Theodosia and the Last Pharaoh (The Theodosia Series)

by R. L. LaFevers

  I felt rather than heard the door open a crack. Even with my eyes closed, I could sense someone watching me. I forced my mind to go blank, as it would if I were truly asleep, and concentrated on slow, deep breaths. After a harrowing, long moment, there was a faint snick as the door closed. Seconds later, I heard the sound of another door closing. I hopped out of bed and ran to the window. Habiba was hurrying down the road carrying a shopping basket.

  I breathed a deep sigh of relief. Of course. She simply wanted to check in on me before she went shopping. And what perfect timing!

  After I was dressed, I gingerly took Quillings's fountain pen and compact from my drawer and slipped them into my pocket. As much as I loathed the idea of them, I was enough of a realist to know that without backup, I needed some sort of plan B.

  I left the dresser and went to my bed, where I quickly set up the decoy under my covers. Once that was out of the way, I turned to Isis's carrying case, then paused, overcome by a desire to see the tablet one last time. After this, it would disappear forever and I would never see it again.

  I retrieved the sacred object, set it on the floor, and slowly unwrapped it, revealing the dull green stone of unpolished emerald. I stared at the figures carved in its surface: the falcon-headed Horus, the ibis-headed Thoth, the Chaldean glyphs. Even though there was no moonlight in which to see the even stranger glyphs hidden in the emerald itself, I could feel them buzzing lazily against my gloved hands—not trying to burrow their way into my skin like a curse would have, but more like a cat, bumping up against a person's leg in lazy affection.

  I realized that as thrilled as I was to get this off my hands, I was also filled with regret that I would never discover its secrets. That realization gave me pause. Surely I shouldn't pine after something as dangerous and forbidden as the tablet. Nervous that perhaps the magic was having some influence over me, I quickly rewrapped the object and placed it in the false bottom of the wicker carrying case. Everyone had gotten quite used to my carrying Isis around. Seeing me with the basket now should raise no questions.

  It did, however, mean I would need to ride a donkey to the temple, as the basket weighted down with the tablet was far too awkward and heavy to carry for long. With any luck, Gadji would be out looking for his family again and I could sneak out unnoticed.

  My luck failed, and I hoped it wasn't going to be an omen. Gadji was in the stable, lying in the straw and scowling at the ceiling. "Good afternoon," I said, startling him. He jumped to his feet, his eyes going immediately to the carrying case.

  "Where is effendi miss going?" he asked.

  "On an errand. Could you please saddle up my donkey for me?" I loathed having to ask him, especially since he wasn't invited on the errand, but I didn't know how to do it myself.

  "Effendi miss need Gadji to go with her?" His voice was full of hope and for a moment I was tempted. But it was too dangerous. I had no wish to drag anyone else into this tangle I'd found myself in.

  "Not today," I said cheerfully. It was a trick I'd learned from Mother, delivering unwelcome news in the most jaunty tone possible.

  He looked injured and hung his head dejectedly as he saddled the donkey.

  "Have you had any more luck with your family?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "No lucks. Old market is having new peoples in it. None of those peoples know mine."

  No wonder he was so discouraged. "I'm sorry," I said. "But I want you to know you can stay here as long as you like."

  He nodded. "It is right that you offer me this since I save your life. Miss is needing me to keep her safe," he said slyly.

  "Just not today."

  Once the donkey was saddled, I secured the basket on its back and made sure the straps were extra tight. Gadji silently offered to help me up onto the saddle, making me feel even worse for excluding him. "Look," I said, leaning down, "I do need you to do one thing for me."

  His whole face brightened.

  "If I am not back by dinnertime, I need you to go to the antikah man's house. Do you remember it?"

  "Of course."

  "Good. Go to that house and ask for Major Grindle and tell him that I haven't come back. He'll know what to do."

  "Will he be knowing where effendi miss goes?"

  He was a sharp one. "No, he won't. And if I tell you where I'm going, you need to promise not to follow. Can you do that?"

