The faint whooshing of the wind grew louder, and I fancied it almost sounded like a whispering voice. I closed my eyes and concentrated even harder, trying to make out the words. The rustling of the wind rose, then fell, grew louder, then softened, sounding remarkably like a far-off conversation. But alas, not one with words I could understand.
With a sigh of disappointment, I turned and began making my way back through the columns, my steps already feeling lighter. I was so close to handing off this suffocating burden and being able to get on with my life. Not to mention all the discoveries that were practically begging me to find them. As Mother said, I did seem to have a talent for that sort of thing. Just think of how much progress I could make if I wasn't constantly being pulled in another, decidedly dangerous direction!
There was a scrape along the dusty stone floor of the temple. The sort of scrape a footstep might make.
My gaze flew to the shadows among the small army of colonnades. Nothing. No, wait. There. A flutter of movement behind one of the Ramses statues. As my eyes zeroed in on it, the shadow came forward and formed itself into the shape of a very old wizened little man.
He was hardly any taller than I was. His head was large and bald. Except for being thinner and more shriveled, he could have been Awi Bubu's twin brother.
But probably most astonishing, he wore the robes of an ancient Egyptian sem priest—a white linen tunic draped over one shoulder, embellished by a leopard skin. "Hello?" I said.
"Greetings," he said in heavily accented English. "How may I help you?"
I glanced back at my little offering on the altar. That had been fast. "I am looking for the Eyes of Horus. I have business to conduct with them."
The priest's eyebrows rose. "Who may I say is looking for them?"
"My name's Theodosia. Awi Bubu sent me."
At the sound of the magician's name, the priest stilled. "Indeed. If that is the case, we must send for them." He lifted two fingers to his lips and gave a short, piercing whistle. Within seconds, a dark shape appeared overhead in the sky. A falcon! It dipped low, flying in our direction and coming to land on the priest's outstretched arm. The priest whispered something to the falcon, who watched me with fiercely intelligent eyes. When the priest finished talking, he threw his arm up, launching the bird back into the sky. In silence, we watched the bird fly away.
"Now what?" I asked.
"Now we wait," he said.
"You mean they'll come right away?"
He nodded, lowered himself to the ground in front of one of the colonnades, and sat down. Not knowing quite what else was expected of me, I did the same.
After a while (half an hour, according to Quillings's watch), I heard the sound of hoofbeats in the distance. The priest smiled at me. "And here they are," he said.
Minutes later, three men strode into the courtyard. They wore long, flowing black robes and head cloths secured with green and gold cords. "You have called us, Baruti?"
"I did not call you, Khalfani. It is she who has left an offering for you." The priest pointed in my direction.
Khalfani spun on his heel and speared me with a fierce, dark gaze that reminded me of the falcon's. A wave of power bumped up against me, far stronger than anything Awi Bubu had ever tried to exert over me. When I steeled myself against it, Khalfani narrowed his eyes and strode over to the altar. He retrieved my note and read it in silence. When he was done, he looked up at me, his face giving none of his thoughts away. "How did you know how to summon us?"
"Awi Bubu told me."
A moment's stunned silence was followed by everyone talking at once. As unobtrusively as possible, I slipped my hand into my pocket and touched the sliver of Babel stone.
"Is Awi Bubu here?"
"Why did he not come himself?"
"What do you know of He Who Is Dead to Us?" This last was said in English and directed at me.
"He Who Is Dead ... oh! You mean Awi Bubu?" Honestly! You'd think none of them had ever made a mistake. "I know he is very sorry for whatever it is he did. And it is he who sent me because I have something he thought you'd want rather badly. In fact, what I have is so important that he hoped returning it to you would earn him his way back into your good graces."
Another eruption, this time accompanied by outrage.
Finally, the priest hushed everyone. "Perhaps we should see what the girl has brought us before we judge and condemn Awi Bubu yet again."
I swallowed. "I have brought the Emerald Tablet to return to you."
Khalfani stepped forward, his eyes searching me for signs of the tablet. "Where is it? You do not have this thing on you."
"No," I admitted. "I needed to be certain I could reach you before I started lugging it all over town. It isn't the sort of thing one ought to leave lying out in the open."
"How do we know you are speaking the truth?"
"What possible reason would I have for lying?" I countered.
The man looked down at the note in his hand. "He says also that you carry with you a sign of good faith."
"I do. Here." I thrust the soiled, tattered reticule in his direction. "Proof that I mean what I say."
We eyed each other suspiciously, and then Khalfani stepped forward and took the reticule from me. He returned to his men, who crowded around to watch. When he opened the purse, he drew back in surprise. "The Orb of Ra!" They began speaking to one another in soft whispers.
The leader shifted his attention back to me. "How did you come by it?" he asked.
I stared at the shiny gold artifact, glinting in the afternoon sun. If these wedjadeen were anything like Awi Bubu, they could smell a lie at twenty paces. Best stick with the truth, but the absolute minimum of the truth. "It was in my parents' museum," I confessed.
The man to Khalfani's right spoke, still in Arabic. The leader nodded, then repeated the question to me. "Did you find the orb alone?"
I shifted slightly on my feet. "No," I admitted. "I found it with a staff. The Staff of Osiris."
That got their full attention. "Where is the staff, then?" the leader asked, taking a step toward me.
Honestly! Did he think I was hiding it under my skirt? "I left it in London. With the Brotherhoo—er, a very wise man. He felt it was too risky to keep them together. Especially when traveling."
The wedjadeen nodded. "He was right to think so. No man should ever wield that kind of power."
Oh good. Something we agreed upon at last.
Khalfani's hand tightened around the orb. "Even so, it belongs to us. It should be returned as well."
"I'm sure he'll get right on that, sir." No wonder Awi Bubu ran away from these people. They were impossible to deal with.
"Why did this wise man of yours not bring it himself? What manner of coward is he that he hides behind a child's skirts?"
That did it. I put my hands on my hips and glared at them. "I thought you were supposed to be the Eyes of Horus, not some schoolyard bullies. Wig—the wise man didn't come himself because Awi Bubu told us that if a grown man approached you, you would most likely kill him on sight. He thought I, at least, would have a chance of being allowed to speak."
The look on the leader's face let me know I had scored a direct hit.
"Plus, he has a bad leg and can't get around well." The truth. "But more important, it was my task to complete; I had promised Awi Bubu on his deathbed that I would do this thing. And he promised you would not harm me."
The old priest's brows knit together in concern. "Awi Bubu is dead, then?"
"No. He lives. But he has been badly injured and his injuries are not healing well. That is why he was not able to come himself." I glared at the man who had asked that original question.
This caused a small flurry of rapid Arabic. Even holding the chip of Babel, I could barely make out what they were saying.