Theodosia and the Last Pharoah (19 page)

"I work for effendi miss. As her donkey boy. I sleep in the stable."

"Very well. At least we'll be able to keep an eye on you. You, however," he said, turning his gimlet eyes on me, "will be in danger until these men get what they want. That means no more gallivanting about. Do not go anywhere unless you are with me or your mother. Do you understand, Miss Throckmorton?" Major Grindle leaned very far forward across his desk. "I will brook no argument on this. If you cannot comply with this one simple rule, then I need to know now so I can make other arrangements."

"No, sir. It won't be a problem. Now that my mission is accomplished, I have nothing left that Chaos wants. My only plans are to help Mother with her excavating." Why did that sound so flat all of a sudden?

The major gave me an odd look. "Don't forget the small matter of revenge."

Oh, yes. There was that. The Serpents of Chaos would like to repay me for having foiled their plans once too often.

"Now, let's get you back to your house before your absence is noticed and an alarm raised. I'll escort you myself."

With that, Gadji and I followed Major Grindle out of his study to where the horses waited in the late afternoon sun. We rode in silence for a ways, Gadji in the lead so Major Grindle could keep an eye on his safety as well as mine. Sefu had appeared from somewhere and now sat on the boy's shoulder, chattering softly in his ear and picking at his hair.

With Gadji's attention elsewhere, I gathered up my nerve to ask Major Grindle a question that had plagued me since we escaped the temple. "Sir," I said in a very low voice. "What sort of magic did you use back at the temple?" I turned my head around so I could see his face when he answered.

He kept his gaze fixed on the streets ahead of us. "It was much like the things Quillings gave you, Miss Throckmorton, only of a more ancient origin. But all of us in the Brotherhood use magic, Miss Throckmorton. I thought you knew that."

I shook my head. "Not like that, they don't. They only use the principles of magic to remove curses. Or in Dr. Quillings's case, they harness the ancient magic. But that's not what you did, was it?"

Major Grindle gave me a look that was equal parts admiration and annoyance. "Not much gets by you, does it, girl? However, it was merely a bit of sand, that's all. Left over from when Sekhmet almost destroyed mankind."

The major returned his gaze to the horizon. Just when I was afraid that was all he was going to say, he began to speak again. "This is one area where Wigmere and I disagree. He feels magic should only be used to remove more harmful magic. However, that has not always been the case, and certainly not for those of us in the field. For many centuries the Brotherhood used its magical knowledge in offensive maneuvers as well, wielding it as a weapon in the fight against chaos. But mistakes were made. Occasionally operatives became corrupted through its use."

"Is that when you all started getting those tattoos, right here?" I tapped the top of my breastbone.

"He told you about that, did he?" For the first time, Major Grindle looked faintly shocked.

"He was trying to explain to me why someone I suspected of being guilty could not have been corrupted by magic."

He raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't take his word for it?"

I squirmed in the saddle, suddenly aware of how very brazen that must seem. "No, sir."

"Eventually," Major Grindle continued, "it was decided that all our knowledge would only be used in defensive measures. However, those decisions were mostly made by men who spent their entire careers behind desks and not in the field. They were not actively involved in the fight against these darker forces and did not understand how badly not using the magic was crippling us. My own feeling is that we cannot truly defeat these forces without being willing to wield this magic as it was meant to be wielded. It is a tool, a weapon like any other, and can be used as such.

"Of course," he added, "with such great power comes great responsibility."

"You aren't worried about becoming corrupted?"

"I take precautions," he said, then glanced at me. His voice softened. "Wigmere is a good man and an old friend, but he is very attached to reason in a field that has none. Now look, I believe this is your house."

He had stopped at the foot of the road that led up to our bungalow, well out of sight of anyone who might be inside. He did not dismount but instead helped me slide down. I went over and held the reins of Gadji's horse while he dismounted, then handed them to the major. "Be safe, you two. We'll talk again tomorrow. I'll wait here until you reach the house."