  He nodded solemnly. "I promise to not follow you."

  I checked to be sure his fingers weren't crossed. (Did Egyptians even know about that trick, I wondered?) "Very well. Tell him I went to the Luxor Temple."

  Gadji nodded. "Yes, miss."

  I slapped the reins. The donkey lurched forward and stumbled. Not the most auspicious beginning to my adventure, I thought.

  ***

  It didn't take long before the temple came into view. Even from here, I could feel the great magic and power pulsing off the monument, like a giant heart beating. Only instead of pumping blood, it was pumping heka. But good heka, thank heavens.

  Just before the temple, I slipped off the donkey, tied it up to a scrubby little palm tree, and hauled the basket from behind the saddle.

  It seemed to have grown heavier during the ride.

  As I walked down the row of sphinxes, the air stirred faintly, pale shadows and flickers of hieroglyphs swarming on the statues' surfaces. I blinked to clear my eyes, and when I looked again, the symbols were gone. I wondered if I'd just seen my first mirage. Somehow, I didn't think so.

  The sphinxes were intended as guardians, I reminded myself. So as long as I didn't mean the temple or the gods any harm, I would be fine.

  I circled around the walls of the temple and approached from the northeast side, until I reached the colonnade between the Great Court of Ramses II and the Great Court of Amenhotep II. Once inside the cover of the columns and hidden from all-seeing eyes, I felt a bit easier.

  Eager to get things over with, I made my way to the innermost part of the temple. Even in the broad daylight, the place was thick with powerful magic.

  The Court of Amenhotep echoed eerily as I crossed its broad expanse. I had only to set the offering on the altar, wait until the wedjadeen found it, then leave as quickly as possible. Then it would all be over.

  But if that was the case, why did I feel so melancholy?

  I must have caught it from Jadwiga.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Most Precious of Artifacts

  I HAD GOTTEN TO THE TEMPLE before the appointed time in order to avoid a surprise ambush. Consequently, I spent a long hour waiting among the colonnades in Hypostyle Hall. I tried to distract myself by watching the faint eddies of air shimmering around the columns, trying to see if any of the glyphs or symbols would be visible enough to recognize, but they weren't.

  When I looked at my watch for the twenty-seventh time, it was five minutes to three o'clock. Close enough. A shot of adrenaline spurted through me, coupled with relief that I could finally get moving. I surged to my feet, gripped the basket, and began weaving through the columns toward the offering room.

  I walked as quietly as I could, not only to avoid waking any sleeping gods or other creatures of power, but to see if I could detect anyone following me. I had seen no sign of the wedjadeen at all yet, but surely they had to be nearby?

  The inner rooms of the chapel were much smaller than the great courtyards and hallways. The floor rose up and the ceiling sloped downward, making me feel as if I was walking through a long shaft. I did not like meeting in here. It was too close, with no way out. In essence, I would be trapped, with the wedjadeen between me and escape.

  But I was giving them the tablet, so there shouldn't be any need to escape, I reminded myself.

  I entered the offering chamber and, for a moment, allowed the thrill of being inside an ancient temple's holy of holies wash over me. To think of all the rituals that had once taken place here! Gods placated, prayers answered, souls weighed. The walls were covered with fascinating reliefs and images tha
t I longed to examine, but now was not the time. Instead, I set the basket down on the floor, carefully removed the wrapped tablet, and carried it to the altar. Balancing the heavy tablet in one hand, I unwrapped the layers of linen so the wedjadeen would recognize the green stone as soon as they arrived.

  As I laid the precious artifact on the altar, a boot scraped on the stone floor behind me. I whipped my head around. Half a dozen wedjadeen stood in the doorway. I recognized Khalfani and two others from our previous meeting, but the rest were new to me, except for the little priest. I was surprisingly happy to see him again.

  They all stared at the Emerald Tablet on the altar.

  "She has returned the tablet," Baruti, the priest, said. "She spoke the truth."

  Khalfani turned his gaze to me. "But not the entire truth, I think."

