Theodosia and the Last Pharaoh (The Theodosia Series)

by R. L. LaFevers

  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.

  Perhaps it was just as well I had taken Quillings's weapons, I thought.

  When the stately entrance and elegant patio of the Shepheard Hotel came into view, I nearly wept with relief. The hawking vendors and street entertainers began to swarm, but honestly, these people had nothing on the seething masses from which I'd just come. I ignored them and dragged myself up the front steps behind Mother. I was shaky and weak and wanted nothing more than to lie down, but of course I couldn't. I had to come up with a plan to retrieve the missing orb. Especially with the Serpents of Chaos skulking nearby. I shuddered to think what would happen if it fell into their hands. I could only hope that they didn't know how to properly activate it.

  Once back in our rooms, Mother decided we should rest until it was time to dress for dinner. That sounded lovely to me. I closed my room door, then leaned against it and took a deep breath. I gave myself exactly one minute to collect myself, then pushed away from the door. "Did anything exciting happen while I was gone?" I asked Isis.

  She meowed, then hopped gracefully off the bed and came over to rub her head on my ankle.

  "I'll take that as a no." I glanced over my shoulder to be certain I'd closed the door, then went to the wicker basket. I lifted Isis's cushion from the bottom, then stopped. Best to be cautious.

  I hopped up, grabbed a pillow from the bed, and stuffed it along the bottom of the door to seal it. Then I went to the window and pulled the drapes shut. When I was certain no hint of the tablet's magic or power would leak from the room, I reached in and removed the false bottom that Wigmere had built for me, relieved when I saw the piece of old newspaper. However, after my disaster with the orb, I wanted to be absolutely certain. I unwrapped the layers of newspaper, then the thin lead sheet that kept the tablet's magic from leaking out and being detected. I sighed in relief at the dull green stone. The Emerald Tablet, something for which occultists and alchemists had been searching for centuries. And, by a bizarre twist of fate, had ended up in our museum's basement. But it held far more than alchemical secrets. It was actually a coded map that led to a cache of artifacts that had once belonged to the Egyptian gods and still held unimaginable power. Power that would be terrible and deadly if it fell into the wrong hands—the hands of the Serpents of Chaos, say.

  I gave the tablet a little pat, then carefully rewrapped it. "Good work," I told Isis as I put the false bottom back, then replaced the cushion. "I, however, have botched things horribly." She came over and nudged my ankle. Only too happy to cuddle for a moment, I picked her up and buried my face in her soft black fur. When I felt strong enough to go on, I lifted my head and stared into her bright green eyes and confessed every horrid detail of my afternoon.

  When I got to the part about losing the orb, she stopped kneading at me with her claws and looked up. Was it just my imagination, or did her golden green gaze hold a hint of reproach? "It wasn't really my fault," I told her. "I was in danger, and everything was happening at once. It could have happened to anyone."

  She blinked, then went back to her kneading.

  "I don't suppose you can slip out into the city and hunt it down for me, can you?"

  There was no response.

  Nearly sick with regret, I went to the door, retrieved the pillow, and put it back on the bed, then went to look out the window.

  Gadji had given me the stable address, such as it was, but honestly! It would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack, I thought as I looked out over the rooftops of the city. How on earth was I to find the old quarter, and if I did, there had to be at least a hundred carpet sellers in Cairo. Which one was the stable behind? The sheer enormity of my blunder made my throat tighten with panic. Perhaps I ought to lie down just for a moment to collect myself.

  While I lay staring at the ceiling, petting Isis, there was a soft rap on my door. "Yes?" I called out.

  "Are you dressed for dinner, dear?" Mother asked. "It's almost time to go down."

  "No, Mother. I don't think I want dinner this evening."

  I heard the door open, then the rustle of skirts as Mother made her way over to the bed where I lay. She peered down at me, her lovely eyebrows drawn together in concern. "What's wrong, dear? Are you ill?"

  As I stared up into her worried brown eyes, I was overcome with a desire to tell her everything—the whole sordid mess. I was so tired of keeping secrets! They made my head ache.

