Theodosia and the Last Pharoah (11 page)

A heavy, solemn silence filled the room, and in that silence, realization began pinging through my mind like bolts of lightning. Grandmother's aversion to all that heathenish knowledge. Father's fear that I was exhibiting signs of impending lunacy. All of that stemmed from a grandfather I'd never met. Slowly, I looked up to meet the major's patient, understanding gaze. "Did my father know?"

"He was invited to join us when he was of age. He declined. Told Wigmere in no uncertain terms that he didn't want to be involved with a group that dabbled in fringe beliefs."

That
sounded like Father. Grindle had given me a gift—a painful, horrible gift. And he knew it.

He rose to his feet and went over to the shelves against the wall. "I feel certain your grandfather would want you to have this," he said. "And it wouldn't hurt for you to carry a piece of it with you in your current circumstances." He reached out, lifted one of the crumbled corners from the old mud brick, and held it out to me. "It was the last thing your grandfather was working on before he died. He was certain he had located the foundation stones of the Tower of Babel just south of the ancient city of Ur."

I stared at it with a combination of disbelief and fascination. "Er, thank you."

His mustache twitched. "Be advised that it is not any old brick, Miss Throckmorton. You hold in your hand a sliver of the Tower of Babel itself." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "It works. When you hold that in your hand, you can understand any language spoken by man."

My jaw dropped open and I stared at the small piece of brick with new appreciation.

"Keep it, Miss Throckmorton. Other than memories, it is all I can give you of your grandfather."

***

I could feel Major Grindle's servant watching me as I started down the narrow road that led from the bungalow. His intent gaze made my neck itch. I did not even pretend to understand the relationship between Major Grindle and his strange servant.

I finally felt him look away, then heard the faint clunk of the door closing behind him.

I found Gadji squatting beneath the small scrubby palm tree, picking fleas off his monkey. When he saw me, he leaped to his feet and saluted. Not sure what else to do, I saluted back, nearly clobbering myself in the face with the weight of the orb. Gadji glanced at the reticule, then back at me. "Miss is not leaving the
antikah
with the
antikah
man?"

I sharpened my gaze. "Who says he is an
antikah
man?" I asked.

Gadji shrugged. "Why else are you going to him?"

I relaxed slightly. "Right. Exactly so. That is exactly why I visited him."

He gave me an odd look, then led me back to the house, careful this time to avoid the dark street I'd been so curious about. Which reminded me: I'd forgotten to ask the major about that. Bother.

My thoughts were in such a tangle that I could hardly manage to put one foot in front of the other. Grindle's revelations haunted me. I was angry with my entire family for keeping such an enormous secret from me. I was also filled with a deep sense of having been cheated by never having met my grandfather. Oh, the conversations we could have had! The things he could have explained to me!

***

Mother wasn't back from her errands yet, and try as I might, I found no signs of Nabir anywhere. That left only Habiba to get around. I had no idea if she'd noticed I was gone or if that was even a part of her duties. Even so, I have learned it is best to tread cautiously.

Motioning for Gadji to stay back by the road, I crept forward to the window near the kitchen. Satisfied at the sound of crockery and splashing water, I motioned for Gadji to follow. I'd had another corker of an idea on the way home and I couldn't wait to share it with him. "I have a business arrangement for you," I said. Then I took a deep breath and began to tiptoe my way through the proposition. "I will need a guide here in Luxor. Not all the time, because I will be working with Mother mostly. But I have a few, er, side jaunts that I will need to make and would dearly love a guide to show me the way. Someone whom I can trust—and I feel I can trust you."

"Effendi miss can trust Gadji. Sefu, too," he said.

"Excellent. Then in exchange for your services as a guide, I can provide you with a place to sleep. Would that be acceptable?"

Gadji folded his arms across his chest, a shrewd glint in his eyes. "And foods," he said.

"And food," I agreed. "And you should still have plenty of time to look for your family. Deal?" I held out my hand for him to shake. Instead, Gadji spat on his palm, then, before I could retract my arm, placed his palm against mine and held it in a strange manner—almost as if he meant to arm-wrestle—and gave it a firm squeeze. "Deal," he said.

"Excellent," I said, trying not to think about what now coated my glove. "Let me show you where you'll sleep." Skulking past the main house, I quickly led him to the unused stable. "Will this work?" I asked, nervous about the old dusty straw and the general abandoned feel of the place.

"This do very nice," Gadji said, ever cheerful. "Look!" he said. "It even has blanket."

Honestly, the rag hardly lived up to the word. It was faded, dirty, and moth eaten, but he held it up like a treasure. I felt a horrible twinge of conscience for not being able to offer him the spare bedroom. But I could absolutely do better than that filthy rag. "I'll get you a better blanket," I assured him. "And a few supplies. I'll be right back." I left him clearing the worst of the debris out of the biggest stall and hurried to the house.

I went first to my room, where Isis was waiting for me. "I'm back," I told her, then went to lift the sandbox, pleased to feel the weight of the tablet still there. "You can go out now." Happy to hear this, she jumped up onto the windowsill and waited patiently for me to open the shutter. When I had done so, she took off like a streak of black lightning for parts unknown.

I stripped off my gloves, fished a fresh pair from my suitcase, then quickly washed my hands. I snagged an extra blanket from the trunk at the foot of my bed and tried to think what else Gadji might need.

Water for drinking at least, if not washing. Somehow, I didn't think he performed that last chore very often. Food. And a change of clothes would be nice, but we did not have any extra boy-size robes lying about.

I went into the supply room and rooted around until I found a canteen. I filled it with water from the pitcher in my room, then set that on my bed next to the blanket and went to find some lunch.

