Theodosia and the Eyes of Horus

by R. L. LaFevers

  "N-no," I stammered. "I haven't had a chance to determine those yet."

  Awi Bubu's voice came so faintly we had to lean in close to hear it. "I believe my left leg is broken, as are a number of my ribs." Then he coughed, which made him wince in pain, and collapsed back into silence.

  Grandmother became all business. "If he took that hard a blow to his midsection, then we'll have to keep an eye out for internal injuries or a punctured lung." She leaned in so close to Awi Bubu that their noses were practically touching. "Is that blood on his mouth from a cut, do you think?"

  I could only stare at this woman who had clearly done something with my real grandmother.

  Once she was convinced the blood was from the cut on his lip, she began palpating his sides, looking for broken ribs. With her eyes fixed on her patient, she asked offhandedly, "How long have you known Sopcoate was alive?"

  A sick, metallic taste filled the back of my throat. I thought about fibbing. I could tell her I had only found out that night. Instead, I blurted out the truth, the weight of all those secrets simply rushing out of me. "Since he disappeared," I said.

  Grandmother laid her coat on top of Awi Bubu. "We need to keep him warm," she said. "Hand me your coat."

  As she folded my coat up into a pillow and placed it gently under Awi Bubu's head, she sniffed. "Why did you not tell me?"

  "I was told I couldn't. That it was a matter of grave national security. That no one, not even my family, could know."

  Our eyes locked for another long moment, then she turned back to the man on the ground. Her next words shocked me more than all the other shocking things that had happened that night. "Good girl. I'm pleased to know you have the sense to keep a secret of that nature if you have to."

  I began to wonder if I was stuck in one of those nightmares where reality was so intertwined with bizarre distortions that it felt frighteningly real, and when you finally wake up, you're weak with relief. Surely that was the reason I found enough courage to blurt out the next question. "How do you know so much about taking care of injured men?"

  She dabbed at Awi Bubu's face with her fine Belgian lace handkerchief. "When I was a girl I longed to follow in Florence Nightingale's footsteps. More than anything, I wanted to attend her school and march off to the Crimea to help tend to our country's brave and injured.

  "Unfortunately, my father would have none of it. Nursing was for the poorer classes, and he was appalled to think of a child of his dirtying her hands, and reputation, with nursing work."

  Grandmother? A nurse? I simply stared at her as my mind struggled to absorb it all.

  Awi Bubu began to cough horribly, as if he were trying to dislodge a lung. His face was drawn with pain when he was done.

  "We need some bandages to stabilize his ribs," Grandmother said. "I'll be right back." She slowly rose to a standing position and then disappeared behind the nearest sphinx.

  As soon as she was out of sight, Awi's hand reached out and clutched at my sleeve.

  "I'm right here," I assured him. "I haven't gone anywhere."

  He opened his mouth and tried to speak, so I leaned closer.

  "Our plan. It did not go so well. Did it?"

  Afraid discouragement would worsen his condition, I said, "It went well enough. We have the tablet, I think. Will is quick and resourceful and knows this neighborhood. We'll get you patched up, then you can return it to the wedja—er, return it, just as we planned, and resume your place among them."

  "No, Little Miss. Now it is I who must play the skeptic. That will not happen." He was interrupted by another coughing fit, and this time, blood came up. I looked around frantically for Grandmother, but she was still ripping bandages from her petticoats. Awi tugged at me again, this time more urgently. "You must honor your promise," he said, then went limp.

  Pure panic jolted through me. "Oh, do hang on, Awi. Hang on!" I ordered. Then I remembered my amulets. I lifted the two from my neck and placed them on his chest.

  After a long moment, his eyes fluttered open. "The information in the tablet cannot fall into the wrong hands." He grabbed my arm and tried to lift himself up. "Promise! Promise me you will do this thing."

  Terrified he'd cause himself grave injury, I said, "I promise. Now lie back down before you kill yourself."

  He eased down and his grip loosened. "Leave an offering on the altar in the Temple of Horus at Luxor. The Eyes will know of it and come for you." Then he coughed once more and fell horribly, wretchedly silent.

  "Grandmother!" I cried.

