by Kara LaReau
“Did you say ‘in denial’?” Kale asked. “Because I’ve definitely been there before.”
Helped by Beatrix, Kale managed to land the plane on the river with relatively little turbulence. Beatrix also taught her how to drain the plane’s hull and raise its amphibious gear when it was time for takeoff.
“You’re on your way to being a superlative pilot. You just need more practice,” Beatrix informed her, as everything in the cockpit and cabin finally settled—including Jaundice. And when Beatrix and Kale taxied the Bluebird to the riverbank, where a ramp was waiting, Jaundice felt better almost immediately.
“This is our mother’s home,” she said, taking it all in.
“In a way, it’s like our home, too,” Kale said, squinting. “It’s greener than I imagined.”
It was green in Luxor. And brutally hot. Immediately, the Bland Sisters slathered on their sunscreen and donned their hats and sunglasses and canteens.
At the top of the ramp, a man about Beatrix’s age seemed to be waiting for them. He was very tall and thin, and like Beatrix, he had very brown skin and an open, kind face. He was wearing a natty suit and a tiny red cap topped with a gold tassel.
“Impeccable timing, O,” Beatrix noted, giving the man a hug. “Not much has changed with you, I see.”
“Nor with you,” said the man.
“Ladies, may I introduce you to my friend, Omar?”
Omar bowed to them.
“I’m Jaundice,” said Jaundice.
“And I’m Kale,” said Kale.
“These are the Bland Sisters—‘John’ and ‘Mary’s’ children,” Beatrix informed him, giving him a wink.
Omar’s eyes grew wide. Then he smiled.
“Please,” he said. “Call me ‘O.’ All my friends do. And the children of ‘John’ and ‘Mary’ are automatically good friends of mine.”
“Omar!” a man shouted from one of the barges along the riverbank. Omar waved.
“Ladies, this is my cousin, Ahmed. He works for me,” he explained.
“If you need to get across the Nile, anytime, day or night, Omar Excursions is at your service!” called Ahmed.
“Duly noted,” said Beatrix. “So you own your own business now?”
Omar handed her a card.
“Well, that seems like a good career move for you,” Beatrix said. As they ascended the stairs to the street, she turned to the Bland Sisters. “O knows how to get everywhere. And anything.”
“Anything you need in Egypt, I am your man,” Omar said.
“We need to get to the Winter Palace,” Beatrix announced.
“Fancy,” said Omar.
“Yes, fancy. And fast,” Beatrix added, grabbing Jaundice’s and Kale’s hands. “Let’s go.”
As Omar and Beatrix navigated the tourist crowds, it was all the Bland Sisters could do to hold on. Jaundice was barely fazed by the experience.
“As long as my feet are on the ground, I’m happy,” she said.
“So many people,” observed Kale, looking around.
“So many sights and colors,” said Jaundice. “And smells.”
Usually, this much stimulation would have proven overwhelming for the Bland Sisters. But Ricky’s trusty sunglasses and hats afforded them just the right amount of protection from any perceived harshness.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen John and Mary lately?” Beatrix asked Omar.
“Not in the last few days,” he said. “We met in a café, where I delivered a few special items they asked me to acquire, including rappelling gear and a blowtorch.”
“That sounds . . . like them,” said Beatrix.
“From what I hear on the street, they broke into Victor Gazebo’s house while he was away and took something from his safe,” Omar said.
“I bet that ‘something’ was the other scarab,” said Jaundice. Kale nodded.
“Word is that Victor has placed a bounty on their heads for their capture, for what they stole,” Omar added.
“What they stole?” Beatrix laughed. “That’s rich.”
“He’s nothing but a looter,” Omar said, shaking his head.
“A looter?” said Jaundice.
“A thief,” explained Beatrix. “There are hundreds of them across this country, hoping to make a quick buck off of antiquities. Most of them are amateurs. Gazebo should know better. He knows how harmful it is to desecrate these landmarks and tombs. He knows that these artifacts don’t belong in some rich person’s drawing room. They belong in a museum, where everyone can enjoy them.”
