“Of course not!”
“And you think we will achieve something better here, with Apep, than we did there, with all of them?”
“Most definitely!” said Wilfred heartily.
Barnabas sighed. “But don’t you think that Apep might be, well, offended if we just outright ask him where Khepre is?”
“We could just ask if he knows anything?” suggested Wilfred. “We could act as though we were interviewing him, not as a suspect, exactly, but more as a material witness or what have you.”
“I suppose that could work,” acceded Barnabas grudgingly. He sighed. “I suppose you think me quite foolish for rushing out here, acting for all the world as if we were simply going out for a Sunday stroll, only to fly into an utter panic.”
“No, no, of course not,” said Wilfred, attempting to mollify Barnabas.
“And with you urging caution all the while, whilst I behave as though we are doing nothing more consequential, nothing more dangerous, than a drive through the park!”
“Oh no, it’s quite alright. Nothing really,” said Wilfred.
“Still,” said Barnabas, refusing to be completely soothed. “It was stupid of me to think that we could just waltz in without a care in the world, just accuse Apep. Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
“No, no!” said Wilfred, placatingly. “Not stupid at all! Indeed, you were quite brave to come here with no fear whatsoever. I was perhaps too cautious.”
“Which turned out to be the correct way to proceed, in this case,” said Barnabas.
Wilfred merely shrugged and looked aside, affecting what he hoped was an expression of humble acceptance of Barnabas’ admission that he had, in fact, been right all along.
“No need to look so smug about it all, though,” Barnabas pointed out.
“I’m sure I don’t look at all smug!” protested Wilfred, quickly wiping the slightly smug smile from his face.
“Yes, well, you quite do,” said Barnabas, reaching out a hand so that Wilfred could help him to stand upright. Once he was straightened out, they turned back around and began to walk, more carefully this time, towards the mountain Bakhu once more.
As they approached, they saw that the light of the perpetual-noon sun couldn’t penetrate through the shadows cast by the enormous thing, so that the roots of the mountain appeared to be cloaked in evening darkness whilst the rest of the world was suffering through the glare of a too-bright sun.
Now that they were closer, they could easily see the great black gates that guarded the entrance to the home of their suspect. They viewed the gates with no meager amount of trepidation; neither really wanted to go in there.
There was a menacing air about the place that seemed to creep out of the shadows that shrouded it and diluted the yellow light of the sun. There was no question that the god who lived here relished chaos; disruption and discord and dissonance emanated from every pore of the mountain. The atmosphere was really quite oppressive as they stood there on the edge of the shadow of Bakhu, and Barnabas and Wilfred felt the small remnants of their courage draining away rapidly.
One might have expected Apep’s home to be similar to Set’s, perhaps on a smaller scale but at least with the same theme: that of organized, mischievous chaos. But it was not so. Indeed, this place felt, to Barnabas and Wilfred, far worse than Set’s castle.
It was darker, more gloomy, more secretive somehow. The worst part, though, was that there were no people about.
“I wonder why there are no people about,” said Barnabas, who had noticed this fact almost immediately and was now intensely wondering why.
“It does seem odd at that,” agreed Wilfred.
“I wonder… I mean, why wouldn’t there be people here? Oughtn’t there be workers, or servants, or tradesmen, or someone, at least?”
“So one would think,” said Wilfred.
“And yet there is no one,” stated Barnabas again. If he was hoping for a word of reassurance from Wilfred, he was left disappointed. Wilfred merely nodded. It was obvious that they were the only people present, at least that they could see, and the only reasons that Wilfred could think of to explain such a thing were not pleasant ones. Therefore, Wilfred had no intention of speaking them aloud.
“Well then,” said Barnabas at last. He squared his shoulders, attempting to regain, or at least to feign, some of the courage and positivity with which he had awakened in such abundance just this morning, but which seemed to have completely deserted him at the moment. “I suppose there’s nothing for it. Onward we go!” With that he pointed his arm towards the gate in imitation of a general ordering the charge, and strode (with steps that, to his credit, faltered just a little) towards the ominous opening. Wilfred hurried along at his heels.
