The Complete Kane Chronicles

CHAPTER


18. Gambling on Doomsday Eve
FOR THE SECOND TIME THAT WEEK, I woke on a sofa in a hotel room with no idea how I’d gotten there.

The room wasn’t nearly as nice as the Four Seasons Alexandria. The walls were cracked plaster. Exposed beams sagged along the ceiling. A portable fan hummed on the coffee table, but the air was as hot as a blast furnace. Afternoon light streamed through the open windows. From below came the sounds of cars honking and merchants hawking their wares in Arabic. The breeze smelled of exhaust, animal manure, and apple sisha—the fruity molasses scent of water-pipe smoke. In other words, I knew we must be in Cairo.

At the window, Sadie, Bes, Walt, and Zia were sitting around a table, playing a board game like old friends. The scene was so bizarre, I thought I must still be dreaming.

Then Sadie noticed I was awake. “Well, well. Next time you take an extended ba trip, Carter, do let us know in advance. It’s not fun carrying you up three flights of stairs.”

I rubbed my throbbing head. “How long was I out?”

“Longer than me,” Zia said.

She looked amazing—calm and rested. Her freshly washed hair was swept behind her ears, and she wore a new white sleeveless dress that made her bronze skin glow.

I guess I was staring at her pretty hard, because she dropped her gaze. Her throat turned red.

“It’s three in the afternoon,” she said. “I’ve been up since ten this morning.”

“You look—”

“Better?” She raised her eyebrows, like she was challenging me to deny it. “You missed the excitement. I tried to fight. I tried to escape. This is our third hotel room.”

“The first one caught fire,” Bes said.

“The second one exploded,” Walt said.

“I said I was sorry.” Zia frowned. “At any rate, your sister finally calmed me down.”

“Which took several hours,” Sadie said, “and all my diplomatic skill.”

“You have diplomatic skill?” I asked.

Sadie rolled her eyes. “As if you’d notice, Carter!”

“Your sister is quite intelligent,” Zia said. “She convinced me to reserve judgment on your plans until you woke up and we could talk. She’s quite persuasive.”

“Thank you,” Sadie said smugly.

I stared at them both, and a feeling of terror set in. “You’re getting along? You can’t get along! You and Sadie can’t stand each other.”

“That was a shabti, Carter,” Zia said, though her neck was still bright red. “I find Sadie…admirable.”

“You see?” Sadie said. “I’m admirable!”

“This is a nightmare.” I sat up and the blankets fell away. I looked down and found I was wearing Pokémon pajamas.

“Sadie,” I said, “I’m going to kill you.”

She batted her eyes innocently. “But the street merchant gave us a very good deal on those. Walt said they would fit you.”

Walt raised his hands. “Don’t blame me, man. I tried to stick up for you.”

Bes snorted, then did a pretty good imitation of Walt’s voice: “‘At least get the extra-large ones with Pikachu.’ Carter, your stuff’s in the bathroom. Now, are we playing senet, or not?”

I stumbled into the bathroom and was relieved to find a set of normal clothes waiting for me—fresh underwear, jeans, and a T-shirt that did not feature Pikachu. The shower made a sound like a dying elephant when I tried to turn it on, but I managed to run some rusty-smelling water in the sink and wash up as best I could.

When I came out again, I didn’t exactly feel good as new, but at least I didn’t smell like dead fish and goat meat.

My four companions were still playing senet. I’d heard of the game—supposedly one of the oldest in the world—but I’d never seen it played. The board was a rectangle with blue-and-white-checkered squares, three rows of ten spaces each. The game pieces were white and blue circles. Instead of dice, you threw four strips of ivory like Popsicle sticks, blank on one side and marked with hieroglyphs on the other.

“I thought the rules of this game were lost,” I said.

Bes raised an eyebrow. “Maybe to you mortals. The gods never forgot.”

“It’s quite easy,” Sadie said. “You make an S around the board. First team to get all their pieces to the end wins.”

“Ha!” Bes said. “There’s much more to it than that. It takes years to master.”

“Is that so, dwarf god?” Zia tossed the four sticks, and all of them came up marked. “Master that!”

