The Glass Falcon by E Catherine Tobler

Author:E Catherine Tobler [Tobler, E Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science Fiction, Steampunk
ISBN: 1511707674
Amazon: B00W2JQK6K
Publisher: Apokrupha
Published: 2015-04-11T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

They returned to the Mistral townhouse, Eleanor unsure how to approach the conversation en route. Mallory and Auberon asked nothing; they were always exceedingly patient with her as she organized her thoughts, given as she was to extraordinary occurrences, and for that she was thankful, because she knew Mallory had as short a temper as she often did. Auberon, keeper of his own secrets, was more even-mannered, but even he was curious as to what had happened in the catacomb.

In the privacy of Mallory’s rooms, Eleanor told them as best she could, that Anubis had shown her two things: a lower level of the catacomb (the screaming dead, lost in flood), and a distant temple, perhaps of Horemheb, where the glass seal had once sat. She watched their faces when she told them her story; Mallory, pouring tea for them all, was so surprised he nearly allowed the tea to overflow a cup. Auberon tipped the spout of the teapot up to stop the flow.

“Maddening, how he won’t just tell me what he wants us to know,” Eleanor said, perched on the edge of Mallory’s couch.

“I think he has, Eleanor,” Auberon said. He slid a cup of tea closer to Eleanor, watching her all the while. “Horus gifted you with a bone, most likely from the catacombs judging from what I’ve seen of the bones there. Anubis let you hear the screaming dead within that very catacomb. And he placed you within the body of a scribe who may have owned that seal.”

“It may be,” Mallory said, “Anubis has told you as best he can. Sky and ground not speaking but for the horizon, remember.”

Eleanor made a face, but could not argue. Now distant from the bones, she could think more clearly, but the memory of the screams huddled close to her and if she stopped to think overly long on them, it was as if the breath of ghosts curled against the nape of her neck.

“All right,” she said, pressing her hands together as she pondered. “We are to presume the bones of that scribe reside within the Paris catacombs?”

“I believe that is a solid theory,” Mallory said.

“Which only presents us with more mysteries, Mallory, and more mysteries is not what we’re aiming for.” Eleanor leaned back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling high above. “How in the world does an ancient Egyptian scribe come to rest in the Paris catacombs? And how does that connect to the destruction of both a seal in the Louvre and the displays of bones in the catacombs?”

Mallory tilted his head, silent. How like Anubis, Eleanor thought as she looked at him, but realized she already knew the answer. She sat up, thankful she wasn’t yet holding a teacup.

“An ancient Egyptian scribe comes to Paris exactly as every other artifact has come. She was found and taken, wasn’t she?” Eleanor nodded to herself, knowing it must have been. “Whether through normal archaeological means or something more devious—tomb robbers, perhaps?—she is

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