After some searching, Noah found his mother’s reticule in the sleeve of his father’s coat and tails. It must have still been on his wrist and slipped off as he pulled his arm through the coat after the ill-fated night at the opera. The little bag—small, elegant, green, and lavender, with beads and gold thread—was not empty.
Moving aside, Faye straightened the blanket and made room for Noah to empty the reticule onto the bed. The five of them leaned in to have a look.
There were several things in the little bag. Miniature pots of rouge for lips and cheeks, an embroidered handkerchief, and “papier poudre,” a new item from France.
“What is that for?” asked Faye, sniffing the small packet.
“Well, it’s a powdered paper, used to conveniently powder one’s nose,” said Noah.
Faye raised her eyebrows. Noah sounded like a salesman.
“The company sent boxes and boxes to Mother,” he explained. “They wanted her image on the cover.” Noah took it back from Faye and placed it with his mother’s other things. He hastily peered into a long thin pouch made of leather, and tossed it aside. He took the pouch contents to merely be other beauty products.
“Wait.” Faye took the pouch. “There’s something else inside.” She pulled out a folded paper. “It’s an invitation.” Faye had to look for a few seconds before being able to read the name. “It’s handwritten from Abbas Pasha. He’s an Egyptian royal. This is an invitation to his estate near Alexandria.”
“Her ship sailed into Alexandria,” said Noah.
“And this is the day it arrived. Wait …” Faye fished around in the pouch and found a tied ribbon. It led to a secret compartment. “Aha,” she said as she dumped the contents of the pouch on the bed.
Out of the little pouch fell more pieces of paper, receipts, hand-written notes, a tiny diary, as well as a tin of lip salve, rouge d’Espagne, balsam of Peru, a small jar of Crème Celeste, some muslin cloths, and a small ornate key.
Noah picked up the tiny diary. “She always kept a small diary with her.” Flipping through the pages, he saw there was very little—a word on a page, a time, a set of initials. “It says 6:30 two Thursdays ago, and N.N. the day before.” Flipping forward, Noah saw his mother had written Sir E. That would have been today.
“Well, these are for her toilette,” said Faye, opening and smelling the lovely fragrance of the balsam of Peru. “We can set the rouge, creams, and lip salve aside. What are these papers?” She began to look through the receipts.
Noah picked up the hand-written notes. “These three are in my mother’s hand. The others, I don’t recognize.”
Piecing things together, the children quickly learned that Ariana had taken the train and arrived at the hotel. She was then requested to attend rehearsal and the final costume fittings. And there was a note that read: “Sr to make it glow.” This meant absolutely nothing to them. It was among other notes about costumes. Was it a reference to a tailor?
“It must be a note about her costume—too loose in the midriff, too tight in the wrist—but what is ‘Sr to make it glow’? Sir? It doesn’t say which ‘sir,’ though it’s probably the tailor and it might be ‘señor’ if the tailor was Spanish. Interesting. My father must have suggested a glowing gem. And then she notes ‘Sr works well on the costume’ so she must have liked the tailor. It looks like he fixed the problems.” Noah placed the note on one of the piles where they had separated the notes from the receipts.
“Sr? Could it be strontium?” Wallace suggested.
“It’s my mother,” Noah reminded them. “I doubt she would know what that is.” Noah picked up a velvet ribbon that lay on the bed.
“But it does glow,” said Lucy, with a tilt of her head.
Faye asked, “You honestly think she meant—”
“Strontium?” asked Wallace, also doubtful.
Miss Brett returned, followed by a brother in what could only be described as a black nurse’s uniform, complete with a hat, an apron, and an arm band. Dr. Canto-Sagas was delirious, mumbling and shivering. The children watched as the brother nurse checked the scientist’s eyes and his pulse, then felt his head. Despite his beard, the children could see the brother nurse’s grave expression. But, then again, the brothers always looked grave. He nodded towards the door where two acolytes had arrived, unnoticed, carrying a gurney between them. Without saying a word, the brothers gently moved the unconscious Dr. Canto-Sagas onto the gurney and carried him out of the room. Noah stood there, still holding the velvet ribbon.