Sadie and Zia gave each other a high five. Apparently, they were a team. Sadie moved a blue piece and bumped a white piece back to start.

“Walt,” Bes grumbled, “I told you not to move that piece!”

“It isn’t my fault!”

Sadie smiled at me. “It’s girls versus boys. We’re playing for Vlad Menshikov’s sunglasses.”

She held up the broken white shades that Set had given her in St. Petersburg.

“The world is about to end,” I said, “and you’re gambling over sunglasses?”

“Hey, man,” Walt said. “We’re totally multitasking. We’ve been talking for like, six hours, but we had to wait for you to wake up to make any decisions, right?”

“Besides,” Sadie said, “Bes assures us that you cannot play senet without gambling. It would shake the foundations of Ma’at.”

“That’s true,” said the dwarf. “Walt, roll, already.”

Walt threw the sticks and three came up blank.

Bes cursed. “We need a two to move out of the House of Re-Atoum, kid. Did I not explain that?”

“Sorry!”

I wasn’t sure what else to do, so I pulled up a chair.

The view out the window was better than I’d realized. About a mile away, the Pyramids of Giza gleamed red in the afternoon light. We must’ve been in the southwest outskirts of the city—near El Mansoria. I’d been through this neighborhood a dozen times with my dad on our way to various dig sites, but it was still disorienting to see the pyramids so close.

I had a million questions. I needed to tell my friends about my ba vision. But before I could get up the nerve, Sadie launched into a long explanation of what they’d been up to while I was unconscious. Mostly she concentrated on how funny I looked when I slept, and the various whimpering noises I’d made as they pulled me out of the first two burning hotel rooms. She described the excellent fresh-baked flat bread, falafel, and spiced beef they’d had for lunch (“Oh, sorry, we didn’t save you any.”) and the great deals they’d gotten shopping in the souk, the local open-air market.

“You went shopping?” I said.

“Well, of course,” she said. “We can’t do anything until sunset, anyway. Bes said so.”

“What do you mean?”

Bes tossed the sticks and moved one of his pieces to the home space. “The equinox, kid. We’re close enough now—all the portals in the world will shut down except for two times: sunset and sunrise, when night and day are perfectly balanced.”

“At any rate,” Sadie said, “if we want to find Ra, we’ll have to follow his journey, which means going into the Duat at sunset and coming back out at sunrise.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

She pulled a scroll from her bag—a cylinder of papyrus much thicker than the ones we’d collected. The edges glowed like fire.

“The Book of Ra,” she said. “I put it together. You may thank me now.”

My head started to spin. I remembered what Horus had said in my vision about the scroll burning Menshikov’s face. “You mean you read it without…without any trouble?”

She shrugged. “Just the introduction: warnings, instructions, that sort of thing. I won’t read the actual spell until we find Ra, but I know where we’re going.”

“If we decide to go,” I said.

That got everyone’s attention.

“If?” Zia asked. She was so close it was painful, but I could feel the distance she was putting between us: leaning away from me, tensing her shoulders, warning me to respect her space. “Sadie told me you were quite determined.”

“I was,” I said, “until I learned what Menshikov is planning.”

I told them what I’d seen in my vision—about Menshikov’s strike force heading to Brooklyn at sunset, and his plans to track us personally through the Duat. I explained what Horus said about the dangers of waking Ra, and how I could use the crook and flail instead to fight Apophis.

“But those symbols are sacred to Ra,” Zia said.

“They belong to any pharaoh who is strong enough to wield them,” I said. “If we don’t help Amos in Brooklyn—”

“Your uncle and all your friends will be destroyed,” Bes said. “From what you’ve described, Menshikov has put together a nasty little army. Uraei—the flaming snakes—they’re very bad news. Even if Bast gets back in time to help—”

“We need to let Amos know,” Walt said. “At least warn him.”

“You have a scrying bowl?” I asked.

“Better.” He pulled out a cell phone. “What do I tell him? Are we going back?”

I wavered. How could I leave Amos and my friends alone against an evil army? Part of me was itching to take up the pharaoh’s weapons and smash our enemies. Horus’s voice was still inside me, urging me to take charge.