"Thank you, sir. For everything," I said, then turned and began the long walk up to the house with Gadji at my side. When we were well away from the major, Gadji sent me a cautious glance. "Miss?"

"What?"

"It was not just by accident that you chose me that day."

"Of course it was, Gadji! I had no idea who you were. How could I?"

He shook his head. "No, no. That's not what I mean. I mean, it was not
you
who picked me."

I turned and stared at him, my steps slowing. "What do you mean?"

He motioned for me to keep walking. "It is a small trick, one my tutor taught me. I can, sometimes, nudge people to do what I want, using my mind."

Well, that cinched it. He was definitely connected in some way to Awi Bubu. "But why? Why would you use that power on me?"

Gadji shrugged. "Because you ... glowed," he said. "The light of the gods shone around you, like heat rising up from the desert sand."

I gaped at him. "How are you able to see this ... power?" I asked. Awi Bubu was the only person I had ever met who could do that. "Did Awi Bubu teach you?"

Gadji shrugged. "I do not know. Maybe it is because I am a pharaoh!" He grinned.

His words launched a flood of brief memories, odd things that I hadn't noticed at the time. How Gadji had referred to Nut, one of the old Egyptian gods, when very few native Egyptians remembered them anymore. His pride, sometimes verging on arrogance, even when facing English officials like Mr. Bing.

We had reached the house, so I waved to Major Grindle, who gave a brief nod of goodbye and began riding back. When Gadji and I reached the stable door, I peeked in and saw his little pile of straw and hand-me-down blanket. "Gadji?"

"Yes, effendi miss?"

"Why didn't you want to go with those men? Aren't you the least bit intrigued by their claim? Don't you want to know what being a pharaoh means? I'm sure they'll give you more than a pile of straw and a secondhand blanket."

He looked up at me, his face small and vulnerable. "Does effendi miss want me to leave?"

"No, no! It's just—this isn't much of a life here in our stable. If it were me, I'd be sick with curiosity."

Gadji's face cleared. "Effendi miss has very curious nature. Perhaps that is why you glowed?"

I rolled my eyes. "Just think about it, would you? You can stay here as long as you like, but Mother and I won't be in Luxor forever. I think those men would take very good care of you."

He merely sniffed in reply.

"I'll be back with some dinner later," I assured him, then headed for the house.

***

None of the donkeys had been in the stable, which meant Mother and the others were still out at the dig. I had only to worry about Habiba.

I opened the back door a crack and peeked in. I could hear nothing from the kitchen, nor any other part of the house, so I slipped inside and made my way to my room. I paused at the hall leading to the kitchen and listened again. It was as quiet as a grave. Relieved at this good fortune, I hurried to my room and opened the door.

Everything was exactly as it had been. Even better, Isis was curled up on my bed, waiting for me. Perfect. Nothing aided my thinking processes like petting my cat, and this day had certainly given me lots to think about. I stretched out next to Isis and began petting her.

Could Gadji be descended from the great pharaohs of ancient Egypt? I tried to remember all that Awi Bubu had told me about the wedjadeen and their place in Egyptian history. He had claimed that, due to the wedjadeen's help, Nectanebo II had been the secret father of Alexander the Great. What if Nectanebo II had fathered other children? If the wedjadeen could watch over and guard the artifacts of the gods for thousands of years, why not an ancient, royal bloodline?

There was also something else. A vague, unformed memory that had niggled at me in Major Grindle's office now began to take shape.

Awi Bubu claimed he was exiled because of something precious he had lost. What if that something precious had been Egypt's last pharaoh? The thought nearly took my breath away.

Under my hand, Isis stiffened and raised her head. At first, I thought she'd somehow intuited what I was thinking, but then I realized she was merely staring at the wall in that way cats do, as if they can see through them. I cocked my head and listened just in time to hear the faint whisper of a door closing. Habiba must be back. Mother wouldn't sneak in like that.

