The Red Pyramid

I knew I’d hit a nerve. Anubis shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “It increases chaos. The souls become confused. Some cannot go to the afterlife. Some manage, but they must find other ways. I try to help, but...the Hall of Judgment is also called the Hall of Ma’at. It is meant to be the center of order, a stable foundation. Without Osiris, it is falling into disrepair, crumbling.”



“Then what are you waiting for? Give us the feather. Unless you’re afraid your dad will ground you.”



His eyes flashed with irritation. For a moment I thought he was planning my funeral, but he simply sighed in exasperation. “I do a ceremony called the opening of the mouth. It lets the soul of the dead person come forth. For you, Sadie Kane, I would invent a new ceremony: the closing of the mouth.”



“Ha, ha. Are you going to give me the feather or not?”



He opened his hand. There was a burst of light, and a glowing feather floated above his palm—a snowy plume like a writing quill. “For Osiris’s sake—but I will insist on several conditions. First, only you may handle it.”



“Well, of course. You don’t think I’d let Carter—”



“Also, you must listen to my mother, Nephthys. Khufu told me you were looking for her. If you manage to find her, listen to her.”



“Easy,” I said, though the request did leave me strangely uncomfortable. Why would Anubis ask something like that?



“And before you go,” Anubis continued, “you must answer three questions for me as you hold the feather of truth, to prove that you are honest.”



My mouth suddenly felt dry. “Um...what sort of questions?”



“Any that I want. And remember, the slightest lie will destroy you.”



“Give me the bloody feather.”



As he handed it to me, the feather stopped glowing, but it felt warmer and heavier than a feather should.



“It’s the tail feather from a bennu,” Anubis explained, “what you’d call a phoenix. It weighs exactly the same as a human soul. Are you ready?”



“No,” I said, which must’ve been truthful, as I didn’t burn up. “Does that count as one question?”



Anubis actually smiled, which was quite dazzling. “I suppose it does. You bargain like a Phoenician sea trader, Sadie Kane. Second question, then: Would you give your life for your brother?”



“Yes,” I said immediately.



(I know. It surprised me too. But holding the feather forced me to be truthful. Obviously it didn’t make me any wiser.)



Anubis nodded, apparently not surprised. “Final question: If it means saving the world, are you prepared to lose your father?”



“That’s not a fair question!”



“Answer it honestly.”



How could I answer something like that? It wasn’t a simple yes/no.



Of course I knew the “right” answer. The heroine is supposed to refuse to sacrifice her father. Then she boldly goes off and saves her dad and the world, right? But what if it really was one or the other? The whole world was an awfully large place: Gran and Gramps, Carter, Uncle Amos, Bast, Khufu, Liz and Emma, everyone I’d ever known. What would my dad say if I chose him instead?



“If...if there really was no other way,” I said, “no other way at all— Oh, come off. It’s a ridiculous question.”



The feather began to glow.



“All right,” I relented. “If I had to, then I suppose...I suppose I would save the world.”



Horrible guilt crushed down on me. What kind of daughter was I? I clutched the tyet amulet on my necklace—my one remembrance of Dad. I know some of you lot will be thinking: You hardly ever saw your dad. You barely knew him. Why would you care so much?



But that didn’t make him any less my dad, did it? Or the thought of losing him forever any less horrible. And the thought of failing him, of willingly choosing to let him die even to save the world—what sort of awful person was I?



I could barely meet Anubis’s eyes, but when I did, his expression softened.



“I believe you, Sadie.”



“Oh, really. I’m holding the bloody feather of truth, and you believe me. Well, thanks.”



“The truth is harsh,” Anubis said. “Spirits come to the Hall of Judgment all the time, and they cannot let go of their lies. They deny their faults, their true feelings, their mistakes...right up until Ammit devours their souls for eternity. It takes strength and courage to admit the truth.”



“Yeah. I feel so strong and courageous. Thanks.”



Anubis stood. “I should leave you now. You’re running out of time. In just over twenty-four hours, the sun will rise on Set’s birthday, and he will complete his pyramid—unless you stop him. Perhaps when next we meet—”



“You’ll be just as annoying?” I guessed.



He fixed me with those warm brown eyes. “Or perhaps you could bring me up to speed on modern courtship rituals.”



I sat there stunned until he gave me a glimpse of a smile—just enough to let me know he was teasing. Then he disappeared.



“Oh, very funny!” I yelled. The scales and the throne vanished. The linen bench unraveled and dumped me in the middle of the graveyard. Carter and Khufu appeared next to me, but I just kept yelling at the spot where Anubis had stood, calling him some choice names.



“What’s going on?” Carter demanded. “Where are we?”



“He’s horrible!” I growled. “Self-important, sarcastic, incredibly hot, insufferable—”



“Agh!” Khufu complained.



“Yeah,” Carter agreed. “Did you get the feather or not?”



