
"I live with my father and my older sister in the old quarter. But where our house used to be now stands a fancy Inglaize hotel."
My heart broke for him. Not only had he lost his family, but his entire home was gone.
"I have no memories of my mother. She dies when I was"—he paused and counted on his fingers—"three, I think. My sister takes care of the house then, and me, when our tutor is not there. I have many friends." He paused. "Then one day, there is big accident in valley. A tomb caves in. Everyone in uproar. Sister hurries to valley to see if our father is okay. When tutor arrives and finds her gone, he goes after her." He looked up and met Major Grindle's eyes. "That is the last time I see them."
"What happened after that?"
Gadji scrunched up his face again, trying to remember. "I got hungry. I remember that because I began eating the honey cakes Safiya made for dinner. I am afraid I will get in trouble, but I am so hungry I don't care. Then ... then I remember nothing until my first train ride."
"First train ride?" Major Grindle asked sharply. "To where?"
"Cairo. Very long train ride. Hot and dusty. Stand up the whole time. My legs begin to ache, and I begin to cry." He paused as if embarrassed by this. "I am very young," he explained.
"Of course," Major Grindle said.
"The man next to me shakes me and tells me not to be a baby."
"Were you traveling with the man, or was he just a random passenger?" I asked.
Gadji paused, as if he had never thought of that. "I do not know, miss. But the womans next to us shoot him evil eye and make a nest for me at her feet. I sleep the rest of the way to Cairo. When we arrive, I slip away and follow womans home. I is not wanting to stay with men who pinch and shout."
"Then what?" I asked.
Gadji shrugged again. "The womans, she nice and feed me, but is not having enough for an extra mouth to feed. So Gadji live on streets. Until miss finds me."
Major Grindle leaned forward. "Now think, Gadji, because this is very important. Did the men traveling with you back then look anything like the ones you ran into today? Similar facial features, clothing, identifying marks or tattoos?"
"Oh no. Not at all. These mens, they were wearing Egyptian robes, but under their turbans, the faces, they were Inglaize."
A stunned silence followed that announcement. "English," Major Grindle repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Not French or German or American, but English?"
Gadji waved his hand. "All the same. Not Egyptians."
"And traveling in the third-class car meant for natives. That cannot have been a random coincidence, I think. What about this tutor of yours? Who was he? Did he have a name?"
"Oh yes, mister major. His name is Master Bubu."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Much Is Made Clear
I GASPED. I couldn't help it.
"You know this Master Bubu, I take it," Major Grindle said.
"Yes, sir. He was a magician performing in London when we first met him, but he turned out to be..." I waged an internal struggle, trying to decide how much to tell him. "something much more than that. It was to him that I made the deathbed promise. He had been injured trying to protect me from the Serpents of Chaos."
Major Grindle raised an eyebrow but said nothing for a long moment. "Well, this is a Gordian knot if ever there was one. For the time being—"
"Sir?" I said, making up my mind.
"Yes, Theodosia?"
"This Master Bubu. He belonged to the same group of men we ran into at the temple today. They are a group, rather like the Brotherhood, who keeps an eye on sacred objects here in Egypt." I didn't feel quite as if I'd broken my promise to Awi Bubu. The cat was already out of the bag since Major Grindle had seen the wedjadeen with his own eyes.
"I see."
And I was very afraid that he did see. See everything I was not telling him. "Sir," I hastened to add, "I am not trying to keep things from you; it is just that promises were made—"
He held up a hand to stop me. "I understand. I would not expect you to break a promise, Miss Throckmorton."
"You wouldn't?" If not, he was certainly a rare exception among grownups. They are forever thinking that a child's promise should be easily broken if it makes their lives easier.
"No. However, now that you have kept those promises, let there be no more secrets between us." He gave me a meaningful look, and I nodded.
We were quiet for a long moment before I asked, "Sir, do you think Gadji could be the last pharaoh?"
"I don't know what to think. The pharaonic bloodline died out years ago. Nectanebo II was the last Egyptian-born pharaoh."
"Of record," I pointed out.
Major Grindle tilted his head to the side. "What makes you add that disclaimer?"
"Well, quite frankly, it seems as if we are always b
umping up against things we didn't know about ancient Egypt and its magic. I don't see why the pharaohs should be any different."
