Theodosia and the Staff of Osiris-Theo 2 (3 page)

Chudleigh did not look happy to have my opinion confirmed. Afraid he would think that Father was only sticking up for me, I addressed Lord Snowthorpe. If anyone could recognize Tetley, it would be he. "What do you think, sir?"

With great reluctance, as if he had no wish to be near the center of this brewing controversy, Snowthorpe looked from me to Chudleigh, who was growing redder by the minute. I was afraid the poor man was going to have apoplexy.

"Do you recognize the mummy, sir?" I asked.

Snowthorpe gave me a patronizing look. "Now, now, my dear girl. I appreciate your faith in me, but I can't possibly recognize every mummy in Egypt."

Honestly, the man had a brain the size of a pea. Fighting down a growing frustration, I tried again. "Yes, but doesn't he look familiar? Haven't you seen that face before?"

Snowthorpe seemed horrified. "Where would I have seen this face before?"

I winced. "Just have a quick look, sir. If it really is Mr. Tetley from the British Museum, you'd know better than I."

Chudleigh said, "Yes, yes. Come have a look and prove this poor child is gravely mistaken."

Snowthorpe stepped up to the mummy's head and lifted his monocle. "Well, Tetley
has
been missing for the past few weeks. Left the office one morning and never returned."

"So it
is
possible," I said.

Chudleigh glared at me. "But that doesn't prove he'd go all the way to Egypt and get himself turned into a mummy!"

"I'm sure he didn't do it on purpose," I pointed out.

Father grabbed my elbow and walked me a few paces away from Chudleigh. "How on earth did you know Tetley?" he asked in a heated whisper.

Oh dear. I was so hoping he'd forget that particular question. "Um, he was very helpful to me once. On my last visit to the British Museum."

"What in the blazes were you doing there?" he asked.

I lowered my voice. "Just checking out the competition, Father. I didn't enjoy it a bit."

His face relaxed. "I should hope not," he said. Then he called out to Snowthorpe, "Well? What do you think? Is it this Tetley fellow?"

Snowthorpe lifted his gaze, his face deathly pale. "Yes," he said in a low voice. "I'm afraid it is."

The crowd erupted again and shocked whispers echoed throughout the room. Chudleigh speared me with a glare that clearly said he thought this was all my fault, as if I'd gone and masterminded the deception myself.

Someone moved forward to stand next to me, and I was relieved to find Wigmere at my side. Now we'd get somewhere.

Wigmere motioned the others to come closer, then lowered his voice. "If this really is Tetley, then we need to consider foul play and summon the authorities."

Chudleigh recoiled in horror. "Are you mad? Think of the scandal!"

I wasn't so sure what Chudleigh thought the scandal was—foul play or his being exposed as an ignorant boob.

"It can't be helped," Wigmere said.

"Well, let me at least get these people on their way, then," Chudleigh said. He glanced down at me as if I were an old rotten headcheese that had just appeared on his floor. "Clever girl," he said, but it was no compliment. More like a curse.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," I heard Father say. "My daughter has been around Egyptian artifacts ever since she could walk. She was bound to pick up some of this knowledge along the way."

"Most unnatural way to bring up a child, if you ask me," Snowthorpe muttered.

"But we didn't ask you," Father said, bristling.

Chudleigh began walking away, stiff as a board. "Unnaturally clever," he grumbled.

With one last glance at me, Father hurried after him to try to smooth things over. I was left standing alone next to Wigmere. "It is Tetley," I whispered. "I'm sure of it."

"You know what this means, then?" He pulled his eyes away from the mummy, and the full weight of his heavy gaze hit me. "The Serpents of Chaos wanted us to find this. They wanted to send a message."

At the mention of the secret organization, my mouth grew dry. I was almost afraid to ask, "And what message is that, sir?"

"That we haven't seen the last of them. They'll be making another move. And soon."

I turned and looked out into the crowd, half expecting to see von Braggenschnott or Bollingsworth lurking there. But no, only Lord Chudleigh, bidding his guests a hasty farewell. "Do you think
he's
involved, sir?"

