CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Agony and the Ecstasy

THE NEXT MORNING, Mother woke me bright and early. "We're scheduled to take photographs of the inside of Thutmose Ill's tomb today," she announced. "You'll find it very interesting, Theo."

I knew I would, but there was something else I had to do before allowing myself to return to the excavation site. "I'm afraid I don't feel well, Mother. I think I should stay home today and rest."

"What's wrong, dear?" She hurried to my bed and placed her cool hand on my forehead.

"Perhaps I took too much sun?"

She frowned. "You were inside the tomb all day," she pointed out.

Bother. "Perhaps it was the heat, then? Or maybe I just got overexcited."

She smiled. "It was a rather exciting day, I'll grant you that."

"I think it would do me good to stay home and rest. I'm sure I'll be right as rain in a day or two."

Her face fell. "Well, if you really think so. I'll miss you on the dig. You're a huge help, you know. Besides, I can hardly wait to see what you'll discover next! You definitely have a knack for this work, Theo."

Her words were music to my ears! Music I had waited years to hear from my mother's lips. But duty—and deathbed promises—called. Completely unaware of the agony I was going through, Mother smiled. "I suppose we can manage without you this once. I'll tell Habiba." And with that, she got up and left the room, leaving me alone with my horrid promises to Awi Bubu and Lord Wigmere.

Clearly it had been only sheer chance that whoever had searched my room hadn't found the Emerald Tablet. But they would keep searching, of that I was certain.

I would have liked to pay my visit to the Luxor temple in the cool of the morning, but I knew the tourists would be out in full force then. Best if as few people as possible were there when I left my message to request a meeting with the wedjadeen. Consequently, I spent a long, slow morning in my room, brooding about the grandfather I never knew. I could still hardly stomach my family's perfidy. That they would have kept so much from me! How could I ever trust them again? Not to mention that the weight of their disapproval had suffocated me for years. How comforting it would have been to know that I had had a grandfather just like myself.

Although, after what had happened to him, that realization might not have been as comforting as one would hope. My grandfather (how odd that sounds!) had been a grown man, and look how badly things had turned out for him. What chance did I, an almost twelve-year-old girl, have to do any better?

The truth was, I couldn't wait to return the orb and the tablet to the wedjadeen so I could concentrate wholly on being an unpeculiar archaeologist.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, I was not in the best of moods. When Quillings's hideous watch contraption told me it was one o'clock, I was only too glad to get moving. I dressed quickly, made my bed, and left a lump of my old clothes carefully concealed under the covers. There, I thought, with one last prod at the decoy. That should look as though I were fast asleep to the casual observer. And hopefully, that was what Habiba was—a casual observer. It occurred to me that she could be a well-placed spy on behalf of Chaos, but Arab women led such sheltered and secluded lives that I didn't see how that could be the case.

Habiba was busy in the kitchen, so it was easy enough to sneak out to the stable, which was empty. Gadji and Sefu must have been off looking for Gadji's family. A sharp slice of regret cut through me and I was filled with a nearly overwhelming desire to have Sticky Will at my back for this adventure. But, of course, that was impossible, since he was an entire continent away. I gave myself a mental rap on the head and told myself to get on with it. How hard could it be to find the Luxor temple, anyway? Surely a landmark so popular with tourists and scholars would be easy enough to find.

I quickly discovered that finding it wasn't the problem—it was making my way through the small army of shopkeepers trying to sell post cards or ostrich feather fans or dragomen trying to talk me into hiring them. There was a small army of donkey boys, all shouting the virtues of their beasts at the top of their lungs, as well as men hawking antikahs and children begging for baksheesh. Finally, out of sheer self-defense, I hired one of the older children to act as my guide and lead me through the din and clamor to the temple.

It worked. Dodging and ducking around the clusters of locals, he led me through a maze of streets lined with shops and bazaars until we at last came upon the temple. It sat, solemn and majestic, spreading out for as far as the eye could see.

I paid the boy his coin and, in spite of his desire to stay and show me the temple, sent him on his way. I wanted to experience this ancient wonder without the constant chatter of my guide.

As the padding of his footsteps disappeared, I stared up at the marvel in front of me and felt as if I had been transported back to the days of the pharaohs. This was the place where the essence of the gods had lived. They had been worshiped here, housed, fed, clothed, and celebrated. There was no hint of dark magic or curses coming from anywhere nearby. Only a sense of unearthly power wafted across my skin, a faint breeze of sensation that felt both hushed and holy. There was also something just the tiniest bit familiar. With a flutter of recognition, I realized I'd felt a similar trickle of power coming off the artifacts of the gods that I'd handled. Now that I'd spent time in Egypt, so close to the source of all these magics, I was able to better distinguish the nuances between them.

A single obelisk rose up against the brilliant blue sky, and two rows of sphinxes guarded the entrance to the temple. Two colossal statues of Ramses II sat on either side of the entrance, imposing guardians of this once-sacred place.

No, it was still sacred, I thought.

I straightened my shoulders and tightened my grip on the reticule, then made my way down the procession of sphinxes. They were just statues, I reminded myself, even if it did feel as if they were watching me.

