CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Orb and I

 

I DID MY BEST TO COMPOSE MYSELF. It wouldn’t do to waltz into Wigmere’s office giggling.

“Miss Theodosia to see you, sir,” Will announced.

“Send her in.”

Will stood aside so I could enter. The solemn weight of Wigmere’s office chased any thought of giggling clean away. It had the same heavy silence that a church or library might have had.

Wigmere looked up at me, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. “Something must be dire indeed to bring you here at this hour. Is it your parents? Are they all right?”

“Oh, they’re fine, sir. Well, as fine as possible, considering they’re attending an emergency meeting of our museum’s board of directors. I suspect they are getting a good raking over the coals about the mummy situation right about now.”

If I was hoping he would offer to keep them out of their predicament, I was sorely disappointed. “Well, come in. Sit down.” He looked back at Will. “Thank you. That will be all.” Will tugged his cap, then bowed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Now, what’ve you come all this way to tell me?”

“Did Will tell you about the Staff of Osiris? Did he explain that’s what called all the mummies to the museum?”

“Yes, he did. But I wouldn’t mind hearing it straight from you.”

I quickly told him of finding the staff in the basement and returning the next day to find all the mummies gathered round. Then I explained about my experiment with the dead mouse, but stopped when Wigmere’s mustache twitched. He wasn’t laughing at me, was he? “Is something wrong, sir?”

“Nothing, nothing. Carry on.”

When I’d finished, he leaned forward. “You didn’t bring the staff with you, by any chance, did you?”

Honestly! What did he think I’d done with it? Hidden it in my skirts? “I’m afraid that wasn’t possible.”

He sighed in disappointment. “Rather difficult to carry around, yes?”

“Well, not only that . . .”

“Well, what, then?”

Steeling myself, I drew a deep breath. “I’m afraid the staff has been stolen, sir.”

“What?” Wigmere nearly leaped out of his seat, which was rather extraordinary given that he normally needed a cane.

“Someone broke into the museum last night and stole the staff.”

“Good gad! D’you have any idea who it was?”

“None, sir. But no one knew about the staff except you and Will and me.”

“There are many who pay attention to magical comings and goings in this town, Theodosia. Most likely they’ve been watching the museum ever since the first wave of mummies showed up on your doorstep. And of course, we now know that Chaos is back in the game.”

I got a rather sick feeling in my stomach.

“We’ve checked all von Braggenschnott’s last known addresses but have come up empty-handed. Chaos has gone to ground, I’m afraid. Have you had a chance to do any research on the staff?”

“Yes, a bit. I’m afraid it’s rather grim news. As far-fetched as it sounds, the staff is rumored to actually have belonged to Osiris, which is nonsense, don’t you think?”

He didn’t immediately agree, which made me nervous. Instead, he pursed his lips. “We’ve been researching down on Level Six, and they came up with similar information. Mostly myth and legend, nothing concrete.”

“Can you tell me?”

“Of course.” He settled back in his chair. “Way back in the mists of time, probably in the Early Dynastic Period, a staff came into being. Its exact origins are unknown. Some of the earliest writings of the time claim that it was created by Egypt’s most powerful early magician, Menhotep. Other sources claim that it was forged by Osiris himself, during the short period he walked this earth before taking up his reign in the Underworld.”

“But I thought he was only a myth!”

Wigmere shook his head. “Some sources claim he was actually the fourth pharaoh of Egypt. Anyway, throughout Egypt’s Old Kingdom, the staff was held by the highest magician in the land, waiting in readiness for the pharaohs’ use. Different pharaohs wielded the staff with different results, depending on their nature and their need. But eventually the staff passed from human awareness, hidden in some temple or pyramid tomb, forgotten by many, if not all.

“The next rumors of the staff’s existence came to light during the Middle Kingdom. Some claim its power is what allowed Egypt to conquer Nubia and forge alliances with Syria and Palestine. During the rule of Akhenaten, the pharaoh who introduced the worship of the sun god Aten, the staff was feared destroyed, but it turns out it was hidden from sight by priests who served Osiris, waiting until it was safe again.

“There is one more mention. Rameses III is said to have used the staff to create a Fog of War, which succeeded in defeating the Sea People who threatened Egypt. Then once again it fell off the historical map. Everything written after that point is pure rumor and speculation. A number of sources claim that somehow Alexander the Great got a hold of the staff, and that is what allowed him to conquer Egypt. It was assumed to be in possession of the Ptolemies up until the Romans conquered the land. Some say Cleopatra lost the staff, others that she gave it over in secret to the Romans, then, consumed by remorse, killed herself.

“The most concrete evidence we have of its actual existence is a copy of a papyrus attributed to the scribe Itennu, cataloging a collection of Egyptian national treasures housed in the Library of Alexandria.”

“But then, wouldn’t it have burned along with the library?”

Wigmere leaned forward. “Here’s where it gets interesting. Rumors of the staff’s existence began to appear in some of the early medieval grimoires. No one had actually seen it—it was just a wisp of a rumor among other rumored artifacts of power. However, some of the grimoires and other medieval magical texts whispered of its continued existence, asserting that it did not burn with the library.

“There is a curious historical footnote that mentions a small but dedicated group who had vowed to protect the pharaohs and their treasures until the end of time. It is thought that they managed to smuggle a cache of Egyptian treasures out of the Library of Alexandria before it burned. We are still trying to follow that trail.”

“And somehow one of the treasures ended up in our museum?”

“Precisely.”

The room fell quiet as we both pondered the full implications of this.

“But sir, why would the Serpents of Chaos want to have power over the mummies? What would they possibly gain from that?”

