Well this weekend, I stumbled upon a fix to this conundrum. I decided that instead of creating a collage board for this Theodosia book, I’d create a travel journal such as Theo herself might have kept to record her trips.

(Sorry about the glare.)

So now I’ve been cutting and pasting all the old photos I’ve found in my research into this book, then making notations and observations in Theo’s voice next to each picture.

This is doing two things. It’s a great way to accumulate all the research visuals I need in one place and in chronological order, and it’s allowing me to focus on seeing them through Theo’s eyes. It’s really helped me “get into the mood” for writing this book.

The Grand Prize Winner of a copy of THEODOSIA AND THE LAST PHARAOH and a copy of THEODOSIA AND THE EYES OF HORUS is…Eaden!

The Second Prize Winner is Raelynn, who will receive a copy THEODOSIA AND THE LAST PHARAOH

And the third prize winner of a copy of THEODOSIA AND THE EYES OF HORUS is Olivia!

You guys did so good on these contest questions! I was quite impressed. I used Random Number Generator to select the winners. All nine of you who got all the questions right were put in the hopper for the Grand Prize, then all eleven of  you were put into the hat for the second and third prize.

Please email me (using the contact page on the website here) with your name and physical address so I can mail your books to you. Be sure and get your parents permission first!

Thanks so much for participating! And for being such awesome readers.

Theodosia considers herself something of an expert on Egyptian magic. This contest will test your knowledge of Theodosia’s magical practices and skills. There will be nine questions taken from the first three books. Whoever answers them correctly will be put in a drawing for a grand prize of both a signed copy of the new THEODOSIA AND THE LAST PHARAOH and a copy of the new paperback THEODOSIA AND THE EYES OF HORUS.

The second place prize will be a signed copy of THEODOSIA AND THE LAST PHARAOH and the third prize will be a signed paperback of THEODOSIA AND THE EYES OF HORUS.

The rules are this: Answer as many of the below questions as you can in a comment to this post. The comments are on moderated status so no one else will see your answers–that way no one can peek or cheat. (Not that any of you would ever cheat!) Being the first to answer them does not increase your chance of winning, so take your time with finding the right answers.

If no one gets them all right, then whoever gets the most right will be the winner. If more than one person gets the same number of answers, then all those names will be put into a hat and the winners drawn from those names.

1. What substance does Theodosia use in the Second Level Test?
2. What do curses smell like?
3. What color threads did Theo use in one of her many attempts to undemonize Isis?
4. What did Theo use to put the statue of Anubis back to sleep?
5. When Theo was cataloging the items down in the catacombs, she found a highly valued object inside some canopic jars. What were they?
6. While researching the Staff of Osiris, Theodosia learns that Ramses III used the staff to create—what?
7. What is another name for the Emerald Tablet?
8. What sort of glyphs and symbols are etched on the Emerald Tablet?
9. How many oils does Theo need for the Opening of the Mouth ceremony?

The contest will run until next Saturday night, April 9, at midnight. Good luck! And have fun!

Chapter Two: The Mother of All Museums

If you’ve ever had the experience of being given a lovely apple, all rosy and full of promise, only to bite into it to find a wormy rotten core, then you will understand the feeling I had when I first stepped into the Egyptian Museum.

It was a large, impressive building full of hundreds—if not thousands—of ancient artifacts I would never see anywhere else. However, when I stepped inside, the force of the black magic, heka, and lingering mut nearly brought me to my knees. In fact, I actually stumbled as the magic rising off of centuries’ worth of discoveries pressed down on me. It felt as if every artifact in the place had left a trace of itself behind in the vestibule of the museum, like Mother’s perfume when she leaves the room. Only this wasn’t the charming smell of lilacs or lily of the valley.  This was a thick miasma of magic and curses. Far removed from the source of their power, they buzzed faintly through the air, an invisible swarm of tiny malevolent insects. With so much of it contained in such a confined space, there was the distinct sense of pressure building—like the air just before a thunderstorm.