I waited for a few minutes, wondering if she would come check on me, and tried to imagine what sort of secret business could she possibly have.

Of course, I didn't really know it was secret business—it might just seem that way. It's hard not to appear intriguing and mysterious when one is draped in black from head to toe.

When no one came to check on me, I relaxed and resumed petting Isis. I bet
she
knew what Habiba did all day. Too bad she couldn't talk. My hand stilled as a great big shocking idea came to me. Would Major Grindle's Babel stone work on animals?

Eager to try, I fumbled in my pockets for the thin sliver of stone. I grasped it tightly in my left hand while I continued petting Isis with my right. Now to get her to talk.

I took my hand away. After a second, she lifted her head and stared at me, wanting me to get on with it. I withheld my hand, waiting for her to give a meow of complaint. Instead, she just watched me steadily with her brilliant green eyes. After a long moment, she uncurled herself from my side and stretched out her neck to sniff the stone in my hand. With one last reproachful glance at me, she jumped down from the bed and hopped up onto the windowsill, then disappeared into the growing dusk. Bother. That experiment had failed on all counts.

Before I could decide what to do next, I heard the clatter of hooves in the courtyard. Mother was home! I cast all thoughts of ancient bloodlines and centuries-old secrets aside and went to hear how the day's excavation had progressed.

I met Mother just as she was coming in the door. "Hello, darling!" she said, stripping off her gloves. "How are you feeling?"

Oh. Right. "Better," I said. "Much better, actually. Spending the entire day in a cool room seems to have taken care of it. I'm sure I'll be able to go with you tomorrow."

"Excellent!" She reached out and kissed my cheek. When she pulled away, Habiba was standing in the doorway, watching us. "Oh, Habiba," Mother said. "I'm famished. Let me just wash up and then I think we'll have dinner."

Habiba nodded, then disappeared back down the hallway. Even though I had already washed, I was not anxious to be alone with Habiba in case she tried to ask me any questions. "I'll go wash up, too, then meet you in the dining room," I told Mother.

Ten minutes later, Mother and I sat down to a dinner of spicy lamb stew. "So?" I asked. "Did you find any more columns? Anything to indicate it's not just an outbuilding belonging to Hatshepsut's temple?"

"We did! We found at least twelve more columns, and probably more than that. It appears as if the temple is in very good shape; it's just completely buried under piles of dirt and rubble. The cliffs overhead must have collapsed long ago and buried it. Being buried in rubble might well have helped to aid preservation."

"Excellent!" I said, trying to scrounge up some excitement. Surely it would feel different when I was back on the dig with them, I assured myself. "So what's on the schedule for tomorrow?"

"More digging. We think we can clear out the first terrace by the end of the week if we keep at it. We'll know much more then about what we've truly discovered."

"Wonderful!" I said. "I can't wait to get started." Which reminded me. "Mother?"

"Yes, dear."

"Since we have so very much digging to do, what do you think about having Gadji, the donkey boy, come work with us? There aren't any donkeys for him to tend to during the day, and it would teach him a skill he could use to better himself." And that way I could keep an eye on his safety.

"That is an excellent idea, Theo. The more people we have digging, the sooner we'll learn what we have found."

Habiba came in just then, her dark, heavy presence causing my mouth to snap shut. I avoided looking at her as she moved around the table, setting new dishes down and clearing the old ones. I wondered if she knew I had left the house today. Unable to help myself, I slowly looked up, not surprised when I found her eyes above her veil watching me. She gave the faintest of nods, then glanced briefly at Mother. When Habiba saw that Mother was not watching us, she held her finger to her lips, so briefly that I almost missed it. I nearly dropped my fork in surprise. Before I could respond, she left to carry the dishes back to the kitchen, pausing once in the doorway to look over her shoulder. Honestly! What did she mean by that? That I should keep her secrets? Or that she would keep mine?

I loathe hand signals. They are harder to decipher than hieroglyphs.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Facing the Goddess