The gates, however, remained firmly shut when they came up to them, so that they were forced to stand uncertainly on the doorstep for some moments. At last Barnabas shrugged and rapped his knuckles upon the hard wood.
At once the gates swung open and Barnabas and Wilfred were faced with two startlingly reptilian guards. The guards’ appearance was such that the two detectives were taken quite aback. Indeed, at the sight of the long snouts and the equally long teeth that extended from those snouts, both Barnabas and Wilfred involuntarily began to slowly back up.
Barnabas even began to think of ways that they might extricate themselves from the situation, but the excuses that came to mind (things such as, “We seem to have come to the wrong house,” or “Oh dear, it’s tea time,” seemed far too feeble and perhaps might even be taken as rude by the reptilian guards. Therefore, when the guards asked their business, Barnabas could only murmur miserably, “We are here to see Apep. If it’s not a good time we could most certainly come back later…”
The guards, however, ushered them in with utmost politeness, so that Barnabas felt a good deal more at ease. They were led down a long, dark hallway until they at last came to a pair of great gilded doors. “You see, Wilfred?” whispered Barnabas as the guards rapped to announce their presence and the doors began to swing open. “It’s all about projecting confidence… Aaahhh!”
Barnabas broke off his pedantry because, between the time he began his sentence and the time that it was completed, the doors had come all the way open to reveal a large chamber. The chamber could not properly be called a throne room because there was no throne. There was no throne because the fellow who had come into view with the opening of the doors, and who lounged languidly on the floor of the place, could not comfortably have fit himself onto a throne. He could not fit onto a throne because he was, in fact, a giant snake.
“Oh my!” exclaimed Barnabas, backing up. He looked from one guard to the other. “I do think that maybe we’ve come to the wrong place, or at the wrong time, or something. It’s tea time, I believe, or is it supper, or bedtime? Yes, that’s it; it’s bedtime. So kind of you. We’ll just be off now…”
Barnabas’ blabbering was cut short by a bellow from the snake in the audience chamber. “Bring them in! If they’re going to disturb me, they’d best tell me what they are about.” The tone was peevish and the voice a bit too loud for the space so that it quite assaulted the ears. There was, however, surprisingly little evidence of the sibilance that one would expect from a large snake-man (although, thought Wilfred, the words seemed to be spoken with a great deal of concentration, as though Apep, as that is surely who this must be, were taking great care not to sound too snakelike).
At the god’s command, Barnabas and Wilfred had no choice but to move reluctantly forward. All too soon, they stood directly in front of Apep.
“Well?” demanded the god. “What do you want?”
Barnabas took a deep breath for courage. He thought it best to hide any trace of fear, so he squared his shoulders and tried to project his voice as confidently as possible. However, his heart yammered in his chest so violently that he found it quite difficult to get enough breath, and his words came out as little more than a whisper.
“We are here at Anu
bis’ request,” he said.
“What?” boomed Apep. “Speak up! I can’t hear you. You sound like a little mouse.”
“Anubis sent us,” said Wilfred, managing a tone only slightly louder than Barnabas’. “To ask if you have any information that might help us to find Khepre.”
“Why would I help you? Hah! Don’t you know I’m a god of chaos? And a god of chaos doesn’t like to be helpful, now, does he?” Apep laughed at his own wit.
“Well,” mumbled Barnabas, a bit annoyed at the god’s mocking tone, despite his fear, “a minor god of chaos, really.” In truth, he had said this in a voice that was a good deal quieter than the one he had used before, thinking that Apep would most certainly not hear him. It seemed, however, that he was wrong, and Apep’s hearing was a good deal better than he had let on.
“What did you say?” screeched the god. “Well, I never! Have you ever heard such a thing?” he asked his guards. When they shook their heads, that no, they really had never, Apep laughed. The sound was somewhat maniacal, and Barnabas and Wilfred thought it entirely possible that this minor god of chaos was quite entirely insane. Even more so, perhaps, than the dreadful Khnum had been.
Apep turned his gaze back to the two detectives, who now stood frozen in fear. “If you’re going to be rude to me, and in my own mountain, and cheeping like little mice, I suppose then you’ll just have to BE mice!”