“Carter, you can’t go to Brooklyn.” Zia meet my eyes, and I realized the fear and panic hadn’t left her. She was holding those feelings back, but they were still bubbling under the surface. “What I saw at Red Sands…that disturbed me too much.”

I felt like she’d just stomped on my heart. “Look, I’m sorry about the avatar thing, the crook and flail. I didn’t mean to freak you out, but—”

“Carter, you didn’t disturb me. Vlad Menshikov did.”

“Oh… Right.”

She took a shaky breath. “I never trusted that man. When I graduated from initiate training, Menshikov requested I be assigned to his nome. Thankfully, Iskandar declined.”

“So…why can’t I go to Brooklyn?”

Zia examined the senet board as if it were a war map. “I believe you’re telling the truth. Menshikov is a traitor. What you described in your vision…I think Desjardins is being affected by evil magic. It’s not Ma’at’s failing that’s draining his life force.”

“It’s Menshikov,” Sadie guessed.

“I believe so….” Zia’s voice became hoarse. “And I believe my old mentor, Iskandar, was trying to protect me when he put me into that tomb. It was not a mistake that he let me hear the voice of Apophis in my dreams. It was some sort of warning—one last lesson. He hid the crook and flail with me for a reason. Perhaps he knew you would find me. At any rate, Menshikov must be stopped.”

“But you just said I couldn’t go to Brooklyn,” I protested.

“I meant that you can’t abandon your quest. I think Iskandar foresaw this path. He believed the gods must unite with the House of Life, and I trust his judgment. You have to awaken Ra.”

Hearing Zia say it, I felt for the first time like our quest was real. And crucial. And very, very crazy. But I also felt a little spark of hope. Maybe she didn’t hate me completely.

Sadie picked up the senet sticks. “Well, that’s sorted, then. At sunset, we’ll open a portal at the top of the Great Pyramid. We’ll follow the sun boat’s old course down the River of Night, find Ra, wake him, and bring him out again at dawn. And possibly find someplace for dinner along the way, because I’m hungry again.”

“It’ll be dangerous,” Bes said. “Reckless. Probably fatal.”

“So, an average day for us,” I summed up.

Walt frowned, still holding his phone. “Then what should I tell Amos? He’s on his own?”

“Not quite,” Zia said. “I’ll go to Brooklyn.”

I almost choked. “You?”

Zia gave me a cross look. “I am good at magic, Carter.”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just—”

“I want to speak with Amos myself,” she said. “When the House of Life appears, perhaps I can intervene, stall for time. I have some influence with other magicians…at least I did when Iskandar was alive. Some of them might listen to reason, especially if Menshikov isn’t there egging them on.”

I thought about the angry mob I’d seen in my vision. Reasonable wasn’t the first word that came to mind.

Apparently Walt was thinking the same thing.

“If you teleport in at sunset,” he said, “you’ll arrive at the same time as the attackers. It’s going to be chaos, not much time for talking. What if you have to fight?”

“Let’s hope,” Zia said, “it doesn’t come to that.”

Not a very reassuring answer, but Walt nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

Sadie dropped her senet sticks on the floor. “What? Walt, no! In your condition—”

She clamped her mouth shut, too late.

“What condition?” I asked.

If Walt had had an Evil Eye spell, I think he would’ve used it on my sister just then.

“My family history,” he said. “Something I told Sadie…in confidence.”

He didn’t sound happy about it, but he explained the curse on his family, the bloodline of Akhenaton, and what it meant for him.

I just sat there, stunned. Walt’s secretive behavior, his talks with Jaz, his moodiness—all of it made sense now. My own problems suddenly seemed a lot less significant.

“Oh, man,” I mumbled. “Walt—”

“Look, Carter, whatever you’re going to say, I appreciate the sentiment. But I’m through with sympathy. I’ve been living with this disease for years. I don’t want people pitying me or treating me as though I’m special. I want to help you guys. I’ll take Zia back to Brooklyn. That way, Amos will know she comes in peace. We’ll try to stall the attack, hold them off until sunrise so you can come back with Ra. Besides…” He shrugged. “If you fail, and we don’t stop Apophis, we’re all going to die tomorrow anyway.”