  "What do you mean?" I asked, thoroughly confused.

  He took another step into the room. "You have in your possession another treasure we hold dear, dearer even than this tablet."

  "I already gave you the Orb of Ra."

  "Do not play games with us!"

  "Honestly, I'm not! I don't know what you are talking about."

  A look of uncertainty appeared on his face, then quickly passed. He took two giant strides into the room, eating up the space between us. He loomed over me. "Do not toy with me."

  "I'm not. This is the only thing I have left to give you. I promise. The orb and the tablet. That was all."

  "You lie! We have seen this treasure with our own eyes."

  "You've been following me?" I asked.

  He looked just the tiniest bit sheepish, and then the look vanished. "We were right to do so, it seems, for that is how we learned of this other treasure you possess."

  "What treasure?" I asked, so frustrated I wanted to scream.

  One of the men behind Khalfani pulled a long, thin knife from the sheath at his waist. "You would hide from us that which we seek. We have killed for less than that."

  So much for Awi Bubu's assurances that they would treat a young girl gently. "Look," I said, unable to tear my eyes away from the point of the knife. "I have brought the Emerald Tablet in good faith. I don't know what else you are talking about."

  Just then there was a rustle of sound. A small, quick figure jumped into the room and threw himself in front of me.

  I blinked at Gadji in surprise. "I told you not to follow me!"

  He grinned. "And I am telling you, you be needing my help."

  As Gadji spoke, the wedjadeen did the most extraordinary thing. One by one, they bowed low before him.

  "Young miss did bring us our treasure," Khalfani said when he rose to his feet. "She has not broken the trust between us."

  "Him?" I asked. "He is your treasure? An orphaned donkey boy fresh off the streets of Cairo?"

  "Me?" Gadji asked, the look on his face an odd mixture of suspicion and pleasure.

  Khalfani shook his head. "He is no donkey boy. This child is descended from the most highly treasured bloodline in our history. This donkey boy, as you call him, is the last pharaoh of Egypt."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The Last Pharaoh

  I LOOKED FROM GADJI in his tattered rags to the wedjadeen's serious faces. They had to be joking. Didn't they? "Gadji," I said slowly. "Do you know these men?"

  "No, miss. I never see them before."

  "You see?" I told the wedjadeen. "There must be some mistake."

  "Come," the man with the knife said. "It is not good to linger. We will take the girl with us and talk where it is safe."

  As Khalfani nodded and motioned for someone to pick up the tablet, one of the wedjadeen bowed in front of Gadji and politely indicated that he should go first. Another wedjadeen grabbed my arm, rather roughly, I might add.

  "Do not be harming her!" Gadji called over his shoulder, and the man relaxed his grip somewhat.

  "Where is this safe place you would take us?" I asked.

  "A day's ride from here," said the man holding my arm.

  "I'm terribly sorry, but I can't be gone that long. I'll be missed."

  A second wedjadeen took up position on my other side. "We cannot leave you here. You know too much."

  "But that was our agreement," I protested. "I would give you the tablet and you would let me be. If Gadji wants to stay, that's up to him. We said nothing about your taking me with you."

  The man put his head down close to mine so that we were practically nose to nose. "We said nothing about letting you go free, either."

  I swallowed. No, they hadn't, come to think of it. I had just assumed that part.

  The priest, Baruti, stepped closer. "She did keep her promise," he pointed out. "Are we not required to honor the agreement that Awi Bubu made with her?"

  "I made no such agreement," the man with the knife said.

  "Nevertheless," Baruti continued, "it is the word of a wedjadeen and we must honor it."

  One of the other men said something in his own language, and then someone else spoke up. I slipped my free hand into my pocket and grasped the small sliver of Babel stone.

  "...we cannot leave her here. She knows too much about us."

  "If we take her, there will be a huge hue and cry. The Inglaize will make all our people suffer until they find her."

  Another man shrugged. "So we leave her but cut out her tongue."