Luckily, most of the tourists had returned to their hotels and the temple appeared deserted. It was eerie, really, and if I hadn't needed to conduct my business in utmost secrecy, I would have been slightly unnerved.

The thick walls of the temple were covered in carvings, scenes of a battle of some sort. My hands itched to trace them so I could study them later, but there would be time enough for that once my promises had been kept.

I passed through the pylon, a shiver dancing along my shoulders as I did so, and entered the Court of Nectanebo II, the last true Egyptian pharaoh. On the left was a mosque, built much later, but on the right was the triple-barque shrine constructed by the great builder pharaoh, Ramses II. Yet another ancient marvel I had no time for this afternoon. I forced myself to cross the courtyard to the great papyrus-styled columns that lined the path to the inner sanctuaries of the temple. The truth was, it was physically painful to be among all these ancient wonders and have no time to examine them properly. In the end, I made myself stop looking and hurried through with my head down.

When I finally reached the altar, I paused a moment, letting the weight of the ages press down upon me. As reverently as possible, I removed from my pocket the small scroll that Awi Bubu had given me and laid it as an offering on the stone altar just as he had instructed. I said a little prayer, entreating whoever was listening to let the wedjadeen know I came in peace and in an effort to return what was rightfully theirs.

I felt a sense of well-being come over me. I was doing the right thing, returning the tablet and the sacred knowledge to the people who had guarded it for centuries. A faint breeze picked up and fluttered through my hair. I remembered Awi Bubu's insistence that even Shu, the god of air, had ears to hear us. Perhaps even now he took my message to the Eyes of Horus.

My hand slipped inside my pocket and searched for the sliver of brick. As my fingers closed around the rough surface, I listened carefully, wondering if the Babel stone would allow me to make out the words of an actual god.

The faint whooshing of the wind grew louder, and I fancied it almost sounded like a whispering voice. I closed my eyes and concentrated even harder, trying to make out the words. The rustling of the wind rose, then fell, grew louder, then softened, sounding remarkably like a far-off conversation. But alas, not one with words I could understand.

With a sigh of disappointment, I turned and began making my way back through the columns, my steps already feeling lighter. I was so close to handing off this suffocating burden and being able to get on with my life. Not to mention all the discoveries that were practically begging me to find them. As Mother said, I did seem to have a talent for that sort of thing. Just think of how much progress I could make if I wasn't constantly being pulled in another, decidedly dangerous direction!

There was a scrape along the dusty stone floor of the temple. The sort of scrape a footstep might make.

My gaze flew to the shadows among the small army of colonnades. Nothing. No, wait. There. A flutter of movement behind one of the Ramses statues. As my eyes zeroed in on it, the shadow came forward and formed itself into the shape of a very old wizened little man.

He was hardly any taller than I was. His head was large and bald. Except for being thinner and more shriveled, he could have been Awi Bubu's twin brother.

But probably most astonishing, he wore the robes of an ancient Egyptian sem priest—a white linen tunic draped over one shoulder, embellished by a leopard skin. "Hello?" I said.

"Greetings," he said in heavily accented English. "How may I help you?"

I glanced back at my little offering on the altar. That had been fast. "I am looking for the Eyes of Horus. I have business to conduct with them."

The priest's eyebrows rose. "Who may I say is looking for them?"

"My name's Theodosia. Awi Bubu sent me."

At the sound of the magician's name, the priest stilled. "Indeed. If that is the case, we must send for them." He lifted two fingers to his lips and gave a short, piercing whistle. Within seconds, a dark shape appeared overhead in the sky. A falcon! It dipped low, flying in our direction and coming to land on the priest's outstretched arm. The priest whispered something to the falcon, who watched me with fiercely intelligent eyes. When the priest finished talking, he threw his arm up, launching the bird back into the sky. In silence, we watched the bird fly away.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Now we wait," he said.

"You mean they'll come right away?"

He nodded, lowered himself to the ground in front of one of the colonnades, and sat down. Not knowing quite what else was expected of me, I did the same.

After a while (half an hour, according to Quillings's watch), I heard the sound of hoofbeats in the distance. The priest smiled at me. "And here they are," he said.

Minutes later, three men strode into the courtyard. They wore long, flowing black robes and head cloths secured with green and gold cords. "You have called us, Baruti?"

"I did not call you, Khalfani. It is she who has left an offering for you." The priest pointed in my direction.

Khalfani spun on his heel and speared me with a fierce, dark gaze that reminded me of the falcon's. A wave of power bumped up against me, far stronger than anything Awi Bubu had ever tried to exert over me. When I steeled myself against it, Khalfani narrowed his eyes and strode over to the altar. He retrieved my note and read it in silence. When he was done, he looked up at me, his face giving none of his thoughts away. "How did you know how to summon us?"

"Awi Bubu told me."

A moment's stunned silence was followed by everyone talking at once. As unobtrusively as possible, I slipped my hand into my pocket and touched the sliver of Babel stone.

"Is Awi Bubu here?"

"Why did he not come himself?"

"What do you know of He Who Is Dead to Us?" This last was said in English and directed at me.