The great snake’s gaze hardened, transfixing Barnabas and Wilfred with its malevolent power. Suddenly, they felt the world go topsy-turvy. It felt as if they were falling, but their feet never left the floor. Their bodies felt strange, as though they were being turned inside out, and everything in the room suddenly seemed a good deal bigger.
When the sensation passed, Barnabas looked at Wilfred and Wilfred looked at Barnabas. Mirrored in the other’s eyes, each saw the same horror that he himself felt; and from this he knew that what had happened to his comrade had happened to himself as well. It seemed that they had been turned entirely into mice, and indeed shrunk to the size of the little mouse people from the Grey Mouse.
They looked up at the guards and saw matching strands of drool oozing from their mouths as the guards looked back at them, licking their lips. Apep continued to laugh maniacally, and the sound seemed even more obnoxious, more terrifying, when heard with their sensitive mouse ears.
Barnabas and Wilfred stared at each other with wide frightened eyes.
“Cheep,” said Barnabas.
“Peep,” agreed Wilfred.
And without further ado, they turned and ran.
Chapter Twelve
Barnabas and Wilfred ran as fast as their little mouse legs could carry them, the reptilian guards in close pursuit. Certain that they would be devoured if only the guards could catch them, their steps were made as fleet as could be by their fear. With smallness of size came adroitness of foot, and they soon managed to evade their pursuers by ducking through areas too small for the lizard guards to fit into.
Soon enough they found their way between the walls. They could hear the guards on the other side of the wall. From the sound of it, the original two had been joined by a great many others; or, perhaps, it was simply a matter of their overly sensitive mouse ears that made the voices of the guards sound like such a ruckus. For the time being it seemed that their pursuers had no idea where they had gone or how to find them. They had got away.
They bumbled about within the walls for a while, knowing they would not feel entirely safe until they had removed themselves completely from Bakhu and its environs. Luckily, their newly acute sense of olfaction allowed them to smell a hint of fresh air emanating from a narrow corridor, which was no more than a crack in the walls, really. The passage led to a small grating that opened onto the outer wall of the mountain. With a bit of wriggling, they were able to slip through the metal bars and thus made good their escape from Bakhu and the nasty god within.
Without pausing to think about which way they were headed, they simply scurried off in the direction they happened to be facing, running until they fell upon the ground from exhaustion. Their chests heaved as they caught their breath.
When at last Barnabas sat up and looked around, he could see they had come far enough that Bakhu was out of sight; and there was no sign of pursuit behind them (of course, had they thought about it, they would have realized no one would ever have gone to all the trouble of organizing a search party solely for the purpose of recapturing two little mice; indeed, they would have been no more than a tasty snack for Apep and his guards, and if the process of obtaining that snack proved to be more difficult than it was worth, well, that was what pantries were for).
“Squeak. Cheep. Ahem!” said Barnabas impatiently, trying to maneuver his lips around his newly elongated snout so that he might speak. He tried speaking very slowly and carefully.
“Wilfred,” he began.
Wilfred, following Barnabas’ example, moved his lips with care. “Yes?” he replied.
“Do you, peep, recall the mouse people?” asked Barnabas slowly.
“Yes,” answered Wilfred.
“Well, um, do you… That is, are you aware…cheep cheep!” Barnabas flailed his arms above his head in frustration. He was finding it easier to keep the cheeps and peeps out of his speech when he remained calm, and conversely, the mousey sounds became more pronounced when he became excited. The trouble was, it was very difficult to remain calm under such extraordinary circumstances.
“Yes?” replied Wilfred helpfully. Wilfred didn’t seem to be having the same trouble speaking as Barnabas, and once he had begun, he spoke with apparent ease. “At the Grey Mouse?”
Barnabas took a deep breath to calm himself, then stood up. Wilfred followed suit. “Yes, at the Grey Mouse. Do you know, peep, ah! That is, are you aware that you seem to actually be a mouse yourself?” He had decided that there was no way to state such a thing diplomatically and so it was best to just come out with it.