“Where are they taking him?” asked Faye.
“They are bringing him to the infirmary,” said Miss Brett, looking around to see if there was anything to bring. She picked up a clean nightshirt. “I’ll go with him. You children keep looking. I’m sure your father will be fine, Noah.”
Noah wasn’t sure Miss Brett believed her own words. He had no choice but to do so himself. She hurried from the room.
“We’ll keep looking, Noah,” Jasper said, “As you said, it’s what we can do.”
“Yes,” agreed Noah, looking down at the ribbon still in his hand. “There must be a key to all of this somewhere here.”
“What about the key?” asked Lucy. “I’ve found one.” It was a lovely key. She ran around the room trying various keyholes.
Faye moved things aside, searching through the items on the bed.
“It is a very nice key.” Lucy was, by then, sitting on the floor.
Noah took the key from Lucy’s outstretched arm.
“I’ve already tried it in all the keyholes here, Noah,” Lucy quickly noted. “It must be for something we can’t see.”
“This key is to Mother’s jewel box,” Noah said, “and she keeps it in the lid compartment of her theatrical trunk. It’s not here.”
“It must have gone to the Mena House in Giza,” said Lucy, picking up the velvet ribbon.
“Why?” asked Faye.
“Because they were planning to attend a soirée that the Locke Kings were having for your mother. She wanted to have her gown and jewels and…and her other things sent along, as your father said.” Lucy looked around at the others.
Noah looked down at the key in his hands. The soirée. The celebration. The jewelry box. Noah gently took the key and put it in his pocket.
Faye was busy putting information on their list when Miss Brett returned. They all recognized the smile she placed strategically on her face to hide deep concerns. She fooled nobody.
“He’s resting comfortably,” she told them. “He’s been bathed in mint-infused water to bring down the fever. The brother nurses have special elixirs they are giving him to help. For now, he is resting.”
“Then we shall continue looking for clues,” Noah said, smiling back at Miss Brett, again fooling no one.
“I shall go back and help with the preparations,” said Miss Brett.
“Do they know why he has a fever?” asked Lucy.
“I’m sure he is simply fighting a simple illness that shall pass,” said Miss Brett.
“Of course,” said Jasper, hoping they would let Miss Brett go about her business and let Noah remain distracted by looking for clues.
“So, let’s see what we have,” Faye said as she began to add to their list.
Noah shut out thoughts of his fragile father and focused on plans for saving his missing mother. As for options, he had two. He could run out the door of the castle and start looking. With Ralph by his side, he could simply charge out into the giant metropolis of Cairo and look. While it might feel good to just start running, Noah knew this would amount to fumbling around in the dark, and possibly make things worse. It was the direction his instinct was threatening to send him, but his mind knew better. What he begrudgingly had to admit was he needed help and he needed patience. They could start mapping out where his mother had been and, then, where she could be.
“Alright,” said Noah, rubbing his hands together. “What do we know from here?”
Jasper picked up a couple
of crumpled pieces of paper they had found in Ariana’s reticule. Unfolding one, he read the note in his hand. “This note from Nicolay Nicolay promises some special dish made just for her, mashi, to be served at the opera house. He must be the N.N. in her diary.”
“He’s a famous basso,” said Noah. “He was to be in the opera.”
“‘Shepheard’s’ is written on the outside of this note,” said Jasper, placing it with the others and unfolding another addressed to the Shepheard’s. “This is from the assistant to the conductor. It’s from the following evening and simply says, Yes, 6:30pm would be fine. That matches her note in her diary.”
3. FIRST EVENING
WITH WHOM DID SHE DINE? NICOLAY NICOLAY
DID SHE STAY IN HER SUITE AT SHEPHEARD’S?
NOTE FROM NN RECEIVED, SO YES
4. THE FOLLOWING DAYS
REHEARSAL AT THE OPERA HOUSE. AT LEAST FOR FITTINGS AND FOR SOME REHEARSAL. “SR” THE TAILOR ADDRESSES COSTUME PROBLEMS. ARIANA HAPPY WITH SR’S WORK ON COSTUME.
WHERE DID SHE GO AFTER? (?????)
