Theodosia and the Eyes of Horus Page 2

  "Er, yes, you do," I agreed. "Can we hurry?" I asked, glancing once more at the approaching Gerton.

  "I'm sure Ratsy can get ye back there. Let's ask 'im."

  We went toward the stage and caught up with Ratsy just as he was coming down the steps. He still looked a bit dazed and sheepish. "Did I really do magic?" he asked.

  "Sure did, bucko! Spouted out all sorts of stuff. Ratsy's small pinched face glowed with pleasure. "D'you fink you could get us backstage? You knows the way, don't you, Rats?"

  Ratsy nodded. "Sure."

  Will turned to Snuffles. "You guard the exit so it don't get locked before we're done 'ere."

  With a quick look around, Ratsy led me and Will toward a small door to the left of the main stage. I glanced over my shoulder. Gerton was still searching through the seats, trying to find me.

  Almost as if he'd felt my gaze on him, he lifted his head and looked my way.

  I quickly darted through the door, hoping he hadn't seen me.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Curiouser and Curiouser

  THE SPACE WAS DARK AND SMALL and smelled of mice. Once he'd gotten his bearings, Ratsy led us through a twisting set of hallways.

  "How does he know his way around so well?" I asked Will.

  "'E's worked 'ere before, miss. When you're a rat catcher, you get to know your way around a lot of places."

  Will's words filled me with unease. I risked a glance behind me, afraid giant rats might be following us even now, but I could see nothing in the gloom.

  Will came to an abrupt stop, and since my attention had been behind me, I bumped into him with an oof.

  "Careful, miss. There's people about now."

  Indeed, I could hear voices and the sound of steps hurrying back and forth.

  Backstage was a confusing collection of small rooms and closets opening off a crooked hallway. To make matters worse, the entire floor listed sharply to the right. A faint odor of old sweat and pipe smoke hung in the air.

  Ratsy held his finger to his lips, then pointed to a door that was slightly ajar.

  "Take's dropping off," said a voice. If I wasn't mistaken—and I rarely was—it was the announcer's voice. It had the same flat vowels and oratory quality.

  "Some days are better than others, are they not?" This voice was softer and had a lilting accent. Awi Bubu's? "And the daytime shows, they are never as good as those at night."

  "Mebbe. But that's the whole point of keeping a foreigner around, to pump up the profits. If you can't do that, I'll get someone else in here."

  "You have had three weeks of very good profits."

  "And I want three more. Now keep the money coming in or you and that mummy of yours are out on your ear."

  "You don't really mean that."

  I flinched, certain the other man would begin yelling that he certainly did too mean it. Instead, there was a long pause, and then he spoke again. "You're right. I don't. Just try to bring in more than you did today."

  Before the three of us eavesdroppers could react, the announcer came barreling out of the small room directly into us.

  We stared at each other in surprised shock before my instincts kicked in. "Is this where the Great Awi Bubu is?" I asked in a breathless voice. "Do you think it would be all right if we spoke to him?" I clasped my hands together as if in adoration.

  The announcer looked nonplussed for a moment, then shrugged. "I don't care what you kids do as long as you're out of here in five minutes." He pushed past us, and we were left staring at the door.

  "Go on, then." Will nudged me. "You 'eard the man. We only got five minutes."

  I suddenly felt shy. What was I going to say to the magician anyway? Ho there, were you using real Egyptian magic? Are you by any chance a member of the Arcane Order of the Black Sun?

  "Do come in and quit hovering at my door," the magician called out.

  We all froze, then shuffled into the room like a small herd of sheep.

  "'Ow'd you know we was out there, guv'nor?" Will asked, his eyes round again. They were going to pop out of his head if he kept this up.

  "Did you use yer Egyptian magic on us?" Ratsy asked eagerly.

  "Nothing as exciting as all that, I'm afraid. I heard the stage manager talking to you."

  As the magician spoke, his eyes drifted to me. He blinked twice, then asked, "How can the humble Awi Bubu serve you?"

  "Whoa," Ratsy said, ignoring the man's question. His eyes were glued to the cloth-wrapped figure propped against the wall. "Is this the mummy you use on stage?"