  Grandmother hurried over, her hands full of bandages. "What's happened?"

  "He's collapsed," I said.

  "It may be just as well." She leaned over and felt for his pulse. "He is still alive, although his pulse is erratic. Here, rip off his shirt so we can bandage those ribs and keep them from poking about into something vital."

  Some small part of my mind registered the irony of Grandmother Throckmorton telling me to rip off a man's shirt. I reached down and yanked gently; the thin torn cotton came away easily. Then I gasped.

  There on the base of Awi Bubu's throat was a tattooed Eye of Horus. The very same design that Stokes had worn, that all of the Brotherhood of the Chosen Keepers wore.

  Beside me, Grandmother sniffed. "That's a rather heathen-looking mark," she observed as she bent down and began bandaging his ribs.

  There was the sound of a footstep on the pavement behind us, and I was terrified that the Serpents who'd been chasing Will had returned.

  But it was Clive Fagenbush who stood on the Embankment behind me. His black eyes were glittering and unreadable in the dark. He stared at me a long moment, then glanced down at Awi Bubu. His next words would have shocked me to the core if there had been any part of me left to shock.

  "I've brought help," he said.

  And indeed he had. No sooner had he uttered those words than a group of men emerged from the fog and headed in our direction. One of the men—a doctor—broke away from the group and hurried forward, a large satchel in his hand. "Let me through," he said. He knelt at the wounded man's side, and Grandmother began briskly rattling off Awi's condition. The doctor looked at her once in surprise, then rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

  Bodies continued to swarm out of the fog. Scores of them carried stretchers, and they quickly moved along the Embankment, collecting the fallen, including, I was glad to see, Sopcoate. He would not get away this time. I recognized another of the fallen and rushed to his side before they could cart him away.

  Stilton sat leaning back against Cleopatra's Needle, his face drawn and pale. He clutched his left arm, which seemed to pain him greatly. "It came true, you know."

  "What came true?" I asked, sitting down next to him.

  "Your prophecy for Trawley. 'The Black Sun shall rise up in a red sky before falling to earth, where a great serpent will swallow it.'"

  "How so?"

  "Well, half the Black Sun was lured into joining the Serpents of Chaos, effectively swallowing up Trawley's organization. And look." He pointed to the horizon, where the setting sun had turned the dark gray clouds a fiery red.

  We were both quiet for a long moment, then he spoke again. "I-I'm sorry, miss. I've been a fool."

  "Shh," I told him. "They'll have you patched up in no time."

  Stilton shook his head. "No, miss. I've put you in danger. That's inexcusable. I just never realized how unhinged Trawley was. I know you can never forgive me. I'll hand in my resignation to your father tomorrow, first thing."

  "Don't be daft," I told him.

  Poor Stilton blinked. "B-beg p-pardon?"

  "Stilton, you joined the Black Sun in good faith. You had no idea who or what Trawley was, or what he was capable of doing, or that he would kidnap people off the streets, did you?"

  "No, miss. None at all."

  "And as soon as you discovered that, you left him. Then to top it off, you put yourself in grave personal danger to make amends. I don't know about you, but in my book, that'
s good work."

  Stilton's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Which was just as well, since two men arrived to put him on a stretcher. "Take good care of him, he's on our side," I told them.

  "Very well, miss." They laid the stretcher on the ground and very gently helped him onto it. When he was secure, each man grabbed an end and lifted.

  "Theodosia." Wigmere's deep, familiar voice reverberated like a bell.

  Slowly I turned to face him. "Sir," I said cautiously.

  Using his cane, he limped toward me as fast as he could, then put his hand on my shoulder. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

  For some reason, his question made my eyes sting a bit. "I'm fine, sir. But Awi Bubu is in rather bad shape." Afraid I would begin bawling like a baby, I hurried over to the doctor and asked, "Will he be all right, do you think?"

  "He has a good chance," the doctor said. "This woman here may have helped save his life." Surprised at this praise, Grandmother got flustered and stood up to smooth out her skirts. "Well...," she began.

  "Lavinia?" Wigmere said, looking at Grandmother strangely. "Is that you?"

