Theodosia and the Staff of Osiris

  Bollingsworth gave a chilling smile. Faster than a snake, his arm darted forward and grabbed a handful of my frock. He pulled me away from the door toward him. I struggled, but there was nowhere to go and he was much stronger than I.

  He thrust his hand into my pocket and pulled out the orb, letting go of me as soon as he had it. I tumbled back against the seat feeling sick and filthy, as if his touch had corrupted me in some way.

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  He held the orb up in the carriage light. "Beautiful," he whispered. "You're so good at finding things we need, Theo." He glanced at me, our eyes meeting. "It's a pity that won't save you." He shoved the orb into one of his pockets but made no move to leave the carriage.

  "Y-you have the orb. Why don't you go now?" I said, rather desperate for him to be on his way.

  "Ah, but you and I have some unfinished business, do we not?" His eyes glittered at the promise of vengeance.

  "No, no. I think we're quite finished," I said, hoping my voice didn't quiver too much.

  "I owe you, Theo," he whispered. "Even the Bible says so. An eye for an eye, is it not?" His hand crept inside his cloak.

  Deciding I'd rather take my chances on a tumble from the carriage than with Bollingsworth, I felt along the carriage wall behind me, groping for the handle. Call it a hunch, but my chances of survival seemed much better outside the carriage than inside.

  The carriage swerved again, and I tumbled away from the door.

  The sound of another carriage reached us, and Bollingsworth peeked out the back window. Please let it be the Chosen Keepers, I thought. Please, oh please. Stokes. Bramfield. Thornleigh. Any one of them would be sorely welcome now.

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  Our carriage was racing along recklessly and it was all Bollingsworth and I could do to hang on. Then there were three loud thuds, and once again the vehicle dipped and swayed dangerously as new bodies climbed aboard. Bollingsworth drew a long, sharp knife from the folds of his cape. He wouldn't have done that if he were expecting his fellow Serpents of Chaos. That could only be a good sign. Or so I hoped.

  The door of the carriage jerked open. A man in a hood and cape stood balanced on the running board, blocking my view of the streets outside rushing by. He took one glance at Bollingsworth and the knife, then reached in, wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me from the careening carriage.

  The last thing I saw was the opposite door bursting open and another cloaked figure hurling himself into the carriage, ramming into Bollingsworth and knocking him back against the seat.

  Then I was dangling from the stranger's arm, my heart pounding wildly as the cobbled streets churned below in a dizzying rush. While I was most glad to get away from Bollingsworth, I had no desire to be crushed beneath racing hooves or carriage wheels. But the fellow had the grace and balance of a cat. He kept a firm grip on me while the second

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  carriage drew closer, another man braced against the doorway.

  Before I could so much as say, "I think not!" I was lugged like a bag of potatoes from one man to the next. The second man caught me with a slight oomph, and then we both tumbled back into the carriage.

  I lay on the floor for a moment, trying to catch my breath and hoping I wouldn't be sick. Our carriage turned down a side street, leaving Bollingsworth and the other man racing off into the night.

  I was torn between thanking the stranger who'd caught me and asking him what in the world he'd been thinking. Although I most fervently appreciated being rescued, I wasn't overly fond of the method. Surely the Chosen Keepers could have rescued me in a little less terrifying manner? I would have to speak with Wigmere about this.

  The man who'd caught me reached up and removed his hood. "Hello, Theo. Sorry it took us so long to get to you."

  I gasped. It wasn't one of the Chosen Keepers I'd been expecting.

  It was Edgar Stilton!

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  CHAPTER NINETEEN THE LITTLE STILTON THAT COULD ***

  "STILTON!"

  "Yes. Sorry about the hood and all."

  I was truly and utterly speechless. "But how ... why ...?"

  "Here, why don't you climb up off the floor and get comfortable. We'll be there in just a few moments and we will explain everything to you then."

  "We? Who's 'we'?" I pushed myself up off the carriage floor and perched on the edge of the seat opposite Stilton. "And where's 'there'?"

