Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos-Theo 1 (26 page)

We turned on to the next street and Nabir grabbed my elbow, trying to get me to hurry past it. I stopped walking and peered down the narrow street to the jumble of stalls. "What's down here, Nabir?"

"No good. Missy not go down there," Nabir said firmly.

"But why?" I looked at him and stuck my chin out. If there was something interesting down there, I wanted to see it.

Nabir stepped forward and lowered his voice. "Artifacts for sale. Black market. Missy mother avoid them. Missy should, too."

A real live black market—but of course I had to explore!

I reached out and patted his arm. "It will be just fine, Nabir. You'll see." I headed down the street, knowing Mum's dragoman would have no choice but to follow. He did, cursing the whole time in very irate Arabic.

The street was crowded, like all the rest, but there were many more Europeans here. Tourists, most likely, all determined to come away from Egypt with some mysterious artifact as a souvenir.

I moved through this street much more slowly than the others. For one thing, with this many Europeans about, I wanted to keep an ear out for Germans. You would think they wouldn't look much different from the British, but they did. I first noticed it back in the Seven Dials when I'd seen them following Stokes. Their posture was a little more rigid through the shoulders, as if they were marching in a military parade.

I took my time in each shop, examining the bits of pottery and stele fragments. They had an unending supply of these, each one claimed to be a long-lost piece of great value. There was also an enormous number of amulets. My hands positively itched to get ahold of them. There was a fetching little statue of Hathor, and quite a few of Isis, who was very popular. I recognized Osiris and Annubis, Thoth and Bastet. One man was selling an old mummified finger, claiming it had belonged to Ramses III.

As I examined the finger, the shopkeeper motioned to a large round Frenchman standing next to me. The Frenchman stepped closer and the shopkeeper whispered something in his ear. My French is appalling, as I've ignored it in favor of hieroglyphics, but I was fairly certain he said something about mummies. Of course! I'd heard that mummies were available on the black market. I inched closer to see if I could overhear.

The shopkeeper motioned the customer back behind a draped doorway. I hesitated, dying to follow. Of course, I've seen plenty of mummies, but never (to my knowledge) a black-market one.

Just as I went to step inside, I felt a tug on my sash. "Missy not go back," Nabir said. "Not safe."

"Whatever do you mean?" I asked.

He wouldn't explain further, but he also wouldn't let me take a step closer, herding me down to the next shop, which boasted piles and piles of multicolored scarabs. After looking at those for a bit, we headed to the next stall, passing a stone archway as we went. I gave a start when I saw a mummy propped up in the doorway, right out in the open.

I leaned in for a closer look. It was hard to tell how old she was—and it was a she. I could tell that much by the veil that covered the lower half of her face.

Faster than a striking cobra, her long bony hand reached out and grabbed my wrist, drawing me closer. I bit back a scream and tried to pull away, but she was surprisingly strong for a mummy, er, old woman.

Her bright black eyes studied me intently as she said something I couldn't understand. My hand still clenched in hers, I looked over my shoulder at Nabir. "What's she saying?"

"She offering to tell missy fortune," he explained.

"Ask her if she'll let go of my hand first."

Nabir translated this and the old woman cackled and let go of my hand. The motion sent the silver bracelets on her arm to jangling.

"Very well. I wouldn't mind having my fortune told, but tell her I have no money to pay her," I asked Nabir.

Again he translated, and she replied with something that made him frown.

"What?" I asked. "What?"

"She say she will tell missy fortune for free because missy marked by the gods."

Her words gave me a sharp thrill, but I couldn't tell if it was fear or excitement.

The fortuneteller shook a small black bag, then dumped the contents out onto the dirt. There were shells and bits of wood and what looked like bones.

She rocked back and forth murmuring as she studied the objects in front of her. She poked at a bone, watched it closely as it rolled over, then her eyes glazed and a rapid string of words began flowing out of her mouth in heavily accented English.

"
Chaos swirls around you. It dogs your heels like a jackal. But the thumbprint of Isis lays glowing on your forehead. Isis will protect you. Look to the ancients for help. They smile down upon you.
" Her eyes widened, then she looked up at Nabir. "They are coming," she whispered.

At her words, a sliver of icy fear wormed its way into my heart. My senses had been heightened all morning, but I'd assumed it was because I was in the land of antiquity itself. And while I may have occasionally felt I was being watched, whenever I checked, there was no one there. I had thought it was the merchants being as curious about me as I was about them.

I muttered my thanks and backed away from the door. I looked down the street, half afraid I'd see giant serpents undulating toward me.

Instead, there were three men in billowing black robes, with turbans and scarves wrapped around the lower half of their faces, headed our way. They didn't stop to look at any of the shops, but kept moving relentlessly forward. Something else wasn't quite right.

It was the way they walked. It wasn't fluid and graceful like the other natives I'd seen, but stiff rather.

Then I noticed their coloring.

They were fair-skinned.

"Nabir..." I said, beginning to inch away. "She's not joking." I turned on my heel and broke into a run, tearing down the street, weaving my way between the stalls and the milling people. Nabir was close behind.

I dodged a heavily laden donkey and just missed tripping over a rolled-up carpet sticking out of a stall. I sorely missed Will. He would have known exactly what to do in this circumstance. "Nabir!" I called out. "Where can we go that is safe?"

"A mosque!" he shouted back.

A vivid picture of Stokes trying to claim sanctuary at St. Paul's Church came to me. These people didn't believe in sanctuary. "Something else!" I called back.

