Page 58 of Disturbing the Dead
“This isn’t an aphrodisiac,” I say. “Or any other male aid.” I pause. “Or I hope not. I really hope not. It’s about mummies.”
Her brows shoot up. “Mummies? As in the Egyptian dead?”
I nod. “You know Sir Alastair was wrapped as a mummy. Well, the original mummified remains are gone. Someone broke them into pieces and secreted them out.”
Queen Mab stares at me, slow horror replacing her usual amused glint.
“Sorry,” I say. “I could have phrased that better.”
“You do not need to cushion the truth for my sake, child. I am appalled by the thought, but I am not surprised. You think they took the body for medicine? Could they not have merely removed it for disposal?”
“There were places in the room to hide the remains, and taking them out was a much greater risk than leaving them. Someone wanted the body, but not enough to keep it whole, which means it isn’t for a collector. It could be for science, but Dr. Gray doesn’t know of any significant demand for mummy parts. According to Lady Christie’s brother, though, there is a medical market for powdered mummy, which Dr. Gray and Mrs. Ballantyne have both heard of.”
“Unfortunately,” Isla murmurs.
“As have I,” Queen Mab says. “Also unfortunately. So you are not here to confirm that, but rather to understand where one might sell such remains.”
“Yes.”
“The underground market.”
I nod. “That’s what I figured. Some sort of secret network of tradespeople.”
Queen Mab laughs softly. “Oh, I did not mean that figuratively, Miss Mallory. I meant the actual underground market. A market that is, well, perhaps not ‘underground’ in a literal sense, but held in what we call the underground here. The vaults.”
I know about Edinburgh’s vaults. They’re under the South Bridge. When the bridge was built, the areas under it were divided into a warren of rooms, some as small as a few meters long. Larger ones were sold or rented for storage, while smaller ones became shops. That was at the end of the last century. In this century, they became slums, with brothels and pubs and all manner of criminal activity. I thought that was largely gone, but apparently not.
“So down in the vaults, there’s an actual marketplace that sells stuff like this?” I say.
“‘Stuff like this,’ and so much more.” Her eyes twinkle. “But you would have no interest in visiting such a thing, would you? Such a sweet and pretty child, who would not care to dirty her white gloves and muss those golden tresses—”
“Where can I find it?”
That makes Queen Mab and Isla both laugh.
“I fear the market only opens every fortnight,” Queen Mab says. “But you are in luck. It will be open tomorrow. That does not resolve all our problems, though. First, I must take you, as both an escort and a sponsor. However, vouching for you is not enough. You would need something to offer.”
I frown. “But I’m looking to buy. That would be my cover story. I want to buy mummy powder.”
She shakes her head. “The market does not operate like that. Do you know what a goblin market is?”
When I hesitate, Isla says, “Ms. Rossetti’s poem. ‘Goblin Market.’”
“Oh!” I say. “I know that one. My—”
I’m about to say my dad teaches it, but I stop myself. I wasn’t even sure the poem had been published by now.
“When did that…?” I begin carefully.
“It came out a few years ago,” Isla says.
Queen Mab continues, “In the poem, the girl has no money so she trades a lock of her hair. The goblin market of folklore uses a barter system. So it is here. Of course, transactions for money are not unknown, but you must have something to offer in order to enter.”
“I have lots of hair,” I say.
“Will you let them shave it off for a wig?”
“Er…”
