Theodosia and the Eyes of Horus

by R. L. LaFevers

  "Me, Theo. In the flesh. Lovely of your grandmother to organize such a fancy memorial service for me. I couldn't have planned a better one myself. A ripping good time, hearing what everyone had to say about me."

  I thought of all the naval men just around the corner who'd have raised no end of questions at the admiral's reappearance. I could hardly credit the man's daring. "Is that why you're here? Curiosity?"

  "No, not curiosity. That was just an added benefit. I'm afraid I'm here to pay you a little visit."

  Oh dear. It was never good news when a Serpent of Chaos wished to pay one a visit. It was then that it occurred to me that he might have the others with him. I glanced behind me.

  "I'm quite alone," he said. "Well, me and Mr. Webley here." He patted his pocket.

  "Who?" I hadn't met a Serpent of Chaos named Webley.

  "Webley," he repeated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a pistol. Slowly he raised it so it was pointing at my chest.

  My insides felt like runny custard. "What do you want?" I asked, trying to sound as if having a gun pointed at me were no big thing.

  "You mean, other than revenge?"

  I tried to swallow but found my mouth was too dry.

  "Luckily for you, there is something we want more than revenge, Theo. Something we want very badly. Something you can give to us and thus assure you'll live to be twelve."

  "What's that?" I croaked.

  He leaned forward. "The Emerald Tablet."

  I blinked in surprise. Honestly! Had someone taken out an advertisement in the Times? How did everyone know we had the wretched thing? I opened my mouth to protest that I didn't have it, but he waved the gun at me. "I'm fairly sure one of your lovely governesses must have warned against lying." He laughed, an ugly sound. How had I ever thought he was jolly?

  "W-why do you want it? It just talks about alchemy. Surely the Serpents of Chaos don't believe they can turn lead into gold," I scoffed.

  "Or maybe you're not as smart as you think you are. Maybe it has powers and properties that the great, meddlesome Theodosia doesn't know about."

  "What does it do then?"

  "Oh, I'm afraid that is on a need-to-know basis, my dear. And quite frankly, you have no need to know." He took a step closer. "What you do need to know is that we will do anything—anything—to get our hands on it. Do you understand?"

  I nodded.

  "Very well. Bring the tablet to Cleopatra's Needle on Friday afternoon. Let's say around five o'clock, shall we? During your parents' exhibit opening? I think that should provide a nice diversion and allow you to slip away unnoticed, don't you?" He brought the pistol up higher, so that it was pointed directly at my face. "Be there. If you fail to deliver it, my dear, not only will your life be in danger, but that of your grandmother as well. How do you think she will take to the fact that she invited half the admiralty to the funeral of a traitor?" He laughed again, and my skin fairly curdled off my bones.

  "Theo? Theo, where've you gotten to?" Mother's voice came from just around the corner. She must have come looking for me. And as much as I wanted her to find me, I did not want her to find Admiral Sopcoate's pistol.

  Sopcoate took a step back and waved the gun in Mother's direction. "Say nothing to anyone. Be there, or you and your grandmother will be food for the fishes at the bottom of the Thames."

  And with that he turned and ran down the street. Fighting back a sob of relief, I hurried toward the sound of Mum's voice.

  "There you are, dear. Come along. It's time to go to the funeral repast at your Grandmother's—are you feeling all right? You look rather pale." She put out a hand and felt my forehead, which I knew to be clammy and damp with fear.

  I took the opportunity to lean up against her for a moment, to absorb some of her strength and chase away the horrid chill that had come over me. "I'm not sure I like funerals," I said, Sopcoate's warning still ringing in my ears.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The Wedjadeen

  THE ONLY GOOD THING to come of my run-in with Sopcoate was that my parents decided I wasn't feeling well. That made a perfect excuse for all of us to avoid going to the funeral luncheon at Grandmother's house. I supported this wholeheartedly by leaning my head back against the cab cushion and making as pitiful a face as I could.

  It wasn't hard. My nerves were still twanging like plucked strings. When I glanced down at my hands, I saw they trembled slightly. I clutched them together and folded them in my lap.

