"And so we have. Deep in the desert, we guard the sacred gifts given to us by the gods, keeping them from the hands of the ignorant and the ambitious.
"Of course, Egypt is a large place and has many temples. We did not, unfortunately, get all of the artifacts. Some of these treasures slipped through our hands. A few made their way to the Serapeum and were looted when it was razed to the ground. Others never left their temples and were later discovered by adventurers and looters. But we know of all of them. And we will continue to search the world until we have every last one."
"And the Emerald Tablet is one of these artifacts of the gods?" I asked, my mind reeling with what I'd learned.
"No. The Emerald Tablet is the sole map to the hidden location where all the artifacts reside. With that map, a man would have access to all the powers of the ancient gods, artifacts capable of such massive destruction as to make your Staff of Osiris look like a child's toy. Since man was not meant to wield that much power, Chaos would reign forever."
"So that's why Sopcoate wanted it," I muttered.
"Unfortunately, these artifacts were not a secret. They were the relics our temples proudly held for our people. Even though centuries have passed, rumors of their existence still abound. There are some men who keep an ear out for that sort of rumor, eager to find that which the gods have decreed should remain hidden. And that, Miss Theodosia, is why you must relinquish the Emerald Tablet to my keeping. So that I may return it to my fellow wedjadeen and we may rest, knowing the last record of our whereabouts has been recovered."
"But I thought you said you were an exile. How could you go back?"
"The tablet would gain me entry. The honor brought to me by returning the tablet would restore my standing, and I would be wedjadeen once again." His face changed as he said this, the longing and hope transforming his aged features.
I was quiet a long moment, digesting this. It's hard to explain why, but I think I believed him. For one, his account fit with the few bits and pieces I'd been able to acquire. Even so, this was a lot to absorb. And the only corroboration I had was a few scribbled words in the margins of books. It seemed as if caution might be called for. "How can I be sure you'll return the tablet to the Eyes of Horus?" I asked. "How do I know you aren't an opportunist or an adventurer, just like the men you claim to want to avoid?"
Awi Bubu broke into a smile. "A most excellent question, Little Miss. I knew my faith in you would be well founded." Then his smile disappeared and his face grew clouded.
"I hope that by telling Little Miss all that I have told you, you will understand why it is so important that you give me the Emerald Tablet to return to safekeeping. We have guarded these secrets for millennia; I'm afraid it is only us who can keep them safely out of harm's way."
"You said you'd been exiled. What for? How do I know it wasn't because you tried to use the artifacts yourself for personal gain or tried to hand them off to someone you shouldn't have?"
His expression grew solemn at the memory. "As a young man, I let a most powerful artifact slip through my fingers. I was young and arrogant and overconfident and did not realize the danger the piece was in."
"Very well. I'll need to think about this, though. You can't expect me to decide what to do this moment."
Awi Bubu's face fell slightly, as if he'd expected that very thing. "We don't have much time..."
"No. We don't. But I need to be certain that if I give you the tablet, I can still keep my family safe."
Awi Bubu nodded. "Fair enough." He made his way to the door, then paused. "How will I know when you decide?"
"You mean you won't be able to tell just by the way the air feels?"
He gave me a reproachful look.
"I'll send a message," I said. "Or come round myself."
"When you have decided, you can find me at the theater. But it would be wise not to wait too long in the deciding."
And didn't I know it! He was halfway out the door before I remembered. "Wait!"
He paused, looking hopeful. "Yes?"
"You were right," I said. "I wasn't born here in Britain. I was born in Egypt. In an Isis Temple, to be exact. November twenty-eighth, 1895."
"Ah," he said, as if many things had been made clear.
I felt a soft nudge at my knee and looked down to find Isis wanting to be petted. As I bent to stroke her soft fur, I asked in a quiet voice, "Do you think that's why I'm so ... different?" I sensed Awi Bubu's eyes on me, but I was feeling too exposed to meet his gaze.
