Theodosia and the Staff of Osiris

  "The British Navy is twice as strong as the next two navies combined."

  Lavinia! He'd called her by her Christian name! I'd forgotten she even had one.

  "Not if Germany has its way," she answered darkly. "They are determined to challenge our naval supremacy."

  "Don't worry." Sopcoate gave a jolly wink. "Once those Germans see the Dreadnought, they'll put aside their misguided ideas of naval equality with England."

  "But isn't that rather like baiting a bear?" Father asked. "How do you know they won't come out swinging, determined to build even more battleships of their own?"

  Couldn't grownups talk of anything besides politics and war? I knew that the Germans and the British were on the outs with each other, but if you asked me--although no one did--that was mostly the fault of the Serpents of Chaos. They were a secret organization dedicated to bringing about disorder and strife in their quest to dominate the world. Specifically, they wanted Germany and Britain at each other's throat. They wanted instability and utter chaos so they could move in and seize power. However, now that Wigmere and I had foiled their plans, this whole war-cry nonsense would surely die down.

  Luckily, before the adults could go on too long, we were

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  interrupted by a faint clinking sound. Lord Chudleigh was striking his champagne glass with a tiny fork. "Time has come, everyone. Gather round. Here's your chance to see a mummy unwrapped, the unveiling of the secrets of the Egyptians."

  An excited murmur ran through the crowd, and everyone shuffled over to the table on which the mummy lay. I tugged on Father's hand. "Do I have to watch, Father? Can't I wait over there?"

  He patted my shoulder. "There's nothing to be afraid of, you know."

  Of course I knew that! That wasn't the issue. It just seemed wrong to be unwrapping the poor mummy in front of all these gawking visitors who didn't give a fig about ancient Egypt or the scholarly pursuit of Egyptian burial practices.

  As we drew closer, I made a point of hanging back behind Mother and Father, but then Admiral Sopcoate stepped aside. "Here, young lady. Come stand in front of me so you can see better. You don't want to miss this!"

  Of course, he was just being kind. I opened my mouth to say, "No thank you," but caught Grandmother's eye. The warning glint told me that refusing wasn't an option. Biting back a sigh, I stepped forward and found myself in the front row, merely three feet away from the mummy on the table.

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  "This unidentified mummy was found inside the newly discovered tomb of Amenemhab," Chudleigh went on. "We're hoping that by unwrapping him tonight, we will learn more about who he was, as well as insights into the mystery of mummification. Are you ready?"

  A wave of assent rose up from the gathering.

  "Throckmorton, Snowthorpe, would you do the honors, please?"

  Father blinked in surprise. He quickly hid the look of distaste that spread across his face and stepped dutifully forward.

  "Let's start from the feet, shall we?" Snowthorpe suggested.

  I thought about closing my eyes, then wondered if Grandmother Throckmorton would be able to tell. Testing the theory, I screwed my eyes shut--just for the merest of seconds. Immediately there was a sharp poke in my shoulder blade and a disapproving sniff.

  I opened my eyes and thought briefly of handing her a handkerchief. Honestly! I didn't see how it was rude to close one's eyes but perfectly all right to sniff constantly, like one of those pigs that can root out truffles.

  I turned my attention back to the front, but looked steadfastly at Father instead of the mummy.

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  It takes a surprisingly long time to unwrap a mummy. To entertain his guests, Lord Chudleigh jawed on about mummy legends and curses--the most sensational rubbish he could find, and most of it not even close to the truth. When he got to the part about how they used to grind up mummies to be ingested for their magical properties--that part true, unfortunately--I was so utterly revolted that I blurted out, "You're not going to grind this one up, are you?"

  There was a long moment of silence in which everyone chose to stare at me, and I suddenly remembered my promise to do nothing to call attention to myself.

  Chudleigh gave a false laugh. "No, no. Of course not. This one will become a part of my own personal collection."

  "Oh. I beg your pardon," I said, vowing to keep my mouth shut from now on.

  At last Father and Snowthorpe came to the mummy's head. I studiously kept my eyes glued to Father's face. When the last bandage was lifted away, the crowd gasped in delighted horror.

  I will not look, I will not look, I told myself. But sometimes the more you concentrate on not doing something, the more drawn you are to doing it. In the end, my curiosity got the better of me and I looked.

  "Behold--the unknown priest of Amenemhab!" Lord Chudleigh called out.

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  A smattering of applause ran through the crowd. Unable to help myself, I stepped forward, my eyes fixed on the mummy's face.

  It was a face I had seen only a few short months ago, when I'd been forced to confront three of the Serpents of Chaos in Thutmose Ill's tomb. Their leader's words rang in my ears. That is twice he's failed me. There shall not be a third time.

  "Oh no, Lord Chudleigh." The words bubbled out before I could stop them. "That isn't an unknown priest of the Middle Dynasty. That's Mr. Tetley. From the British Museum."

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  CHAPTER TWO CHAOS RETURNS

  ***

  THE CROWD ERUPTED INTO SHOCKED EXCLAMATIONS . Father looked at me strangely. "You know Tetley?"

  "What on earth are you talking about?" Chudleigh asked.

  Behind me, I heard Grandmother declare, "She's gone too far this time." Just as her clawlike hand reached for me, I took three giant steps forward, answering the least dicey question first.

  "I'm trying to explain that this isn't a mummy from ancient Egypt, but a very recent fake."

  A look of indignation passed over Chudleigh's face, which he tried unsuccessfully to cover up with a jolly bluster.

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  "Now, now. What could a young girl possibly know about mummies, eh? Not much, I'd wager."

  "Well, you'd be wrong, sir." Grandmother's gasp of shock made me realize that I had sounded rude, although I was just trying to point out that I most certainly did know things about mummies. "See how there aren't any amulets among the bandages? Most unusual. And look here. He's not wearing a linen tunic or skirt or even a loincloth. He's wearing ... a combination suit." I felt myself blush and heard a commotion behind me. A voice called out, "Get me some smelling salts!"

  I glanced over my shoulder to find Admiral Sopcoate dragging Grandmother Throckmorton over to a settee. I gulped and turned back to face Father and Lord Chudleigh.

  Chudleigh's face was quite red. "Now, see here ..."

  Father tugged at his collar. "I'm afraid she does point out some very legitimate irregularities, sir."

  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.

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  "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."

  Chudl
eigh 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.

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  "Urn, 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.

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  "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?"

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  "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

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  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.

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  CHAPTER THREE ANUBIS RISING

  ***

  FATHER 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."

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  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.

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  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
/>
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  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

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  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.