  "Are you sure you're not feverish?" Mum asked, putting her hand to my forehead again. "You still look a bit flushed."

  "I think I am just overset from the funeral. That's all."

  Henry stared at me with big, worried eyes. I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but I'm afraid it wobbled a bit. I closed my eyes and tried to calm my nerves.

  "How a girl who spends as much time as you do in a museum full of dead things can get overset at a funeral is one of life's mysteries I'll never understand," Father said as he rapped on the carriage roof, signaling the driver to be off.

  I opened one eye and looked at him.

  "Not that I'm not grateful." He winked.

  I shut my eye quickly. Did that mean he thought I was faking? Wouldn't that just cork it? The one time I was most certainly not faking, Father thought I was. Sometimes I worried that he saw far more of what went on than he admitted. That was a disturbing idea.

  "I for one will be glad to get back to the museum," Father said heartily. Clearly, he didn't like funerals any more than I did. Probably for different reasons, however.

  "I suppose I should take Theo home," Mother said reluctantly.

  I rolled my head to look at Mother. "I am feeling a bit better, now that we're away from that church and all that incense. I would be happy to lie down quietly in the family withdrawing room if you and Father would like to get back to work."

  Mother gave me a brilliant smile. "How understanding of you, darling. Thank you."

  Henry let his head drop back against the seat in resignation.

  That settled, Father called out new directions to the cabby and we headed toward the museum.

  ***

  When we arrived, the curators seemed a bit surprised to see us back so soon. Stilton startled so badly when he saw us that he bumped into the row of shabtis he was just setting up and sent them tumbling into one another until they were all lying flat.

  "Be careful, you dolt!" Weems growled, then pasted a smile on his face and came to greet us.

  Mother began removing her gloves, pulling off one finger at a time. When Weems was close enough, she said, "I really don't think it's necessary to call our employees names, do you, Mr. Weems? Name-calling seems to me the province of bullies who have no other skills with which to motivate their employees. But that's not the case with you, is it?" She looked up suddenly and met his gaze head-on. "I would hate to think we'd made a mistake about you."

  The foyer was filled with dead silence as we all watched Weems's face turn bright red. Nearly everyone looked ready to cheer. Finally, Father cleared his throat. "I believe the weapons up in the workroom are ready to be crated and moved down here, if you would see to that, Weems. Fagenbush, that scarab collection is also ready to be moved."

  Weems blinked rapidly, his Adam's apple bobbing in distress. "Yes, sir," he said through his pinched lips. He turned and minced angrily from the room. Fagenbush followed.

  Mother smiled brightly at the others. "It's beginning to look like an exhibit around here," she said, then she went to find a work smock.

  Of course, the truth was that, in spite of what I'd told my parents, I had no intention of lying down. There were far too many things I needed to attend to. For one, how had Sopcoate known about the Emerald Tablet? Only a handful of people knew it was here at the museum: Stilton, Wigmere, Fagenbush, Will, Henry, and Awi Bubu. I was quite certain that Will, Henry, and Wigmere hadn't told him. Nor had Fagenbush, if Wigmere's judgment was correct. And while I could quite easily see Stilton lett
ing slip the existence of the Emerald Tablet to Trawley, I was sure he wouldn't want it to fall into Chaos's hands. The same went for Trawley. If Stilton had told him about it, he'd want to keep it for himself and not give it to Chaos.

  Which left Awi Bubu.

  Was he a Serpent of Chaos? It would explain so much: how he knew about the Staff of Osiris and the Heart of Egypt, his enhanced powers. And it made sense that Chaos would recruit people from the Antiquities Service in Egypt.

  It also fit in with Awi Bubu's claim that he was an exile from his homeland.

  But if he was a Serpent of Chaos, wouldn't he have just taken the tablet that night he was here? He'd had plenty of opportunity. And he'd never once threatened me, which was something the other Serpents did quite frequently.

  But if he wasn't a Serpent of Chaos, he clearly hadn't told me everything he knew about the Emerald Tablet either. For Chaos to want it, it had to be very powerful indeed, most likely destructive. That Egyptian and I needed to have a chat. I wanted to know the truth about the wretched tablet. Now.