“Theo, are you all right?” Mother asked, the worry in her voice overlaid with a tinge of annoyance. The word peculiar lay unspoken in the air between us.

“Yes, Mother. Just missed a step, that’s all.” I held myself as still as possible and let the noxious brew wash over me, trying to get acclimated to it.

Mr. Bing peered down at me. “Are you certain? You look rather pale . . .”

I waved my hand dismissively. “I’m sure it’s the heat. I’m not quite used to the weather here, and then the sudden cool of the museum. It will just take me a moment to adjust.”

“Well, if you’re sure, Monsieur Maspero’s office is this way.” Bing led us through the vestibule, past a large, tantalizing room lined with rows and rows of sarcophagi. At the far end of the room, two large statues sat, as if holding court over all the tourists who dared to interrupt the rest of the ancient pharaohs. My feet itched to turn down those steps, but Bing was moving along at a brisk clip, and I had already been scolded once for dawdling.

We proceeded down a hallway lined with offices until Mr. Bing finally stopped in front of a large door. “Madame Throckmorton,” he said. “You may go in as Monsieur Maspero is expecting you. While the two of you meet, perhaps you would allow me to give your daughter a tour of our museum? And perhaps find her some cool refreshment.”

“You are too kind, Mr. Bing,” Mother said. “That would be lovely.”

I was torn. If I went with Bing, I would not hear what Mother and Monsieur Maspero discussed. However, Bing might have an important message from Wigmere. Not only that, this could be my only chance to see all the wonders in the museum. Besides, I already knew the bulk of Mother’s plan—it had been my plan first, after all, to come to Luxor and look for clues to what we suspected was a grand temple built by Thutmose III. In the end, I decided I could afford to take Bing up on his offer. “Thank you, Mr. Bing. I would like that very much.”

He opened the door for Mother, then closed it after her and turned to me. “This way.”

As we made our way back down the hallway, I was dying to ask if he carried a message from Wigmere, but a public hallway didn’t seem the right place for such a question. Especially since I had no idea how many at the Antiquities Service were part of the Brotherhood of the Chosen Keepers. It was a brilliant cover, I thought, hiding a secret organization dedicated to minimizing the corrosive effects of ancient magic and keeping it out of the wrong hands inside the Antiquities Service.

However, the longer I thump-bumped along behind Bing, the clearer it became that he was leading me far away from the exhibits. Perhaps we were heading for the refreshment first. I certainly wouldn’t begrudge something cool to drink and a place to sit down and grow accustomed to the thick pool of heka I was wading through.

Except, as we went further and deeper into the museum, we seemed to have passed all the offices altogether. A faint niggle of concern settled along my shoulders and I remembered the rather maniacal look he’d had in the train station when he’d first spotted us. “Mr. Bing, where are you taking me, exactly?”

He looked over his shoulder at me and I was struck again by his intense eagerness. To make matters worse, his hair had escaped the confines of whatever tonic he’d combed it with that morning and was starting to stick up in odd places, which made him look slightly demented. “We’re almost there,” he said.

I know he meant it to be reassuring, but instead it was as if someone had just flipped a caution switch inside me. I wasn’t sure I should be following him.

I mean, what did I know about him, really? He said Wigmere had sent him, but surely any of the Serpents of Chaos could pretend they had been sent by the head of the Chosen Keepers. I abruptly stopped walking.

It took Bing a half dozen steps before he realized I was no longer following him. He stopped, then looked around. “What are you doing back there?” he asked.

I folded my arms and tried to look implacable. “I’m not taking another step until you tell me exactly where we’re going.”

He quickly retraced his steps until he was standing right in front of me. “I told you. Wigmere sent me,” he said in quiet tones.

“Yes but anyone could say that, couldn’t they? And I would have no way of knowing whether or not they were telling the truth.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it again. He looked crushed. “You mean you don’t trust me?”