“That’s looking on the bright side,” I said. Then something occurred to me: a thought so jarring it was like a tiny nuclear reaction in my head. “Hold up. Menshikov said he was descended from the priests of Amun-Ra.”

Bes snorted disdainfully. “Hated those guys. They were so full of themselves. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Weren’t those the same priests that fought Akhenaton and cursed Walt’s ancestors?” I asked. “What if Menshikov has the secret of the curse? What if he could cure—”

“Stop.” The anger in Walt’s voice took me by surprise. His hands were shaking. “Carter, I’ve come to terms with my fate. I won’t get my hopes up for nothing. Menshikov is the enemy. Even if he could help, he wouldn’t. If you cross paths with him, don’t try to make any deals. Don’t try to reason with him. Do what you need to. Take him down.”

I glanced at Sadie. Her eyes were gleaming, like I’d finally done something right.

“Okay, Walt,” I said. “I won’t mention it again.”

But Sadie and I had a very different silent conversation. For once, we were in total agreement. We were going to visit the Duat. And while we were there, we’d turn the tables on Vlad Menshikov. We’d find him, beat the crud out of him, and force him to tell us how to cure Walt. Suddenly, I felt a whole lot better about this quest.

“So we’ll leave at sunset,” Zia said. “Walt and I for Brooklyn. You and Sadie for the Duat. It’s settled.”

“Except for one thing.” Bes glared at the senet sticks Sadie had dropped on the floor. “You did not roll that. It’s impossible!”

Sadie looked down. A grin spread across her face. She’d accidentally rolled a three, just what she needed to win.

She moved her last piece home, then picked up Menshikov’s white glasses and tried them on. They looked creepy on her. I couldn’t help thinking about Menshikov’s burned voice and his scarred eyes, and what might happen to my sister if she tried to read the Book of Ra.

“Impossible is my specialty,” she said. “Come on, brother, dear. Let’s get ready for the Great Pyramid.”

If you ever visit the pyramids, here’s a tip: the best place to see them is from far away, like the horizon. The closer you get, the more disappointed you’ll be.

That may sound harsh, but first of all, up close, the pyramids are going to seem smaller than you thought. Everybody who sees them says that. Sure, they were the tallest structures on the earth for thousands of years, but compared to modern buildings, they don’t seem so impressive. They’ve been stripped of the white casing stones and golden capstones that made them really cool in ancient times. They’re still beautiful, especially when they’re lit up at sunset, but you can appreciate them better from far away without getting caught in the tourist scene.

That’s the second thing: the mobs of tourists and vendors. I don’t care where you go on vacation: Times Square, Piccadilly Circus, or the Roman Coliseum. It’s always the same, with vendors selling cheap T-shirts and trinkets, and hordes of sweating tourists complaining and shuffling around trying to take pictures. The pyramids are no different, except the crowds are bigger and the vendors are really, really pushy. They know a lot of English words, but “no” isn’t one of them.

As we pressed through the crowds, the vendors tried to sell us three camel rides, a dozen T-shirts, more amulets than Walt was wearing (Special price! Good magic!), and eleven genuine mummy fingers, which I figured were probably made in China.

I asked Bes if he could scare away the mob, but he just laughed. “Not worth it, kid. Tourists have been here almost as long as the pyramids. I’ll make sure they don’t notice us. Let’s just get to the top.”

Security guards patrolled the base of the Great Pyramid, but no one tried to stop us. Maybe Bes made us invisible somehow, or maybe the guards just chose to ignore us because we were with the dwarf god. Either way, I soon found out why climbing the pyramids wasn’t allowed: it’s hard and dangerous. The Great Pyramid is about four hundred and fifty feet tall. The stone sides were never meant for climbing. As we ascended, I almost fell twice. Walt twisted his ankle. Some of the blocks were loose and crumbling. Some of the “steps” were five feet tall, and we had to hoist one another up. Finally, after twenty minutes of sweaty, difficult work, we reached the top. The smog over Cairo made everything to the east a big fuzzy smudge, but to the west we had a good view of the sun going down on the horizon, turning the desert crimson.

