"What do you think of my cabinet of curiosities, Miss Throckmorton?"
I whirled around, surprised that I hadn't heard the Major come in. He stood tall and erect, his shoulders thrown back as if he was constantly at attention. He wore a bright red jacket bedecked with all manner of medals and brass. His thick white muttonchop whiskers covered the lower half of his face and met with the mustache that flourished atop his very stiff upper lip. His beak of a nose looked permanently sunburned, and his eyes were squinty, as if used to peering into the distance in search of danger. "Y-your what?"
"My cabinet of curiosities." He gestured with his hands, indicating the whole of the room. "Mementos of a life spent searching out the mysteries of the world."
"Very impressive, sir." I glanced over at the shelves, then back to the major. "But I do have one question..."
He gave a crisp nod. "Fire away."
"Why do you have these things when it is the Brotherhood's mission to remove curses from ancient artifacts?"
His blue eyes studied me intently. "You believe they are cursed?"
"Yes, sir. Some of them, anyway."
"Very good, Miss Throckmorton, if not completely accurate. Show me which ones you have questions about."
"Well, that bronze mask, for one."
"Not cursed, I'm afraid. It did, however, belong to a sorcerer from the Sichuan province in China. Perhaps you sense the vestiges of his power."
His words sent me reeling, for if I understood him, and I am fairly certain that I did, then it was not only Egyptian artifacts that still held power in this world. Nor were my unique abilities confined to Egyptian magic.
"What else?" he asked.
"That thrusting knife." I pointed to a wickedly sharp blade with an elaborate handle.
"My katar, a Hindu thrusting dagger. Again, not cursed, but it has taken a number of men's souls from them and those souls are said to linger in the blade."
His answers were not the least bit comforting. "What about those black feathers, there?" They didn't feel cursed, but I was hugely curious about them.
"Found among John Dee's possessions. Do you know who John Dee is, Miss Throckmorton?"
I swallowed. "Yes, sir." John Dee had been a scholar and one-time tutor to Queen Elizabeth I. He was said to have searched long and hard for ways to communicate with the angels.
"Then you no doubt understand the significance of that wing."
I stared at the small brace of feathers, unable to believe what he was implying. My glance fell on a chisel next to the feathers. It was ancient, possibly from the Old Kingdom, and some sort of power rose up from it, but it was too mixed with the remnants of the others' for me to be able to tell what it was. "What about that chisel?"
"Not cursed, exactly, but it does hold some power."
Taking a leap of faith, and perhaps wanting to give him a test of my own, I asked, "Is it an artifact of the gods?"
His gaze sharpened. "What do you know of the artifacts of the gods, child?"
"Quite a lot, actually."
He smiled then. "Come, let us have a seat and you can tell me what you know."
I settled myself on one of the chairs facing his desk. "How much has Lord Wigmere told you about me?" I asked.
"Quite a lot, actually," he said with a smile. "But apparently not everything."
"That's what I'm here to do, sir. Return an artifact of the gods."
There was a knock on the door just then and Major Grindle held a finger up to his lips in warning. "Come in," he barked out.
His servant entered, carrying a tea tray. He set it on the desk, then bowed.
"Thank you. I'll do the pouring," Major Grindle said.
Looking oddly disappointed, the man left the room. Major Grindle waited until his footsteps had disappeared down the hall, then got up and took the teapot from the tray. Then he did the oddest thing (which was saying a lot, considering how odd the morning had been). He carried the teapot to the window and dumped its entire contents out.
At my astonished look, he winked. "My factotum is trying to poison me. I saved his life in a battle, and his tribe's customs force him to save mine in return. We haven't been near any battles recently, so he is trying to kill me himself. Then he can save me and his debt will be repaid."
Major Grindle set the teapot down, went over to the urn, and lifted the ostrich plumes from it. He shoved his arm deep down, rooted around for a bit, then produced two somewhat dusty bottles. "Ginger beer," he announced triumphantly.
He replaced the plumes, then brought the bottles to the table. "I prefer it to tea, anyway, don't you?"
"Quite," I said, taking a bottle from him.
"Now, let's get down to business, shall we?"
That, I thought, would be lovely. I took a sip of ginger beer, then set the bottle down on the table.
"Wigmere said you had some item of great import that needed to be returned at once and I am to lend you any and every assistance that is in my power to lend." He paused a moment, then added, "He appears to be rather fond of you." He sounded puzzled by this, but whether because Wigmere didn't normally form attachments or because he did not think me fond-worthy, I couldn't tell. He leaned forward, his blue eyes bright as flames as he glanced at the reticule dangling from my wrist. "Is the artifact you are returning in there?"
How had he known, I wondered? Had he sensed it? "Er, yes."
He leaned even closer. "May I see it?"
I hesitated. Wigmere had assured me that the major was absolutely trustworthy. (I'd trust the man with my life were his exact words.) Even so, I was reluctant to flash the orb in the full light of day.
Sensing my hesitation, Major Grindle winked, then rose to his feet. He closed the wooden shutters behind him, then hurried over to the door, and kicked the carpet up to cover the crack between it and the floor. "Better?" he asked.
"I suppose so." While I appreciated his caution, I was still hesitant. However, there was no reason I shouldn't show it to him, so I untangled the cords from my wrist, opened the reticule, and withdrew the small, golden Orb of Ra.
Major Grindle leaned forward, a hungry look on his face. "May I?" he asked, holding out his hand.
I did not know if my reluctance to show it to him was due to the fact that we'd just met, or some hidden character trait in him that I could not identify. Or perhaps the orb, being an artifact of great power, was exerting some sort of influence over me. Reluctantly, I handed it to him.
"Amazing," he breathed, his face bathed in the soft golden glow thrown off by the orb.
"Do be careful," I warned. "It appears to be able to be used as a sort of bomb or mortar."
"How extraordinary." With his free hand, Major Grindle fished on his desk for a pair of spectacles. He placed them on his nose, then peered even more closely at the hieroglyphs etched into the orb's surface.
"Yes, it was, rather," I said, remembering how Awi Bubu had tapped out some unknown pattern on the orb's symbols and created a blast that had knocked five grown men onto their backsides. I had been quite uneasy about carrying it, until Awi Bubu had assured me that one needed to know the proper sequence in order to activate it.
"So"—the major straightened and handed the orb back to me—"that is what must be returned, eh?"
"Yes." I busied myself putting the orb back into the reticule so he couldn't see my face. I am a fairly good liar, but something told me that the major was an excellent reader of men, and I had promised to tell no one of the Emerald Tablet.
"How can I help?"
I breathed a sigh of relief. I so appreciate an adult who is ready, willing, and able to take orders from an almost twelve-year-old girl. I hadn't known if a soldier would be able to do that. "I can handle the returning-it part, but what I really need help with is the Serpents of Chaos."