Theodosia and the Staff of Osiris-Theo 2 (32 page)

Wigmere shook his head. "We never identify our agents to outsiders, Theo. That's standard policy."

"But I'm practically working for you!"

He smiled. "True enough. But you've now had occasion to run into each other on assignment, so all is made clear. And speaking of assignment, is the staff secure?"

"Yes. Am I to keep it or should I give it to you now?"

"We've decided it would be safest for all concerned if the Orb of Ra and the staff itself were separated. That way no one will be able to access all that power."

"That sounds like an excellent idea."

"At some point, we would like to return one of the components to Egyptian soil. I'd feel safer with a continent or two between them, myself. But for now, we'll settle for separating them. We'll take one piece and hide it, then you take the second piece and hide it, and we'll not reveal the hiding places to each other. That way, no single living person will know how to find the two pieces."

"Very well, sir. Which piece would you like?"

"Whichever piece you don't. It makes no difference to me."

I left the room and returned to the catacombs, where I approached the jackal cautiously. He'd been friendly enough when we had both had the same goal of retrieving the staff from Chaos, but I wasn't certain how he'd feel about the idea of separating the orb and staff. When he made no move for my outstretched arm, I snatched the staff and stepped back out of his reach. "Thank you again for all your help," I said. "We're just going to take this for safekeeping now."

I tugged the orb from the jaws on the head of the staff, then looked around the catacombs for a good hiding place. My eyes landed on the jackal's shrine. Really, I might as well continue to use him as a guardian. I opened one of the doors on the side of the shrine and carefully placed the orb inside, then closed the door.

Wigmere was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. I handed him the staff.

He carefully examined it, taking in the crooked jointed sections and the jackal head. "So this is what caused all that trouble?" He grasped the top section and straightened it.

"How do you think something this powerful ended up here, of all places?"

"Ah. We found an answer to that. Remember how I told you about the small, dedicated group who had vowed to protect the pharaohs and their treasures until the end of time? How they managed to smuggle a cache of Egyptian treasures out of the Alexandrian library before it burned?"

I nodded, my heart beating faster as I saw where he was going with this.

"If you follow that trail, something went awry and the group lost possession of the treasures. Their worst fears were confirmed when rumors of the artifacts circulated among the French in Egypt during Napoleon's occupation. Napoleon was said to have had all his agents searching for these artifacts of power in order to help him with his wars.

"But in a very tricky bit of patriotism, Reginald Mayhew, a British explorer masquerading as a Frenchman, got a hold of the artifacts and sent them to England. Only, the man was killed under mysterious circumstances before he could return to his native shore, and his crates lingered unclaimed in warehouses by the docks until the whole lot of them was auctioned off. The crates were purchased by one Augustus Munk, the original owner and founder of the Museum of Legends and Antiquities, who apparently didn't recognize their value or their power."

A forceful knock resounded through the building. A moment later, Will poked his head around the corner and made a face. "It's that gran of yours."

"Oh, dear," I said, turning to Wigmere. "What should I tell her about Admiral Sopcoate?"

"I talked briefly with Captain Bacon and the prime minister before I came here. It would be too disastrous for the country's morale to know the truth—that one of our highest-placed officials has betrayed us."

"But why? Why do you think he betrayed his country?"

Wigmere's eyes were heavy with sorrow. "Why does any man turn bad? Greed, sorrow, bitterness. A combination of all three? We will likely never know. However, the official story is that a secret unidentified group of rebels managed to trick Admiral Sopcoate into taking them aboard the
Dreadnought,
where he quickly realized his mistake and tried to overpower them. In the struggle, they took flight from the ship to a boat they had waiting. He followed and is presumed dead or missing.

"That story isn't going out to the general public. Only to those who need to know. I trust you to use your best judgment." He'd straightened the staff out by now and, tucking his cane under his left arm, placed the end of the staff on the ground. "I think that should work nicely." He looked back at me, his face solemn again. "I only wish I could sort out what to do with you as easily. It is unacceptable to have you in so much danger, yet for some reason, you seem to find
yourself in the thick of things." He sighed. "Well, with Chaos scattered to the four winds, things should calm down now."

Grandmother knocked again.

"I'd best let you go." Wigmere handed Will his cane, then motioned for him to lead. As Will darted back down the corridor, Wigmere followed at a more sedate pace, leaning heavily on the staff.

I headed for the front door. Hopefully Chaos really had been dealt a debilitating blow this time. One could always hope—

"Stilton! What are you doing here in the corner?"

"Hello, Miss Theo." His gaze slid from my face to where Wigmere had just disappeared down the hallway, then back again. "I wanted to make sure you were all right. Trouble does seem to follow you about."

What rot! He'd been eavesdropping. How much had he heard? "Yes, well, you can see that I'm fine. And thank you so much for fetching Inspector Turnbull! He came at just the right moment. But I must run. My grandmother's here."

"So I heard."

"Well, thank you again. You were a lovely help. And thank the other scorpions for me, would you?"

As I continued on my way, I couldn't help but think of Aloysius Trawley and wonder what the Arcane Order of the
Black Sun would do when they learned I no longer had the power to raise the dead.

I made it to the front door before Grandmother beat it down and opened it to let her in. "Hello, Grandmother."

She swept past me into the foyer. "Is Admiral Sopcoate here?"