I tried to imagine what the view would’ve looked like from here roughly five thousand years ago, when the pyramid was newly built. Had the pharaoh Khufu stood up here at the top of his own tomb and admired his empire? Probably not. He’d probably been too smart to make that climb.

“Right.” Sadie plopped her bag on the nearest block of limestone. “Bes, keep an eye out. Walt, help me with the portal, will you?”

Zia touched my arm, which made me jump.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

She climbed a little way down the pyramid. My pulse was racing, but I managed to follow without tripping and looking like an idiot.

Zia stared out over the desert. Her face was flushed in the light of the sunset. “Carter, don’t misunderstand. I appreciate your waking me. I know your heart was in the right place.”

My heart didn’t feel in the right place. It felt like it was stuck in my esophagus. “But…?” I asked.

She hugged her arms. “I need time. This is very strange for me. Maybe we can be…closer some day, but for now—”

“You need time,” I said, my voice ragged. “Assuming we don’t all die tonight.”

Her eyes were luminous gold. I wondered if that was the last color a bug saw when it was trapped in amber—and if the bug thought, Wow, that’s beautiful, right before it was frozen forever.

“I’ll do my best to protect your home,” she said. “Promise me, if it comes to a choice, that you’ll listen to your own heart, not the will of the gods.”

“I promise,” I said, though I doubted myself. I still heard Horus in my head, urging me to claim the weapons of the pharaoh. I wanted to say more, to tell her how I felt, but all I could get out was “Um …yeah.”

Zia managed a dry smile. “Sadie’s right. You are…how did she put it? Endearingly clumsy.”

“Awesome. Thanks.”

A light flashed above us, and a portal opened at the tip of the pyramid. Unlike most portals, this wasn’t swirling sand. It glowed with purple light—a doorway straight into the Duat.

Sadie turned toward me. “This one’s for us. Coming?”

“Be careful,” Zia said.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m not so good at that, but—yeah.”

As I trudged to the top, Sadie pulled Walt close and whispered something in his ear.

He nodded grimly. “I will.”

Before I could ask what that was about, Sadie looked at Bes. “Ready?”

“I’ll follow you,” Bes promised. “As soon as I get Walt and Zia through their portal. I’ll meet you on the River of Night, in the Fourth House.”

“The fourth what?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” he promised. “Now, go!”

I took one more look at Zia, wondering if this would be the last time I saw her. Then Sadie and I jumped into the churning purple doorway.

The Duat is a strange place.

[Sadie just called me Captain Obvious—but, hey, it’s worth saying.]

The currents of the spirit world interact with your thoughts, pulling you here and there, shaping what you see to fit with what you know. So even though we had stepped into another level of reality, it looked like the quayside of the River Thames below Gran and Gramps’s flat.

“This is rude,” Sadie said.

I understood what she meant. It was hard for her to be back in London after her disastrous birthday trip. Also, last Christmas, we’d started our first journey to Brooklyn here. We’d walked down these steps to the docks with Amos and boarded his magic boat. At the time, I was grieving the loss of my dad, in shock that Gran and Gramps would give us up to an uncle I didn’t even remember, and terrified of sailing into the unknown. Now, all those feelings welled up inside me, as sharp and painful as ever.

The river was shrouded with mist. There were no city lights, just an eerie glow in the sky. The skyline of London seemed fluid—buildings shifting around, rising and melting as if they couldn’t find a comfortable place to settle.

Below us, the mist drifted away from the docks.

“Sadie,” I said, “Look.”

At the bottom of the steps, a boat was moored, but it wasn’t Amos’s. It was the barque of the sun god, just like I’d seen in my vision—a once regal ship with a deckhouse and places for twenty oarsmen—but it was now barely able to stay afloat. The sail was tattered, the oars broken, the rigging covered with cobwebs.

Halfway down the steps, blocking our path, stood Gran and Gramps.

“Them again,” Sadie growled. “Come on.”