I held out my hand, and there it was—a glowing white plume floating above my fingers. I closed my fist and it disappeared again.



“Whoa,” Carter said. “But what about Anubis? How did you—”



“Let’s find Bast and get out of here,” I interrupted. “We’ve got work to do.”



And I marched out of the graveyard before he could ask me more questions, because I was in no mood to tell the truth.



Chapter 29. Zia Sets a Rendezvous



[Yeah, thanks a lot, Sadie. You get to tell the part about the Land of the Dead. I get to describe Interstate 10 through Texas.]



Long story short: It took forever and was totally boring, unless your idea of fun is watching cows graze.



We left New Orleans about 1 a.m. on December twenty-eighth, the day before Set planned to destroy the world. Bast had “borrowed” an RV—a FEMA leftover from Hurricane Katrina. At first Bast suggested taking a plane, but after I told her about my dream of the magicians on the exploding flight, we agreed planes might not be a good idea. The sky goddess Nut had promised us safe air travel as far as Memphis, but I didn’t want to press our luck the closer we got to Set.



“Set is not our only problem,” Bast said. “If your vision is correct, the magicians are closing in on us. And not just any magicians—Desjardins himself.”



“And Zia,” Sadie put in, just to annoy me.



In the end, we decided it was safer to drive, even though it was slower. With luck, we’d make Phoenix just in time to challenge Set. As for the House of Life, all we could do was hope to avoid them while we did our job. Maybe once we dealt with Set, the magicians would decide we were cool. Maybe...



I kept thinking about Desjardins, wondering if he really could be a host for Set. A day ago, it had made perfect sense. Desjardins wanted to crush the Kane family. He’d hated our dad, and he hated us. He’d probably been waiting for decades, even centuries, for Iskandar to die, so he could become Chief Lector. Power, anger, arrogance, ambition: Desjardins had it all. If Set was looking for a soulmate, literally, he couldn’t do much better. And if Set could start a war between the gods and magicians by controlling the Chief Lector, the only winner would be the forces of chaos. Besides, Desjardins was an easy guy to hate. Somebody had sabotaged Amos’s house and alerted Set that Amos was coming.



But the way Desjardins saved all those people on the plane—that just didn’t seem like something the Lord of Evil would do.



Bast and Khufu took turns driving while Sadie and I dozed off and on. I didn’t know baboons could drive recreational vehicles, but Khufu did okay. When I woke up around dawn, he was navigating through early morning rush hour in Houston, baring his fangs and barking a lot, and none of the other drivers seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.



For breakfast, Sadie, Bast, and I sat in the RV’s kitchen while the cabinets banged open and the dishes clinked and miles and miles of nothing went by outside. Bast had snagged us some snacks and drinks (and Friskies, of course) from a New Orleans all-night convenience store before we left, but nobody seemed very hungry. I could tell Bast was anxious. She’d already shredded most of the RV’s upholstery, and was now using the kitchen table as a scratching post.



As for Sadie, she kept opening and closing her hand, staring at the feather of truth as if it were a phone she wished would ring. Ever since her disappearance in the Hall of Judgment, she’d been acting all distant and quiet. Not that I’m complaining, but it wasn’t like her.



“What happened with Anubis?” I asked her for the millionth time.



She glared at me, ready to bite my head off. Then she apparently decided I wasn’t worth the effort. She fixed her eyes on the glowing feather that hovered over her palm.



“We talked,” she said carefully. “He asked me some questions.”



“What kind of questions?”



“Carter, don’t ask. Please.”



Please? Okay, that really wasn’t like Sadie.



I looked at Bast, but she wasn’t any help. She was slowly gouging the Formica to bits with her claws.



“What’s wrong?” I asked her.



She kept her eyes on the table. “In the Land of the Dead, I abandoned you. Again.”



“Anubis startled you,” I said. “It’s no big deal.”



Bast gave me the big yellow eyes, and I got the feeling I’d only made things worse.



“I made a promise to your father, Carter. In exchange for my freedom, he gave me a job even more important than fighting the Serpent: protecting Sadie—and if it ever became necessary, protecting both of you.”



Sadie flushed. “Bast, that’s...I mean, thank you and all, but we’re hardly more important than fighting...you know, him.”



“You don’t understand,” Bast said. “The two of you are not just blood of the pharaohs. You’re the most powerful royal children to be born in centuries. You’re the only chance we have of reconciling the gods and the House of Life, of relearning the old ways before it’s too late. If you could learn the path of the gods, you could find others with royal blood and teach them. You could revitalize the House of Life. What your parents did—everything they did, was to prepare the way for you.”



Sadie and I were silent. I mean, what do you say to something like that? I guessed I’d always felt like my parents loved me, but willing to die for me? Believing it was necessary so Sadie and I could do some amazing world-saving stuff? I didn’t ask for that.