Theodosia and the Last Pharoah Read Free

short as a swarm of vendors and street sellers descended upon our carriage like one of the Ten Plagues of Egypt. They pressed around on all sides, trying to sell whips, fly swatters, cork-lined hats, or locally crafted fans. One man carried an enormous stick covered with dangling shoes and nearly beaned us with it as he tried to show us his wares.
    The hotel doorman—a giant, burly fellow—waded through the bodies, shooing them aside as if he were brushing crumbs from a table. He reached our carriage and cleared enough space for us to get out. Then he planted himself on one side of us and Mr. Bing took up the other as we made our way to the safety of the hotel lobby. The cool quiet was like a balm to our battered souls after the pandemonium of the morning.
    Porters were sent to fetch our trunks and we were quickly shown to our rooms. Mr. Bing offered to wait downstairs while we freshened up, then escort us to the Antiquities Service.
    "Don't dawdle, Theodosia," Mother said, when we reached our suite. "We've got to meet Mr. Bing in a quarter of an hour. I don't want to keep Monsieur Maspero waiting any longer than necessary."
    "Yes, Mother," I said, then thump-bumped my way into the room where the porter had set my trunks. I nudged the door closed with the toe of my boot, then set my satchel and basket on the floor. I knelt down to open the wicker basket. "We're here," I told Isis. "You can come out now."
    As soon as I lifted the lid, she shot out of the basket like a black lightning bolt. She stalked around the room, stopping to sniff here and there, trying to determine if the room met with her approval.
    While she was deciding, I rifled through my trunk, looking for the least-wrinkled frock I could find. The butterscotch-colored taffeta seemed to have traveled the best, so I took it out and shook the wrinkles from it. By that time, Isis had returned to me and bumped her head against my ankle. "Is everything all right, then?" I asked her.
    She meowed, and I bent to scratch her behind the ears. She ducked away from my hand and meowed again, this time prancing over to the window.
    "Of course!" I said, horrified that I hadn't thought of it first. "You must be desperate to go out." I hurried over to the window, happy to see that it opened onto a garden of some sort. "But do hurry back," I told her. "I'll need you to stand guard while I'm out with Mother."
    Isis gave a short warble of consent, then leaped outside and disappeared among the bushes.
    I stepped out of my travel-stained gown and went to wash the dust from my face, neck, and arms. Scrubbed clean, I stared at myself in the mirror, looking for any sign that my eyes might be beginning to turn brown like Mother's. But no luck. They hadn't gotten more blue like Father's, either. They were still the color of swamp mud and unlike anyone else's in my family.
    Answers, I promised myself. I would find answers on this trip. That was the other reason I had agreed to keep my promise to Awi Bubu.
    I went back to the bed and slipped into my clean frock. I wished desperately that there was some way to carry a five-pound stone tablet on me, but there simply wasn't. I would have to leave the Emerald Tablet where it was. I was very careful to not let myself think of the tablet's hiding place in case someone skilled in Egyptian magic might be able to snatch it from my mind.
    Just as I'd finished brushing my hair, Isis appeared on the windowsill. "Perfect timing—oh, what have you got?" Something small and wriggly dangled from her jaws. I hurried over to shut the window and lock it tightly behind her.
    "Theo? Are you ready?" Mother called out.
    "Coming!" I called back. I turned to Isis. "Don't let anyone near our treasure. I'm counting on you."
    She gave a low-throated growl, then stalked back to her basket, climbed in, and began to make crunching sounds.
    "Er, enjoy your dinner." I glanced at the reticule on the bed. I thought briefly of putting it in one of the drawers, but a reticule