  The next step would be to get to Wigmere and tell him what I had learned. I was so desperate to get his take on all this that I briefly considered telling Fagenbush so he could enlist Wigmere's aid. However, if the leak about the tablet hadn't come from Awi Bubu or Stilton, then Fagenbush was my next best suspect. Perhaps he worked for the Serpents of Chaos but had been assigned to infiltrate the Brotherhood of the Chosen Keepers as a means of keeping tabs on them? If that was the case, I didn't want to tip my hand to him. Or give him any more information than was absolutely necessary.

  Which meant I had to get him out of the way so I would be free to come and go as I needed without risking his following me. What sort of distraction could I arrange in the next half-hour? Father had assigned Fagenbush to assemble the scarab collection this afternoon. Scarabs ... oh!

  I hurried to the Egyptian exhibit. There was one scarab there that had defied all my attempts at removing the curse that infected it. Luckily, it wasn't a serious curse, merely an unpleasant one.

  Glad for the hideous funeral gloves I still wore, I slipped the lapis lazuli scarab from its case and hid it in my pocket. Now I just had to sneak this cursed scarab in with the others without Fagenbush noticing. A fine trick indeed, when he paid attention to my every little move.

  I went to the foyer and waited for an opportunity to present itself.

  A short time later, when he returned lugging a crate, I made my move. I pushed away from the wall, threw a guilty look over my shoulder, then hurried down the east corridor and out of sight.

  "Dash it all." His voice echoed down the hall where I waited. "I forgot the display board upstairs," he told Stilton. "I'll be right back."

  But of course, he didn't go upstairs at all—he began following me. I turned and continued down the hallway, then made a wide sweep through Receiving and came up the west hallway, effectively circling back so I could reach the foyer before he caught up to me.

  As I sailed into the foyer, Stilton jerked in surprise, dropping the shabti he was holding and causing all the others to tumble over again.

  "Sorry about that," I murmured as I headed for the crate of scarabs.

  Stilton sighed. "It's not your fault, Miss Theo."

  Furtively, I set the cursed scarab on top of the ones Mother had found in Thutmose Ill's tomb, then I bent over the crate and peered in as if I were looking for something. When Fagenbush appeared in the breezeway, I glanced up at him, then quickly skulked away.

  "What was she doing?" he barked at Stilton.

  "Who? Theodosia?"

  "What other she did you happen to see in here? Yes, Theodosia."

  "I-I don't know. She was just looking at the scarabs. Did you find the display board?"

  Fagenbush ignored Stilton's question, strode over to the crate, and began digging through the scarabs.

  I waited quietly in the hall until I heard Stilton say, "Dear heavens, what is that stench?"

  Which meant Fagenbush had touched the cursed scarab. Of course, I knew what that stench was: dung. Ox dung, to be exact. Scarabs were actually small stone statues of dung beetles, which the ancient Egyptians considered sacred. This particular scarab held a curse that caused one to smell of ox dung for a few days. When I heard Sweeny chime in with "Smells like a barnyard in here, it does," I knew the scarab had done its work. I used the ensuing confusion to slip out unobserved.

  With luck, Fagenbush would be distracted by that disaster for a while. If he wasn't, well, at least I would be able to smell him coming.

  I was halfway to Oxford Street before I heard someone calling after me.

  "Wait up, miss!"

  I turned to find Sticky Will hurrying after me and was surprised at how glad I was to see him. "What are you doing here?"

  "Tryin' to follow you, miss," he said, finally catching up to me.

  "Is something wrong?"

  "No. I jest wanted to begin me training as soon as we could. I figgered followin' you around would be a good start."

  I hated to disappoint him, but I simply didn't have time ... wait a moment. Maybe I did. Maybe he should come with me to confront Awi Bubu, as backup. If something went wrong, he could go for help. Plus I could bring him up to speed on the way. "Excellent, let's begin, shall we?" The thing was, if I was going to take Will's desire to become a Chosen Keeper seriously, I had to keep him informed of everything, and that meant any magical goings-on, any Serpents of Chaos activity. If his education was to be complete, then he had to know about anything and everything. Not to mention, he was always an excellent audience and oohed and aahed appreciatively. With that in mind, I filled him in on the morning's developments, and by the time we reached the Alcazar Theater, he was up to date.