“Or they belong in their original resting place, where they were meant to be,” Omar pointed out. “As the great stories say, if these pharaohs are to have a successful journey into the afterlife, their tombs are to remain undisturbed.”
“We’re a little too late for that, sadly,” said Beatrix. “Ever since Howard Carter unearthed Tut’s tomb, it’s been a free-for-all around here. These days, antiquities are safer in museums, where their value can be appreciated by anyone and everyone. Admit it, O—you wouldn’t have a business if it wasn’t for all these tourists.”
Omar nodded. “I cannot deny it. But I do try to do my best to educate my customers. My homeland isn’t one big souvenir shop.”
Even if it wasn’t one big souvenir shop, Jaundice and Kale couldn’t help noticing that there seemed to be a souvenir shop or stand on just about every corner, selling all manner of artifacts. One even had several tall columns of wrapped rags propped up outside its front door.
“What are those?” asked Kale.
“Mummies,” said Beatrix.
Jaundice winced. “What did they ever do to deserve that?” she wondered.
“And what happened to the daddies?” Kale was almost afraid to ask.
“Not ‘mommies,’” Beatrix corrected them. “Mummies.”
“Ah. Mummies are embalmed bodies,” Kale said, recalling the Bland Sisters’ helpful dictionary.
“Yes,” said Omar. “And it is disgusting how they are displayed, with no respect for the dead.”
“We can’t be sure those are real,” Beatrix said. “There are all sorts of fakers around here.”
“Well, we’re about to see something very real, and quite spectacular,” Omar announced.
The Bland Sisters’ mouths fell open. There, facing the majestic Nile, was the largest building either of them had ever seen. It was a beautiful shade of tan, not unlike the sand, Kale thought, and it was wide and tall, with a grand sweeping staircase. At the top of the building were the words WINTER PALACE.
“I thought the Winter Palace would be a castle,” said Kale, remembering the illustration next to the definition of palace in their dearly-departed dictionary, which featured a majestic castle with towers and turrets and flags.
“It’s a hotel,” Omar informed them. “The grandest in Egypt.”
He led Jaundice and Kale and Beatrix up the stairs and into the lobby, which was no less dramatic. A glittering chandelier tinkled overhead, and a curving marble staircase was flanked by an ornate iron railing.
“Is that you, Howard?” Beatrix asked an older man sitting in the foyer. He wore a three-piece suit and a hat. The man was pale, with a particularly dour expression on his face, but it lightened considerably when he recognized the aviatrix.
“Beatrix,” he said, rising from his seat to shake her hand. “Are things still up in the air with you?”
“Things are always ‘up in the air’ with me,” she replied. “I’m actually here with John and Mary’s girls. Jaundice, Kale, this is Mr. Carter.”
“Pleased to meet you, young ladies,” Mr. Carter said, shaking their hands. “Why, you don’t look like your mother at all. A shame, really. She’s the spitting image of Hatshepsut, one of just a few queens we can confirm reigned as pharaohs. I always hoped to discover her tomb.”
“Mr. Carter is a renowned archaeologist,” Beatrix explained.
“I was. Now I merely dabble in antiquities,” he said. He looked at Beatrix and
added, pointedly, “All perfectly legal, mind you.”
“Have you seen Mary and John lately, Howard?” Beatrix asked.
“I haven’t, sadly,” Mr. Carter said. “And you’re not the first ones to ask. There were a few women in here earlier today, inquiring after them. Fierce-looking types, all decked out in black leather.”
“Sounds like my kind of crowd,” said Beatrix, adjusting her own leather jacket.
“Were there six of them?” offered Omar.
Howard Carter nodded. “How did you know?”
“I have heard about them,” Omar said. “They are called the Daughters of Sekhmet. A more dangerous bunch you will not find in Luxor.”
“Sekhmet was a warrior goddess. Otherwise known as the Mistress of Dread, the Lady of Slaughter, and She Who Mauls,” Howard Carter recalled.
“Her followers come from all over the world, to worship and to train,” Omar explained. “They enjoy wreaking havoc in her name.”
The Bland Sisters’ eyes grew wide. They were both considering their usual response to any and all manner of peril: slumping to the floor and pretending to be asleep.
