Theodosia and the Last Pharaoh (The Theodosia Series)

by R. L. LaFevers

  "I have no idea, sir." Isis, on the other hand, appeared to have fallen in love with the major's leopard skin rug. She sat face-to-face with it, staring into its glass eyes, purring loudly.

  Major Grindle muttered something about a zoo, then got up and went to his shelves. Sefu followed, leaping to a shelf just above the major's head.

  Ignoring the monkey, the major began searching among the things on one shelf. "Have any of the Serpents of Chaos seen the tablet up close before?"

  "No, sir."

  "Perfect." He removed an old, unremarkable stele, a brass chafing dish, a large brick of beeswax, and a chisel that looked to be from the Old Kingdom. "I think that ought to do it." He saw me staring at the chisel and leaned in close. "It belonged to Ptah, Miss Throckmorton."

  I gasped. "How do you come to have it? Shouldn't it be in the Brotherhood's vault?"

  "It was a personal gift and bears no curse or dark magic, only a small power of making."

  Of course, because Ptah was the maker god.

  "Miss Throckmorton, may I suggest you take that turban away from your monkey? If he puts it on his head, he will either go up like a cinder or become possessed of an evil sorcerous spirit. Neither one is what we need this evening."

  "Yes, sir!" I jumped forward and gingerly removed the battered yellow turban from the monkey's tiny hands. As I replaced it on the shelf, Sefu turned and grabbed a small bronze bell with an ebony handle.

  "Careful—he'll wake the dead, Miss Throckmorton."

  For some reason, I was certain he'd meant that literally. I quickly took the bell away and picked up the monkey. He wasn't thrilled to have me holding him, but he didn't attack me or try to escape, either. In truth, he clung to me a bit, like a baby might have.

  Major Grindle returned to his desk and rummaged around for a piece of paper and a pencil. "Could you sketch me a copy of what the tablet looked like?" he asked.

  "Certainly." Juggling Sefu in my left arm, I sat down at the major's desk and began drawing.

  As I sketched, Major Grindle began working at a long table against the wall. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he laid the stele down on the table. Then he pulled the brass chafing dish close, lit a candle under it, and put the beeswax in the dish.

  "How's that sketch coming, Miss Throckmorton?"

  I quickly turned back to the paper. "Almost done," I chirped, blushing furiously at being caught not minding my own business.

  "Excellent."

  I put the finishing touches on the drawing, then hopped to my feet and carried it over to him. "Here you are, sir."

  He took the drawing from me, glanced at it, then narrowed his eyes. "Thoth, eh?"

  "Yes, sir. And Horus. It looks as if Thoth is giving Horus something, although I can't make out what, exactly. The glyphs are Chaldean," I pointed out helpfully.

  He cocked an eyeball at me. "I know Chaldean when I see it, Miss Throckmorton."

  "Sorry, sir."

  However, I quickly forgot my embarrassment and became absorbed in what the major was doing. When the beeswax had fully melted, he took a pair of tongs, grabbed hold of the stone tablet, and dipped it into the wax. When he pulled it back out, a thin layer of the white wax clung to its surface. He repeated the process three times until the tablet was thickly coated.

  Once it had cooled, he laid it on the table, picked up the chisel, and very carefully began to re-create the images and glyphs from the original Emerald Tablet.

  I craned my neck to see better. He'd managed a very good likeness, but I didn't think the wax was going to fool anybody.

  "I'm not done yet," he said, a faint tinge of annoyance in his voice.

  Was he reading my mind? "I know you're not, sir."

  Next, he unstoppered a small jar and shook out a few grains of something into a shallow dish. I was dying to ask what the granules were, but I was afraid he would shoo me away if I reminded him I was there.

  "Grains of sandstone from the inside of a pharaoh's tomb," he said, as if hearing my unspoken question.

  "Thank you, sir. I was wondering."

  "I know," he said dryly. "I could practically hear you."

  Well, he didn't expect me to be incurious, did he? Not with such fascinating procedures going on right in front of my nose.