I turned onto another street and saw a tramway station. There was a whole mob of people waiting to board. "Over here!"

I ran full tilt into the crowd, annoying several people, but I didn't slow down until I was smack in the middle of them, hopefully hidden from my pursuers. The crowd pressed forward and I realized that this was a line to get on the electric tram. I looked frantically for Nabir and found him skirting the edge of the crowd. My pursuers reached the tram station and looked around, puzzled. One of them barked out an order and they separated, spreading out.

Just then, I was swept along by the crowd and found myself stepping onto the tram. Again, I tried to keep myself to the middle of the pack and breathed a huge sigh of relief when I saw Nabir climb on board.

I was on pins and needles waiting for the tram to start and take me away from danger. I especially wanted to get away before they worked out where I was. Finally, with a lurch, the tram got under way. I was safe. They hadn't seen me.

I
QUICKLY DISCOVERED
that the tram was taking us to Giza, to the Great Pyramids there. Which was most excellent because I had been hoping to see them while I was in Cairo. Safe for the moment, I gave myself over to the wonder of being in Egypt and watched the three triangles on the horizon grow bigger and bigger the closer we got.

When Nabir and I got off the tram, I found myself almost reluctant to go forward. Standing before such ancient, timeless creations was humbling. Mesmerized, I walked until I reached the edge of the desert. I climbed up a steady, sandy slope, then gaped as the majestic pyramid towered over me.

Like a set of giant stairs, the rich reddish-gold stone rose up from the base, rugged and uneven. I had to touch it, to lay my hand on the same stone that the ancient Egyptians had worked with their own hands. The rough surface was warm to the touch, and seemed almost alive, almost as if it were breathing. But of course it wasn't. Even so, the palm of my hand tingled lightly, even after I drew it back.

I wanted to climb to the top. To sit perched on the pinnacle and look down over all of Egypt. It seemed sacrilegious somehow, but the other tourists were doing it. Nabir said he would wait for me at the foot of the pyramid, so I began climbing to the top, a long, exhausting process, I must say. Some of those stones were nearly as tall as I was!

Perched on the top of the pyramid, I had the oddest sense of not being alone. As if there were someone there with me. Someone with a kingly presence who looked out at his vast domain as he had for thousands of years. As if the great pharaoh Cheops himself was standing next to me, watching over his land with love and pride. In that moment, I couldn't help but wonder if the archaeologists had got it all wrong. Perhaps Cheops hadn't built the pyramid as a tomb, but so his
ka
would have a place near the heavens to watch over his land.

Except I'm sure he never imagined that he'd be looking down at a motorcar driving across the sand, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. Really, I hadn't even realized they
had
motorcars in Egypt...

A sense of danger flickered inside me. I squinted, trying to see how many people were in the car, but it was too far away to tell. I suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable and hurried down off the top of the pyramid, where I could be easily seen.

At the lower gallery, there were two corridors. One led up and the other down. All the other tourists headed up, so I chose the downward passage. True, it was roped off, but I was sure that was only because the passage was so low it would be hard for an adult to get down there. As it was, I had to duck my head.

It was a bit of a squash, and very, very steep. I was half-tempted to slide down, but that seemed highly disrespectful, so I didn't, even though I knew that Cheops wasn't buried here, but in the upper chamber. (The fickle pharaoh had changed his mind three times while building the pyramid. Can you imagine? Must have driven those poor workers batty.)

The passageway finally opened up into a large, unfinished chamber hewn out of the red stone. It was hard not to think of the tons and tons of stone perched over one's head, pressing down. It was a little difficult to breathe down here as well, as if not quite enough air was making it into the chamber.

I found a charming little crevice in the rock wall and settled myself into it. It was so easy to close my eyes and almost see the workers from four thousand years ago hacking away at the walls, clearing the chamber with their simple tools. If I tried very hard, I could almost hear the scrape of those tools on the rock walls.

Wait a minute. I opened my eyes. I could
still
hear the sound of scraping. It was coming from the passageway. But who else would venture down a roped-off corridor? I had just talked myself into believing it was another overcurious tourist like myself when I heard the first footstep reach the chamber. Someone whispered.

In German.

I glanced around, looking for options.

There weren't any.

The chamber was a dead end with no good hiding places.

Another voice whispered back. And that second voice sounded familiar! I'd heard it before, but
where
?

I sensed the bodies coming farther into the chamber. I pulled back against the wall as far as possible and looked downward so as not to call attention to myself.

Three shadowy figures passed by. The men from the bazaar crept forward, heading toward a small cavelike enclosure at the back of the chamber.

I readied myself. As soon as they were as far back into the chamber as possible, I would make my move. Oh, how I wished I had one of Henry's diversions!

Slowly, trying to make no noise, I stood up. There was a slight rustle from my skirt. I froze.

"Was war das?" a voice asked in German.

When they heard no further noises, they continued on to the back. When they reached the cave, one man knelt down on the ground while the other two peered over his shoulder.

Now.

Stepping as lightly as I could, I made a mad dash for the passageway.

"Dort ist sie! Ihr nach!"

My heart hiccupped in terror and I forced my feet to go faster. I reached the passageway and tucked my head low and began running up the steep slope. My pursuers would have to nearly double over to make it through the passageway. That should slow them down enough to give me a chance.

My legs soon ached from the steepness of the climb, my calves burning and twitching in annoyance. I was getting a crick in my neck from keeping my head tucked low.

I could hear them behind me, the clatter of their pursuit echoing loudly in the passageway. They were breathing hard, and I could almost feel their hot breath on my neck.