I hated to hurt his feelings, but if there is one thing I’ve learned in the last few months it is that everyone is suspect until proven innocent. I thought briefly of asking to see his wedjat eye tattoo—the one that all Chosen Keepers had—but decided against it. For one, if he was an imposter, I didn’t want to be the one to spill the beans about their secret tattoo. Secondly, it was beyond scandalous—even for me—to wander around, demanding to see strange men’s chests. “Let’s just say I have a cautious nature.”

His smile put me a bit off balance. “And so you should, but really, there is nothing to worry about. We’re almost there and then you’ll see. Here, come.” As he spoke, he reached out to grab my arm.

I tried to leap back out of his reach, but he had rather longish arms and was able to snag me anyway. “Let go,” I said, pulling on my arm with all my strength.

“I told you,” he grunted, trying to tug me down the hall. “We’re almost there.” Suddenly, he seemed to remember something and stopped tugging. Without him pulling on me, I tumbled backwards, nearly ending up end over teakettle.

“I forgot! I’m supposed to tell you I’m a traveler, come from the West.”

Hearing the code phrase that Wigmere had given me cleared my suspicions instantly. “Well, honestly! Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” I asked, straightening my frock.

“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I’m rather new at this.”

Clearly, I thought.

Bing resumed walking and I fell into step behind him.  He led me down the hall to a door, which led to another hallway, which in turn led to a back staircase of some sort.  “Where are we going?” I asked.

“Lord Wigmere wanted you to meet with one of our senior research and development team members before you left for Luxor.” Mr. Bing stopped in front of a small door. At first it appeared to be a closet—a closet full of an amazing collection of ancient Egyptian bric-a-brac. There were medium sized obelisks leaning up against the wall, plinths, busts of ancient Egyptians carved from stone, unused stone tablets and stele stacked atop each other like dinner plates. A fine layer of dust lay over everything. Mr. Bing went over to a towering wooden mummy case that was at least seven feet tall and propped against the wall. As he went to lift the lid off, I saw that it was hinged, and it swung open to reveal a door.

“Very clever,” I said, admiringly.

“Isn’t it though?” Mr. Bing beamed and motioned for me to go first.

The passageway led to a large, winding stairway that seemed to disappear deep into the bowels of the museum. As we clattered down the stairs, the orb in my reticule bruised my leg with each step. The stairs were steep, almost a ladder, really, and they were circular. We went round and round so that by the time we reached the bottom, my brain was spinning inside my head. “Where are we?” I asked. The walls down here seemed to be of rock rather than wood or plaster.

“It’s an underground chamber, built under the museum, dug right into the ground itself,” Mr. Bing explained. “Most people don’t even know it’s here.” He crossed over to the two large steel doors, and pressed a buzzer on the wall. There was a loud clunk as something unlocked, then Mr. Bing pushed open the door. “Here she is, Professor. I’ll come back for her in a bit.” Then he stepped back out and closed the door behind me with a resounding clang.

I found myself in a large cavernous room. Dark shadows obscured the ceiling high above and it was easy to imagine hundreds of tons of rock and Cairo streets far above.

A scraping noise came from a distant corner of the room and my pulse quickened.

“Hello?” I called out.

Rows of tables and benches swept out in front of me, stacked high with all manner of strange things: blocks of paraffin wax, rolls of beeswax, crocodile eggs, a mortar and pestle, long skinny reeds, and papyrus leaves. There was even a large fish tank in the middle of the room, filled with what I thought might be oxyrinchus fish.

Half a dozen mummies in various states of undress lined one wall. Next to them were wine kegs, huge jars of golden honey, slabs of clay and unworked stone—basalt, granite, and alabaster. Thin sheets of gold and lead were scattered on one of the tables like playing cards, while a thick pot of what smelled like bitumen boiled sluggishly nearby.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” a voice called out.

I turned toward the voice, relieved to see a thin man hovering over one of the tables. He was taller even than Father and had stooped shoulders, as if he’d spent his entire life in a room that was too short for him. He wore a white canvas coat that came down to the knees of his plaid trousers. His hair was white and put me in mind of a dandelion just before all the fuzz flies away in a stiff breeze.