  It was so clearly a fake that I couldn't help but snort. Awi Bubu cocked his head to the side and studied me. "You do not believe in mummies, miss?"

  "Of course I do, but real ones, not fakes like this." I turned to Ratsy. "It really is a fake. Go ahead and poke it. With your permission, of course," I hastily added.

  Awi Bubu nodded, his glittering black eyes still sharply focused on me. "But of course."

  Will grabbed Ratsy and pulled him back. "'E ain't touchin' that thing. No way, miss. It'd curse him, it would. You should know that better'n anyone."

  I felt Awi Bubu's glance sharpen even more.

  "But that is the point, Will. I do know more than most, and it is clearly a fake. Here." I sighed in exasperation, stepped over to the wall, and poked the wrapped figure (I refused to call it a mummy) in the stomach.

  It grunted, which startled Will and Ratsy so bad that they squealed and leaped backwards.

  "See?" I told them. "Real mummies don't grunt. And they aren't soft, like this one is. It's a man wrapped up in linen, just like I told you."

  "Let me introduce you to my assistant, Kimosiri," Awi Bubu said.

  The tall figure reached up and unwound the wrappings from his head, revealing a large lumpy face with weathered skin and small black eyes.

  "Very pleased to meet you," I said.

  He nodded solemnly at me.

  "So Little Miss is a skeptic?" Awi Bubu said. "How does she come to be such an expert on mummies, I wonder."

  The room grew a little warmer and for a brief moment, I found myself wanting to tell him just how very much I knew about mummies and Egyptian magic. Instead, I said, "That's funny, sir. That's exactly what I wanted to ask you. Some of the tricks you performed were very authentic reenactments of ancient Egyptian rituals. I wondered how you came to know of such things."

  "Ah, but I asked you first, did I not? Shall we agree to a trade of information?"

  "Very well," I said, intending to tell him as little as possible. "My parents run a museum with Egyptian exhibits. Since I spend a lot of time there, I've picked up a few things about ancient Egypt. Now it's your turn."

  "I'm afraid I've nothing as interesting as a museum in my past. I am but an exile from my own country, Egypt, as you rightly guessed. When I found myself alone in a strange land with no means of support ... well, one must make a living however one can." He glanced pointedly at Ratsy and Will, and I was suddenly afraid that he somehow knew that Will was, or had been, a pickpocket. Then I realized I was being silly. He was most likely referring to Ratsy's profession.

  "Which of my tricks most impressed Little Miss?" He smiled at me, revealing a gold tooth. "Clearly not my mummy act."

  "Er, no." For some reason, I was reluctant to let him know what exactly had alerted me. "It was the oracle trick. The one where you used Ratsy here."

  "Ah." Was it my imagination or did his face relax slightly?

  "In fact, I wanted to ask if by any chance you know Aloysius Trawley? I've seen him perform the very same trick."

  "Alas, I do not know this Mr. Trawley, and I am crushed to hear I am not the first to perform this act in London. However, I am curious as to how Little Miss comes to know so much about ancient Egyptian rituals?"

  Bother. That was the problem with asking questions. Sometimes one revealed more than was wise. "I told you, my parents run a museum."

  "Yes, but museums do not generally offer insight into the actual rituals performe
d by ancient Egyptian priests."

  I ignored that for the moment. "That thing you had Ratsy say, about the black sun and red sky. Is that something you have all your volunteers say?"

  Awi Bubu turned to Ratsy. "Did I tell you to say that?"

  Ratsy shook his head.

  The magician spread his hands wide. "I said nothing other than what you and the audience heard. Do his words mean something to you?"

  "Of course not," I lied. "They were just odd, that's all."

  "Exactly which museum do Little Miss's parents run? Perhaps I may come visit next time I am feeling homesick."

  "The British Museum." The lie popped out of my mouth like an eager toad. Startled, Will turned and looked at me. Before more questions could follow, I bobbed a quick curtsy. "Thank you very much for letting us chat with you. It's been lovely, but your manager said we only had five minutes and we don't want to keep you." I grabbed Will's arm and we headed for the door, Ratsy right behind us.

  "Goodbye, Little Miss! Thank you for honoring me with your visit." Awi Bubu's mocking voice followed us out into the hall.