  "That won't work," I blurted out. "I'm perfectly able to write things down, you know."

  Then Khalfani, who had been arguing on my behalf, threw me an aggrieved look. "You are not helping your own cause."

  Honestly! They could hardly expect me to stand by quietly while they discussed mutilating me.

  Khalfani frowned and tilted his head in question. "You speak Arabic?"

  "Er, a little," I said, fingering the stone inside my pocket.

  "Come," one of the others hissed. "We have tarried too long. We must leave."

  We had reached Hypostyle Hall and I tried to see if there was anywhere to run to if I managed to break free. Perhaps I could hide among the columns.

  Gadji was ahead of me, with only one wedjadeen in front of him, but he wasn't in any danger. They wanted to treat him like a king! But I had two testy men on either side of me, gripping my arms. The situation appeared hopeless. I couldn't even get to Quillings's fountain pen. So much for plan B.

  A shout went up in front and a tall, red-jacketed figure stepped from behind one of the columns. Just as I recognized Major Grindle, he snagged Gadji from the guard, put him in a chokehold, and calmly slipped a knife up against his throat. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but I'm afraid I must insist you let the girl go. Once you do, the boy here can go with you, but only if he wishes."

  There was the ring of steel as every one of the wedjadeen drew a sword or knife. The men's grips on my arms tightened painfully.

  "You will die for daring to lay hands on him."

  Major Grindle tilted his head. "Funny, I feel precisely the same way about Miss Throckmorton. She is very special to my people, just as this boy here is very special to you. Which is why an even exchange works out so nicely, don't you think?"

  The leader shouted something in Arabic and one of the men holding me answered back. A short argument ensued. Finally, with great reluctance, the men let go of me and the others parted so I could work my way up to Major Grindle and Gadji.

  "You have the upper hand. For now," Khalfani said. "But we will not forget this insult."

  "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now, Gadji, do you wish to go with these men or return with us? It is your choice, but make it quickly, please."

  Gadji did not hesitate. "I am returning with effendi miss."

  His answer shocked me. "But why, Gadji? These men say you are a king."

  Gadji shrugged. "Effendi miss be needing me, and I honor my debts."

  "Very well. You will come with us, then," Major Grindle said.

  The leader was furious. "We will follow you to the ends of the earth and hunt you down
like the jackal you are."

  "As I said, we'll deal with that at the proper time." Major Grindle drew Gadji and me close to his side, his eyes never leaving the wedjadeen. "Miss Throckmorton, would you be so kind as to adjust your watch?"

  I stared at him blankly for a moment.

  "It is three against eight. The odds are not in our favor without a little help," he said, glancing at my wrist.

  Of course! Quillings's watch! I quickly reached down and twisted the dial so that it would create the curse-repelling field.

  The major pulled a small jar from his jacket, shook it vigorously, then dashed it on the ground. It shattered, sending a maelstrom of stinging, burning sand and raging wind to engulf the wedjadeen.

  "Come, Miss Throckmorton. Move." Major Grindle shoved Gadji and me in front of him and put himself between us and the wedjadeen, who had all begun to shout and flail as the small sandstorm cut us a wide berth and consumed them.

  We didn't stop running till we reached the outermost temple courtyard, where two horses waited. "Donkeys are not all that different from horses. I assume you can handle one?" Major Grindle asked Gadji.

  Gadji nodded, and then the major lifted him and placed him in the saddle. Before I knew what was happening, I felt the major grasp my waist and toss me onto the other horse, then leap up and settle himself behind me. "All right then, let's go. At a gallop, I think."

  At some command from him, the horses surged forward and we were away, riding like the wind itself.

  We didn't stop until we reached the major's house. As we clattered into the courtyard, he called out to his factotum, who appeared in the doorway. "See to the horses," he said, swinging himself out of the saddle before lifting me down and gently setting me on my feet. "We'll be riding out again within the hour.

  "I think a conversation is in order," Major Grindle said to us. "Let's retreat to the study, shall we?"