“There we go,” the man said. “Done.” He set whatever he’d been working on down and looked up at me. I gasped and took a step back, ready to run for the door. His face was half metal and leather, and his eyes were enormous, the size of billiard balls, as they swiveled crazily in my direction.

Chapter One: THE WRETCHED RETICULE (continued)

Mr. Bing deposited me next to Mother, then braved the crowd once more to oversee our luggage.

Outside the train station, the smell of old magic was stronger and mixed with the heat and the dust and something a little bit . . . gamey. I turned to find a small herd of donkeys and donkey boys waiting nearby. That was it; the smell of donkey.

Finally all of our belongings were duly collected and we loaded ourselves and our luggage into the conveyance. The driver slapped the reins and the carriage moved forward.

The streets of Cairo still looked the same as they had on my first trip. Mostly. They were lined on either side by high narrow houses with second and third stories that jutted out over the street. Windows were covered with elaborate latticework that looked like exotic lace. And the colors! Violet, mulberry, olive, peach, and crimson, with the occasional flash of silver or brass. It was as though someone had spilled a paint box in the sand. Even so, it seemed to me that the shadows were darker, deeper and more threatening than on my last visit.

I kept a careful eye on the men in the street—barefoot Egyptians in tattered cotton, Bedouin in long billowing robes, effendis in their red fez’s—looking for any sign of the Serpents of Chaos, but everyone seemed as he should.

When at last the hotel came into view, my sigh of relief was cut short when a swarm of vendors and street sellers descended upon our carriage like one of the Ten Plagues of Egypt. They pressed around on all sides, trying to sell whips, fly swatters, cork-lined hats, or locally crafted fans. One man carried an enormous stick covered with dangling shoes and nearly beaned us with it as he tried to show us his wares.

The hotel doorman—a giant, burly fellow—waded through the bodies, shooing them aside as if he were brushing crumbs from a table. He reached our carriage and cleared enough space for us to get out. Then he planted himself on one side of us and Mr. Bing took up the other as we made our way to the safety of the hotel lobby. The cool quiet was like a balm to our battered souls after the pandemonium of the morning.

Porters were sent to fetch our trunks and we were quickly shown to our rooms. Mr. Bing offered to wait downstairs while we freshened up, then escort us to the Antiquities Service.

“Don’t dawdle, Theodosia,” Mother said, when we reached our suite. “We’ve got to meet Mr. Bing in a quarter of an hour. I don’t want to keep Monsieur Maspero waiting any longer than necessary.”

“Yes, Mother,” I said, then thump-bumped my way into the room where the porter had set my trunks. I nudged the door closed with the toe of my boot, then set my satchel and basket on the floor. I knelt down to open the wicker basket. “We’re here,” I told Isis. “You can come out now.”

As soon as I lifted the lid, she shot out of the basket like a black lightning bolt. She stalked around the room, stopping to sniff here and there, trying to determine if the room met with her approval.

While she was deciding, I rifled through my trunk looking for the least-wrinkled frock I could find. The butterscotch-colored taffeta seemed to have traveled the best, so I took it out and shook the wrinkles from it. By that time, Isis returned to me and bumped her head against my ankle. “Is everything all right, then?” I asked her.

She meowed, and I bent to scratch her behind the ears. She ducked away from my hand and meowed again, this time prancing over to the window.

“Of course!” I said, horrified that I hadn’t thought of it first. “You must be desperate to go out.” I hurried over and opened the window, happy to see it overlooked a garden of some sort. “But do hurry back,” I told her. “I’ll need you to stand guard while I’m out with Mother.”

Isis gave a short warble of consent, then leaped outside and disappeared among the bushes.

I stepped out of my travel-stained gown and went to wash the travel dust from my face, neck, and arms. Scrubbed clean, I stared at myself in the mirror, looking for any sign that my eyes might be beginning to turn brown like Mother’s. But, no luck. They hadn’t gotten more blue like Father’s, either. They were still the color of swamp mud and unlike anyone elses in my family.