She marched straight down the steps until we stood face-to-face with the glowing images of our grandparents.

“Shove off,” Sadie told them.

“My dear.” Gran’s eyes glittered. “Is that any way to address your grandmother?”

“Oh, pardon me,” said Sadie. “This must be the part where I say ‘My, what big teeth you have.’ You’re not my grandmother, Nekhbet! Now, get out of our way!”

The image of Gran shimmered. Her flowery housecoat turned into a cloak of greasy black feathers. Her face shriveled into a saggy wrinkled mask, and most of her hair fell out, which put her at a 9.5 on the Ugly meter, right up there with Bes.

“Show more respect, love,” the goddess cooed. “We’re only here to give you a friendly warning. You’re about to pass the Point of No Return. If you step on that boat, there will be no turning back—no stopping until you’ve passed through all Twelve Houses of the Night, or until you die.”

Gramps barked, “Aghh!”

He scratched his armpits, which might’ve meant he was possessed by the baboon god Babi—or not, since this behavior wasn’t too strange for Gramps.

“Listen to Babi,” Nekhbet urged. “You have no idea what awaits you on the river. You could barely fend off the two of us in London, girl. The armies of Chaos are much worse!”

“She’s not alone this time.” I stepped forward with the crook and flail. “Now, get lost.”

Gramps snarled and backed away.

Nekhbet’s eyes narrowed. “You would wield the pharaoh’s weapons?” Her tone held a hint of grudging admiration. “A bold move, child, but that will not save you.”

“You don’t get it,” I said. “We’re saving you too. We’re saving all of us from Apophis. When we come back with Ra, you’re going to help. You’re going to follow our orders, and you’re going to convince the other gods to do the same.”

“Ridiculous,” Nekhbet hissed.

I raised the crook, and power flowed through me—the power of a king. The crook was the tool of a shepherd. A king leads his people like a shepherd leads his flock. I exerted my will, and the two gods crumpled to their knees.

The images of Nekhbet and Gramps evaporated, revealing the gods’ true forms. Nekhbet was a massive vulture with a golden crown on her head and an elaborate jeweled collar around her neck. Her wings were still black and greasy, but they glistened as if she’d been rolling in gold dust. Babi was a giant gray baboon with fiery red eyes, scimitar fangs, and arms as thick as tree trunks.

They both glared at me with pure hatred. I knew if I wavered even for a moment, if I let the power of the crook falter, they would tear me apart.

“Swear loyalty,” I commanded. “When we return with Ra, you will obey him.”

“You’ll never succeed,” Nekhbet said.

“Then it won’t do any harm to pledge your loyalty,” I said. “Swear it!”

I raised the war flail, and the gods cringed.

“Agh,” Babi muttered.

“We swear,” Nekhbet said. “But it is an empty promise. You sail to your death.”

I slashed my crook through the air, and the gods vanished into the mist.

Sadie took a deep breath. “Well done. You sounded confident.”

“A complete act.”

“I know,” she said. “Now the hard part: finding Ra and waking him up. And having a nice dinner along the way, preferably. Without dying.”

I looked down at the boat. Thoth, the god of knowledge, had once told us that we’d always have the power to summon a boat when we needed one, because we were the blood of the pharaohs. But I’d never thought it would be this boat, and in such bad shape. Two kids in a broken-down leaky barge, alone against the forces of Chaos.

“All aboard,” I told Sadie.
SADIE


19. The Revenge of Bullwinkle the Moose God
I SHOULD MENTION THAT Carter was wearing a skirt.

[Ha! You are not grabbing the microphone. It’s my turn.]

He neglected to tell you that, but as soon as we entered the Duat, our appearances changed, and we found ourselves wearing Ancient Egyptian clothes.

They looked quite good on me. My white silk gown shimmered. My arms were bedecked with gold rings and bracelets. True, the jeweled neck collar was a bit heavy, like one of those lead aprons you might wear for an X ray at the dentist’s, and my hair was plaited with enough hairspray to petrify a major god. But otherwise I’m sure I looked rather alluring.