Wigmere followed my gaze. "I doubt it. I'm not sure the man's smart enough, for one thing. Chaos doesn't usually employ dimwits."

Wigmere appeared convinced, but I wasn't. It seemed to me it would be easy to hide a sharp mind under all that bluster and joviality.

I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. Grandmother Throckmorton was waving Admiral Sopcoate away. She looked up just then, and our gazes met. Her wrath toward me seemed to give her strength and she surged to her feet. I glanced about desperately, looking for Mother or Father, but they were still hovering over by Lord Chudleigh, hoping to appease him.

When Grandmother reached me, she stared down at me with pinched nostrils. "You have finally gone too far. Someone needs to bring you to heel. If your parents won't see to it, then I will."

It wasn't as if
I
had done anything to the poor fellow. I just happened to notice the mummy wasn't an ancient Egyptian! And didn't anyone realize this meant someone had been murdered? And that the murdered body was propped up against the watered silk wallpaper right under our noses?

If you ask me, some people have no perspective.

F
ATHER SPENT ALL OF BREAKFAST
glowering at me over his newspaper. It's surprising how being scowled at chases one's appetite clean away. I mostly picked at my toast.

Finally, he finished his eggs and kippers and put his paper down on the table with an angry rattle of the pages. "I've half a mind to leave you home today, Theodosia," he announced.

His words stopped me cold. He didn't really mean it, did he? He hadn't left me at home for years. "B-but Father ... if I'd known it was going to cause this much trouble, I would have kept quiet. It was just so clearly a fake. And," I said in a very small voice, "I just wanted to make you proud of me."
I should have known by now that trying to impress Father never went as planned. Usually my efforts ended up being ignored, but now it appeared I'd graduated to inciting a near riot. I risked a glance at him just in time to see him exchange a look with Mother. With relief, I saw his expression soften.

"I do admire your ability to detect a fake, Theodosia. No emperor's new clothes for you, no matter how many others who should have known better were duped." He broke into a broad grin. "A true chip off the old block."

Mother cleared her throat.

"Yes, well, you need to learn there is a time and place to announce your findings," Father continued. "And in a way that doesn't shoot other people's conclusions down like a clay pigeon."

What rot! He never took others' feelings into consideration when pointing out the flaws in their theories. However, I knew when not to argue. "I'm sorry, Father. I'll have to pay more attention and see how you do it next time."

He looked surprised. "Very well. Still, I do think it's good that your grandmother is finding a new governess for you. I didn't realize how long the other one had been gone. You need more structure and direction in your studies."

Well, of course I'd love some guidance in my studies! The only problem was, I'd had to help my last governess keep up with
me,
which wasn't exactly the sort of help I needed.

I looked down at the napkin in my lap and began plucking at one of the corners. "I had hoped, now that Mum was home again, you and she would have time to direct my studies." I looked up in time to see them exchange another glance across the table.

"It wouldn't take much time at all," I rushed to add. "I'm a very independent worker and need only a little direction."

There was a long, horrid silence before Mum finally spoke, her voice gentle. "I'm sorry, Theodosia. We couldn't possibly, not with the new items from the dig. There's so very much to do, what with preparing the artifacts and analyzing what they mean. We will be busy round the clock."

I swallowed my disappointment, reminding myself it had been a long shot. "please don't leave me at home today, Father. I do promise to be good."

"Hm. Better than that, I've come up with a project for you. A way for you to be helpful and not just get in the way."

I perked up at that. Doing something useful at the museum was what I longed to do, after all.

"I've decided to put you in charge of cataloging all the mishmash down in long-term storage. It desperately needs to be done, and it should keep you out of trouble for days."

I tried to keep the horror off my face. "Long-term storage, Father? As in, downstairs in the museum's basement?"

He scowled. "Yes. I clearly said long-term storage, did I
not, Henrietta?" He looked to Mother for confirmation. She nodded, and he turned back to me. "Is there a problem with that?"

"No! I just thought perhaps you needed my help cataloging the things from Amenemhab's tomb. We're not all finished with that yet, are we?"