Answers, I promised myself. I would find answers on this trip. That was the other reason I had agreed to keep my promise to Awi Bubu.

I went back to the bed and slipped into my clean frock. I wished desperately that there was some way to carry a five pound stone tablet on my person, but there simply wasn’t. I would have to leave the Emerald Tablet where it was. I was very careful to not let myself think of the hiding place in case someone skilled in Egyptian magic could snatch it from my mind.

Just as I’d finished brushing my hair, Isis appeared on the windowsill. “Perfect timing—oh, what have you got?” Something small and wriggly dangled from her jaws. I hurried over to shut the window and lock it tightly behind her.

“Theo? Are you ready?” Mother called out.

“Coming!” I called back. I turned to Isis. “Don’t let anyone near our treasure. I’m counting on you.”

She gave a low-throated growl, then stalked back to her basket, climbed in, and began to make crunching sounds.

“Er, enjoy your dinner.” I glanced at the reticule on the bed. I thought briefly of putting it in one of the drawers, but a reticule was the first thing even a common thief would look for. No, it seemed best to bring it with me. Sighing, I slipped the wretched reticule onto my wrist and went to find my mother and Mr. Bing.

BUT, I will now make it up to you by posting the cover for Theo Four, THEODOSIA AND THE LAST PHARAOH. It’s hard to say just how many different ways I love this cover!

I also want to leave you with a link to a fellow Theodosia reader’s blog whose family, the Derringdos took a trip to England and while there, gave themselves a Theodosia Throckmorton Tour of London, and visited many of the places in the Theodosia books! How cool is that? I want to go with them on their next family vacation!

Back soon with more answers to your questions from the last couple of posts!

Bibliophile asked how long, on average, does it take me to write a first draft.

That’s a great question and there are a bunch of different answers, depending on the book involved. A first draft can take as little as two months or as long as three years, depending on how long the book is, how much time I have to devote to it, and how easy it is to write. For example, Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos took me about two years to write a good solid first draft, BUT, I was only working on it on the weekends as a side project. During the week I had another trilogy I was writing. (The Lowthar’s Blade books, in case you’re wondering.) So that took a long time to get a first draft down, but I also think all that extra time made the story richer and better. I wasn’t rushing anything, my ideas had time to develop, and I had lots of time to get to know the characters.

The Nathaniel Fludd Beastologist books are much shorter, and the first draft of the first book only took about three months to write, BUT, I’d been thinking about that series for about three or four years, letting the idea roll around in my  head for a long time. Again, I’d had a long time to think about what might work and what might not, what I’d already seen a lot of in other books and what I wanted to do differently.

In this book I just finished, a YA historical fantasy, it took me FOUR years to get a solid first draft. Part of it is that is is a reeeeeally long book (over 450 pages!) but also that it was a very complicated story. It required a lot of research and world building and complex character dynamics. Plus I had to write it inbetween all the Theodosia and Nathaniel Fludd books.

I don’t think there’s any point in hurrying that first draft. If writing is fun, and it should be, why not take your time and play with it? At least, that’s what I do!

Paige asked: What made you chose Egyptian mythology, not Native American, Celtic, Nordic, Roman, or Greek mythology?

Oo! Good question. One big reason I chose Egyptian was because that’s what has always fascinated ME. Although I am also fascinated by Celtic mythology, well all the other mythologies, actually. But there was already a very popular series with Greek mythology, and Roman mythology felt very close to Greek mythology, so I didn’t want to use that. As for Native American mythology, I didn’t quite feel right using that for an entire book since I don’t have a lot of Native American blood in me. Plus it’s not something I know nearly enough about.  I do still plan to write books involving the other mythologies, though, just not quite yet.

Adriana asked: What was theodosia’s biggest challenge at the museum of legends and antiquities?

Wow! Another great question! Theodosia’s biggest challenge is keeping her parents safe while avoiding telling them about what’s going on. The thing is, she’d love to tell them, if she thought for one minute they’d believe her, but she’s pretty convinced they won’t. She doesn’t like lying to them, but she can’t ignore all the black magic and vile curses. So for her, the biggest challenge is just trying to balance all the different needs.