  "You'll see. I'm not allowed to explain it to you."

  Well, surely if Wigmere had sent him, he could have told me, so that ruled out the chance that he worked for the

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  Brotherhood. I'd so been hoping they had been the ones to rescue me. Well, I was assuming it was a rescue. "Thank you for coming to my aid back there."

  "Glad to do it, Miss Theo. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

  We? Really, who was this "we" bit? "Did you, um, recognize the fellow in the carriage?"

  Stilton frowned. "I'm afraid I didn't get a good look at him. Is he someone I'd know?"

  I had no idea if I should tell him it had been Bollingsworth or not. How much did he know of Chaos, if he knew anything at all? "Not necessarily. I just thought, since you were rescuing me and all, you might have had an idea as to who you were rescuing me from."

  "No," he said. "Just keeping you safe." And that was all I could get out of him until the carriage turned up Tottingham Court Road. Was he taking me back to the museum? Why hadn't he just said so?

  However, the carriage trotted on by the museum, and with a sinking heart, I realized we weren't going there after all.

  "I'm afraid I have to blindfold you," Stilton said apologetically. "Orders from higher up." "Blindfold me? Why ever for?"

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  "The location of our temple is highly secret."

  Temple? I didn't know of any temples in this neighborhood. Even so, surely I was better off with Stilton than with Bollingsworth. But when Stilton pulled a long strip of black cloth from his pocket and held it out to me, all my reassurances flew right out the window. "Turn around, please."

  "Really. I won't breathe a word--"

  "It's not my decision, Theo--otherwise I would never insist."

  Not having much choice, I did as I was told. Stilton had rescued me, even if it had been for unknown reasons.

  However, just because I was blindfolded didn't mean my mind had stopped working. I did my best to count turns and pay attention to the direction the carriage went in. Perhaps later, with a map in front of me, I could re-create our route.

  With a jingle of a harness, the carriage pulled to a stop. "Here we are," he announced. There was a rustle of movement as he left his seat, then a click and a rush of cold air. The carriage rocked as he hopped out. "Put your hand in mine, Theo. I won't let you fall."

  "Really--I promise I won't tell anyone where your temple is." I began grabbing at the blindfold, hoping to rip it off. "I can't possibly climb out of a carriage if I can't see."

  A firm hand caught mine and pulled it back. "I'm sorry,

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  Theo. I can't let you do that. We'd both be in trouble then. Here." Stilton's hand grasped my elbow as he guided me gently out of the carriage. "Watch your step there--one more. There you go," he said as my foot finally connected with terra firma.

  We shuffled across the sidewalk, and when we stopped abruptly, I bumped into Stilton. He grabbed my shoulders to steady me, then knocked on something solid. An odd knock, really--it had a strange little pattern to it, almost as if it was ... code. But of course!

  With a creak of a hinge, a door swung open. "What took you so long?"

  "There was a bit of trouble, but Gerton and Whiting are taking care of it. Watch your step," Stilton warned me. "There're three stairs down."

  Feeling helpless, I groped my way along the steps, my nerves strung tight. Then I was led down a maze of corridors --left, then right, then left twice more. I was hopelessly turned around, and just as I thought I was going to come unglued, someone yanked t
he blindfold from my head.

  I blinked. I was standing in a long corridor, lit with black candles in sconces on the wall rather than gaslights.

  "Are you all right?" Stilton asked, sounding concerned.

  "Yes, just disoriented is all."

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  "Come along and we'll get you some explanations." He led the way down the hall. I followed, while two hooded men brought up the rear.

  We went down a flight of steps that opened up into a huge chamber. It was also lit with candles, but still felt very gloomy. Once my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I noticed that there were a dozen cloaked, hooded figures standing in a semicircle up against the wall. One man stepped out from the shadows. He didn't have a hood, and the candlelight glinted off his shiny bald head.

  "Were there any problems?" he inquired.

  Stilton bowed low. "None that couldn't be handled, Supreme Master."