  As Ratsy led us to the nearest exit, I realized the conversation hadn't been as informative as I'd hoped. I had no choice but to chalk up the similarities between Ratsy's prediction and mine to coincidence. The only problem was, I wasn't very fond of coincidences.

  We met up with Snuffles, and when we were outside, I asked Ratsy about it again, hoping that with Awi Bubu nowhere in sight, he'd feel free to tell me the truth.

  "No, miss. 'E didn't whisper nothing in me ear or slip me a note."

  "Ratsy couldn't read a note, even if Awi Bubu had given him one. 'E doesn't know 'ow to read."

  "Oh." I didn't know what to say to that.

  Will motioned his brothers on ahead, then pulled me aside. "So, wot'd you fink?"

  "About what?"

  "About the magician, o' course!"

  "Oh. He was fascinating."

  "So don't you fink that proves I have a nose fer Egyptian magic? Don't you fink I could 'ave a future in the Brotherhood as somefink more than a errand boy?"

  "I would certainly think so," I said. Unfortunately, it wasn't my decision. It was up to Lord Wigmere, head of the Brotherhood of the Chosen Keepers.

  "Then you'll put in a good word wif Wiggy next time you see 'im, won't you?"

  Somehow, I didn't think a group of men dedicated to protecting their country from the influence of ancient magic and curses would give two figs about the Alcazar Theater or penny-show magicians. However, I promised that I would talk to Wigmere, then left Will to his brothers and began walking back to the museum.

  My mind whirred frantically, trying to puzzle out just who exactly Awi Bubu was. I suppose it was possible that ancient Egyptian rituals were common knowledge among Egyptians. Except that was one of the things that were so exciting about archaeology; it unlocked the secrets to the past, secrets that even the Egyptians themselves had forgotten about their history, so that explanation didn't really work. It seemed more likely that he was simply unwilling to confess that he was a member of the Black Sun. Or, I thought, my steps slowing, perhaps he was a plant for the Serpents of Chaos. They also knew quite a lot about Egyptian magic. And were dedicated to using it to plunge our world into, well, chaos.

  As I turned the corner off Phoenix Road, I detected a flicker of movement nearby, and then a man fell into step behind me. I thought it was Gerton, but I couldn't be sure. Either way, it wasn't good news.

  Half a block later, another man stepped out of a recessed doorway as I passed. I kept my eyes in front of me and pretended I hadn't seen him. If I ignored them, perhaps I'd make it back to the museum without a confrontation.

  However, when Basil Whiting, Trawley's second in command, stepped out of an alley and leaned up against a lamppost, effectively cutting off that avenue of escape, it became clear that not only had the scorpions found me, but they weren't about to let me pretend otherwise.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Scorpions on the Loose

  BOTHER. I had hoped to avoid another meeting with the supreme master of the Arcane order of the Black Sun for a while longer. Say, a lifetime. In fact, that's why it had taken so long for Will to coax me out to the Alcazar to see Awi Bubu; I'd been trying to avoid Trawley. He was mad as a hatter and convinced I was a reincarnation of Isis and had mystical powers. Of course, that was all nonsense, but even so, he had a nasty habit of snatching me off the street.

  Whiting stepped away from the lamppost and sauntered in my direction. He hesitated as a black carriage turned down the street and then drove past. Just as he started to move again, the carriage pulled sharply against the curb, merely a few feet in front of Whiting.

  Oh dear, not reinforcements, I thought. Surely three grown men against one eleven-year-old girl were good enough odds for them. Wait a minute. I knew that carriage. It was spotlessly clean and shiny, unmarked black; it belonged to the Brotherhood of the Chosen Keepers. The door opened, and a worn, familiar face with a thick white mustache and solemn blue eyes looked out at me. "Theodosia?"

  "Lord Wigmere!" My voice caught on a faint sob of relief as I hightailed it over to the carriage, giving Whiting a wide berth.

  "What on earth are you doing in this part of town, child?"

  "Attending a magic show," I explained, looking longingly inside the carriage.

  "Here, get in. This isn't a safe neighborhood for a young girl to be wandering alone. Danger seems to find you easily enough without compounding the problem by being careless."