"If by different, Little Miss means 'so gifted in her dealings with Egyptian magic,' then the answer is yes. The time and location of your birth set you on an unusual path. If you had an Egyptian calendar here, I could even tell you the prophecy foretold on the day of your birth."
"Really?" I stood up. "We do have one, actually. Father picked it up in Cairo two years ago."
Awi Bubu raised his eyebrows. "Yet another surprise," he murmured. "I suggest you consult it then. Much will be made clear when you do." He folded his hands in front of him and gave his small signature bow. "I hope to hear from you soon regarding the other matter." Then he left.
***
My curiosity was a ravenous beast, driving me to the reading room and the ancient Egyptian calendar there even though I had many other things that demanded my attention. I went into one of the small rooms where I had left off translating the calendar ages ago, before so much Egyptian magic run amok had intruded on our lives. I found the old papyrus that Father had bought and began scanning for the proper season, the season of Inundation. Once I found that, I began trying to figure out which date corresponded to November 28. It was the very last day of the last month of Inundation.
This is a day of great pleasure for all the gods. All offerings made to the gods on this day shall be joyfully received. They will accept the offerings into their hearts and great favor shall come from these offerings.
Slowly I set the papyrus on the desk, frowning in puzzlement. This didn't explain anything; all it did was talk about offerings to the gods! Honestly! How did Awi Bubu expect this to make anything clear—oh! I glanced back and reread the portent. Then I sat down, hard, on the chair next to the desk. I had been born in a temple—the Temple of Isis. Did that mean the Egyptian gods thought I was ...an offering? And that they had accepted me into their hearts and granted me special favors? And what if those favors were special skills?
Once again, Awi Bubu had answered a question in such a way that I was more confused than ever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Those Serpents, There's No Pleasing Them!
THE NEXT DAY, when everyone else was downstairs putting the final tweaks and touches on the Thutmose III exhibit, I was busy in my parents' workroom rechecking Father's translations on a number of the papyruses and steles. For one thing, having work to do calmed my frayed nerves. It was also easier to think when my hands were busy, and heaven knew I had plenty to think about.
Besides, after what I'd learned from the cursed Sekhmet statue yesterday, I was positive there had to be something here that could shed more light on the subject.
I finally found what I was looking for midmorning. It was an official decree from the head priest at the Temple of Montu.
The Temple of Montu. There wouldn't be a priest dedicated to a funerary temple in a tomb. That made no sense. My pulse quickened as I recalled the inscription from the Sekhmet statue. Housed in the Temple of Thutmose III for all eternity. The only temple we'd discovered in the Valley of the Kings was a very small one dedicated to Montu inside the tomb of Thutmose III. This decree referred to a different structure altogether. One that had yet to be discovered.
Unable to contain myself a moment longer, I put the papyrus down and hurried to the foyer, hoping to pull Mum aside and give her the news.
Downstairs, Father was in wild form, working in his shirtsleeves with his hair mussed. Mum was working just as hard, if a bit more neatly, though even she had a trace of cobweb dangling from her skir
t hem. I refrained from pointing that out, as I have learned that while adults thrive on giving children constructive criticism and tidying nudges, they rather hate receiving them. Besides, I had much more important things to discuss with her. However, before I could catch her eye, there was a knock on the door.
"Who in the blazes could that be?" Father asked.
Vicary Weems, who'd been forbidden to touch any of the exhibit artifacts and assigned to put the final touches on the reception, jumped up from where he'd been reviewing the RSVPs. "I'm sure I don't know, sir, but I will find out posthaste."
Weems opened the door to find a liveried footman standing there wringing his hands. I recognized him from Grandmother's house, and an unpleasant feeling settled in my stomach.
"I've been sent to fetch Master Throckmorton," the footman said.
"I'm sorry, but he's quite bus—"
"John?" Father interrupted Weems, put down the display cards he'd been setting in place, and hurried over to the door. "Is everything all right?"
