"That is good, for I fear his stomach might pop if we were to give him any more." The man reached down and very gently patted Sefu's stomach, then held the monkey out to me.
"Thank you ever so much," I said, taking Sefu from him. I stared down at the monkey. "I have no idea how long it will take to work, do you?"
The old man shook his head.
"Would you like me to help you now? I could, you know. All you have to do is tell me what you need and I can mix it up for you. Or I can see if there is a seeing spell on the Thoth statue. Or perhaps it would be the Horus statue," I mused.
"No, child, I am fine, but thank you for your offer."
An uncomfortable feeling came over me. "You didn't come here to be healed, did you?"
He smiled and shook his head, and as I looked at his cloudy eyes, I knew. He was the Seer of Maat. It made sense in a perfectly ancient Egyptian sort of way—in order to see the truth, you had to be blind to the distractions of the physical world.
Before I could confirm my suspicion, there was a strange rumbling sound. I looked down in time to see Sefu struggle to sit up, and then a veritable gusher of water erupted from his mouth.
"It sounds as if it's working," the old man said dryly.
"It is!" I said. I was so happy, I didn't even mind having to clean up what Sefu had just spewed forth. However, by the time I was done, the old man had disappeared.
I felt bad about that and hoped I hadn't offended him. However, I was thrilled with my success. Before long, Sefu began to chatter quietly to himself, and I knew he would make it. I lifted him in my arms and carried him off to show Safiya. It wasn't exactly her brother, but it was a hopeful sign.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Seer of Maat
THE NEXT MORNING the word came down that the Seer of Maat was ready to address the wedjadeen. We ate a hurried breakfast (me feeding most of mine to Sefu, who was ravenous). When we were done, Safiya arrived and announced that we'd need to undergo rites of purification before being allowed into the presence of the Seer of Maat. She headed for the door and motioned for us to follow.
"But what about Sefu?" I asked. "Can he come, too?"
Safiya shook her head. "I am sorry, but no. Nothing made from animals may pass into the birthing room."
Birthing room! That part sounded promising. I didn't think they'd execute us in something called the birthing room. I told Sefu to stay. Since the food wasn't leaving, he showed no inclination to follow us.
Safiya led us to the temple complex, past the pylons to the sacred lake. I had a horrible moment when I thought she was going to have Major Grindle and me take a bath together in the lake, but instead, she simply bade us to remove our shoes and wade through the shallow waters, cleansing our feet of the worldly dust that clung to them.
The water swirled at my ankles and lapped against my shins. There was a faint tingling sensation, as if I were wading through the soda water Father puts in his whiskey sometimes.
At the thought of Father, a sharp stab of homesickness sliced through me, and I realized I would have given just about anything to be back in London, in our museum, with Mother and Father and even Henry all around me. I refused to entertain the idea that I would never see them again.
I stepped out of the sacred lake onto a square of pure white linen, then into a pair of sandals made from reeds. Two lector priests showed Major Grindle to his changing room, while Safiya and another girl escorted me to mine.
Inside the small changing room, I saw that they had a large basin of water, presumably from the sacred lake. I stepped out of my gown, then stood shivering in my petticoat—not from cold, mind you, but from sheer nerves. They dipped linen cloths in the water and made as if to wash me with them. I leaped aside. "I can do it myself!" I said. Honestly, I hadn't had anyone wash me since I was two years old! I snatched the wet cloth from Safiya's hand and began scrubbing at my face and neck. When they were clean, I dipped my arms into the basin up to the elbows and scrubbed some more. I insisted that both girls turn around before I would wash anything else.
When they had, I did a quick, thorough job of it, then hastily slipped into the pure linen shift they had laid out for me. I hesitated for a moment, then searched for a pocket of some sort. I daren't be without my Babel stone. Not when so much could be at stake. Surely I needed to understand every word spoken.
But the wretched shift had no pockets. In the end, I decided to stick the stone between my foot and the sandal, and I'd just be sure to shuffle my feet. Before I could tell the girls to turn around, a strange sound came from far off, as if someone had dropped hundreds of dried peas onto the floor.
"That is the summons. It is time." Safiya straightened my shift and fussed with my hair one last time. She dismissed the other girl, then came and put her hands on my shoulders. "No matter what happens, I know that you did all in your power to help my brother. I, as well as the gods, will always be grateful for that." Then she kissed me on both cheeks, took me by the hand, and led me out into the hall to the doorway of the birthing room. Major Grindle was already there and waiting for me, a lector priest on either side of him. He looked quite different in his white vestal robes, but no less commanding a presence. His wedjat eye showed quite plainly. All for the better, I thought.
"I am not allowed to enter," Safiya said. "Nor are they." She indicated the other servants. "You are to go on from here alone."
My heart was beating so rapidly, it made my voice thin and a bit wobbly. "Thank you for everything. Take care of Sefu, will you?"
Safiya bowed low, and Major Grindle offered me his arm. "Shall we, Miss Throckmorton?"
How could he be so calm? "I suppose so," I said, taking his arm. Then together, we stepped into the birthing room.
The entire place was thick with incense, and I began coughing at once. "What do we do now?" I asked, waving my hand frantically in front of my face, trying to clear the air.