  He took a feather—an ibis feather, I thought—and dipped the nib end into the sandstone granules, then began to write on the wax. He wasn't pressing very hard—in fact, only the barest marks showed. They looked like hieroglyphs, but no matter how closely I watched, I wasn't able to recognize any of them.

  At last he was done and set the feather down. "One last step," he said, then lifted the top off a small box and took a pinch from it. "Powdered silver," he told me, "to call upon the power of the moon." He sprinkled it over the coating of the inscribed wax. He took another pinch of something—"powdered copper, for the green color"—and sprinkled that over the wax as well.

  The effect was shocking and immediate. The symbols Major Grindle had drawn on the surface began swarming and writhing, moving in rippling waves. Sensing the magical activity, Isis lifted her nose from the leopard rug and watched.

  As the glyphs moved, the wax began to discolor slightly and take on a different texture altogether. It also began to turn dull green, just like the original tablet. Within minutes, the mysterious symbols had disappeared, transforming the once-ordinary stone into a near-exact replica of the Emerald Tablet.

  "Brilliant, sir!" No wonder he hadn't thought we'd need to bother the wedjadeen for the original.

  "Thank you. However, the silver will only cleave the magic to the wax until the setting of the moon. After that, the deception will be revealed."

  "We'd best hope the moon doesn't set before midnight, then," I said.

  "It doesn't." He fished around under the table for some old scraps of leather and began wrapping the tablet in them.

  "However did you learn that particular piece of magic? I've never seen anything like it in the papyruses I've read."

  He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Read many, have you?"

  "Yes, actually."

  His lips twisted in a brief grin. "Chip off the old block," he muttered, and I swelled with unexpected pride.

  "One of our brightest and bravest Keepers spent some time with a mysterious tribe in the desert—I'm guessing the very same tribe those men you know belong to—and learned a great deal of arcane magic at their hands. He recorded a few of the rubrics in his journals. Reginald Mayhew was his name."

  "Mayhew?" I asked sharply.

  For the first time, Major Grindle took his eyes from the faux tablet and stared at me intently. "Yes, why? Have you heard of him?"

  "Yes," I admitted. According to Wigmere, it was Mayhew who had snatched the cache of artifacts out of the hands of the French and had them shipped to England, where they'd eventually been purchased by Augustus Munk and ended up in our basement. "But Wigmere hadn't said he was a Chosen Keeper." Oops. Had I said that last part out loud?

  Major Grindle turned his attention back to the tablet. "Neither did I."

  "But you did, sir! You just now said he was one of your brightest and bravest—"

  "Must have misheard me, Miss Throckmorton."

  "I must have," I said, catching on at last.

  "Now, let's see about getting Gadji back, shall we?"

  At the sound of his master's name, Sefu woke from his nap, scrambled up onto my shoulder, and looked around the room expectantly. "No, not yet," I told him. "But soon."

  Major Grindle slipped the leather-wrapped tablet into a satchel. When he handed it to me, Sefu leaped from my shoulder and scampered over to the door, waiting.

  As I was settling the load around my shoulder, the major crossed the room to his cabinet and quickly took a few things from a shelf: a large bronze arrowhead ("one of the Seven Arrows of Sekhmet," he explained), a small clay jar ("Rain of Fire"), two knives, and a sword.

  "Don't you have a pistol, sir? Surely that would be more reliable. Von Bra
ggenschnott seems very fond of his."

  "Wouldn't be sporting, Miss Throckmorton, using modern-day weapons in an ancient temple."

  Sporting? Sporting! This wasn't a game of cricket we were playing.

  He looked up from hiding the weapons on his person. "Ready, then?"

  "As much as I'll ever be," I said.

  "This way." He led me to a back door that opened off his study into a side yard. I followed him around to a small stable and waited in silence as he saddled up his horse. When he was done, he gave me a leg up. As I settled myself into the saddle, I couldn't help but ask, "I wonder why they chose the temple at Karnak rather than Luxor?"

  "Probably because the Luxor Temple has too bloody much traffic the past couple of days," he said as he vaulted gracefully into the saddle behind me. He took the reins, slapped them against the horse's neck, and steered us out of the courtyard, then set the horse on the road toward Karnak.