  Supreme master? Oh, for goodness sake! What rubbish was this? "Who are all these people, Stilton?" I asked.

  Ignoring my question, the bald man studied me with his rather wild-looking eyes. "You're quite sure?"

  "Positive," Stilton said, his voice full of certainty.

  Honestly! If he were half this confident back at the museum, he would have made Second Assistant Curator by now.

  "But she is so young. Unmarked in any way."

  Stilton shrugged. "Isis was young once, too."

  "Isis? The Egyptian goddess? What has all this got to do with her?" I asked, my impatience growing.

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  "Do you know who we are, child?" the bald man asked.

  I nearly stamped my foot in frustration. "How could I? Stilton hasn't told me a thing!"

  He nodded in approval at Stilton, then threw his arms in a sweeping gesture. "We are the Arcane Order of the Black Sun." He paused dramatically, as if that should mean something to me. When I said nothing, he continued.

  "We are the most secret of societies, dedicated to studying and understanding the wisdom and power of the ancients."

  Another secret society? Honestly. Didn't anybody belong to a good old-fashioned club anymore? "Wisdom and power of the ancients?" I repeated. "Exactly which ancients are you referring to? There's so many of them, really."

  He frowned at me. "The gods of the pharaohs, of course. We seek to discover their sacred doctrine and divine natures. To approach the temple of their ancient truths."

  "Are you off your pins?" I asked.

  The bald man looked at Stilton. "Are you sure you aren't mistaken?"

  Stilton shook his head. "No, Supreme Master."

  Some of the supreme master's fanatical glow faded. "I expected someone older. Taller. With more seriousness about her." He didn't even try to mask the disappointment in his voice.

  And I had expected someone thinner, with more hair, but

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  was too polite to say so. "I'm very serious, Mr.--er, what did you say your name was? I never joke about Egyptian magic."

  "My mundane name is Aloysius Trawley."

  "It is true, Most Elevated Leader. She takes her magic very seriously."

  I whirled around to face Stilton. "What do you know about me and my magic?"

  "I know that you perform strong magic to keep the museum safe from the evil spirits who live there. I know you can raise the dead."

  "Raise the dead?" Trawley's buggish eyes nearly popped out of his head.

  "That creak on the stairs! That was you! Spying on me!"

  Stilton had the good grace to blush. "I knew you were doing magic."

  "How?" I demanded. "How did you know?" Was he like me, then? Able to detect magic?

  But his supreme master interrupted us. "Will you show us your magic?" he asked, rubbing his hands in eagerness.

  "No! Of course not. I don't do magic. I only remove curses."

  "Perhaps you could do just a tiny bit of magic for us?" Trawley looked very much like my brother, Henry, asking for a second helping of Christmas pudding.

  "No. I'm sorry. It's quite impossible." Especially because I

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  no longer had the staff or the orb. "Is that why I'm here? Because you want me to do magic?"

  Trawley bowed his head. "No, no. We only want to worship you, O Light Giver of Heaven."

  Light giver of heaven? What was he jawing on about?

  Seeing my perplexed look, he tried again. "We want to sit at your feet and learn of your wisdom, O Maker of Sunrise."

  "Wisdom? What wisdom are you referring to? I'm only an eleven-year-old girl, and I've been told that wisdom is not my strong point."

  Stilton stepped forward, threw himself onto his knees in front of me, and bowed low. Horrified, I backed up until I bumped into the wall behind me. "O Queen of All Gods, we will protect your secret. We will tell no one of your identity and only ask that we may serve you so that your light and wisdom may shine down upon us."

  "Stilton," I hissed. "Get up! Get off the floor!"

  But instead of Stilton getting to his feet, the others in the room began to drop to their knees as well. The last to do so was Trawley, and when he got to his knees, he didn't bow his head but instead looked me straight in the eye. "It is our greatest wish to serve you, Lady Isis."

  "Isis," I echoed, my brain too stunned to work properly.