  "I knew this would be better than stuffy ol' school," he said, his eyes wide. "D'you want me to comes in with you?"

  "No, I think it better if you stay out here. If I'm not out in half an hour, you can go for help."

  His face fell a bit. "Aw, miss. That's no fun, runnin' fer 'elp."

  "I know, but if Awi Bubu really does belong to Chaos, you'll need help, believe me."

  Reluctantly Will agreed, and, feeling much safer with someone watching my back, I went to find the magician.

  Luckily, Will had directed me to the back door that he and his brothers used to sneak in without paying for their tickets, so I didn't have to come up with any hastily cobbled-together explanations to get into the theater.

  Once backstage, I quickly found my way to Awi Bubu's dressing room. My anger had been reduced to a slow boil on the way over, but even so, I thumped loudly on the door. I would have flung it open were it not for the fact I was afraid he'd actually be dressing.

  The door opened and I found myself staring up into the broad dark face of Awi Bubu's assistant.

  "Who is it, Kimosiri?" Awi Bubu asked.

  "It's me," I said.

  Kimosiri grunted and stood aside to let me pass. Inside the dressing room, Awi Bubu was sitting at a small table with a map of the stars spread out in front of him. I could recognize some of the constellations, but there were scores of lines and numbers and other notations littering its surface.

  A strange smile touched Awi Bubu's lips. "Ah, Little Miss. I was just thinking of you." He looked down at his chart. "Does Little Miss know where she was born, perchance?"

  His odd question caused the tirade I'd been planning to stutter to a stop. "I beg your pardon?"

  "I asked if you know the place and time of your birth."

  "I was born on November twenty-eighth in our house on Queen Anne Street. Not that it's any of your business."

  "Ah, but it is, you see. For Little Miss is incorrect. She was not born at her house on Queen Anne Street. She was not even born in Britain, I believe."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I went to the registry office to see the time and date of Little Miss's birth so I could consult the astrological charts—"

  "You did what? Without
my permission?"

  Awi Bubu merely shrugged. "I do not need your permission. However, imagine my surprise to find that there is no record of a Theodosia Throckmorton being born on British soil."

  I felt like he'd just punched me in the stomach. "Wh-what do you mean?"

  "I mean that wherever you were born, it was not in Britain."

  "O-of course I was! You're daft! Perhaps the people at the registry office just didn't want to give you the information?"

  Unperturbed, Awi Bubu shrugged again. "Or perhaps Little Miss does not truly know the circumstances of her birth. Have you spoken with your parents about this?"

  "Enough!" I said. "That is not why I'm here." Unwilling to waste any more time on his preposterous nonsense, I remembered the whole reason I'd come. "Do you work for the Serpents of Chaos?" I blurted out, rather artlessly.

  Awi Bubu turned to his assistant. "You may leave us, Kimosiri."

  The giant, silent man nodded his head once, then slipped out the door, closing it softly behind him. When we were alone, Awi Bubu leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "No, Little Miss. I do not work for any manifestation of chaos, serpents or otherwise."

  "Have you told anyone else about the Emerald Tablet?"

  "Indeed not."

  From his shocked look, I had to admit he appeared to be telling the truth. Which meant the leak to Chaos came from elsewhere. Even so, he still owed me a great deal of information on the tablet.

  "Very well then. Tell me about this Emerald Tablet. The truth this time." I folded my arms and glared at him. "What does the tablet do?"

  "I thought Little Miss understood. The tablet's value lies in the information it contains, not in any innate power it possesses."

  "Rubbish. The Serp—some very evil men are after it, and they would not be after it if it did not have some immense power of destruction."

  Awi Bubu grew very still. "Who are these men?" he asked.

  "Why should I tell you if you haven't seen fit to tell me the truth?"

  "Because perhaps I could help you."

  "Help me! Ha! The way you can help me is by telling me the truth."

  His gaze sharpened and I felt his will nudge up against mine, urging me to tell him.