"I'm afraid not, sir. Madam has sent me to fetch you. There's been an incident, you see. I'm afraid there's been a break-in. She's been burgled."
"A break-in!" Father exploded. "Was anyone hurt?"
"No, sir."
"Have the police been called?"
"Yes, sir. They're there right now, but she was feeling quite unsettled and requested you come around at once."
It was hard to imagine Grandmother being unsettled. More likely, she wanted someone to rail at.
"Very well," Father said, reluctance and urgency warring on his face. "I'd best go see how she's doing," he told Mother.
"I suppose you should," she agreed.
He combed his hair with his fingers. "Where's my coat got to? I wonder."
"It's right here," I said brightly, removing it from the display case where he'd set it.
"Oh, thank you, Theo," he said, putting it on.
"Don't forget your hat," I reminded him, picking it up. He speared me with a sharp gaze. "Your hair is a bit mussy," I explained.
His face cleared and he took the hat from me.
"Father, I think I should go with you to comfort poor Grandmother."
He looked at me rather oddly then, aware, no doubt, that comfort was not the usual effect I had on Grandmother. "We have grown closer of late," I pointed out to him.
"True. Well, if you think you'll be of help—"
"I do," I said firmly. Besides, the uneasy feeling in my stomach was growing stronger. There was only one day left to meet Sopcoate's demands, and with his recent threats to Grandmother's person, I did not think this incident was a coincidence.
***
We arrived at Grandmother's house to find the constables just leaving. Father stopped to ask them some questions while I went in search of Grandmother. I found her in the drawing room, drinking a glass of sherry. It was only one o'clock in the afternoon, but I suppose if one is burgled, one makes allowances for that sort of thing. I hesitated at the door. "Grandmother?"
"Oh, Theodosia! Is your father with you?"
"Yes, ma'am. He's speaking with the constable in the entryway."
"Oh, the horror of it all. That someone would break into my home and perpetrate such an assault on my personage!" Even though she was distraught, I noticed she still sat ramrod straight in the chair.
"Assault? Did they strike you?" I asked.
"Not me, but poor Beadles. They cracked him on the head. He's got quite a goose egg. Cook's tending to him in the kitchen."
Just then Father came into the room. He went over to Grandmother and gave her a kiss on each cheek. "Thank heavens you're all right," he said.
"All right? I'm not all right! My privacy has been violated, my home invaded!"
"Yes, but at least you aren't sporting a goose egg," Father gently pointed out.
Grandmother sniffed and took a deep drink of her sherry.
"The constable said they didn't get much. Only a necklace of yours?"
"Yes, that's the oddest thing! They came in through the servants' quarters, beaned poor Beadles when he came to see why Cook and Rose were screaming, then went straight to my bedroom and rifled through my jewelry. After all that effort, they only took one thing."
"And what was that?" I asked, holding my breath.
"My emerald necklace," she said. "That is all."
"Well, that doesn't make any sense," Father said.
It did if you were trying to send a message, I thought.
I left Father to comfort Grandmother and went in search of Beadles to see if he could give a description of the intruders. I found him in the kitchen holding a slab of beefsteak to his head. Cook and Rose fussed over him like two hens. Cook saw me first. "Oh, miss! Did ye hear the news? Come to comfort your gran, have you?"
"Er, yes." I came into the kitchen tentatively. "H-how are you, Beadles? I'm terribly sorry you got hurt." I was uncertain how he would react to any sympathy from me, as he and I were not on the best of terms. I had not yet realized how the sheer novelty of being attacked lowers normal social barriers.
"Why, thank you, Miss Theodosia. I suppose one needs to be grateful it wasn't worse," he said, not sounding the least bit grateful and in fact sounding just the tiniest bit bitter.
"Do you mind if I ask how many there were?"
"There were two of them. At least," he added for good measure. "Big blokes too. Big as oxen, they were."
"Did either of them have a white beard, by chance? Or an eye patch?"
He looked startled. "Why, yes, miss. They did! How did you know?"