  Stilton looked up from the floor. "Yes. We know your secret, but our lips are sealed. Unto death if it must be."

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  "My secret? What secret?" My voice squeaked and I cleared my throat, trying to fight the rising panic.

  "Why, that you're Isis reincarnated, of course."

  My jaw dropped, and I gaped at the Third Assistant Curator on his knees in front of me as I realized he was utterly, barking mad.

  Any scholar knows that the Egyptians didn't believe in reincarnation!

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  CHAPTER TWENTY THE SCORPION TAIL

  ***

  THERE WAS A COMMOTION coming from the corridor. Trawley and Stilton jumped to their feet, then stepped in front, as if to shield me.

  Three more cloaked figures came into the room. One of them seemed familiar. I was fairly certain it was the fellow who had hauled me like a sack of turnips from the carriage.

  When the others saw who the newcomers were, they relaxed. "Report," Trawley said.

  The tallest man stepped forward. "They got away. The driver leaped off the coach, and in the ensuing crash the other fellow gave Gerton the slip."

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  A broad, heavily muscled man spoke next. "He was right handy with a knife, O Great One, and it was close quarters."

  Trawley looked at me with concern. "Who were these men, Divine Mistress? Do you know why they wished you harm?"

  Did these men know about the Serpents of Chaos, I wondered? Did secret societies know about one another? Best not to risk it. "No, I don't." I decided to stick as close to the truth as possible. "I think the man in the carriage was a former employee of my father's. Someone he had to fire. Perhaps he held a grudge?"

  "Ah," Trawley said. "Perhaps you don't trust us yet. Very-wise, for one so young. But you may rest assured, we will not compromise you in any way. We shall not reveal your secrets. We wish only for the chance to worship Your Greatness and perhaps share a little in your wisdom."

  Why did I think Trawley meant "magic" when he said "wisdom"?

  "As a symbol of our trust, we will offer you protection against those who wish you ill."

  "No, thank you. Really, I do much better on my own. I'm used to it."

  "No, no. It is we who insist. We wish for nothing more than a chance to serve you. The least we can do is offer you some small protection against whoever it is that wishes you

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  harm. In fact, we will assign seven scorpions to guard you, as of old."

  "Yes," Stilton said, his face eager. "I'm Tefen and will walk by your side."

  The three figures that had helped to rescue me from Bollingsworth stepped forward, too. "Ned Gerton at your service,
miss. Me code name's Befen."

  "I," said the tallest of the three, "am Basil Whiting, otherwise known as Mestafet. This gentleman here is Petet."

  The man who had driven the carriage while the others whisked me to safety bowed low. "Peter Fell reporting for duty, miss."

  Three other figures hopped up from their knees, like deranged jack-in-the-boxes, all shouting their scorpion names at me.

  The seven men had, in fact, named the seven scorpions assigned to Isis by Thoth to be her bodyguards. Except I was not Isis. And Trawley was most certainly not Thoth.

  They had to be joking. Didn't they? But they all stood at the ready, willing to obey my slightest command. I was beginning to get a headache.

  "Tell us how we may prove ourselves to you," Trawley murmured. "How may we servest thou?"

  "Look. You have it all wrong. I am not Isis." I turned to Stilton. "Whatever gave you that idea, anyway?"

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  Stilton raised his head. There was a smudge of dirt smack in the middle of his forehead. "I saw you raise the dead with my own eyes."

  I paused. "You mean the mouse?" I asked.

  He nodded eagerly. "Yes. The mouse, but the mummies, too."

  I started to explain, then stopped. What if I managed to convince them I wasn't Isis--what then? They were willing to worship and adore me now, but that was only because they thought I had loads of power. What would they do if they thought me a fraud? Well, I wasn't really a fraud. But I certainly wasn't Isis. They might feel rather duped. Or tricked. Or just plain foolish if I managed to convince them I wasn't the ancient goddess.

  Even more worrisome, how would they feel about having shared their secrets with a stranger? Especially an eleven-year-old stranger?