"I believe we proceed to the door on the far side, where the others await."
We made our way to the far door. When we reached it, Major Grindle paused just long enough to give my hand a reassuring pat, and then we stepped into the inner sanctum.
***
The room was dark as night, or so I thought. As I blinked rapidly, my eyes adjusted and I saw that there were actually small braziers burning throughout the chamber. The room felt crowded. Nine black-robed wedjadeen with bare heads stood in a semicircle facing a stone statue of Maat. In front of them were the three sem priests. As Major Grindle and I entered, they silently parted to make a path for us. Clearly we were meant to stand before the statue.
The high priest bowed formally, then turned to the statue and began reading from the scroll in his hand. "These two are brought before you on grave charges, O Seer of Truth and Wisdom. We bring them before you so you may see justice served.
"The girl is charged with knowing that which she should not know, and for that we have sentenced her to drink the Wine of Forgetting. However, it is claimed by one of the Hathors that she is Rekhet and therefore one of us, and knowing is no crime for her."
He waited a long moment, as if expecting the statue to say something. When it didn't he cleared his throat and continued. "The man has greater charges against him. In addition to knowing what he should not know, he has also laid hands upon the pharaoh and used magic that is forbidden to any but a Weret Hekau. For this we have determined he should die. However"—the priest's face contorted, as if the next words pained him greatly—"it appears that he is marked with the sign of Horus, and the girl claims this makes him wedjadeen, and so that which he knows and has done is not forbidden to him; therefore his life should not be forfeited. We await your justice."
"Um, excuse me," I said in a tiny voice.
The high priest looked at me, incredulous that I'd been so brazen as to speak.
I ignored him. Justice was, after all, at stake. "Don't forget to tell him that I returned the Emerald Tablet. I should get points for that. And that Major Grindle a
lmost got himself killed trying to rescue the pharaoh from the Serpents of Chaos. Also, we need to ask him if having me return the tablet was enough to get Awi Bubu forgiven and his exile lifted."
The priest stared at me with his mouth hanging open, jumping when the statue spoke. "Is that all?" it asked. I recognized the old man's voice, the one who had helped me with Sefu.
"Yes. Sir."
"Be quiet!" the high priest hissed, and I stopped talking, mostly because I had said everything I needed to say.
The room fell silent then, and a heaviness descended over all of us, like a thick, invisible blanket.
At last, the statue began to speak again. I looked briefly around, trying to see how the old man was doing that. "This girl has been sent to us by our gods, to help us heal the great breach that tore us asunder when our world fell apart. She and the man are a reminder to us that it is not we alone who must bear the burden of protecting our world. That we have brothers in this fight against Chaos."
To say that a shocked silence filled the holy of holies would be a gross understatement. Major Grindle and I exchanged a look, his entire face alight with good humor.
"When the heretic Akhenaten tried to replace our gods with his own, and the covenant was entered into between the priests of Egypt and the gods they served, we were all as one. We dedicated our lives to serving them, and when the gods left our lands for the West, we guarded those gifts they left behind until a time when we could restore the One True Pharaoh to his rightful throne.
"Wave after wave of foreigners have ruled our lands since then, from the Persians to Alexander, the Ptolemies, the Greeks, and the Romans, and through each of them the wedjadeen have endured. However, a great schism occured, and we have been weakened ever since."
The high priest—indeed, all the sem priests—looked sorely confused. "What schism, O Seer of Truth?"
"When the pharaoh Ptolemy put forth the call to bring all the sacred items from our temples and house them in the Alexandrian library, it was his intention to centralize the power of our land. However, he, like Alexander and others before him, wished to bring his foreign gods and marry them with our own. This, as we all know, was an abomination. We did what we could, spiriting our most powerful and sacred relics of the gods into places of hiding. We got many, but not all. In spite of our efforts, some made their way to the great library."
Awi Bubu had explained to me that the wedjadeen had sent a few of their lesser, least powerful artifacts to the collection at the Alexandrian library but that they had kept the most powerful artifacts of the gods and hidden them away in the desert.
"But it would be a poor commander who tried to win a war with only a single tactic. When it became clear that some of our holy treasures had slipped through our fingers, we vowed to see our own wedjadeen installed in the library. We were not willing to let even the lesser artifacts fall into the hands of unlearned or unscrupulous men. A small band of wedjadeen was chosen to accompany these lesser artifacts and become librarians at this new place. These men were charged with watching over the artifacts in the library and keeping them safe. Their sole charge was the artifacts and texts contained within the library. In that way, we could keep our covenant with our gods and watch over all that was in our keeping."
I couldn't help but glance over at Major Grindle to see how he was taking this. I needn't have worried. His face was aglow with hope and longing and a shocking hunger.
"These sacred librarians would guard the artifacts housed there, be certain that no one else used their power, and spirit them away when the opportunity arose. And that worked for a time. We were able to keep watch over the artifacts and occasionally slip one to our brothers outside the library, who would take it to protect with the others.
"And then Caesar came. He burned the city, and the fire reached the walls of the library. There was much damage, though the library itself still stood. But it was a warning to us. A warning that the chaotic forces of the outside world were once again beating upon our shore. We redoubled our forces at the museum, but it was not enough.
