I needn't have worried. The unseen heka sat like an invisible haze over the city and prickled against my skin with a faint fizz and pop, much like the bubbles off ginger beer, but it wasn't dark or oppressive. Odd, that. I wondered if it was because the ancient monuments themselves were so close by and so steeped with centuries' and centuries' worth of good worshiping-type magic that it canceled out the darker kind?
The house Nabir had secured for us was a large sun-baked bungalow that sat up against a slight hill, looking back down on the village of Luxor. There was a small husk of a stable, and the yard was mostly hard-packed dirt with a lone, valiant vine doing its best to earn its status as a garden.
A figure swathed in black from head to toe—with only her eyes exposed—met us at the front door and bowed low. "This is Habiba," Nabir said byway of introduction. "Your new housekeeper. She is my wife's cousin and is very skilled in the ways of keeping a house." She looked rather like a tall, slender tent with eyes, I thought. She also looked unbearably hot in all those layers of black. Her dark eyes widened when she saw Gadji behind me and she sent a questioning glance at Nabir. His answer in Arabic put a scowl on her face and Gadji's. For one brief moment, I was afraid the donkey boy was going to kick the dragoman, but Habiba bustled us all into the house and the moment passed.
She pointed Gadji and me down a short, narrow hallway, then disappeared in the opposite direction to take Mother to the master suite.
My small room was stark and spare—a narrow bed, a rickety washstand, and a small chest of drawers. There wasn't even a desk.
A low, impatient warble emerged from the basket. Gadji dropped it and leaped back.
"Don't be silly," I said, hurrying over. "It's only my cat." I knelt and unlatched the basket. Isis came up out of its depths with a mad howl, going straight for the monkey who had emerged from Gadji's robe.
Gadji and Sefu both squealed. Gadji ducked, but the monkey leaped away onto the top of the screen that covered my window. Isis prowled over to sit below and emit warning howls from deep in her throat.
"What is being wrong with your cat, miss?" Gadji asked, sounding deeply offended.
"I don't think she likes Sefu."
The monkey, sensing it was out of harm's way, waggled its fingers at Isis and made a series of ugly little faces at her. She abruptly leaped up onto the windowsill, surprising the monkey. It screeched and leaped back onto Gadji's shoulder. Isis glanced at it, then hopped out into the garden, dismissing Sefu with a disdainful flick of her tail.
When she'd left, the little monkey began chattering excitedly. Gadji said a few comforting words to the creature in Arabic, then turned his attention back to me. "I think we will be going now."
"Will you stay here?"
"No, I will look for my peoples. Someone might know where they have gone."
"When was the last time you saw them?"
"Five years ago."
Curiosity won out over politeness. "How did you get separated from your family?" I asked, but my question was drowned out by a scream from somewhere near the kitchen, followed by Mother's voice. "Theodosia Elizabeth Throckmorton! Come get this cat! At once!"
"We is definitely going now." Gadji hurried to the window and hoisted himself up onto the sill.
"You can use the door," I said.
He flashed a grin. "This is being quicker," he said, then disappeared.
"Theodosia!"
"Coming, Mother!" I called back, then hurried to retrieve Isis from whomever she was terrorizing.
The next morning after breakfast, Mother set out for the British consul office to check in with the Inspector of Upper Egypt. Nabir was off finalizing the work crew, and Habiba was doing something in the small, hot kitchen. I had assured Mother I would be happy to entertain myself, without actually specifying how. But of course, I had a visit of my own to pay, to Major Harriman Grindle, Supervisor of Security in Upper Egypt and my Brotherhood of the Chosen Keepers contact here in Luxor.
But first things first. I studied my room carefully, trying to decide where on earth to hide the Emerald Tablet. Now that the Serpents of Chaos knew of our every move, I had to assume our rooms could be searched during the long hours we were away. But there were simply no good hiding spots. In a drawer or under the mattress was too obvious. Anyone would find it within seconds. And I simply did not see how I could carry it with me every day. I could never dream up an explanation that would satisfy Mother.
A sound at the window pulled me from my quandary and I found Isis up on the sill, needing to go outside.
And then I got a great big wonderful idea.
"Wait just one minute," I told her. I left her looking slightly put out and slipped into the spare room where all our supplies were stored. Just as I'd hoped, I found a flat, short-sided lid to one of the larger boxes. I snagged that and a spare canvas sack. Back in my room, I removed the tablet from the bottom of Isis's carrying basket, wrapped a layer of oiled cloth around the newspapers that currently hid it from view, then placed the well-protected tablet in the shallow box. Isis came over to inspect what I was doing. "Two seconds, I promise," I told her.
I grabbed the sack and went to the window. Nobody was outside in the sad little yard. Perfect. I sat on the windowsill, swung my feet around, then dropped to the ground, careful to close the window right behind me. I kept near the wall, hopefully out of sight as I filled the sack with dirt. When it was full, I set it on the sill, opened the window once more, and climbed back into my room. I quickly shut the window, almost catching Isis's nose as she tried to get out. "I'm sorry! Two more seconds, I promise!" The poor thing was practically crossing her legs at this point.
I dumped all the dirt into the box, then stood back. "All yours," I told Isis.
Curious, she came over and sniffed, then climbed in and began scratching around, doing what all cats do when presented with a box of dirt or sand. "Good girl," I told her when she was finished. Because, of course, it was perfect! No one would think to search there. Besides, ancient Egyptian magic believed that Underworld demons were especially fond of such things as Isis had just deposited in the box. Anyone who knew enough about the tablet to understand its value would also know that and steer well clear.
Of course, I was grubby now and had to have my second wash of the morning, but that was quickly done. When I was finished, I secured the reticule around my wrist and grabbed my pith helmet. I left Isis standing guard and went to find my Chosen Keeper contact here in Luxor.
CHAPTER NINE
Major Harriman Grindle, at Your Service
ONCE OUTSIDE, I REALIZED I had only the vaguest sense of where I might find Major Grindle's quarters. Intent on protecting the tablet from discovery and escaping undetected, I had forgotten that I had no idea where I was going. I glanced back at the house. Should I ask Habiba? Would she want to know where I was going or, worse, tell Mother?
Just as I decided I'd have to risk it, a shape darted out in front of me. I leaped back, then relaxed when I saw it was only Gadji's monkey, rather than a small demon, which is what it had looked like at first. That meant Gadji must be nearby, and he had lived in Luxor. Maybe he knew his way around.
Almost as if reading my thoughts, Sefu turned and scampered back the way he had come, pausing once to be certain I was following.
He stopped in front of a ratty abandoned shack with a pile of rags in the doorway. Except the pile of rags turned out to be Gadji. The small, sleeping boy tugged at my heart. It wasn't just that I was grateful to him for having helped me at such great cost to himself. It was more than that. With a niggle of surprise, I realized that I'd told Mother the truth; something about him made me homesick for my younger brother, Henry. Gadji was smaller and younger than Henry, but his outlook seemed older. Probably from having to live on the streets and make his own way. I imagine that would mature a person right up. But while Gadji was clever and shrewd, he was also remarkably cheerful for someone in his position. I found that most admirable.