And I think that’s long enough for one post!

Faery Rebels: Spell Hunter by R. J. Anderson

The Hunchback Assignments by Arthur Slade

The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate

Thief of Attolia, Queen of Attolia, and King of Attolia  by Megan Whalen Turner

The Lost Conspiracy by Francis Hardinge

The Swam Maiden by Heather Tomlinson

Incarceron by Catherine Fisher

The Boneshaker by Kate Milford

Mae also asked which Egyptian ruler I thought was the coolest, and that is hard! Hatshepsut is very cool, not least because she was one of the very few women pharaohs. Thutmose III was a pretty strong ruler, too. And Ramses II was an amazing builder. Gosh. I don’t know if I could pick ONE favorite, but those are three of my favorites.

Adriana, I wouldn’t say that the Theodosia books are about Egyptology, but Theo’s parents are Egyptologists, and she deals a lot with Egyptian artifacts and research. The next book is called, THEODOSIA AND THE LAST PHARAOH.

Amelia asked where I get my ideas. I think ideas are absolutely EVERYWHERE. They are all around us, we have only to open our eyes and pay attention. I have a harder time not being bombarded with ideas. Or forgetting cool ones that I don’t want to forget.   Like you, I have a small notebook I carry with me everywhere, and then I have a lot of notebooks all over the house full of ideas I’d like to turn into a story someday.

One of the things I do, since I have so very many ideas, is to try and be sure an idea is really story-worthy; that it truly has enough meat on its bones to make a good dramatic story. Sometimes ideas are just that, ideas, and don’t really have enough conflict or drama to be developed into an entire book. History and ancient civilizations and anthropology are great sources of ideas for me.

And as for tips for writing, well that is a huge subject. I write a LOT about the writing process on my author blog (http://rllafevers.blogspot.com) and have some tips on the Writer’s Page of my author website, but I will  do a separate post on some writing tips in the next week or two.

Kaitlyn asked if there has been some movie interest in Theodosia, but nothing that’s actually gotten off the ground. Believe me, if and when that happens, I will shout it from the rooftops!

Amelia and Collin both wanted to know how many books are planned, well, I’m not sure. I have tons more ideas for Theodosia adventures so we’ll just have to see how it goes. A lot of that isn’t really up to me, but is decided by the publisher based on sales numbers and that sort of thing.

Thanks for all the great questions!

From Kaitlyn: How are the Nathaniel Fludd Books coming?

Very well, thank you! I have finished up the fourth one and have just received a copy of the cover for it. Here’s a peek at the new cover.

Also, Kaitlyn asked if I have any new ideas for books, and I do! It’s just that I don’t really talk about them until they’re finished, so I can’t say much. Sorry!

Collin, there will be at least five Theodosia books and probably more. As always, with everything in publishing, it depends on sales numbers. The final title for Book Four is THEODOSIA AND THE LAST PHARAOH, and it comes out May of 2011. The working title of Book Five is THEODOSIA AND THE FLAME OF SEKHMET, but that is subject to change. It will be coming out sometime in 2012, most likely.

kalifaziz asked when the next contest is, and I have to think one up first! But you’re right, we are definitely due for one.

kalifaziz aso said: “the ben ue bird is the perfect energy that created the world. you should really be careful for immature reasearch from rambontious anthropologist’

You know, there are actually a number of theories on the origins of the benu bird. Most of what we know we are guessing from clues left behind or trying to decipher earlier writings. Also remember, that Theodosia was working with information from 100 years ago. We have learned about archaeology and interpreting the past since then. So just because Theo’s story of the origin of the benu bird is different from yours, doesn’t make it immature research. She is just using different sources.

I’ve also done some updating of the site, most notably adding information about school visits on the Teacher and Librarian pageI wan since I get asked that question so often, and links to a number of interviews I’ve done on the About the Author page.