R. LaFevers - Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos

He began talking to the captain, and Mother started fussing over me. Quite frankly, I was very happy to be fussed over. I hadn’t realized until that moment how exhausted I was. Between sleeping in a lifeboat, the slimmest of rations for the past few days, and living with the constant worry of being found out, I was feeling rather wet-raggish.

Just as Mother started talking about getting me some food, the ensign showed up again, interrupting that precious thought. “Here’s the envelope, sir.” He tossed a smug look my way. “But there’s not nearly enough in there for a full passage.”

The captain’s mustaches twitched as he took the envelope and opened it. “You forget, she’s only to pay a child’s portion.” He glanced down at the money, then at me. “Well, Miss Throckmorton, it appears you are not a stowaway after all. At least not from us.” He looked shrewdly at my parents. “I think I’ll leave the three of you to sort this out.” He headed off to his other guests after, much to my surprise, winking at me.

“Come along, dear,” Mum said. “Let’s go get you something to eat and some warm dry clothes.”

“And a bath,” I added.

Mum smiled. “And a bath.”

“Oh, really, Henrietta,” Father interrupted. “Don’t coddle her. She’s just stowed away for heaven’s sake!” He turned to me. “What I want to know is what is so bloody important that you thought you had to stow away on this trip?”

His furious glare drove all the good excuses right out of my head. “I really wanted to see Egypt? And I thought you could use my help diverting the British Museum’s attention while you went after the Was scepter?”

Thankfully, Mum shushed Father at that point and kept him from interrogating me any further. I was soon bundled away, warm and snug in their cabin, sipping hot chocolate and telling Mother of my exploits. (Father still wasn’t speaking to me.) Soon, however, I was yawning into my cup, so Mum took it away and tucked me in for the night.

Just as we were all drifting off to sleep, Father sat bolt upright in bed. “Bloody hell, Theodosia! Do you know how dangerous that was?”

I winced. “Sorry, Father,” I said in a small voice.

He harrumphed, then lay back down. I decided that now was probably not a good time to ask what a pink elephant was.

A FEW MORNINGS LATER, I stood on the deck of the Rosetta Maru as we approached Alexandria. The city rose up in the distance, its towers and turrets and flags outlined against the sharp brilliant blue of the sky.

Oh, the sun! I cannot tell you how marvelous it was to have it shine in my face and feel its warmth against my shoulders. It had been absolutely ages since I’d seen a single ray of sunshine.

I did finally manage to point my face away from the sun long enough to look out over the deep blue water of Alexandria Harbor. Alexandria. The name alone conjured up feelings of mystery and the ancients.

This was the land of Antony and Cleopatra. Where the Lighthouse of Pharos had stood for hundreds of years, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. I couldn’t help but think of the lovely ancient library at Alexandria that had burned to the ground centuries ago. Oh how I wish it still stood. I bet they had loads of fascinating scrolls and texts on ancient Egyptian magic and curses.

The Rosetta Maru nosed her way through the harbor, which was full of more ships than I could even imagine. And the docks — what a huge disappointment. I was expecting something foreign and lovely. Instead they looked exactly like the docks back home. Only, the faces were somewhat darker. And the noise! The jumble of foreign sounds beat upon my ears like an exotic drum.

We were met by one of Mother’s contacts, a dragoman, she called him. I must say, it was a comfort to have someone to guide us through the turmoil and confusion.

Our guide herded us up into a carriage, and bustled away just as quickly as you please to the station where we could catch the train to Cairo. It was a hair-raising journey. Alexandria’s narrow streets were filled with small, crowded shops and unfortunate beggars everywhere. In some small odd way, it reminded me of the Seven Dials back home. Their mournful pleading for backsheesh was heart-wrenching.

I was relieved when our carriage turned into the large railway station. Our dragoman once again herded us (I suspect he is a shepherd during the off-season), this time toward our train. With luck, we would be in Cairo by dinnertime.

As we pulled out of the station, I vowed to return to Alexandria some day when I had time to see the sights. But today, I let myself be rushed along. After all, I had a mission to accomplish.

It was a pummeling train ride, as if the tracks had been laid down directly over the sand with no railway ties to anchor them. When I mentioned this to Father, he said, “Well, you wanted to experience the romance of travel, so don’t complain now that you have.” Funny, I never thought romance would be quite so dusty or jostley.

We arrived at a hotel called Shepheard’s, which was very grand. It rose four stories high and took up nearly the whole block. Enormous potted palm trees lined the front terrace. Men in turbans lounged on the front steps. A little brown monkey clung to one of the men’s shoulder. The concierge (I don’t know the Egyptian word for him) greeted Mother warmly and looked at Father rather dubiously. Whether it was because Father was being so narky (I think his leg was paining him) or for some other reason, I couldn’t be sure.

We were all quite tired by then, and only had a bit of time to dress for dinner. Father managed to hang on to his temper long enough for one of the porters to show us to our lodgings. Two men struggled behind with the bulk of the baggage.

As soon as the porter unlocked the door, I rushed in and headed straight for the window. A thrill of excitement ran down my spine. How exciting to be in Cairo at last!

The window looked out over a small garden with a little pond and more tall palm trees bowing their heads gracefully in the purple twilight. One or two stars began to show in the sky. I breathed in deeply and caught the fragrance of dust, dates, and sand, glad to have found a bit of romance and atmosphere at last. As the men hauled the luggage into the room, I heard a faint, dry scratching noise. I tilted my head to listen more carefully, but the men were making too much noise. I frowned at them, but they were busy trying to get the trunks to the ground without breaking them or their backs.

Father came to join me at the window. I looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back and I was struck by the mixture of excitement and longing in his expression. Then the scritching sound started up again, ruining the mood.

He sighed deeply. “Must you make that noise, Theodosia?”

“But it’s not me, Father. I noticed it too.”

We both stood very still and listened for a moment, then an apologetic look passed over his face. “Well, it’s probably nothing. Why don’t you go find something to change into for dinn—”

A small dark shape emerged from under the curtain, and I shoved Father back from the window.

“I say,” he began.

My eyes were nearly popping out of my head as I pointed to the carpet, right next to where he’d been standing. A large scorpion was scuttling across the floor. I took two giant steps back, then stretched my arm out and gently lifted the curtain away from the wall. A whole nest of scorpions was skulking under the curtains. That’s what had made the horrid scritching sound.