"True enough," Major Grindle agreed. "But it seems to me that what is important right now is that others think he is the last pharaoh. That also works to our advantage somewhat, for they are reluctant to force him to do anything he doesn't want to do. We'll use that. For now. Where are you staying?" he asked Gadji.
"I work for effendi miss. As her donkey boy. I sleep in the stable."
"Very well. At least we'll be able to keep an eye on you. You, however," he said, turning his gimlet eyes on me, "will be in danger until these men get what they want. That means no more gallivanting about. Do not go anywhere unless you are with me or your mother. Do you understand, Miss Throckmorton?" Major Grindle leaned very far forward across his desk. "I will brook no argument on this. If you cannot comply with this one simple rule, then I need to know now so I can make other arrangements."
"No, sir. It won't be a problem. Now that my mission is accomplished, I have nothing left that Chaos wants. My only plans are to help Mother with her excavating." Why did that sound so flat all of a sudden?
The major gave me an odd look. "Don't forget the small matter of revenge."
Oh, yes. There was that. The Serpents of Chaos would like to repay me for having foiled their plans once too often.
"Now, let's get you back to your house before your absence is noticed and an alarm raised. I'll escort you myself."
With that, Gadji and I followed Major Grindle out of his study to where the horses waited in the late afternoon sun. We rode in silence for a ways, Gadji in the lead so Major Grindle could keep an eye on his safety as well as mine. Sefu had appeared from somewhere and now sat on the boy's shoulder, chattering softly in his ear and picking at his hair.
With Gadji's attention elsewhere, I gathered up my nerve to ask Major Grindle a question that had plagued me since we escaped the temple. "Sir," I said in a very low voice. "What sort of magic did you use back at the temple?" I turned my head around so I could see his face when he answered.
He kept his gaze fixed on the streets ahead of us. "It was much like the things Quillings gave you, Miss Throckmorton, only of a more ancient origin. But all of us in the Brotherhood use magic, Miss Throckmorton. I thought you knew that."
I shook my head. "Not like that, they don't. They only use the principles of magic to remove curses. Or in Dr. Quillings's case, they harness the ancient magic. But that's not what you did, was it?"
Major Grindle gave me a look that was equal parts admiration and annoyance. "Not much gets by you, does it, girl? However, it was merely a bit of sand, that's all. Left over from when Sekhmet almost destroyed mankind."
The major returned his gaze to the horizon. Just when I was afraid that was all he was going to say, he began to speak again. "This is one area where Wigmere and I disagree. He feels magic should only be used to remove more harmful magic. However, that has not always been the case, and certainly not for those of us in the field. For many centuries the Brotherhood used its magical knowledge in offensive maneuvers as well, wielding it as a weapon in the fight against chaos. But mistakes were made. Occasionally operatives became corrupted through its use."
"Is that when you all started getting those tattoos, right here?" I tapped the top of my breastbone.
"He told you about that, did he?" For the first time, Major Grindle looked faintly shocked.
"He was trying to explain to me why someone I suspected of being guilty could not have been corrupted by magic."
He raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't take his word for it?"
I squirmed in the saddle, suddenly aware of how very brazen that must seem. "No, sir."
"Eventually," Major Grindle continued, "it was decided that all our knowledge would only be used in defensive measures. However, those decisions were mostly made by men who spent their entire careers behind desks and not in the field. They were not actively involved in the fight against these darker forces and did not understand how badly not using the magic was crippling us. My own feeling is that we cannot truly defeat these forces without being willing to wield this magic as it was meant to be wielded. It is a tool, a weapon like any other, and can be used as such.
"Of course," he added, "with such great power comes great responsibility."
"You aren't worried about becoming corrupted?"
"I take precautions," he said, then glanced at me. His voice softened. "Wigmere is a good man and an old friend, but he is very attached to reason in a field that has none. Now look, I believe this is your house."
He had stopped at the foot of the road that led up to our bungalow, well out of sight of anyone who might be inside. He did not dismount but instead helped me slide down. I went over and held the reins of Gadji's horse while he dismounted, then handed them to the major. "Be safe, you two. We'll talk again tomorrow. I'll wait here until you reach the house."
"Thank you, sir. For everything," I said, then turned and began the long walk up to the house with Gadji at my side. When we were well away from the major, Gadji sent me a cautious glance. "Miss?"