  ***

  The short journey through the city of Luxor to the village of Karnak passed in a blur. My mind was utterly absorbed with worries for Gadji, if we'd get there in time, and if we'd be able to set up our operation before the Serpents of Chaos arrived. I was one big puddle of nerves.

  I hoped that both Isis and Sefu were following. I kept peering over my shoulder, straining to see my cat's sleek form among the shadows or the scampering movements that would indicate the monkey was there. Finally, Major Grindle got exasperated with me. "It's hard enough on this poor horse carting around two riders. It would make it much easier on him if you would at least sit still."

  "Sorry," I muttered.

  The shadows of night had robbed the countryside of all color. Under the light of the gibbous moon, everything looked to be a shade of gray. But what gray! From deepest graphite to the pale silver of moonlight, and every shade in between. In the distance, huge boulders and blocks taller than a man littered the landscape, looking as if immense giants had once played here as children and left their toys behind. It turned out to be the ruins of Karnak itself, glinting under the light of the moon, casting long shadows.

  "Almost there," Major Grindle whispered. He steered the horse down toward the bank of the Nile until he reached a faint road. It wasn't a proper road, really. It was the remains of an ancient canal that had once run from the temple to the quay. A lone obelisk stood on the southern corner, a silent sentinel guarding over a lost era.

  The major reined up near the obelisk. "Here is where I will leave you." He slipped off the horse. Suddenly, my back was very, very cold and unguarded. I suppressed a shiver.

  "I'll get in position in the temple so that I can guard you and Gadji. Remember, do not tell them where you've hidden the tablet until they show you the boy. I fully expect them to try to take you, so do your best to keep some distance from them to give me some working room."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Keep heart, Miss Throckmorton," the major said. He stood up straight and gave a stiff salute before disappearing in the shadows to my left.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Showdown at Karnak

  AHEAD OF ME LOOMED TWO LONG ROWS of criosphinxes guarding the entrance to the temple. I glanced one last time into the darkness behind me, heartened to at last see Isis. Surely Sefu could not be far behind. Feeling somewhat braver with the animals at my back, I squared my shoulders and directed the horse toward the first pylon.

  Many of the sphinxes were missing their ram-shaped heads, but the ones who still had them seemed to watch me as I passed. Faint, shadowy symbols of power and magic drifted lazily across their surface. The glyphs were corroded with age and decay but still faintly discernible. I would have loved to have stopped to record them, to see what sort of magic held them in place or what they had been charged with, but now was not the time. Perhaps once this was all behind me, I could come back with Mother and explore the temple properly. Although probably not in the moonlight.

  The pylon loomed in front of me, a huge, massive wall of cut stone nearly a hundred feet high. I shivered. The Pylon of Nectanebo I. How fitting that I should pass through it in order to rescue the last true pharaoh.

  The walls of the pylon were thick, and it seemed to take forever to pass through the gate. I could feel no magic emanating from the structure, only the enduring strength of thousands of years. Immediately inside the courtyard, an enormous mound of dirt was piled up high along one of the pylon walls, as if the workers had abandoned the temple while they were still working on it. It was hard to imagine what sort of threat or power would have caused them to abandon their important work for the gods. Perhaps it was the gods themselves.

  Now, that was a disturbing thought. Pushing it to the back of my mind, I focused instead on the large courtyard in front of me. Porticoes of columns ran along both sides. In the back, toward the second pylon, a lone column stood. Just behind it, guarding the entrance to the second pylon, were two enormous statues, their sightless eyes staring straight ahead.

  The agents of Chaos could be hiding anywhere. I paused, wanting to see if I could sense another human presence. I didn't think I could, but I was too nervous to risk closing my eyes and really focusing.

  I considered searching among the columns to see if anyone was hiding there, then thought better of it. I had already played a game or two of cat and mouse among ancient ruins with the Serpents of Chaos. I was not eager to repeat the experience.

  I glanced at my watch. Just past eleven o'clock. I was nearly an hour early. Feeling slightly more confident with this realization, I turned to my left, where Major Grindle had said the Seti Chapel would be.

