Yeah, it was a brilliant idea. But was it even possible? Sam eyed the two pieces of the limb from a distance, trying to determine just where it had broken.
“Here.” He held the revolver out for Mila. “Don’t drop it.”
He was surprised when she took it without comment , and had to check on her. The Mila he knew and fought with on a regular basis would have snarked at the comment.
But Mila only stared at the mummy.
Sam’s gut twisted that she was so concerned about the creature. Why should she care? It was just a skeleton with leathered skin, a relic found and waiting to be put on display. If he was honest with himself, he’d admit he was jealous.
But he didn’t want to be honest. He wasn’t supposed to be jealous. She was the daughter of the aristocracy – the lower aristocracy for certain – but still far higher up the social ladder than his family. Heck, his family wasn’t even on the ladder.
Sighing, he stepped closer to the creature, motioning for it to hold out the leg. When it did, he could tell it did not contain the knee, only the greater part of the tibia and fibula, and then the tarsals of the ankle and foot. It might not be so bad after all. If he could bind the leg together, the creature might still be able to walk, as well as stand.
He let the scientist inside take over, and the fear about the origin of the creature subsided. Just think of the paper he could write for the archaeological society. It might even get published!
“Mila,” his voice snapped, though he didn’t mean it to, “I’ll need some of the linen Professor Smythe was using in his mummification experiment. Lots of it. And shears to cut it into strips.”
“You’re going to splint it? But it won’t get better.” Mila stood, revolver dangling from limp fingers.
“Yes, but we’re going to make a permanent splint. Can you think of something strong but thin?”
Mila blinked at him, and Sam worried for a moment that whatever magic had made the mummy sentient was affecting her. Finally, she shook her head and snorted.
“What am I. A servant?”
Nope. She was fine. Mila was still Mila.
Shaking his own head and sighing, Sam gathered his patience. “I’m only voicing my plan. You did ask me to do this.”
“I did no such thing. I merely said we needed to fix it.” Her chin rose and Sam just knew he was in for a fight – or debate to use her word for most of their conversations.
“Mila,” Sam gusted a breath, “can you think of anything we might use as a splint?” Maybe – just maybe – he could head it off.
“Perhaps. If I knew the museum as well as you do. But, no. I’m not allowed to work here, even though I’d be twice the assistant to Father that you are.” She waved the revolver around, and Sam was reassured to see that her finger was no where near the trigger.
“Really?” Sam rounded on her, for the moment forgetting the creature in the rush of indignation that flooded him. “I haven’t broken his latest acquisition. Or compromised the integrity of any of his finds. Can’t say the same for you, can we?”
“It was an accident. And it would never have happened if I was allowed work here.”
Squinting his eyes, Sam took a step closer to the girl. “If you were allowed to work here, you might destroy the whole museum.”
The girl sputtered, her mouth opening ans closing like a gold fish for sale at the aquarium.
Satisfied, Sam turned back to the mummy, only smiling when his face was turned so that Mila couldn’t see it. No sense in starting her off again now that he’d silenced her.