Will looked crestfallen. "Yer not going to use Fagenbush, are you?"
"No, no. If I can't send messages through you, I'll just deliver them myself."
Horrified, Will said, "No, you can't, miss! That neighbor'ood isn't safe for the likes of you. Besides"—a determined look settled over his face—"if that old goat finks I'm not trustworthy enough to deliver 'is messages, well, I'll show 'im. I can be just as reliable as any of 'is other agents."
"Wigmere won't be happy with us."
Will snorted, and the Gob stopped crying, fascinated by the sound his brother had just made. "I ain't afraid, miss."
"Very well. If you're sure."
"I'm sure." He turned and hollered across the park. "Sparky! Get over 'ere and take the Gob, will you?"
The redheaded boy leaped off the tree and jogged over to us. Will handed the Gob to him. "'Ush up, Gobby," Sparky said, then turned to Henry. "You going to stay and listen to them jaw or d'you want to come wif us?"
Henry looked at me. "Go on," I told him. "You already know what I'm going to tell Will."
A broad smile split his face. "Is it true you can make anything burn?" he asked as he followed Sparky to the far end of the park.
I rolled my eyes and tried not to think of what new skills Henry might learn.
"So, miss, what 'ave ye got?"
"Well, I think I've found another special artifact, sort of like the Staff of Osiris."
Will's eyebrows flew up. "One that can raise the dead?"
"No, no. At least, not that I know of. But one that seems more powerful than normal. Tell Wigmere I think I've found the Emerald Tablet—"
Sticky Will whistled. "Is it made of emeralds, miss?"
"I'm not sure. If so, it's one enormous emerald. But tell Wig—"
"Must be worth a fortune then."
I waved that assessment away. "Its value is in the carvings and its history. They're supposed to convey the alchemical secrets or some such. Wigmere will know. Ask him if he thinks this might belong to the same lot as the staff and what he'd like me to do with it. According to my research, people have been hunting for it for centuries."
"Very well, miss. You found the Emerald Tablet and want to know what 'e'd like you to do with it."
"Roughly, yes." I was distracted right then by the smell of smoke. Startled, I saw Sparky, Henry, Snuffles, and the Gob all squatting around a small pile of smoldering rubbish. "Henry! No!" I shouted.
"It's all right, miss. Sparky knows what 'e's doing," Will assured me.
"Yes, but Henry doesn't!" I hurried over to the group of boys, reached down, grabbed Henry's arm, and pulled him to his feet.
"Ow. What'd you go and do that for?"
"Henry, you can't start fires in the park!"
"Sparky was just showing me how to—"
"I don't care, Henry! And you—" I turned to Sparky. "You should know better than to start fires. What kind of example does that set for the Gob here? Plus," I said, eyeing two nannies who were beginning to watch us, "it's a good way to call the wrong sort of attention to yourself."
Sparky stood up and began stomping on the small fire. "She's about as much fun as a wet blanket," he complained to Will.
Will reached out and knocked Sparky's cap from his head, exposing more wiry red hair. "'Ush yer mouth now. Sorry, miss," he said to me.
Just then, one of the nannies—or perhaps she was a governess—rose up from her bench and headed our way. "Oh dear," I said to Will out of the side of my mouth. "Here comes trouble."
Indeed, she was starched and pressed to within an inch of her life and held herself with a distinctly military bearing. She stopped a few feet away from us, as if she were afraid she'd catch something if she ventured too close. "Excuse me." Her words were clipped and brisk. "I don't believe this park is intended for your use. It is specifically for those who live in Hartford Square. If you do not remove yourselves immediately, I shall go for the constable."
"We was just leavin' anyway, you old cow," Will said. "Come on, boys," he bellowed, then tipped his cap to me. "Later, miss."
I watched them go, furious that the woman had been so heartless. Before I could tell her so, she spoke. "I meant all of you," she said, pointing the way to the street.
Embarrassment, hot and sharp, flooded me. She thought I was an urchin just like Will! Furious, I tried to think of something to say, but Henry grabbed my hand and tugged. "Yeah, we were just going, too, you old bat."
When we arrived back at the museum, my cheeks were still stinging from the wretched governess at the park. I decided to go to ground for a bit. Henry was starving and went in search of food (Goodluck, I thought to myself). Determined to make my quest for solitude productive, I decided to go see if the results from the Second Level Test had come in yet.
Luckily, the hallways were empty; all the curators were no doubt busy in the foyer setting up the display cases and making them ready to receive the collection. As I descended the stairs, I couldn't help but wonder what I'd find. Even if the wax bits had turned foul, could I be certain it was the tablet and not a curse from something else close by?
However, what I did find was even more puzzling than that. The wax that I'd placed right next to the tablet was still white and untainted, even though all the rest of the wax I had scattered throughout the basement was indeed a foul green-black color. How odd. It was almost as if the space around the tablet were the only part of the basement that wasn't cursed. Did that mean it held a protective charm? Or merely that everything else down here was thick with evil magic, and the tablet was the only thing that wasn't? I sighed as my head began to ache. Why couldn't Egyptian magic ever be simple and straightforward?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Five Impossible Things Before Supper
THE NEXT MORNING when we arrived at the museum I put Henry on sentry duty and went immediately to the reading room. I liked having someone keep an eye on the curators and report on their whereabouts, as it helped cut down on the number of surprise visits I received. Since the tablet had passed the Level-Two Test with flying colors, I was feeling optimistic that it was important most likely only to those who studied occult lore. Of course, to be thorough, I would have to conduct a Level-Three Test, but I needed moonlight for that, and who knew when we'd spend the night at the museum again? That happened much less often when Henry was home.
After my conversation with Stilton, I wanted to spend some time researching the Chaldeans. According to the book he'd given me, the Chaldeans had ruled Babylonia until it was conquered by the Achaemenid Empire, in 539 B.C.
The interesting thing was that the Achaemenids had also ruled Egypt for a time. I fetched A History of Ancient Egypt by Sir Bilious Pudge from the shelf. Yes! Here it was! The Persian emperor Cambyses II had taken Egypt in 526 B.C.
Which meant that the Chaldeans and the Egyptians had both been conquered people under the same ruler. Was that when the Chaldeans became interested in Egyptian gods? Or when the Egyptians decided to use Chaldean cuneiform to make the tablet more difficult to decipher? Nothing united two distinct factions like a common enemy. For example, just look at me and Fagenbush.
Speaking of which, it had been awfully quiet all morning. I paused in my reading and looked at my watch. Deciding I needed to stretch my legs, I went to check on Henry. I found him nestled next to a suit of armor in an alcove near the foyer. "Excellent cover, Henry! What's your report this morning?"
He squeezed out of his hiding spot, being quite careful of the armor, I was glad to note.
"Rather boring, really. Everyone's been working on the exhibit this morning. Well, except for Fagenbush. He's hiding out in his office and keeps squirming and fidgeting as if he had ants in his pants."