WITH WHOM DID SHE VISIT? (?????)
WHO CAME TO THE HOTEL TO SEE HER? (?????)
5. THE SECOND WEEK
DID SHE STAY IN CAIRO? STILL AT SHEPHEARD’S?
WHO ASKED FOR HER AT THE HOTEL? OPERA STAR NICOLAY NICOLAY, THE CONDUCTOR’S ASSISTANT, AND MAYBE SOMEONE ELSE
“So we know a few things,” said Faye. “We—”
“Wait.” Jasper was unfolding a very tightly folded piece of linen parchment. “This was folded inside the lining of her satchel.”
The parchment, once unfolded, proved to be two pieces of fine quality paper scented with lavender. There were two poems—one in English, written in Ariana’s hand, and the other in another language. The poem in English, however, was very hard to read. It had other notes scribbled around it; there were sometimes two words: “faith/trust?’” or “small/less/fewer” or “fear/worry” and others, as if someone was deciding which word would be best.
“It says ‘They stand together…their will and…’ I think it says ‘faith’ so ‘faith…the only wall/the double devil lurking ever near/the world around them/never knowing that it leans/upon their black sleeves’”
“That’s the poem from the box!” shouted Lucy.
“It is,” said Noah, some rising hope mixed in with despair. “Why would she find it important? She always loved poetry. Perhaps it was just—”
“Maybe she was trying to figure something out,” said Faye. “It is as if she was trying to solve the poem, not simply translate it. Look there …”
In several places, a word in the other language was circled, and next to several words, she had written “clue” and the note “ask Sir E about the book. From the great library?” “Sir E—poem” was written next to the word “clue.”
“That’s my mother’s handwriting,” said Noah, “and her linen parchment. She was translating the poem, apparently. I didn’t know she knew languages other than French, German, Italian, obviously English, and …” But Noah realized he simply did not know. Now, as he gazed at the parchment, he realized there was so much more about his mother he did not know.
CHAPTER EIGHT
NOAH GETS THE PICTURE
OR
CLUES THAT SHOW & TELL
Noah looked at his father. The fever had not broken since he had been brought to the infirmary. Noah had to tell himself that his father was resting and would be fine. His father had to be fine. Noah touched his father’s cheek. It felt like it was on fire. “I’ll find her, Father.”
The brother nurse took the cloth and soaked it in a bowl of cool water.
“I’ll be back to check on him,” Noah said, and left his father in the brothers’ care. He went back to his friends.
When he returned to his rooms, Faye and Wallace were still poring through the rest of the contents of Ariana’s satchel. There were a few more notes and receipts, but nothing provided the answers they needed. Some things only served to raise more questions.
“I feel like we have just learned more that we don’t know,” said Wallace. “Now we have more questions.”
“Wallace is right. Now we need to find out who Sir E is,” moaned Faye. Seeing Noah, she showed him what they’d been looking through. “In her diary, she mentions something planned for today, and there’s this …” Next to “Sir E—poet’s heart?” was that strange symbol—the same one they had seen on the boxes and in Solemano.
“It’s that symbol again,” said Faye. “We’ve got those two things in your mother’s possession. It’s odd. Any idea who ‘Sir E’ is?”
“I haven’t a clue from just the initial,” said Noah, shaking his head.
“Poor Sir E,” said Lucy, shaking her head.
The others turned to Lucy. “What?” Noah asked.
“He lost his library,” said Lucy, shaking her head again. “He must have been so sad about it.”
“Lucy, what do you mean?” Jasper put his hand on his sister’s shoulder.
“Sir E, silly,” she said in her Lucy way of explaining something impossible to understand, as if everyone else was silly not to.
“But that isn’t a name, Lucy,” said Noah. “Even I don’t know who my mother—”
“It’s Sir Edward,” said Lucy with confidence.
“Sir Edward?” Noah hoped there would be more to the story.
Lucy sighed with impatience. “Sir E is Sir Edward Romer, the librarian, isn’t it?”
Jasper said gently, “Is this a story you were reading? Or something you invented for your—”
“No, Jasper.” Lucy was now annoyed. “Don’t you remember the book in Mr. Bell’s office? The Lost Library of Alexandria by Sir Edward Romer, GCMG, Royal Librarian. That must be her Sir E and the library.”