"When the library fell for the last time, at the proclamation of Emperor Theodosius, it was these librarians who tried to save the last remaining artifacts in the library. Many lost their lives to the rioting mob and had the very artifacts they were trying to save wrenched from their dying hands.
"This man is one of us, descended from our brothers who had become lost to us when the library was destroyed and the librarians overrun by those sent to destroy it."
Even the strict discipline of the wedjadeen couldn't hold back the wave of surprise that rippled through the room.
"That is the Rekhet's destiny that the Hathor spoke of, to rejoin that which had been torn asunder, to allow the two halves to be made whole once again. For only when we are whole will we be able to face Chaos in the fullness of our power. That is the role this young miss has played. And that is the role Awi Bubu has played."
"The contending of Horus and Set is never-ending, and even now the forces of Set are gathering, growing in power and strength. Do you truly believe the struggle was fought in Egypt alone? That chaos and evil have been contained within our borders?"
"B-but, O Seer of Truth, what of our young pharaoh?" Fenuku asked.
"Do not fear. You will find him. Even now, more warriors of Horus arrive. You will need them to retrieve the Son of Re."
More warriors of Horus? Whom could he mean? But the statue fell silent then, and after a long moment, it became clear that it would not speak anymore that day. I glanced over at Major Grindle, whose stiff upper lip was curled into a gleeful grin. "An interesting turn of events, wouldn't you say, Miss Throckmorton?"
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
More Warriors of Horus
AS WE FILED OUT OF THE INNER RECESSES of the temple, a great commotion reached our ears. "The additional warriors of Horus must have arrived," Khalfani said.
"Who are they?" I asked, trying to keep up with his and the major's longer strides.
"I have no idea." He sounded faintly aggrieved.
We stepped out of the temple courtyard into the camp, a handful of riders heading our way. Three were garbed in the traditional robes of the wedjadeen, but two were distinctly European.
"Kazimerz! Gunter!" Major Grindle yelled, waving his arm. He gave a short bark of laughter. "But of course."
Unable to help myself, I reached up and rubbed my eyes, but my vision didn't waver. There, indeed, rode Jadwiga and Rumpf into camp, accompanied by three wedjadeen scouts.
The sight of them produced a giant lump of homesickness in the middle of my throat. I'd been trying so hard not to think of Mother or Father or Isis. A small hiccup of a sob escaped before I clamped my mouth shut. Wait a moment. "What do you mean 'of course,' Major?"
"What?" he said distractedly.
"When you saw Mother's assistants, you said, 'of course,' as if it made perfect sense that they were here."
Khalfani sent the major a sidelong glance. "They are two of yours, are they not, Major?"
"In a manner of speaking," he said. With a sheepish look, Major Grindle turned to me. "They belong to the Brotherhood," he said.
I gaped at him. I couldn't help it. Then I turned to look at Jadwiga and Rumpf with new eyes. They were Chosen Keepers? Descendants of the Alexandrian librarians?
"What ... how ... do you mean—"
"I should clarify that," the major said. "They are members of the International Brotherhood of the Chosen Keepers, rather than the British branch. Does that help clear things up?"
"Best go explain it to them," I said, pointing at the wedjadeen who had collected around the men's horses, swords drawn.
Major Grindle hurried forward. "No, no! They're with us."
Khalfani joined him, explaining to the wedjadeen that the Brotherhood was indeed an ally, if not an actual part, of the wedjadeen organization. His poor men looked as confused as I felt.
When I finally reached the small group gathered around the newcomers,
I was struck by shyness and hung back a bit.
"How did you find us?" the major asked the two archaeologists.
Rumpf threw a quick glance at me, and then I had my sixth or seventh shock of the day. "We followed the girl's cat."
"Her cat?"
"Isis?" All my fear and longing and utter homesickness crowded in my throat so that I ended up squealing her name.
"Ja, your little black cat." Jadwiga reached into his coat and the wedjadeen scout closest to him raised his spear.
"Lower your weapon," Khalfani bellowed at the scout.
"But, sir!"
"Lower it. These men are now our allies."
The scout scowled but retracted his spear so that Jadwiga could reach into his coat and pull Isis from the depths of his jacket. "She got tired of walking. It is a long way for such little paws."
Dear Jadwiga! His voice sounded as if every one of those steps had bruised his heart.
As I reached for her, she twisted gracefully and launched herself from Jadwiga's lap into my arms. I caught her and hugged her close, reveling in the soft silkiness of her fur, the fierce rumble of her purr. She was as happy to see me as I was to see her.
"Is that true, sir?" Rumpf glanced sideways at the scouts. "Are we working with these men now?"
"Yes, it's all true, and have I got a whopper of a story to tell you." Major Grindle rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
"Yes, well, before you do, I need to let you know that we've found where the Serpents of Chaos are hiding."
A slow smile spread across Major Grindle's face, and he turned to Khalfani. "Which means they have also found the boy."
The men dismounted and Jadwiga clucked and removed his coat, placing it around my shoulders. "Why do they have you running around in your petticoat?"