“I bet they’re after John and Mary, and that bounty Victor put on their heads,” Beatrix said.
“Victor Gazebo, that scoundrel!” Mr. Carter said, grimacing. “He should be in jail for what he’s done to Egypt’s treasures. Or worse.”
“He might be headed there soon, if I have anything to do with it,” said Omar.
“We must be going now, Howard,” said Beatrix. “You take care.”
“You, too,” he said. He turned to Jaundice and Kale and tipped his hat. “Good luck, young ladies. If you are anything like your mother, you are destined for greatness.”
The Bland Sisters smiled weakly. After hearing about the Daughters of Sekhmet, they could only hope they were destined to survive.
Omar greeted a man behind the reception desk, who was wearing a crisp suit and a bow tie.
“Welcome to the Winter Palace,” he said. “I am Mr. Anton. How might I help you?”
“We’re looking for our parents,” said Jaundice.
“They told us to meet them here,” said Kale.
Mr. Anton brought out a large book, with a spine reading REGISTRY in gold. He opened it up and began leafing through it.
“And what are their names?” he asked.
The Bland Sisters looked at each other. Should they give away their parents’ true identities? Finally, Beatrix stepped in.
“John and Mary Bland,” she informed Mr. Anton. He consulted the book.
“No one here by those names,” he said.
“Josephine and Martin Bluth?” the pilot suggested.
Mr. Anton looked again. “No,” he said.
“How about Jack and Martha Blergh? Or Jim and Marge Bundt? Or Jeff and Millie Bilge?” asked Beatrix. She looked at the Bland Sisters. “Your parents have accumulated more than a few aliases on their travels.”
Again and again, Mr. Anton checked. And again and again, he shook his head.
Beatrix looked around, making sure no one was within earshot. She leaned forward.
“How about . . . Hatshepsut Umm and Albertus Magnus Jr.?” she whispered.
The Bland Sisters put their hands over their hearts. Hearing those names made their hearts ache all over again.
Jaundice remembered a day when their mother was dancing in their kitchen, and singing a song in a language the Bland Sisters did not understand—though Jaundice realized it might have been Egyptian. Their mother had twirled Kale and Jaundice around as she sang and danced, and Jaundice remembered not liking the ensuing dizziness at all. Now, she might be willing to put up with a bit of dizziness—even more than a bit—if it meant being close to their mother again.
“I am sorry,” said Mr. Anton. “I see no such listings.”
“That can’t be,” Kale said, raising herself up on tiptoe to get a better look at the ledger. But Mr. Anton closed the book and frowned.
“Perhaps you were misinformed?” he said. “There are many other hotels in Luxor—though of course, none are as fine as the Winter Palace. Best of luck to you in finding your parents.”
With that, he turned his attention to the next people in line.
“But, I dreamed it!” Jaundice cried, as Kale pulled her sister away.
“You said our parents told you that not everything in dreams is clear,” Kale reminded her. “Maybe we got it wrong.”
The Bland Sisters hung their heads. They had come so far. A reunion with their parents had seemed so close at hand.
“Tell me about this dream,” said Omar.
Jaundice explained all the details to him, the castle and the snow, and then the field with the flowers and plants. His eyes grew wide.
“Your parents might not be staying here,” he said.
The Bland Sisters hung their heads again.
“But I do think they are here,” he said. “The field with the flowers and plants, as you describe, sounds much like a garden.”
“Of course,” said Beatrix.
“And the Winter Palace has the most beautiful garden in all of Luxor. Come, I will show you,” Omar said, with a sweep of his arm.
Omar was not kidding. In fact, the scene behind the Winter Palace was spectacular. The gardens contained not just flowerbeds, but vegetable plots, fruit orchards, palm trees, and even tennis and croquet courts.
“It’s so . . . colorful,” said Jaundice.
“And bright,” said Kale. The Bland Sisters put on their sunglasses again, to shield themselves from the glare.
“Well,” said Beatrix. “We’d better start searching.”