“Wait.” Noah felt as if he had missed something important. “Why does ‘Sir E’ have to be Sir Edward Romer?”
“Because who else would she ask about this stuff? Sir Edward is the Cairo poet librarian fellow, and she was looking for books and poetry.” Lucy looked from one face to another.
Jasper smiled at his amazing little sister. “Goodness, I do believe she might be right.”
“I don’t know what this has to do with the poet or Suleiman, the Magnificent,” admitted Lucy, arms akimbo, “but I do know that Sir Edward must read ancient languages if he wrote that book. Maybe we could write to him and ask him questions.”
“It would take weeks to get any response all the way from England,” said Wallace.
“And we don’t know where he is in England,” added Jasper.
“Or if he is in England,” added Noah.
“Or if he’s even still alive,” added Faye.
“Oh, he must be,” Lucy said, her wrist going to her lips and the bracelet to her mouth. “He’s a librarian.”
“Um…interesting thought, Lucy. Still, we don’t know where he is,” Jasper said, and to himself muttered, “Or if he truly is the right Sir E.”
Faye groaned. She had heard Jasper. “Well, for now, let’s assume there’s a connection between this librarian and Noah’s mother. We know Mr. Bell has Sir Edward’s book. That might be a real clue.”
“Do we go back to Mr. Bell and borrow the book?” Wallace asked.
But Lucy was already racing down the hallway. The others hurried after her.
“I’m awfully sorry, Mr. Bell,” said Jasper, holding Mr. Bell by the arm. Lucy had nearly run over the rather diminutive gentleman hurrying to his office.
Mr. Bell simply beamed at the little girl. Lucy clung to his robes and he returned the embrace. “Not to worry, Master Modest. It is good to be kept on one’s toes.”
They were in the hallway outside Mr. Bell’s office.
Jasper smiled, too. “Sir, we were wondering—”
“Can we borrow a book?” asked Faye, arriving behind Jasper. “Reading might give us some answers. You’ve got wonderful books on history we thought might help.”
“Yes, you are
wise to think so, Miss Vigyanveta,” said Mr. Bell. “The present and the future both begin in the past.”
Lucy nodded enthusiastically. “It’s because of the poor librarian who lost his library and we want to be sure he’s alive since the letter would take too long all the way from England and we think it might help find her if we have the book and you had it first and we’d like to have it for a little while.” Lucy took a breath. “And we do hope he’s found the library since then since it must be a sad thing for a librarian to lose. Poor fellow, Sir E.”
Mr. Bell’s smile grew all the wider. “I see,” he said. “You may very well be right, Miss Modest, though it was lost a long, long time before him, and he meant to try to find things that might have survived since so many amazing things were trapped inside.”
“Oh, I am sad and glad, then,” said Lucy. “And is it because he’s so far away now or is he lost, too?”
“Oh, I think you will find he’s not lost, Miss Modest,” said Mr. Bell. He and Lucy laughed together.
“Sir E is the same, isn’t he?” asked Lucy. “Noah’s mummy had a diary and used letters.”
“Ah, so it might seem, indeed,” said Mr. Bell. “It makes sense she would.”
“What are you two going on about?” asked Faye, surprised that Mr. Bell could understand Lucy or, for that matter, that Lucy could understand Mr. Bell.
Mr. Bell patted Lucy on the head. “I think Miss Modest can explain—”
“No!” Faye and Noah shouted, and then both blushed and realized they were rude to shout.
Faye continued, “I mean, sir, is it possible that Ariana Canto-Sagas might have known the author of—”
“Miss Vigyanveta, I believe I’ve answered that but, yes, it is possible that the Sir E in Ariana’s diary is the very same Sir Edward, the royal librarian.”
“You understood Lucy, sir?” asked Noah.
“Well, of course, I did, Master Canto-Sagas,” Mr. Bell said, looking down at the beaming Lucy.
“So you don’t mind us borrowing the book?” asked Faye.
The Strange Round Bird: Or the Poet, the King, and the Mysterious Men in Black Page 9