  Grandmother's head jerked up at the sound of Wigmere's voice. "Charles?" The two of them stared at each other awkwardly for a long moment, a moment where entire paragraphs of unspoken things passed between them.

  "Sir!" the doctor interrupted. "You should come see this."

  Alarmed at the urgency in his voice, I followed Wigmere over to the old Egyptian's side.

  "Look." The doctor pointed to the wedjat eye tattooed at the base of Awi's throat.

  Wigmere's eyes widened as he took in the ancient symbol, and then he looked sharply at me. "Who is this man?"

  "It's rather a long story, sir," I said.

  "Yes, of course. And you are cold and exhausted. As no doubt you are, madam," he said to Grandmother.

  "I am fine," she said, rather stiffly. "Would you care to explain how you know my granddaughter?"

  "I am afraid that, too, is a long story," Wigmere said, rubbing his temple.

  Clutching my hands together tightly, I took a step toward Grandmother. "Remember what I said about national security?" I tilted my head in Wigmere's direction.

  "Oh," Grandmother said, her eyes widening as she looked from Wigmere to me and then back to Wigmere, her expression a little less frosty. "I see."

  Wigmere appeared relieved, which proved he knew my grandmother rather well indeed.

  "I do need to speak with her for a moment before I have our carriage take you back to the museum," said Wigmere. "We could, of course, take you each directly home if you'd prefer, but it would raise fewer questions if you both returned to the exhibit opening."

  "Of course we'll return to the museum," Grandmother said. "But we'll use my carriage, thank you."

  "Lavinia...," Wigmere said, and then the two of them moved away to speak more privately. I was burning with curiosity but wasn't brave enough to follow them. I'd pushed my luck quite enough for one day.

  Feeling somewhat exhausted, I sat down on the bottom of the concrete steps and waited for someone to tell me what to do next. Within moments, a large shadow loomed over me. It was Fagenbush. I was so tired that all I could manage was "Thank you for bringing help. That got rather out of hand."

  His long nose twitched and I could have sworn I saw a faint glimmer of humor touch his lips. "One could say that." Then he did the most extraordinary thing. He lowered himself to the step and sat down next to me. Oddly enough, I was too tired to even try to scoot farther away.

  He propped his elbows on his knees and watched with great interest as the men from Somerset House finished tidying up. All the fallen had been put on stretchers by now and were being carted away.

  "They clean up rather like ants after a crumb, don't they?" he said.

  I smiled. "Exactly like ants after a crumb," I agreed.

  Fagenbush reached down and picked up a stray leaf from the pavement. "That was excellent work you did on the Sekhmet statue," he said. "I've confirmed your translation, and you're right, it does appear to be referring to an important temple."

  I swung my gaze back around to him to see if he was pulling my leg. "Really? You've confirmed it?"

  He nodded.

  Then I couldn't help it. "Why?" I blurted out. "Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?"

  He shrugged awkwardly. "Why did you ask for my help on the statue?"

  Because he was close at hand, I almost said, then realized it was more than that. I was tired of loathing him. It took a surprising lot of energy, and there were just too many truly important things I needed to spend that energy on. I shrugged too.

  "Exactly," he said, his voice as dry as a bone.

  I thought for a moment. "Does this mean we're friends then?"

  A small, bitter smile crossed his lips. "Don't know that I'd go that far. We'll start with not enemies."

  "Wigmere will be so pleased," I murmured.

  "Excuse me." A stern-looking woman wearing a nurse's uniform and a no-nonsense expression stood over me. "I'm here to check on the child."

  "Of course," Fagenbush said, getting up. "I'll leave you to it."

  When he left, I told her, "I'm fine."

  "We'll let me be the judge of that." Her attitude brooked no disagreement. Honestly! She was as bad as a governess.

  Against my protests, she led me over to one of the waiting unmarked carriages and shooed me inside, where she proceeded to give me a quite thorough (and embarrassing) examination.

  "Well, there doesn't appear to be any sign of damage of any sort." She sounded so disappointed I had to resist the urge to apologize.

  "Let's get you cleaned up then." She whipped a damp cloth out of her bag and thoroughly washed my face, hands, and wrists. Next she brushed the tangles from my hair and set it right. She even produced a needle and thread and repaired my ripped dress with terrifying efficiency. When she was finished, she said, "You're to wait here for Lord Wigmere."