Bother. I'd managed that poorly. "I was just guessing. It seems like those who act like blackguards should look like blackguards."
"Quite right, miss," he said, and then returned to his tale. He'd been jumped by two, no, maybe three ox-sized men with fists as big as hams. By the time he was done with his tale, it was impossible to locate the small knot of truth at its center. I could only confirm that Sopcoate in his currently favored disguise had been one of them. With this important confirmation, I went back to the drawing room.
Once Grandmother had been properly fussed over and calmed down, Father and I returned to the museum. Nearly frantic over the lost time, he returned to his exhibit with renewed focus, allowing me to slip out unobserved.
For I had made up my mind. Clearly, Sopcoate and Chaos would stop at nothing to get the tablet. However, I couldn't simply hand over an artifact that pointed the way to objects with as much power as the Staff of Osiris held. The world would never be safe again.
If Wigmere had been available to me, I could have asked his advice, but according to Boythorpe, I was persona non grata. Stilton was being pressured by the Black Sunners, and I had no idea where his true loyalties lay. That left me only one person to turn to.
Awi Bubu and the wedjadeen. Or the Eyes of Horus, as he called them. I was dreadfully unsettled about all this, but deep down it seemed like the only thing to do. Even though, if I thought about it too long, there were so many reasons not to. How did I know he was telling the truth? Not only about the wedjadeen, but about the tablet itself? On the other hand, if he was telling the truth, the consequences were too grim to bear thinking about.
Plus Wigmere and Trawley and scholars in general didn't seem to view the tablet as all that important on its own, so even if I had made a grave miscalculation, we'd only be out one occult artifact.
Of course, the trick was how to keep the tablet out of the hands of Chaos while also keeping my grandmother—not to mention myself—safe. I planned to dump that dilemma in Awi Bubu's lap. If he was truly a member of one of the world's oldest and most secret organizations, then he should have plenty of ideas.
***
As I let myself into the back door of the Alcazar Theater, I couldn't help but wonder if Awi Bubu lived in his dressing room. And if so, did the theater manager know?
The dressing room door opened immediately to reveal a looming Kimosiri. He nodded his head and gestured me inside
. Awi Bubu stepped toward me and bowed. "So Little Miss has made up her mind." It was not a question. He knew.
I nodded. "Only if you can devise a plan that will keep my grandmother and the rest of my family safe."
"No one is absolutely guaranteed safe," he said. "Little Miss, for example, could be struck by a motorcar on her way home. But I will do everything in my power to be sure that our actions do not bring danger to your family's doorstep."
I guessed that would have to do. "Very well," I said. "I'm hoping you have a plan?"
"I have many, as I have done nothing but plot and plan since I first learned the tablet was here in London."
"Yes, well, whichever of them you choose, it has to happen tomorrow, because that is the deadline Sopcoate has given me."
"This I know, Little Miss."
"Very well, then. What's your plan?"
"Little Miss's parents have their grand opening tomorrow, is this correct?"
"Yes," I said. "A huge event, with lots of uppity-ups and the museum board and important members of society coming to view their newest exhibits."
"So it would be very easy for Little Miss to slip out unobserved."
"Very easy," I agreed. "That's why Sopcoate chose that time to meet."
Awi Bubu nodded, then thought for a moment. "You are no doubt being followed by one of Sopcoate's men, and one of the Bald One's as well."
"Do you think I've led them here? I'm sorry, I didn't notice anyone..."
Awi Bubu waved his hand. "It is of no matter. Kimosiri and I will be gone by Saturday. I have made arrangements on a ship bound for Marseille. As soon as I have the tablet in my hands I will depart for that ship and return to my homeland." The longing in his voice was palpable. "Anyway, as I said, we will assume you are being followed, so tomorrow, during the height of the grand opening, you will bring the tablet to the meeting place that Sopcoate has arranged, as if you plan to hand the tablet over to him. This way, you will appear to be cooperating, and whatever else happens after that will not be your fault."