"What?"
"It was not just by accident that you chose me that day."
"Of course it was, Gadji! I had no idea who you were. How could I?"
He shook his head. "No, no. That's not what I mean. I mean, it was not you who picked me."
I turned and stared at him, my steps slowing. "What do you mean?"
He motioned for me to keep walking. "It is a small trick, one my tutor taught me. I can, sometimes, nudge people to do what I want, using my mind."
Well, that cinched it. He was definitely connected in some way to Awi Bubu. "But why? Why would you use that power on me?"
Gadji shrugged. "Because you ... glowed," he said. "The light of the gods shone around you, like heat rising up from the desert sand."
I gaped at him. "How are you able to see this ... power?" I asked. Awi Bubu was the only person I had ever met who could do that. "Did Awi Bubu teach you?"
Gadji shrugged. "I do not know. Maybe it is because I am a pharaoh!" He grinned.
His words launched a flood of brief memories, odd things that I hadn't noticed at the time. How Gadji had referred to Nut, one of the old Egyptian gods, when very few native Egyptians remembered them anymore. His pride, sometimes verging on arrogance, even when facing English officials like Mr. Bing.
We had reached the house, so I waved to Major Grindle, who gave a brief nod of goodbye and began riding back. When Gadji and I reached the stable door, I peeked in and saw his little pile of straw and hand-me-down blanket. "Gadji?"
"Yes, effendi miss?"
"Why didn't you want to go with those men? Aren't you the least bit intrigued by their claim? Don't you want to know what being a pharaoh means? I'm sure they'll give you more than a pile of straw and a secondhand blanket."
He looked up at me, his face small and vulnerable. "Does effendi miss want me to leave?"
"No, no! It's just—this isn't much of a life here in our stable. If it were me, I'd be sick with curiosity."
Gadji's face cleared. "Effendi miss has very curious nature. Perhaps that is why you glowed?"
I rolled my eyes. "Just think about it, would you? You can stay here as long as you like, but Mother and I won't be in Luxor forever. I think those men would take very good care of you."
He merely sniffed in reply.
"I'll be back with some dinner later," I assured him, then headed for the house.
***
None of the donkeys had been in the stable, which meant Mother and the others were still out at the dig. I had only to worry about Habiba.
I opened the back door a crack and peeked in. I could hear nothing from the kitchen, nor any other part of the house, so I slipped inside and made my way to my room. I paused at the hall leading to the kitchen and listened again. It was as quiet as a grave. Relieved at this good fortune, I hurried to my room and opened the door.
&nbs
p; Everything was exactly as it had been. Even better, Isis was curled up on my bed, waiting for me. Perfect. Nothing aided my thinking processes like petting my cat, and this day had certainly given me lots to think about. I stretched out next to Isis and began petting her.
Could Gadji be descended from the great pharaohs of ancient Egypt? I tried to remember all that Awi Bubu had told me about the wedjadeen and their place in Egyptian history. He had claimed that, due to the wedjadeen's help, Nectanebo II had been the secret father of Alexander the Great. What if Nectanebo II had fathered other children? If the wedjadeen could watch over and guard the artifacts of the gods for thousands of years, why not an ancient, royal bloodline?
There was also something else. A vague, unformed memory that had niggled at me in Major Grindle's office now began to take shape.
Awi Bubu claimed he was exiled because of something precious he had lost. What if that something precious had been Egypt's last pharaoh? The thought nearly took my breath away.
Under my hand, Isis stiffened and raised her head. At first, I thought she'd somehow intuited what I was thinking, but then I realized she was merely staring at the wall in that way cats do, as if they can see through them. I cocked my head and listened just in time to hear the faint whisper of a door closing. Habiba must be back. Mother wouldn't sneak in like that.
I waited for a few minutes, wondering if she would come check on me, and tried to imagine what sort of secret business could she possibly have.
Of course, I didn't really know it was secret business—it might just seem that way. It's hard not to appear intriguing and mysterious when one is draped in black from head to toe.
When no one came to check on me, I relaxed and resumed petting Isis. I bet she knew what Habiba did all day. Too bad she couldn't talk. My hand stilled as a great big shocking idea came to me. Would Major Grindle's Babel stone work on animals?
Theodosia and the Last Pharoah Page 13