  I'd spent the entire afternoon trying to think of a way to explain to her just whom she'd had tea with at the Antiquities Service, but it was, quite simply, impossible. While she knew of von Braggenschnott from his work as a slightly shady antiquities dealer, she had no idea who he really was. And if I tried to alert her, she would wonder how I had come to know him. And of course there was no explanation for that, not without explaining everything. Something I'd sworn not to do.

  "I have a bit of a headache," I said. "Perhaps from too much sun."

  Her frown deepened. "Well, that doesn't bode well for you working on the excavation."

  Bother! I wasn't about to risk the only pleasant thing about this entire trip. "Well, perhaps not the sun so much as the crowd this afternoon. It was a bit unsettling."

  Mother's face grew pale. "Indeed. You must be very careful not to let anything else like that happen again, do you understand? This is not like our own neighborhood, where you can be allowed some freedom. The streets of Cairo are very different from the streets of London."

  I thought it was beastly unfair of her to blame that on me.

  "You gave me quite a fright, Theo." Her voice softened. "I would never forgive myself if something happened to you." She placed her hand on my cheek. I closed my eyes and let myself soak in the comfort she was offering.

  "I'm sorry, Mother. I didn't mean for that to happen. The crowd was just so big and confusing, and people were pushing and shoving..."

  "Shh. I know, dear. Everything's fine now. Here, let me get you a cool cloth." She went over to the basin and wet a linen cloth, then wrung it out. When she put it on my forehead, it smelled faintly of lilacs. "When I return, I'll have them send up some light broth and toast. How would that be?"

  "Lovely. Thank you."

  She leaned down and kissed my cheek, then headed for the door.

  "Oh, and Mother?"

  "Yes, dear?"

  "Could you have them send up some sardines for Isis?"

  There was a long pause. "Very well. Broth, toast, and sardines." Then she closed the door behind her, and I was alone.

  However, I'd wallowed in self-pity long enough. It was time to come up with a plan. A course of action that would allow me to ... well, a plan would be good. I didn't like having to give up on the orb, but I didn't see that I had much choice at this point. The tablet was the bigger priority. While the orb was a hugely powerful artifact, the Emerald Tablet could lead the Serpents of Chaos to an entire cache full of artifacts, all of them as powerful as the orb, if not more so. Best to cut my losses and focus on keeping the tablet out of Chaos's hands.

  Wigmere and I had discussed the possibility that the Serpents of Chaos would learn of my whereabouts. He'd done his best to create diversions for them far away from Egypt, but it looked as though they hadn't taken the bait.

  I needed to keep them at bay long enough to hand off the tablet to the wedjadeen. Once it was no longer in my possession, Chaos would have no reason to hound me.

  Well, except for the small matter of revenge. But honestly, an organization like that should have much bigger fish to fry than getting even with one eleven-year-old girl!

&nbs
p; ***

  The next morning we were up and packed bright and early. We were scheduled to be on the nine o'clock express to Luxor, but I dragged my feet so that we managed to miss it. Mother was rather put out, but honestly! Just because Chaos knew our every move didn't mean I had to make it easy for them.

  Mother had ordered a carriage. ("No more donkeys for us for a while," she'd said.) When it arrived, the hotel's porter bundled all our trunks and bags into it, and then we set off for the train station.

  The streets were much quieter, just the normal hustle and bustle of the people of Cairo going about their business. I kept my eyes peeled for any signs that we were being followed, but as best I could tell, we weren't. Well, except for the men wanting to sell us sweetmeats or lemonade and a handful of scraggly children crying for baksheesh.

  The station, too, was much less chaotic today. For one, there was no public speaking going on nearby and no crowd of angry men with raised fists and loud voices. As we disembarked from our carriage, I eyed the nearby donkey boys, looking in vain for the boy who had helped me.

  Unfortunately, he was not among them, and I worried about what might have happened to him with no job to return to and no money.

  "Theodosia?"

  I pulled my attention away from the donkey boys. "Yes, Mother?"

