Theodosia & the Eyes of Horus (28 page)

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sacred, true artifacts, they entrusted to a small, fiercely committed band of magician priests who called themselves the Eyes of Horus, the
wedjadeen.
We swore to guard these relics for when the true pharaoh rose again.

"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

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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,

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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?"

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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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 skirt 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

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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.

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"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

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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 entry-way."

"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.