  A squat, square building of stone blocks lurked there, with three dark doorways gaping like giant mouths. That's where I was to leave the tablet—in the rightmost doorway, the altar of Khons.

  Instead, I returned to the enormous mountain of dirt piled up against the pylon wall and used my foot to push aside some of the rubble. I carefully laid the satchel down, then covered it up.

  At a small scritch of movement behind me, I whirled around. But it was only Sefu, climbing atop the Seti Chapel. "So nice of you to join us," I whispered.

  He made a rude gesture, then scampered up to squat on the carved lintel above one of the doorways.

  Ignoring him, I went over to find a place to sit and wait. Liking the idea of having a forty-foot-thick wall at my back, I chose a spot up against the pylon. Once I was settled, I searched among the shadows pooling on the temple floor, trying to spot Isis, wishing she would come over and wait with me. Alas, she had disappeared on some unknowable cat business of her own and was nowhere in sight.

  Sometimes I thought waiting was the hardest part of all this. The constant rush, rush, rush to get these wretched men what they wanted, then the interminable waiting for them to come get it. Just as I was contemplating the unfairness of it all, I heard a faint sound somewhere beyond the second pylon.

  "Isis?" I whispered, getting slowly to my feet. But truly, Isis never made any noise by accident. I saw a shadow move against the other shadows, and then it separated itself, drawing closer until I could make out the shape of a man. Another man followed him, and another. Six in all.

  Once the lead figure had passed through the second pylon into the courtyard, he spoke. "You're early."

  I recognized the voice. Von Braggenschnott. "So are you," I answered.

  He jerked his head toward Seti Chapel, and one of his men trotted over and disappeared into the right-hand doorway. He reappeared a moment later and shook his head. Von Braggenschnott turned to me. "You are playing games, fräulein?" he asked, looking around the courtyard. "Perhaps you do not think we are serious?"

  "No games. Just being cautious. You don't think I'd hand over the tablet before seeing that Gadji is safe, do you?"

  After studying me a long moment, von Braggenschnott finally said, "Reasonable enough. Bring him!" he called out over his shoulder.

  Within seconds, two men appeared, each one hanging fast to one of Gadji's arms and nearly dragging him betwe
en them. They had put a black hood over his head, probably so he wouldn't be able to lead his rescuers back to the Serpents of Chaos stronghold, wherever that was.

  "Gadji?" I asked. He was the right size and shape and wearing the same clothes, but that would be easy enough to manage.

  The hood nodded vigorously.

  "Are you all right?" I asked, hoping to hear his voice.

  There was a pause, and then the man holding Gadji's right arm reached out and thumped him on the head.

  "Stop that!" I said, but it worked. Gadji began nodding enthusiastically. When he reached up to keep his hood from slipping, I spotted the scratch that Isis had given him a few days ago.

  "Enough!" von Braggenschnott said. "You have seen him with your own eyes, fraulein. He is safe. Now hand over the tablet if you wish him to remain so."

  "Very well." I was dying to look for Major Grindle but knew that would risk exposing him. Instead, I turned my back on von Braggenschnott and his men and walked calmly to the dirt pile. Every muscle was taut with the fear, but I assured myself they wouldn't do anything until I'd fetched the tablet.

  When I reached the mound, I bent over and shoved my hand into the dirt, hard gazes boring into me as I felt around for the satchel. When I pulled it from its hiding place, I carried it back to where von Braggenschnott waited, stopping a few feet away. "You release Gadji first," I told him.

  Von Braggenschnott waved the fingers on his remaining hand, and the two men let go of Gadji, who stumbled forward.

  My eyes still on Gadji, I thrust the satchel at von Braggenschnott. "Here."

  He jerked his head again, and a man came forward and took the satchel from me. I took a step toward Gadji, but von Braggenschnott stopped me.

  "Ah, ah, ah!" he said, wagging his finger. "Not until I see what you have brought me."

  I had no choice but to wait while they unwrapped the tablet, my skin twitching with a nearly overwhelming desire to get out of there.

  As his man worked to reveal it, von Braggenschnott narrowed his eyes at me. "I do hope you haven't tried to trick us."