Wilfred put his hands to his face. He patted at the fur that now covered it, the whiskers that bristled from his nose, and the tiny pointed teeth that stuck out comically over his upper lip. He sighed. “I suspected that was the case,” he said. “And you? You know that you… Well, you’re…you know.”
Barnabas pursed his lips together tightly and narrowed his eyes. “I. Have. Had. It. Up. To Here. With. This. Place,” he said tightly. He could feel his temper rising, but as it seemed to be making it easier to speak rather than more difficult, he made no attempt to contain himself. “This is ridiculous. I have had enough. We are going to find this stupid scarab beetle fellow, restore this damnably hot sun, and punish the ne’er-do-wells who caused all of this trouble!” With that he strode off determinedly in no particular direction.
Wilfred hurried to catch up to Barnabas. “Where are we going?” he asked.
“What?” replied Barnabas testily. “We are going this way.”
“Yes, but to where shall we go?”
“Oh, I don’t know yet!” snapped Barnabas. “Do stop pestering me and let me think things through a bit, will you?” He paused, immediately regretting his harsh words. “Terribly sorry, Wilfred,” he said. “It’s just that I’m quite overcome…” He gestured towards his new mouse body with his right front mouse paw. “With all of this and what not.”
“Me too,” agreed Wilfred. “Me too.”
“And how are we to know where to go in this accursed place?” exclaimed Barnabas, kicking at a stone. The stone went flying and bounced off of a small sign that stood at the beginnings of a narrow lane. “And as mice. Mice!” Barnabas continued.
“Um, Barnabas?” began Wilfred, pointing at the sign.
Barnabas ignored Wilfred and continued to kick at the dirt and gravel around him. “And for no reason whatsoever! I mean, I suppose I did point out that he was only a minor god, but he really wasn’t supposed to hear that. And isn’t it a terrible overreaction to turn people into animals simply because of a harmless comment?”
“Bar
nabas, the sign there…”
“And to have those guards nearly eat us? Why, how we’ll ever sleep again at night, with the memory of those horrible teeth slavering over us as though we were pieces of cheese or something?”
“Barnabas!” shouted Wilfred.
“What?” asked Barnabas, looking confused. “There’s no need to shout. What are you going on about?”
“The sign,” said Wilfred patiently. “Look at it.”
Barnabas did so. “Thoth,” he read. “God of Knowledge and Wisdom.” An arrow on the sign pointed down the lane. Barnabas thought for a moment, his hand under his chin and his furry eyebrows furrowed over his beady eyes. “Hmmm,” he said. “I’m not sure I follow… Oh! As in, this fellow might know things! Things that could help us!”
“Exactly!” said Wilfred. “And really, he couldn’t help but be more agreeable than the gods we’ve already met.”
“Quite so!” agreed Barnabas. “One would expect a god of wisdom to be civilized, at the very least.”
“And perhaps he can help us find Khepre,” said Wilfred.
“Or at least get us out of these ridiculous mouse bodies,” said Barnabas, looking down ruefully at himself.
And so, with hope newly ignited in their hearts, the two detectives turned down the lane towards the home of Thoth. Barnabas walked in silence, but the set of his pursed lips and the brisk efficiency with which he moved gave Wilfred to know that he was still in a bit of a temper. Indeed, Wilfred had never seen Barnabas in such a state of annoyance, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. He tried to smooth his employer’s ruffled fur, so to speak, by attempting pleasantries.
“Quite a lovely garden,” he observed, as he peered at the flowering shrubs lining the lane. The bushes were mostly untrimmed and allowed to grow where they would, and the flowers were so profuse as to be nearly unruly, but Wilfred found that he quite enjoyed the effect. It was a bit wild, exotic, almost Italian, even, and so quite the opposite of the English aesthetic.
“I suppose,” said Barnabas tightly. “If you like things all out of order and askew and in a hodgepodge, then yes, I suppose it could be considered exceedingly lovely.” He raised his eyebrows and looked about prissily, so that it was clear that he much preferred neatly trimmed hedges and flowers that stayed in their place.
Barnabas Tew and The Case Of The Missing Scarab Page 12