  "It's not my fault, sir. Trouble does seem inclined to follow me around," I said as I hopped into the carriage, settled myself on the opposite seat, and smoothed my skirts to hide the trembling in my hands. That had been close. "Thank you, sir."

  I thought briefly of mentioning the scorpions following me, but I didn't want to bring on another scolding. Besides, he had told me a while ago that they were harmless. Annoying, but harmless.

  Wigmere rapped on the ceiling with his cane, and the carriage lurched forward. Although he was impeccably dressed in his frock coat and top hat, he looked older than he had the last time I'd seen him. More careworn. "I wouldn't have thought you were interested in parlor tricks and magic," he said.

  In for a penny, in for a pound. "It was because of Will, sir. He'd located a rather suspicious Egyptian magic show and wanted to see what I thought of it."

  Wigmere snorted through his mustache. "That boy! He has no idea what we're up against. He thinks he's landed in a penny dreadful and is having a grand adventure."

  "It was an unusual magic show, sir."

  "Bah!"

  "And Will was extraordinarily helpful with the Dreadnought situation," I reminded him. "I could never have pulled it off without his aid."

  "Nevertheless," Wigmere said. "This isn't a game, and I won't have him treating it as such. Too much is at stake. Your safety included."

  "Yes, sir." Well, I'd tried.

  "Speaking of the Dreadnought ... did Fagenbush give you the news about Bollingsworth and the others?"

  "No, sir, he didn't," I said.

  Wigmere cleared his throat. "Well, the good news is our doctors from Level Six were able to stabilize Bollingsworth's condition. It will take a while, but he will recover from the curse he got from that rope of yours."

  "And then what will happen to him?"

  "Then we'll toss him into our deepest, darkest prison and throw away the key."

  "What's the bad news?" I have learned that when someone starts out with the good news, bad news is certain to follow.

  "Unfortunately, there has been no sign of the men who escaped the Dreadnought. The Brotherhood has searched high and low, to no avail. I'm afraid they have gotten clean away."

  My heart sank. "It would be so lovely if just once they could all get locked up," I said.

  "I agree. But having them on the loose is just one more reason it is so important for you to be careful. You and Will are children, and as such, I feel an extra
responsibility to keep you safe. All the operatives that I can spare are out searching for the Serpents of Chaos. Even so, one of their agents could easily follow Will to your arranged meeting place and nab you both. It is even more important than ever that you put aside your dislike of Fagenbush and begin following instructions. Speaking of which, he has yet to bring me a report from you."

  I squirmed, wretchedly uncomfortable. "Well, you see, sir, he really doesn't care to deal with me—"

  "Nonsense. He'll deal with whom he's instructed to deal. There is no room for personal animosity within the Brotherhood, Theodosia. Our mission is too critical for such petty concerns." His piercing blue eyes bored into me, as if searching out any flaw or selfishness.

  "Yes, sir," I murmured, relieved that the Museum of Legends and Antiquities had just come into view.

  "Excellent." Wigmere nodded, his face relaxing. "Then I'll expect to receive regular reports on your progress from Fagenbush."

  The carriage rolled to a stop across the street from the museum. It wouldn't do to have anyone see Wigmere and me together.

  "Thank you for the lift, sir."

  "You're most welcome, and do try to stay out of unsavory neighborhoods, would you?"

  "Yes, sir." I hopped out of the carriage and made my way across the street. While I was most grateful for the rescue from the Black Sunners, I really could have done without the sharp reminder to work with Fagenbush. Even though I had recently discovered he was one of the Chosen Keepers (what had they been thinking?), I still tried to ignore him whenever possible.

  ***

  Once back in the museum, I decided to search out my parents and see if they'd wondered where I'd got to. They weren't in the private family withdrawing room we kept here at the museum or in the staff withdrawing room. Their offices were empty too, so I went up to their workroom on the third floor. I paused at the door, listening.

  "I don't know why you think it's hopeless," Mother was saying. "I'm sure we can appeal to Maspero and get a second hearing. Surely Davis isn't the last word on the subject."

  My ears perked up. They were talking about their work in the Valley of the Kings.