"No, ma'am. He's not."

"What about your mother and father?" she asked as she looked around the room.

"I'm afraid Mother's left to go get Father out of jail."

She looked relieved. "Oh, good, then. Sopcoate's with them."

"Um, I'm afraid not. Mother left alone."

Grandmother's face paled. "But I haven't been able to get a hold of the admiral. I expected to hear back from him by two o'clock at the latest, and I still haven't heard a word. I even sent a footman round to the admiralty to see if he'd gotten tied up there, but no one has seen him all day." She thumped her cane. "He promised me he'd help Alistair."

I stared at poor Grandmother. She'd fallen in love with a traitor, someone who had sold his soul to Chaos and was the worst sort of enemy Britain could have. Talk about errors in judgment! But of course, I could never point that out. I took a step toward her. "Grandmother—"

"What?" Her face was pinched, but I could tell she wasn't scowling at me. She was just ... scowling in general.

"I'm afraid there's been an incident."

"An incident? Where? And how do you know?"

This was the tricky part, wasn't it? "I overheard Inspector Turnbull talking."

I waited for her to say something about the wickedness of eavesdropping, but all she said was, "Well, get on with it! What did he say?"

"He said there was a dustup at the
Dreadnought
today. It turned out that who Admiral Sopcoate was escorting wasn't a delegation of Abyssinians, but a group of unidentified rebels who were posing as Abyssinians in order to spy on the Royal Navy's newest technological advances."

Grandmother gasped, and then her hand flew to her mouth, as if she was surprised such a noise could have escaped from
her.

"Admiral Sopcoate discovered their disguise and tried to apprehend them. Single-handedly," I added for good measure. "But he was greatly outnumbered."

"Why didn't the others onboard try to help him?"

"Because none of them knew what was going on. Until it was too late."

"Too late?" she repeated.

I nodded. "They presume the admiral died or was taken prisoner while protecting his ship," I said as gently as I could.

Grandmother grew even more pale, and she suddenly looked very old and very frail, not like a curmudgeon at all. It was then that I remembered she'd already lost one man, my grandfather, and now she was losing a second.

Hating the look on Grandmother's face, I couldn't help but embellish a bit. "They say he was quite brave. And fearless." It wasn't exactly a lie. He had been all those things, but for the wrong cause.

The front door burst open just then, and Mother and Father waltzed in. Father was tired and rumpled, while Mother appeared jubilant and relieved.

"Look, Grandmother, Father's home! Isn't that lovely?" Surely this would cheer her up.

And it did. For a moment her face softened.

Father held his arms open for me. I longed to run and throw myself into them, but something held me back.

I glanced back at Grandmother, who seemed old, angry, and a little lost.

Not quite sure what I thought I was doing—or why—I reached out and grabbed her hand, half afraid she'd bean me with her cane for taking the liberty. Instead, she stared in puzzlement at my hand holding hers.

Honestly! Did I have to do everything around here? "Come on," I said gently. "Let's welcome Father home."

And then Father was upon us, capturing me in a vast, uncharacteristic hug, which I savored. Even Grandmother standing next to me couldn't ruin that hug.

After a long moment we pulled apart. Beside us, Grandmother took a handkerchief from her reticule. "Really, Alistair, you must speak with your employees. This place has far too much dust floating around. It's quite unhealthy."

We politely looked away as she dabbed at her eyes. "And you," she said, spearing me with her now dry gimlet eye. "What on earth were you thinking, eavesdropping on policemen? Hasn't this family had enough scandal?"

"Yes, Grandmother." I bowed my head meekly, but the truth was, I much preferred this Grandmother, the one made of iron and starch, to the frail old woman she'd been moments ago. In fact, I had an almost overwhelming desire to hug her, even though she would never have allowed such a messy display of emotion.

Even so, I
did
have the urge. Surely that counted for something!

Like Theodosia, I am lucky enough to have an entire secret organization behind me. However, since the Fate of the Known World does not rest in their hands, I think it's safe for me to give them the great big public thank-you that they all deserve.

First, to Yoko Tanaka, Artist Extraordinaire, whose illustrations captured the essence of Theo so perfectly and brought her world and surroundings to life.

Thank you also to Scott Magoon and Sheila Smallwood, whose creative vision for this book far exceeded my wildest dreams.

A round of heartfelt gratitude goes to Betsy Groban and Margaret Raymo for putting the weight of their amazing publishing house behind Theodosia. Surely I am the luckiest author alive (and if I'm not, don't tell me—I don't want to know)!

A very special thank-you to Molly Haselhorst and Thalia Chaltas for reading an early version of this book and giving me amazingly helpful feedback that kept my many plot threads from dangling.

Thank you also to Susan'T. Buckheit for making sure all my
i
's were dotted, my
t
's crossed, and who kept my many participles from dangling.

I also want to thank Ann-Marie Pucillo, Alison Kerr Miller, Jennifer Taber, Karen Walsh, Nadya Guerrero-Pezzano, Linda Magram, Lisa DiSarro, Jean Thrift, and Jennifer Williams for all their efforts on Theodosia's behalf. What an amazing team you all are!

Thanks also to Erin Murphy, Keeper of the Details and loyal champion.

And last (but never least!), to Kate O'Sullivan for her eagle eye and gentle touch, proving once again that she is the Best Editor Ever.