I paused at the foot of the stairs and eyed the statue of Anubis warily. It didn't move so much as a nostril. Deciding it was safe, I went to the small stool near the shelves, picked up my pencil and notebook, and resumed my cataloging.
One set alabaster Canopic jars, lids shaped after the Four Sons of Horus, empty, New Kingdom
One set limestone Canopic jars, human head–shaped lids, empty, New Kingdom
One set quartzite Canopic jars, lids Four Sons of Horus, empty, Middle Kingdom
One set basalt Canopic jars, dome-shaped lids, empty, First Dynasty
One large, lidded ceramic jar, empt—Ew!
Upon lifting the lid I found myself staring at dozens of dried lizards, all standing on end with their noses pointing up toward the mouth of the jar. Gingerly, I closed my gloved fingers around the nose of one of the lizards and gently pulled the lizard out of the jar. I half expected it to disintegrate at my touch, but it didn't. When I had it out of the jar, I gasped. The lizard had two tails! I put that lizard aside and checked the others in the jar. They all had two tails. What a find! The ancient Egyptians believed that two-tailed lizards—any malformed creature, really—were full of extra-powerful heka. Many of the instructions for removing curses or making magical potions called for two-tailed lizards. How lovely to have stumbled upon something helpful for a change!
As I started to catalog the next jar, my elbow caught the end of the staff that I'd so hastily thrust back onto the shelf earlier, and it clattered to the floor. I winced at the noise and looked over my shoulder to see if the disturbance had woken anything up from it's dormant state.
Everything was still and exactly as I'd left it. I paused, noticing Anubis's eyes on me. Had they always been? I couldn't remember. I'd been more worried about his claws and teeth, frankly. I'd have to keep a close watch on him, though.
I bent over to pick up the staff. What I had originally thought was just crooked turned out to be jointed wooden sections that could be rotated to make the staff straight and long or twisted into unusual shapes, sort of like a puzzle. The jackal head at the end was made of gold and had gaping jaws that looked as if they'd held something at one time. (Hopefully not a cat!) As I smoothed my gloved hand along the staff, straightening out the sections, it took the shape of a serpent. Of course! It must be a weret heku, one of the ancient magician wands!
The middle joint in the wood was stiff and I had to really bear down to get it to straighten. With one final twist, the bottom half snapped into place, knocking over a Canopic jar in the process.
I flinched at the loud thud, relieved the jar hadn't shattered. Except ... it shouldn't have been that heavy. All the Canopic jars were relatively light because any internal organs in them had dried up and turned to dust ages ago. Even the jar with the dried-up lizards hadn't been heavy.
So what—exactly—was in this jar? What if the internal organs in it hadn't turned to dust?
I stared at the jar for a while, working up my nerve. It could hold something wonderful, like the lizards.
On the other hand, there could be a set of rotting intestines or a putrefied liver lurking inside.
Bracing myself, I squatted down and tapped the lid away from the jar's opening. I expected something nasty to ooze onto the floor, but instead a small golden ball rolled out.
The golden surface was completely covered in ancient symbols, many of them looking older than the hieroglyphs I was used to. But wait! There was a jackal head near the top of the sphere. I picked the ball up and peered closely. Running along the middle was a carving of a long staff, very much like the one I'd just found.
Something niggled at me and I reached for the staff. Could it be? I brought the two together and tried to fit the orb into the head of the staff. It was a tight fit, and I had to work it around some. The jackal's teeth had been designed to keep the ball from falling out, which meant they also made it difficult to get the ball back in.
With a final soft click, the orb slipped past Anubis's teeth and settled between his gaping jaws. At the very same moment, the gaslights flickered and a whooshing sensation swept through the room.
A chill ran up my spine, but before I could determine what—if anything—had happened, Father's voice called down the stairway.
"Theodosia! Come along. It's time to go home."
I looked down at the staff in my hand, deciding there would be plenty of time to figure it out the next day. Going home sounded lovely. After spending hours in the dusty old room, I felt horribly grubby and absolutely coated with the whiff of black magic. Perhaps I'd put a handful of salt into my bath tonight—just as a sort of purification ritual.
Besides, I could hear voices arguing at the top of the stairs. Curious, I set the staff down and made my way up the steps until I reached the landing. I paused when I saw Vicary Weems standing with his hands on his hips, glaring at the other two assistant curators.
"What happened to it?" Weems was asking. "Greatcoats don't just get up and wander away on their own."
Uh-oh.
"Of course they don't," Fagenbush said, his voice full of scorn. "But we are responsible for the collections, not other curators' clothing."
Weems stiffened at this. "I don't need to remind you that I'm your superior now, and insubordination of any sort will not be tolerated."
Honestly! Was he by any chance related to Miss Sneath?
I knew I should have stepped in and explained about the missing coat, but how, exactly? Best I should just put it back tomorrow—hopefully that would satisfy him. "Um, are you sure you brought it with you today?" I asked, stepping from the doorway.
"I beg your pardon?" Weems asked, staring down at me as if I were something Isis had sicked up.
"Well, often when I think I've brought my cloak or hat, it turns out I haven't. So perhaps that's what happened to you? You just thought you'd brought it. Besides, it really wasn't that cold out this morning. I'm not sure why you would have needed it."
His cheeks flushed slightly and I realized I'd scored a direct hit. He hadn't worn it for warmth, but rather because he liked the dashing figure he cut while wearing it. I almost snorted but stopped myself in time.
"M-miss Theodosia has a p-point," Edgar Stilton, the Third Assistant Curator, said. "Especially since overcoats have never gone missing before." Stilton was my favorite curator. Not only was he kind, but he acted as a sort of human lightning rod for all the magic afoot in the museum.
"Nonsense. It was probably one of the workmen, and if so, you can be sure I shall report him to the authorities."
"It was not Sweeny or Dolge!" I said hotly. "They've been here for years and nothing's ever gone missing. You probably just left it at home or set it down somewhere you can't remember."
"You think so," Fagenbush drawled, looking at me strangely.
Bother. He was too suspicious for his own good. Or for my own good. "Well, it happens sometimes," I said, trying to lighten my voice. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe my parents are waiting for me." And with that, I hurried down the hall.
CHAPTER FIVE
Where's My Mummy?
THE NEXT MORNING FOUND ME sitting at the breakfast table trying to hide a yawn. I'd stayed up far too late the night before, making a few extra wedjat eyes to carry with me down to the catacombs. With Chaos returned to London, one could never have too many sources of protection.
I nudged the beige lump in my bowl, wondering who had ever thought porridge was a good idea, when Father squawked.