Carter, on the other hand, was dressed in a man-skirt—a simple linen wrap, with his crook and flail hanging from a utility-belt sort of thing around his waist. His chest was bare except for a golden neck collar, like mine. His eyes were lined with kohl, and he wore no shoes.

To Ancient Egyptians, I’m sure he would’ve looked regal and warlike, a fine specimen of manhood. [You see? I managed to say that without laughing.] And I suppose Carter wasn’t the worst-looking guy with his shirt off, but that didn’t mean I wanted to adventure through the underworld with a brother who was wearing nothing but jewelry and a beach towel.

As we stepped onto the sun god’s boat, Carter immediately got a splinter in his foot.

“Why are you barefooted?” I demanded.

“It wasn’t my idea!” He winced as he plucked a toothpick-size piece of deck from between his toes. “I guess because ancient warriors fought barefoot. Sandals got too slippery from sweat and blood, and all.”

“And the skirt?”

“Let’s just go, all right?”

That proved easier said than done.

The boat drifted away from the docks, then got stuck in a backwater a few meters downstream. We began turning in circles.

“Tiny question,” I said. “Do you know anything about boats?”

“Nothing,” Carter admitted.

Our tattered sail was about as useful as a ripped tissue. The oars were either broken or trailing uselessly in the water, and they looked quite heavy. I didn’t see how the two of us could row a boat meant for a crew of twenty, even if the river stayed calm. On our last trip through the Duat, the ride had been more like a roller coaster.

“What about those glowing balls of light?” I asked. “Like the crew we had on the Egyptian Queen?”

“Can you summon some?”

“Right,” I grumbled. “Throw the hard questions back to me.”

I looked around the boat, hoping to spot a button that read: PUSH HERE FOR GLOWING SAILORS! I saw nothing so helpful. I knew the sun god’s barque once had had a crew of lights. I’d seen them in my vision. But how to summon them?

The tent pavilion was empty. The throne of fire was gone. The boat was silent except for water gurgling through the cracks in the hull. The spinning of the ship was starting to make me sick.

Then a horrible feeling crept over me. A dozen tiny voices whispered at the base of my skull: Isis. Schemer. Poisoner. Traitor.

I realized my nausea wasn’t just from the spiraling current. The entire ship was sending malicious thoughts my way. The boards under my feet, the railing, the oars and rigging—every part of the sun god’s barque hated my presence.

“Carter, the boat doesn’t like me,” I announced.

“You’re saying the boat has good taste?”

“Ha-ha. I mean, it senses Isis. She poisoned Ra and forced him into exile, after all. This boat remembers.”

“Well…apologize, or something.”

“Hullo, boat,” I said, feeling quite foolish. “Sorry about the poisoning business. But you see—I’m not Isis. I’m Sadie Kane.”

Traitor, the voices whispered.

“I can see why you’d think so,” I admitted. “I probably have that ‘Isis magic’ smell to me, don’t I? But honestly, I sent Isis packing. She doesn’t live here anymore. My brother and I are going to bring back Ra.”

The boat shuddered. The dozen little voices fell silent, as if for the first time in their immortal lives they were truly and properly stunned. (Well, they hadn’t met me yet, had they?)

“That would be good, yes?” I ventured. “Ra back, just like old times, rolling on the river, and so on? We’re here to make things right, but to do that we need to journey through the Houses of the Night. If you could just cooperate—”

A dozen glowing orbs blazed to life. They circled me like an angry swarm of flaming tennis balls, their heat so intense, I thought they’d combust my new dress.

“Sadie,” Carter warned. “They don’t look happy.”

And he wonders why I called him Captain Obvious.

I tried to remain calm.

“Behave,” I told the lights sternly. “This isn’t for me. It’s for Ra. If you want your pharaoh back, you’ll man your stations.”

I thought I’d be roasted like a tandoori chicken, but I stood my ground. Since I was surrounded, I really I had no choice. I exerted my magic and tried to bend the lights to my will—the way I might have done to turn someone into a rat or a lizard.

You will be helpful, I ordered. You will do your work obediently.

There was a collective hiss inside my head, which either meant I’d blown a brain gasket, or the lights were relenting.