  "You stay here with the luggage while I make certain our seats on the ten o'clock train are confirmed."

  I winced as she threw me one of her I have still not forgiven you for that looks. With a sigh, I set my satchel and Isis's basket down on the ground, then perched myself on the edge of Mother's steamer trunk. A quick glance assured me that no one in the station looked like a member of Chaos, so I relaxed and allowed myself to watch the other travelers.

  A light tap on my shoulder had me nearly jumping out of my skin. I whirled around to find Gadji standing right behind me, his odd little monkey perched on his shoulder.

  "Greetings, miss."

  "Hello!" I said, my hopes soaring. "Did you make it back to the stables yesterday?"

  Gadji frowned. "No, Gadji told you. Is not wanting great big beating that waits for me there."

  "Of course." My shoulders slumped as my hopes were dashed. I quickly glanced over at Mother, not sure how she'd react to finding me chatting with one of the locals. Fortunately, she was still deep in conversation with the man behind the counter. I turned back to Gadji. "Even so, I am glad to see you again. I wanted to thank you properly." His fate had haunted me ever since he'd confessed he'd be out of a job on my account. "I'd promised you a big tip," I reminded him as I fumbled in my skirt pocket.

  Gadji grinned. "Very good of miss to remember."

  "Here." I pulled out a few coins and thrust them at him. I glanced over at the ticket counter, where Mother was just finishing up her business. "You have to go before my mother returns," I told him. "Good luck!" I said brightly. "And thank you!" Then I gave him a gentle nudge to get him moving. If I wasn't careful, Mum was going to have me sequestered under lock and key during my entire stay in Egypt.

  "But miss—"

  "You know how much trouble you would have been in if you'd returned to your master without the donkey? That's how much trouble I'll be in if my mother finds me talking to strangers. Now, please go. I really do appreciate all that you've done for me."

  Gadji threw an understanding look in my mother's direction, nodded his head once, then slipped silently into the crowd of milling passengers.

  And just in time. Mother arrived with a porter in tow. "Theo, who was that you were talking to?"

  "No one, Mother."

  "I distinctly saw you speaking with a young Egyptian boy."

  "Oh, that." I waved my hand. "He was asking for baksheesh."

  Her face cleared. "Very well, but you need to be cautious of whom you mingle with. If I can't be assured of your cooperation and safety—"

  "You can, Mother! I told him no and sent him on his way immediately."

  She gave a crisp nod of her head. "Excellent. Now let's get on this train before it leaves without us, too."

  We climbed on board and made our way to our traveling car. It was quite luxurious and felt more like a drawing room than a compartment on a train. As we settled comfortably into the seat, Mother took out her notes and began reading. I pulled Isis's basket closer to me. "May I take her—"

  "No. Absolutely not," Mother said without looking up.

  I sighed loudly, then put my face down next to the basket. "Sorry, Isis. Mother says no." I wanted to be certain she knew exactly who was keeping her cramped up in there. I watched Mother. Did she plan to spend the entire trip reading and writing in her journals? That would be quite boring, indeed. I craned my neck, trying to see what she was writing. "Mother," I asked casually, "do you keep a journal for all of your excavations?"

  "Yes, dear," she said absently. "Every one."

  "Even the one on which I was born?"

  Her pen stilled. "I-I'm not sure if I had begun that habit back then." She kept her eyes on the journal and I had the most distinct sensation that she was not being wholly truthful.

  "Will we be passing the temple in which I was born on the way to Luxor? Will I be able to see it from the train?"

  Mother's answer was a clipped "No, I'm afraid not."

  As I turned to look out into the aisle, I nearly squealed when I saw a small figure standing outside our car, staring at me with his nose pressed up against the glass. It took me a moment to realize it was Gadji.

  I glanced over at Mother, but she was thoroughly engrossed in her notes. I turned back to the window and mouthed, What?

  He motioned for me to get up and meet him out in the corridor.

  I shook my head no, then jerked my thumb in Mother's direction to let him know she was the reason.