"No, but I've got that well in hand," Father said. "Besides, I won't be working on that this morning. I've got an interview with a candidate for the First Assistant Curator position. Now, is there a problem with the task you've been given?"

"No, Father," I lied. perhaps I should have been content staying home after all. Surely it was better than venturing down into the catacombs.

***

For the first time ever, I found myself wishing my beastly younger brother, Henry, were home from school. If he had been, I would have made him come with me.

Henry claims the basement isn't really a catacomb, and I suppose he's right. Technically. It is, however, a large cavernous room full of old dead bodies (mummies, mostly) and items taken from their graves. Eerily similar to catacombs, if you ask me.

But the worst part is, whenever I open the door that leads
to the crypt, it feels as if there is some malevolent force waiting silently in the darkness below. I'm sure it's just the various curses and black magic that have accumulated over the years, but the air feels thick, almost alive with the power of it all.

Terrifying stuff, that. So I made sure I had on all three of my amulets as well as a pair of sturdy gloves. My cat, Isis, paused at the head of the stairs, sniffed at the cold, dank air, then meowed plaintively.

That wasn't a good sign.

However, there was nothing else to do. Scuffling my feet loudly so I wouldn't startle any entities down there, I descended the steps. I clutched my curse-removal kit with one hand (one can never be too careful!) and the banister with the other, as if it were a lifeline that would keep me anchored to a way out of this pit.

Come to think of it, that was exactly what it was.

The feeble gaslight barely penetrated the thick, rancid gloom. I shivered violently, unsure if it was the dank chill of the murky depths or something more sinister....

That was one of the things that was so unnerving about the catacombs. There were so many ancient artifacts jumbled so closely together. None of them had been near moonlight or sunlight or
ka
—life force—for years. Whatever curses and spells they possessed lay deeply dormant—which meant I
had no way of sensing them. It felt like a horrid game of blindman's bluff.

I paused at the bottom of the stairs. Isis lurked near my feet and together we faced the looming, squatting shapes before us.

It was even worse than I had remembered. There was a huge stone sarcophagus that took up most of the right side of the room, it's heavy stone lid slightly askew. Seven mummies stood propped up against the wall just behind the sarcophagus. Their painted eyes seemed to follow me. In the far deep corner opposite the mummies lurked an enormous life-size wooden hippopotamus. It was coated with peeling black resin, which gave it a rotted, threatening appearance. As did the leering mouth filled with large square teeth.

It was clearly an Underworld demon of some importance.

I quickly scanned the other side of the room. The faint gaslight glinted dully off three bronze statues—one of Apis the Bull (Late Period, I believe), the falcon-headed Soul of Buto, and a lioness-headed statue of Sekhmet, the goddess of the destructive power of the sun. Funerary masks of long-forgotten pharaohs and ancient priests lined a shelf against the wall, and dozens upon dozens of Canopic jars were crowded together on the shelf below. Clay urns and bronze vessels sat next to stone daggers and knives with flint blades. A large Canopic shrine of gilded wood sat in the middle of
the room, on top of which rested a large life-size statue of Anubis in his jackal form. Every available inch of the storeroom was covered with steles and scarabs and amulets and jewelry. It would take months to catalog all this!

I cast one last longing glance up the stairs, then pulled the notebook and pencil Father had given me from the pocket of my pinafore.

I decided it would be best if I started out with the seven mummies covering the far wall. For one, being able to cross an entire wall of artifacts off my list would make me feel as if I was making good progress. And two, if I had to spend days with my back to a bunch of mummies, I'd prefer to know exactly whom I was dealing with.

I took one look at the mummy nestled up against the corner, and my pulse began to race with excitement. It was from the Old Period, Third Dynasty, most likely. One of the oldest mummies I'd ever seen. I peered at the old spidery handwriting on a small tag inserted among the bandages. It was written in English, but it wasn't Father's handwriting. Perhaps this mummy had been acquired long before he'd arrived.

The tag identified the mummy as Rahotep, a powerful priest during Djoser's reign. It was in such excellent condition, I couldn't understand why it was down here in the catacombs instead of on display. I'd have to remember to ask Father about that.