Habiba was still busy in the kitchen. She was so absorbed in her task that she didn't hear me in the doorway. When I cleared my throat, she jumped nearly a foot.

"I'm so sorry, Habiba. I didn't mean to startle you."

She glared at me and her fingers twitched. Either that or she was making the sign of the evil eye. I pretended not to notice and grabbed two figs and a handful of sticky dates (ruining yet another pair of gloves) from a bowl on the table. When Habiba turned back to the stove, I slipped one of the freshly made pieces of flatbread into my pocket.

Halfway back to the stable, I heard an unholy racket rise up.
Now what?
I thought, then broke into a run.

Inside the stable, Isis and Sefu circled each other like two pugilists, growling and hissing. The monkey bared his teeth and erupted with a spate of angry chatter. Isis flicked her tail disdainfully and hissed. Gadji was sucking on his hand.

"What happened?" I asked Gadji.

He removed his hand from his mouth and I saw three angry scratches along the back of it. "This black demon of the Underworld fall from the skies and tries to eat my monkey!" he shouted, nearly as worked up as Sefu.

"I already told you," I explained. "That's my cat."

This seemed to enrage the monkey even further. He jumped up and down, and his scolding reached earsplitting levels. "Gadji! Make him stop or the racket will bring somebody and we'll be found out."

Gadji shook his head. "Not want the demon should curse me, effendi miss."

"Oh, honestly! She's just a cat. Here, watch." I went over to Isis and picked her up, careful to grasp her paws with my gloved hands so she wouldn't shred me to ribbons. In spite of what I'd told Gadji, she had been a bit demonic ever since her unfortunate incident with the cursed Bastet statue back at our museum in London. Her low growl rumbled along my arms, but to my great relief she did not scratch or try to claw her way free. "Relax," I whispered in her ear. "It's only a silly monkey." Louder, I said to Gadji, "Now make yours be quiet."

His eyes full of newfound respect, he said something to the monkey in Arabic. Sefu shut his mouth with a snap, then scampered up onto Gadji's shoulder. With one last grimace of protest in Isis's direction, he dove under Gadji's robes and settled himself along the boy's back.

And none too soon. From outside I heard the clop of hooves and raised voices. I held my finger to my lips and went to the stable door to see who—or what—was coming.

It was Nabir and Mother, both astride donkeys and leading nearly a dozen more. It looked as if our stables were going to be populated after all.

Mother saw me standing in the doorway and gave a cheerful wave. "Look, darling! We've our own means of transportation! Aren't they dear?"

"They're lovely!" I called back, trying to sound equally cheerful, even though they had just destroyed my plan for Gadji's lodgings.

"I hope she is not paying too much for them," Gadji said from behind the doorway where he hid. "They are not so very by Jove as all that."

I glanced at him. But of course! I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the doorway with me. "How perfect, Mother, for I have found us a donkey boy!"

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Necropolis

T
HE NEXT MORNING
we were up before the sun, wanting to arrive at the Valley of the Kings in the coolest part of the day. I vowed to put all my secret-mission intrigue behind me for now and concentrate on the unspeakable thrill of being on an official excavation team. I was quite sure I was the first eleven-year-old to be in such a position.

The Valley of the Kings doesn't look like much, truth be told. It is the most barren, dry, desolate collection of sandstone cliffs and ravines imaginable. However, the atmosphere of the place is nearly overwhelming. As we entered the necropolis, the air grew thick with the weight of old souls and lingering
mut
and
akhu,
remaining long after the bodies were gone. In spite of the near-blinding glare of the sun, the valley felt dark to me, as if the tunnels that peppered the desolate cliffs reached down to the Underworld itself and allowed the darkness there to seep back up through the earth's crust.

I shivered. Even the lone guard who patrolled the entrance to the valley seemed touched by the dark forces. He was rude and surly and almost wouldn't let us pass.

Mother kept a sharp lookout for the gentleman who owned the right to dig in the valley. It was highly unusual for us to be allowed back in, but since my parents had laid an earlier claim to the tomb of Thutmose III and had managed to convince the rights-holder that we were there for recording purposes only, the Antiquities Service had allowed the exception.

The tomb we were looking for was at the very end of the valley. A small crowd of men in black robes and white turbans waited for us at the base of the cliff. There were two Europeans with them. One was a thin whippet of a man, and the other put me more in mind of a bear. A bear who had just very unhappily awakened from his winter hibernation. Mother introduced him as Kazimerz Jadwiga of the Polish Institute. He had a thick brown mustache that drooped mournfully, and his eyes were kind but sad, as if he expected to have his heart broken at least twice before luncheon. I liked him immediately and vowed to think of some way to cheer him up.

The whippet fellow was Gunter Rumpf of the Berlin Archaeological Society, a pale, intense man who stood extremely erect. He had thin lips and flared nostrils. His hair, which he wore longer than was fashionable, was straight as straw and swept straight back. Instead of offering me his hand as Jadwiga had done, he peered at me over his small gold-rimmed spectacles, as if he did not quite believe what he was seeing. However, before I could decide whether or not to be offended, Mother called us all to work.

The access to Thutmose Ill's tomb was particularly tricky, as it sat high off the ground, perched atop a cliff between two pillarlike formations of rock. Just looking at the small entrance made my heart beat faster—and not simply due to excitement, although there was plenty of that. I felt some trepidation as well. The last time I had been there, I had come face-to-face with some of the most ruthless Serpents of Chaos in a deadly showdown. Even now, if I half closed my eyes, I could hear von Braggenschnott's cruel laughter echoing out from the tomb's shadowy depths.

Nonsense. I'd seen von Braggenschnott myself in Maspero's office back in Cairo.

Unless he'd managed to beat us here. I glanced nervously up at the tomb entrance.