  "Yes, ma'am," I said, and then she left me to stew in my own thoughts and wonder what Wigmere would have to say.

  A few minutes later, the carriage door opened and I braced myself to face Wigmere; I was overjoyed to see instead Will's dear familiar head peeking in. "Oy," he said, getting in and closing the door.

  I hopped to my feet, nearly cracking my skull on the carriage roof. "You made it! Do you have the tablet with you?"

  "Nah, I 'id it in a real secure location, miss. No one'll ever find it."

  The carriage door opened again and Will stopped talking. Wigmere appeared in the doorway. "Excellent," he said. "I need to speak with both of you, and here you are."

  He climbed into the carriage, then rapped on the ceiling and called out instructions to take us to the museum. "Your grandmother decided I could drive you back myself since we still have a few things we need to discuss."

  "Sir." I rushed to begin. "I'm so sorry but I tried—"

  He held up his hand to stop me. "You carry no blame in this incident, Theodosia."

  That stopped me cold. "I don't?"

  "No. Nor you," he said to Will, whose jaw dropped at this announcement.

  "I'm afraid it's us who have let you down. Me, to be precise." He fell quiet for a moment and looked out the window at the passing buildings. "I tried to treat you like a junior agent, Theo. A smaller version of the many agents I have working for me." He turned his craggy gaze to me. "But you're not. You're ... something else entirely and I shouldn't force you into a mold you don't belong in." Something very tight and painful in my chest began to loosen. I couldn't say anything for fear that if I opened my mouth, my voice would wobble horribly.

  "And you." Wigmere turned his fierce attention to Will. "You have reminded me how true loyalty and trust can mean more than the most expert knowledge and experience."

  Will flushed bright red all the way to the roots of his hair. He tried, unsuccessfully, to squelch his goofy smile. "Does that mean I can 'ave me job back?"

  "Yes,
you are reinstated as often minutes ago."

  Will bobbed his head in thanks, then hesitated a moment before rushing to ask, "Does that mean I can maybe be one of them Chosen Keepers? Someday?"

  I held my breath, afraid Wigmere wouldn't be willing to go that far.

  Will scooted to the edge of his seat. "I 'ave a plan for learning all that Egypshun stuff I need to know."

  Intrigued, Wigmere said, "You do?"

  "Aye." He jerked his head in my direction. "Miss 'ere's agreed to teach me all she knows."

  Wigmere looked startled for a moment, then began to laugh, a great warm, rolling sound that filled the carriage. When he was done, he murmured, "If she can't turn a pig's ear into a silk purse, no one can." Louder, he said, "Unorthodox, admittedly, but if you can learn what you need to over the next few years, I will certainly consider it. As I said, loyalty and sheer doggedness are just as important as knowledge. Now, I believe we are here."

  The carriage rolled to a stop. Will motioned for me to go first, but Wigmere held me back. "I need to speak with her a moment," he said.

  Will nodded, then hopped out to wait. I turned to Wigmere expectantly.

  "I will be in touch tomorrow," he told me. "We still have much we need to clear up. And if your parents notice you were gone, you are to tell them you and your grandmother went for a ride. That was her idea," he added.

  I was dying to ask how he knew her, but almost as if he were reading my mind, he said, "Best hurry back in. It would be a shame to have them miss you this late in the game." And with that, he rapped on the ceiling, forcing me to jump out or go back to Somerset House with him.

  Coward.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  All Mumsy Was the Brotherhood (or, Of Cabbages and Horus)

  THE EXHIBIT RECEPTION WAS A HUGE SUCCESS, and the museum doors opened Saturday morning to throngs of people waiting to see Thutmose III, the Napoleon of Egypt. Mother and Father and all the curators were out in full force, answering people's questions and directing them to the most interesting bits.

  As happy as I was for them, I couldn't get into the proper frame of mind. Sitting high up on the main staircase, tucked out of sight, I was too worried about Awi Bubu and his injuries. To make matters worse, Henry was at home with our housekeeper, Mrs. Murdley, packing. He would be heading back to school late that afternoon. I was feeling quite alone.