And that's when I realized something else. All my friends, my true friends—such as Sticky Will, Stilton, and Gadji—all liked me precisely because I was peculiar. Even Henry had come to cautiously admire that part of me.
The thing was, the part of myself that everyone else found so peculiar was the very part I liked the best.
"Theodosia?" From far away I heard someone calling my name. "Theo, dear, where are you?"
Bother. They were looking for me. I turned and looked at that magical place, reluctant to leave its four walls. With a shock, I realized I didn't even want to tell Mother about it. I didn't want to take a place of living magic and turn it into an empty husk, like the other monuments I'd visited. For that was the difference, I realized. They were empty of their true magic, while this place was still alive with it.
And I was not going to jeopardize that simply for a pat on the head from Mother.
I scrambled back along the narrow shaft, relieved when it finally grew big enough for me to stand. I was able to move along much more quickly then, reaching the opening in a matter of minutes. Determined that the others not find this secret passageway, I knelt down and peered out, waiting to be certain no one was around.
"Theodosia?" I heard once again, but it was coming from over to the left, from Hatshepsut's temple. I quickly scrambled out, then ran around to the opposite side of the rubble. "Mother? Is that you? Are you calling me?"
"Theodosia!" Mother poked her head out from behind one of the colonnades in Hatshepsut's temple. "Where have you been?" she asked, hurrying toward me. She was frowning, I saw, but whether in annoyance or concern, I couldn't tell.
"I fell asleep, back over there in the shade beside the donkeys."
I waited for her to ask if I felt all right or was getting ill again. At the very least to put her hand on my forehead and see if I was getting sick. But all she did was cluck her tongue at me and call out to the others that she had found me.
My tired spirits rose when our house came into view, but when I halted the donkey just outside the stable, no Gadji appeared to take the reins while I dismounted. With a sigh of exasperation, I managed to dismount on my own (thank heavens donkeys are so close to the ground!). By this time, Mother and Nabir had drawn up behind me.
"Where is that no good donkey boy?" Nabir muttered, striding over to the stable. "Boy!" he hollered inside. "Get out here." There was a long moment of silence, and still Gadji didn't appear.
Muttering in Arabic, Nabir unsaddled Mother's donkey. Worried now, I went into the stable to peek into the stall that Gadji used. All his things were still there, but there was no sign of him. Or Sefu.
"Excuse me, miss," Nabir said, and I had to leap out of the way as he strode past carrying a saddle.
"Here, I'll help," I told the dragoman. "It was my suggestion to hire Gadji in the first place." But mostly I wanted an excuse to hang around the stable longer. Gadji's absence was beginning to worry me. Had he taken the wedjadeen up on their offer, then?
"No, no!" Nabir was scandalized. "Missy not help. Missy go in house with Mother."
"Nonsense," I said firmly, then went to remove the saddle from my own donkey. Only I hadn't realized how beastly heavy saddles were! With a grunt, I tried to lift it from the donkey but only succeeded in getting it halfway off. The donkey, no doubt tired and hungry and hot, had no patience for my fumbling and started to trot into the stable with me hanging on to the partially removed saddle.
Before I could so much as squeak out a "Help!" Nabir was at my side, grabbing hold of the runaway donkey and taking the saddle from me.
"I'm sorry," I said in a small, defeated voice. "I was only trying to help."
"I know. Missy has kind heart, but Nabir will do it. It is easier that way."
Frustrated in my attempt to be able to wait until Nabir was finished with the donkeys, I vowed to come back after dinner and see if I could find any hint of where Gadji had gone.
The house was cool and dark, a welcome relief after the blinding heat of the day. I walked into my room, then froze. There was a note on my bed.
On my pillow, to be exact.
A chill of foreboding ran through me, as well as a sense of violation. I was getting heartily sick of people tramping through my room without permission.
With trembling hands I plucked the note from my pillow, cracked the black wax seal, and began to read.
If you wish to see the young pharaoh alive, you must bring the Emerald Tablet to the altar of Khons in the Seti Chapel at Karnak by midnight tonight.
There was no signature, just a picture of a black coiling snake.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A Rescue Is Being Thought Of
MY HANDS BEGAN TO SHAKE. The Serpents of Chaos had Gadji. But how had they even known about him?
"Theo!" Mother called through the door, making me jump. "Some of us are quite hungry. Do hurry."
"Yes, Mother," I said automatically. I washed in record time and threw on a clean frock as my mind raced in a thousand different directions.
Mother was already waiting at the table when I arrived. She gave Habiba the signal to begin serving.
"You look all fresh and clean, dear," Mother said, taking a sip from her goblet.
"Um, yes. It felt good to get rid of the day's dust," I said, settling into my chair.
Habiba put plates in front of Mother and me, then withdrew. Fear for Gadji's safety had taken up residence in my stomach and there was no room for anything else. I had no idea how I was going to manage to eat a bite.
Mother, however, was famished and plowed through her plate like a drayman, making small talk all the while. I tried to pay attention and answer in the right places, but I failed miserably.
"Theo," Mother finally said a bit sharply.
"Yes?"
"Are you not feeling well again? You've hardly touched your supper. And look, your hands are trembling."
I quickly set the fork down and placed my hands in my lap, out of sight. "My arms are just tired, that's all."
"But you're flushed," she exclaimed.
I desperately needed some excuse for my condition, which meant I had no choice but to claim illness. "Well, perhaps I am feeling a trifle off."
"Oh, really, Theo!" Mother's voice was filled with equal parts concern and exasperation. "This isn't going to work at all if you're going to get sunstroke every time I take you to the dig." She frowned. "You were wearing your hat the whole time, weren't you?"
Feeling wretched, I said, "Yes, Mother. I was. I'm terribly sorry. I'm sure it's just a matter of me getting used to the change in weather. A good night's sleep will put me right as rain." I forced a fake yawn, just for good measure. "In fact, may I please be excused? I'd like to turn in early for the night so I will be fully rested for tomorrow."
"Very well," Mother said with a sigh. "I need to write down my notes for today's work, anyway." We got up and left the dining room together. She turned down the hallway to her room, but I did not go immediately to mine. It was time for me and Habiba to have a little talk.
I found Habiba in the kitchen. Her black sleeves were rolled up and she was washing up the supper dishes. The small room was hot and stifling and her face above her veil was damp and red with heat. I felt a pang of sympathy for her but pushed it aside. Gadji's life could be at stake. "Who do you work for, Habiba?" I asked.
She gave me a sidelong look. "I work for young miss's mother."
"Then where do you sneak off to all the time?"