For the next hour, Omar and Beatrix looked everywhere, Jaundice and Kale trailing behind, trying not to feel too overwhelmed by the bright and varied scenery. Unfortunately, after the hour had transpired, their search party had come up empty-handed.
“Ugh,” said Omar. “This is frustrating.”
“Not to mention exhausting,” said Jaundice, collapsing on a nearby wicker bench. “It certainly looks like they’re not here. Though why would they lead us here with all their clues?”
Kale slumped next to her sister. “I’m tired of looking, too,” she said. She produced TAKING OFF! with Trip Winger from her backpack and started poring over it again. Reading something so dry and practical was always a comfort.
“If you’re tired, maybe you should sleep,” said Beatrix. “In case your parents have another message for you. While you do, Omar and I will keep looking for them.”
“And we’ll keep our eyes open, in case the Daughters show up,” Omar said.
Jaundice reached into her smock pocket, pulled out the scarab, and handed it to Kale.
“Maybe you should try it this time,” she suggested. “Since I’ve already had a turn.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Kale said.
She was right. It was very generous, Jaundice thought. Though she was the younger sister, so perhaps she was supposed to be more obliging.
Kale placed the scarab beneath the cushion behind her head.
“Imagine you are floating up, up, up an invisible staircase . . .” she said, repeating her mother’s soothing words.
Jaundice yawned. She couldn’t help closing her eyes, too.
“. . . and into a cozy nest made of feathers and velvet,” Kale continued.
It wasn’t long before both of the Bland Sisters had fallen asleep.
At first, Kale didn’t see her parents. All she saw was sand, and blue sky.
I think I’m in the desert, she thought.
Rising up out of the sand was a roofed structure made of stone. A man with tanned skin and white hair and a pointy nose stood on the front step. He stared down at her menacingly. Then, he spoke.
“Looking for someone?” he said.
“My parents,” said Kale.
The man laughed.
“I have what you want, and you have what I want.
Destiny awaits you at th
e tomb that is larger than large.
Wealth beyond imagining awaits me
with the queen who was a king,
and the twins who are not really twins.”
“I don’t understand,” said Kale. “Is this the dream nonsense Jaundice warned me about?”
A boy and a girl appeared, wearing white robes.
“Nehy and Nefret,” Kale whispered.
“The Sacred Scarabs of the Twins are both in use,” Nehy said. “When the scarabs are in use, their rightful owners are summoned.”
“Return what you have stolen!” Nefret cried. The brother and sister pointed at the man with white hair, and then they pointed at Kale.
“Believe me, we’re trying!” Kale said. She turned, and there was her sister, standing next to her. But Jaundice had turned to stone.
“RUN!” a voice shouted. It sounded a lot like Beatrix, though she was nowhere to be seen.
“Run where?” Kale asked.
“We’ll meet you by the mummies!” another voice yelled. This one sounded like Omar.
“WAKE UP!” said the Beatrix voice. “The Daughters of Sekhmet are here!”
MAKE SURE YOU’RE CLEAR WHO IS FLYING THE PLANE. WHEN THE INSTRUCTOR HANDS CONTROL OVER TO YOU, HE OR SHE SHOULD SAY, “YOU HAVE CONTROL.” YOU SHOULD REPLY, “I HAVE CONTROL.”
TAKING OFF! with Trip Winger
When the Bland Sisters opened their eyes, they saw Beatrix and Omar engaged in an all-out melee with six women wearing black leather jackets and caps. Their eyes seemed to flicker like flames.
“Did you hear us?” shouted Beatrix.
“We’re supposed to run,” repeated Kale.
“And meet you by the mummies,” repeated Jaundice.
“Good girls,” yelled Omar. “Now, get going!”
The Bland Sisters ran as fast as they could in the heat, back through the lobby of the Winter Palace, where Mr. Carter was still sitting. He waved to them as they scurried by, out the front door and down the winding staircase to the street.
The bazaar was even busier now, so Jaundice and Kale held hands so as not to get lost in the crowds. The different stands sold all manner of goods—baskets and pots and stone idols and fruits and vegetables and local delicacies. There was even a stand selling scarabs, which Jaundice stopped for a moment to admire.