"He Who Is Dead ... oh! You mean Awi Bubu?" Honestly! You'd think none of them had ever made a mistake. "I know he is very sorry for whatever it is he did. And it is he who sent me because I have something he thought you'd want rather badly. In fact, what I have is so important that he hoped returning it to you would earn him his way back into your good graces."

Another eruption, this time accompanied by outrage.

Finally, the priest hushed everyone. "Perhaps we should see what the girl has brought us before we judge and condemn Awi Bubu yet again."

I swallowed. "I have brought the Emerald Tablet to return to you."

Khalfani stepped forward, his eyes searching me for signs of the tablet. "Where is it? You do not have this thing on you."

"No," I admitted. "I needed to be certain I could reach you before I started lugging it all over town. It isn't the sort of thing one ought to leave lying out in the open."

"How do we know you are speaking the truth?"

"What possible reason would I have for lying?" I countered.

The man looked down at the note in his hand. "He says also that you carry with you a sign of good faith."

"I do. Here." I thrust the soiled, tattered reticule in his direction. "Proof that I mean what I say."

We eyed each other suspiciously, and then Khalfani stepped forward and took the reticule from me. He returned to his men, who crowded around to watch. When he opened the purse, he drew back in surprise. "The Orb of Ra!" They began speaking to one another in soft whispers.

The leader shifted his attention back to me. "How did you come by it?" he asked.

I stared at the shiny gold artifact, glinting in the afternoon sun. If these wedjadeen were anything like Awi Bubu, they could smell a lie at twenty paces. Best stick with the truth, but the absolute minimum of the truth. "It was in my parents' museum," I confessed.

The man to Khalfani's right spoke, still in Arabic. The leader nodded, then repeated the question to me. "Did you find the orb alone?"

I shifted slightly on my feet. "No," I admitted. "I found it with a staff. The Staff of Osiris."

That got their full attention. "Where is the staff, then?" the leader asked, taking a step toward me.

Honestly! Did he think I was hiding it under my skirt? "I left it in London. With the Brotherhoo—er, a very wise man. He felt it was too risky to keep them together. Especially when traveling."

The wedjadeen nodded. "He was right to think so. No man should ever wield that kind of power."

Oh good. Something we agreed upon at last.

Khalfani's hand tightened around the orb. "Even so, it belongs to us. It should be returned as well."

"I'm sure he'll get right on that, sir." No wonder Awi Bubu ran away from these people. They were impossible to deal with.

"Why did this wise man of yours not bring it himself? What manner of coward is he that he hides behind a child's skirts?"

That did it. I put my hands on my hips and glared at them. "I thought you were supposed to be the Eyes of Horus, not some schoolyard bullies. Wig—the wise man didn't come himself because Awi Bubu told us that if a grown man approached you, you would most likely kill him on sight. He thought I, at least, would have a chance of being allowed to speak."

The look on the leader's face let me know I had scored a direct hit.

"Plus, he has a bad leg and can't get around well." The truth. "But more important, it was my task to complete; I had promised Awi Bubu on his deathbed that I would do this thing. And he promised you would not harm me."

The old priest's brows knit together in concern. "Awi Bubu is dead, then?"

"No. He lives. But he has been badly injured and his injuries are not healing well. That is why he was not able to come himself." I glared at the man who had asked that original question.

This caused a small flurry of rapid Arabic. Even holding the chip of Babel, I could barely make out what they were saying.

"...just take the orb and be done."

"Why not just take this orb, silence her, then retrieve the other treasure from its hiding place?"

"No, I say let us honor Awi Bubu's wishes, at least at first. We can always change our minds later."

At last the leader motioned for the others to be quiet. "The orb has been used. How did you know how to use it?"

He could tell that by looking at it? "It was Awi Bubu who used it, against some very evil men. That's when he was horribly injured—while saving my life. So I owed him, you see, and when he thought he was dying, he made me promise to return this to you." The Egyptian magician could just as easily have left me in the hands of the Serpents of Chaos, but he hadn't and so had set this whole chain of events in motion.

"Very well," Khalfani said at last. "We will accept this orb as a gesture of good faith and will wait for you to bring the tablet to us. How quickly can you get back here?"

"It won't be today!" I protested.

"Tomorrow at sunrise, then." His will bumped into mine again, trying to ensure I would do exactly what he wanted.

It didn't work. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to get away? My mother knows nothing about this and I'd like to keep it that way. I had to pretend I was ill just so she would allow me to stay home today."

Khalfani shrugged. "Pretend you are sick again."

I nearly stomped my foot in frustration. "Have you ever had a mother? Because if you had, you'd know that if you're sick for more than a day, they expect a fever, or spots, or throwing up. They need proof. And while I am good at pretending, I am not that good."

After a long moment during which he had a very odd look on his face, he finally asked, "When can you get away again?"

"I could probably do it the day after tomorrow. I'll most likely be out in the sun all day and can then tell her I'm suffering from the heat."

"Weak Inglaize," one of them muttered.

"I am faking, remember?"

"Enough! We will return the day after tomorrow. What time is good for you?" Khalfani inquired mockingly.