He met my gaze with his deep, troubled eyes. “I don’t know. We haven’t figured that part out yet. But I have no doubt that London will soon be terrorized by a mob of mummies.”

“But wait—I completely forgot!” I pulled the Orb of Ra from my pocket and laid it on Wigmere’s desk.

He stared in wonder at the golden orb. “What is this?”

“It’s the orb from the staff! I removed it last night so that the mummies wouldn’t return to the museum. I was afraid if they showed up again, Inspector Turnbull would arrest Father. So I deactivated the staff. Without the orb, I believe the staff has no power. It was only after I put the orb into the jackal head of the staff that the mummies became active.”

His eyes shone in admiration. “Excellent work, Theo. Just excellent!”

I squirmed in pleasure. “Thank you, sir. I thought I’d leave it here for safekeeping.”

At my suggestion, Wigmere’s face settled into a concerned frown.

“What? What is it?”

“I think you will need to keep the orb, Theodosia.”

“But why? Wouldn’t it be safer with you?”

“It would, but you wouldn’t.”

Unease worked its way down my spine. “What do you mean?”

“It won’t take Chaos long—if they are indeed the ones in possession—to figure out that the staff isn’t working, and what do you think they will do when they discover the orb is what’s needed to make it work? They will come looking for it, my dear. And if you don’t have it to give to them, it could go very badly for you.”

“But I thought we didn’t want the orb to fall into their hands?”

“True. But if I have to choose between the orb and you, I prefer to keep you safe. You’re already mixed up in things that are far too dangerous for a girl of your age. The least I can do is try to ensure your safety. No, you must keep it for now. Furthermore, if they come after it, you must give it to them, Theo. Your safety is more important than keeping the orb out of their hands.”

“Yes, sir,” I said as I slowly returned the orb to my pocket.

“How did you get here?” he asked.

“I took a cab. But I’m rather out of funds now.”

He grabbed his cane and rose to his feet. “That doesn’t matter. I want you to be escorted back to the museum by one of my men. It will be safer that way.”

I followed him out of his office and waited while he arranged for transportation. He assured me that they would continue their research and he urged me to continue mine. We agreed to keep in touch through Will.

When I went downstairs, Will was waiting to escort me to the carriage that Wigmere had ordered to take me home. Right then seemed as good a time as any to find out what was going on with him. Once we were out of the building and free from being overheard, I spoke up. “So, exactly what kind of trouble are you in?”

“Wot’re you talkin’ about, miss?”

“That tall, greasy-looking fellow with the hooked nose and undertaker’s coat,” I whispered fiercely. “I’ve seen him hanging around the museum. Inspector Turnbull called him the Grim Nipper. Is he following you?”

Even in the dim light, I could see Will’s face grow sickly pale. “Shhh! Don’t say that name out loud! Not if’n ye want to keep yer skin.”

“Then tell me why he’s following you! Every time you come to the museum, he’s hot on your tail. Is he part of your old life? An old professional acquaintance?”

“No one’s following me, miss,” he said, his face set in stubborn lines. “Here’s yer carriage, now.”

“Well, you be careful,” I said in a low voice. “And don’t do anything to give Wigmere cause to mistrust you. He wouldn’t be happy you were mingling with someone like the Grim Nipper.”

“Course I won’t. Off wi’ you, now.”

I hesitated, wondering if I should press him further, but the horses were stomping in impatience. The driver looked down. “Is there a problem?”

“No. No problem,” Will called back.

With a last warning look at Will, I climbed in. The driver clicked his tongue and slapped the reins.

As I settled back onto the seat, I had to admit I felt much better now that I’d told Wigmere everything. The entire Brotherhood of the Chosen Keepers would be on it. Surely it would be only a matter of time before they found a way to outmaneuver the Serpents of Chaos.

But I was a little disturbed at Wigmere’s worries for my safety. Earlier I had only thought of keeping the magic of the staff from the Serpents of Chaos. Now the orb was an ominous weight against my leg. I pushed that unpleasant thought aside and pondered what else Wigmere had told me.

To think that the Egyptian gods may have once upon a time walked the earth! And that they’d left such powerful artifacts behind. Artifacts that had power over death. But, I reminded myself, that was the nature of myths. They grew larger and grander over time.

Although the staff did seem to prove that there was some kernel of truth in them.

It was quite dark now. My stomach growled. What time was it, anyway? Could I talk the driver into stopping for something to eat on the way back to the museum? Then I remembered my lack of funds. Bother. Looked like jam sandwiches again.

There was a loud rattle of carriage wheels coming up behind us, the thundering of hooves growing louder and louder. The driver steered our carriage over toward the side to make room. However, instead of passing, the other vehicle drew up even with us. I heard a shout, and then two loud thuds overhead caused our carriage to dip wildly and lurch to the side. The driver cried out and then fell silent, but the carriage kept going.

With Wigmere’s warnings echoing in my head, I scooted over to the window, pulled the curtain aside to see what was going on, and found myself face to chest with a black-cloaked form. Before I could so much as squeak, the large, threatening figure yanked the door open and swung himself in, landing on the seat across from me.

Heart pounding, I scrambled back into the far corner.

The intruder shut the door behind him, then turned to face me.

In the dim light of the carriage lamps, I could just make out that one side of his face was horribly scarred.

“Hullo, Theodosia.” The familiar voice raised chills along my arms. “Fancy meeting you here.”

I forced myself to meet the man’s gaze. The skin of his left eye was pitted and red, the eye itself a useless milky white.

But even with all those scars, I would have recognized Nigel Bollingsworth anywhere.