"I did! As best I could tell, they used an Opening of the Mouth ceremony, sir, to bring the statue to life. What happened once they got into the temple?"
The major shook his head in amazement. "They acted just like a couple of mousers cleaning out a nest in a barn. They plowed through the Serpents of Chaos in minutes, wreaking havoc and destruction. only three of those men escaped with their lives, and they were badly mauled."
"Did you see any sign of Gadji, sir?"
"So that wasn't him?" He sighed. "I was afraid it wouldn't be when I saw that hood. Ah, look sharp, Miss Throckmorton. Here come our captors now." He lowered his voice. "Don't let them know I can speak Arabic."
Before I could ask him to explain, Hashim was upon us. He gave us each a stale piece of flatbread to munch on for breakfast, and then five minutes later they had us up in our saddles, ready to move on.
They bound and gagged the major, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, except for the faint bit of whiskery stubble on his cheeks, he looked to be in high spirits.
We continued southward. The sun was merciless and the wedjadeen impervious to it. I felt like a wilted piece of lettuce. Where were they taking us? And would I be cooked to a delicate crunch before we arrived there? Thoughts of Mother filled my head. She would be frantic with worry. Had she sent word to Father that I was missing? Did Wigmere know? And what had happened to Gadji? Surely the Serpents of Chaos would do nothing to such a valuable hostage.
On the evening of the second day, the wedjadeen struck out toward the west, heading into the rocky desert. I soon lost all sense of direction. The sand and cliffs of the desert all looked alike to me. I tried to force myself to think of it as an adventure but failed miserably.
Just as dawn began to peek over the horizon, our horses stumbled into a Bedouin camp. Even as exhausted as I was, I recognized what a brilliant cover this was. The wedjadeen could move around at will, come and go as they pleased, and no one would question them.
Men came forward to take our horses and I tumbled from the saddle. Khalfani was there to steady me, which I thought very kind of him since I was more or less his prisoner. Major Grindle, I noticed, was not treated as gently, although he needed it far less, seeming almost to thrive on the hard ride and rustic provisioning. Never had I been more aware of what a true soldier he was, down to his core.
We were herded to a small black tent and bundled inside. "Sleep," was all Khalfani would say, which was just what I wanted to do anyway, so it worked out perfectly. I flopped onto one of the blankets on the ground and felt every portion of my body aching with fatigue. Never had I missed the soft, furry comfort of Isis more. Which is why I was so surprised that I fell asleep the second I closed my eyes.
I was awoken sometime later when the tent flap opened, letting in the blinding glare of the sun. I blinked awake and squinted at the figure outlined against the bright light.
"Greetings," she said softly, then came fully inside and let the flap close behind her. once I stopped squinting, I could see she was a girl, slightly older than I was. She wore the less-restrictive dress of the Bedouin, which did not include a veil or burqa, so I could see her face plainly. When she glanced shyly at Major Grindle, there was something familiar in her gaze but I couldn't think what. Then she returned her gaze to me. "I bring you food for your stomachs and water to wash the dust from your faces."
"Thank you," I said. "I'm famished."
Major Grindle's response was much more formal. "We appreciate your hospitality."
The girl ducked her head and began setting out our meal. She lingered as we ate, studying us curiously. Or me, more precisely. Finally, she seemed to get up her courage. "They say that you are the one who found our lost pharaoh and brought him to Luxor. Is this true?"
"Ye-es," I said warily. Was this a good sign, that they were telling people I was responsible for getting him as far as Luxor? "I found him working as a donkey boy in the streets of Cairo. He was quite brave and helped me out of an awkward situation. In return, I offered him a place to stay."
She glanced down at her hands. "And how did you find him? He was well?"
And then it hit me, why she looked familiar. "Are you Safiya?" I asked.
Her head jerked up, her eyes wide with wonder. "How do you know my name?"
"Gadji spoke of you," I told her.
Her eyes misted over. "He did? He has not forgotten me?"
"No," I said. "He spent days and days trying to find you when he got to Luxor, hoping to be reunited with you. Unfortunately, there was no hint of where you had gone."
"That is good and that is bad. Bad that he could not find me, but good that no one recalls what has happened to me." Then she returned to her original question. "He is well?"
"Yes, he is. A bit on the thin side, but he is in good spirits. Very kind, very brave, and most loyal."
She clasped her hands together. "Thank you, my lady, for having brought my brother closer."
"He's not home yet," I pointed out.
"No, but he will be. The warriors of Horus will find him."
Major Grindle cleared his throat. "Speaking of that, what are the men doing out there? Have they organized any search parties? Sent out any scouts?"
Safiya was too shy to look at him, instead addressing her answers to her feet. "They are meeting now with the mudir, telling him of what has transpired. That is why I have been sent. You are to eat, then wash, and then I am to take you to them so they may question you."
"Excellent," the major said.
Excellent was not the word I would have chosen. Even so, we quickly finished our small meal, and then Safiya stepped outside while we washed in the water provided. Major Grindle turned his back while I washed my face and arms, and then I did the same for him. It was surprisingly intimate washing oneself—even just one's face and hands—with someone else nearby.
Not to mention, the results were most unsatisfactory. My face might have been clean, but my clothes were still filthy and coated with dust.
As Safiya escorted us across the campsite, I saw then what I'd been too distracted to see earlier. The camp was pitched in the shadow of a great temple. Although it was smaller than the Luxor Temple, it was in excellent condition.
We arrived at a large, central tent, and Safiya held the flap for us as we went inside. My first impression was that I hadn't realized tents could be so very big, nor hold so many people. A dozen men were seated on thick rugs on the ground. I recognized Khalfani, Hashim, and the old grumpy wedjadeen who had wanted to kill me and be done with it. Fenuku, I think they had called him. He now wore the leopard skin of a sem priest. Bother. I knew that ancient Egyptian priests had often served for only a few months out of the year, but it seemed rather unfair to have them traveling about incognito. Priests ought to have warning signs on them.
Khalfani nodded at us, then turned to the man on his left. "This is the girl, mudir, and this man is the Inglaize we told you about."
"The one that put a knife to our pharaoh's throat," Fenuku spat out. Clearly he had not forgiven Major Grindle for that yet.
The mudir's unblinking gaze passed over the major and landed on me. "Tell us what transpired."
I stood very straight and cleared my throat, determined that my voice not quiver. "When I returned home from my mother's excavation, there was a note on my pillow, demanding that I bring the Emerald Tablet to exchange for Gadji."
The mudir shook his head. "No, no. I mean, start at the very beginning. How did you come to have Gadji in your household?"