  "Theo, do stop fidgeting," she murmured.

  "Yes, Mother," I said, my eyes still on Gadji. As I watched, he reached under the folds of his gown, then pulled something out. He lifted it in front of the glass, and I had to bite back a gasp of surprise.

  My reticule!

  Before I could do anything, a conductor spied Gadji and hurried over to shoo the boy away. Mother looked up at the commotion.

  "Mother, this is the boy that I'd promised baksheesh to. I told him I'd ask you for a few coins. Do you think we could spare some?"

  "Giving in to their demands only encourages poor behavior, Theo. It's not a good idea."

  I made my eyes as big and round as possible. "Please! He reminds me a bit of Henry, and I would hate to think of Henry, all alone in a huge train station, having to beg for a living—"

  "Oh for goodness sake, Theo! There is no chance of that happening to your brother. You do let your imagination run away with you. But here, give him this so he can be on his way and we can be on ours." She opened her pocketbook, pulled a few coins from it, and dropped them into my outstretched palm.

  "Thank you, Mother!" I popped up, kissed her on the cheek, then darted out the door to the corridor where the conductor was scolding Gadji in blistering Arabic.

  "It's okay!" I said, diving into the fray. "He's with me."

  The conductor stopped talking and frowned. "With you, miss?"

  "Yes, I told him to come find me on the train. He ... he has something of mine. He's returning it."

  "Very well," the conductor said. "But be quick. The train leaves in minutes." With one last skeptical glance at Gadji, the conductor moved on down to the next compartment.

  When he was out of earshot, I turned back to Gadji and nearly hugged him. "However did you find it?" I asked.

  Gadji smiled. "Sefu. When he returns to me that afternoon, he is dragging this with him." He held the reticule out to me and I quickly took it back, relieved to feel the familiar weight. Wanting to make sure it hadn't been substituted for an orange or something, I quickly peeked inside. The orb sparkled back.

  "Thank you," I said. "You've no idea how badly I needed this."

  "Why is effendi miss carrying such a valuable
Egyptian antikah?" he asked suspiciously.

  "My mother is an archaeologist. That's her job, finding the lost treasure of the ancients."

  Gadji frowned. "But they are our ancients, no? Should not the treasure be ours, then?"

  Well. He certainly had a point. "I suppose they should," I said slowly. "But I don't make the rules. Neither does my mother. But here." I handed him the coins Mother had given me. "As a reward for returning my purse."

  Just as his grubby hand closed round the coins, the train whistled, then lurched forward.

  "Quick! You must get off!"

  Gadji looked unconcerned. "I do not think so. Maybe I stay on this train and visit Luxor."

  "But your family? Won't they be frantic with worry?"

  Gadji shrugged. "No one but angry owner of donkeys back there. Besides, Gadji's family is from Luxor. Perhaps I will return and search for them. You," he said, his face brightening, "is giving me the means to do so." He gave me a nod of thanks. "Until Luxor," he said, then bowed and began making his way back to the third-class cars. Still trying to understand what just happened, I returned to our compartment, relishing the familiar thump-bump of the reticule now that it had been returned to me.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Introductions

  IT IS A LONG TRAIN RIDE from Cairo to Luxor. Twenty hours or more, depending on the conditions. I could not help but be wildly grateful for our deluxe traveling compartment and thought often of poor Gadji, standing hip to jowl with scores of other travelers in third class. Try as I might, however, I could not come up with any reason to give Mother as to why an Egyptian boy she'd never met should travel with us. She had been unhappy enough about a cat.

  "Theo, have you got all your things?"

  "Yes, Mother," I said, wrapping the reticule string twice around my wrist for extra security. I gripped my satchel in one hand and Isis's wicker basket in the other and followed Mother off the train. Luckily, this station wasn't nearly as big—or as crowded—as the Cairo station. Nor was there a Nationalist demonstration going on just outside. Even better, Mother's dragoman, Nabir, was waiting for us, his dark face creased in smiles as he greeted Mother with a bow. "Welcome back, madams."