The crew scattered. They took up their stations, hauling lines, mending the sail, manning the unbroken oars, and guiding the tiller.

The leaky hull groaned as the boat turned its nose downstream.

Carter exhaled. “Good job. You okay?”

I nodded, but my head felt like it was still spinning in circles. I wasn’t sure if I’d convinced the orbs, or if they were simply biding their time, waiting for revenge. Either way, I wasn’t thrilled to have put our fate in their hands.

We sailed into the dark. The cityscape of London melted away. My stomach got that familiar free-fall sensation as we passed deeper into the Duat.

“We’re entering the Second House,” I guessed.

Carter grabbed the mast to steady himself. “You mean the Houses of the Night, like Bes mentioned? What are they, anyway?”

It felt strange to be explaining Egyptian myths to Carter. I thought he might be teasing me, but he seemed genuinely perplexed.

“Something I read in the Book of Ra,” I said. “Each hour of the night is a ‘House.’ We have to pass through the twelve stages of the river, representing twelve hours of the night.”

Carter peered into the darkness ahead of us. “So if we’re in the Second House, you mean an hour has already passed? It didn’t feel that long.”

He was right. It didn’t. Then again, I had no idea how time flowed in the Duat. One House of the Night might not correspond exactly to one mortal hour in the world above.

Anubis once told me he’d been in the Land of the Dead for five thousand years, but he still felt like a teenager, as if no time had passed.

I shuddered. What if we popped out on the other side of the River of Night and found that several eons had passed? I’d just turned thirteen. I wasn’t ready to be thirteen hundred.

I also wished I hadn’t thought of Anubis. I touched the shen amulet on my necklace. After all that had happened with Walt, the idea of seeing Anubis made me feel strangely guilty, but also a bit excited. Perhaps Anubis would help us on our journey. Perhaps he’d whisk me away to some private spot for a chat as he had last time we’d visited the Duat—a romantic little graveyard, dinner for two at the Coffin Café…

Snap out of it, Sadie, I thought. Concentrate.

I pulled the Book of Ra from my bag and scanned the instructions again. I’d read them several times already, but they were cryptic and confusing—much like a maths textbook. The scroll was chock-full of terms like “first from Chaos,” “breath into clay,” “the night’s flock” “reborn in fire,” “the acres of the sun,” “the kiss of the knife,” “the gambler of light,” and “the last scarab”—most of which made no sense to me.

I gathered that as we passed through the twelve stages of the river, I’d have to read the three sections of the Book of Ra at three separate locations, probably to revive the different aspects of the sun god, and each of three aspects would present us with some sort of challenge. I knew that if I failed—if I so much as stumbled over one word while reading the spells—I would end up worse than Vlad Menshikov. The idea terrified me, but I couldn’t dwell on the possibility of failure. I simply had to hope that when the time came, the scroll’s gibberish would make sense.

The current accelerated. So did the leaking of the boat. Carter demonstrated his combat magic skill by summoning a bucket and bailing out water, while I concentrated on keeping the crew in line. The deeper we sailed into the Duat, the more rebellious the glowing orbs became. They chafed against my will, remembering how much they wanted to incinerate me.

It’s unnerving to float down a magic river with voices whispering in your head: Die, traitor, die. Every so often I’d get the feeling we were being followed. I’d turn and think I could see a whitish smudge against the black, like the afterimage of a flash, but I decided it must be my imagination. Even more unnerving was the darkness ahead—no shoreline, no landmarks, no visibility at all. The crew could’ve steered us straight into a boulder or the mouth of a monster, and we would’ve had absolutely no warning. We just kept sailing through the dark empty void.

“Why is it so…nothing?” I murmured.

Carter emptied his bucket. He made an odd sight—a boy dressed as a pharaoh with the royal crook and flail, bailing water from a leaky boat.

“Maybe the Houses of the Night follow human sleep patterns,” he suggested.

“Human what?”

“Sleep patterns. Mom used to tell us about them before bedtime. Remember?”

I didn’t. Then again, I’d only been six when our mum died. She’d been a scientist as well as a magician, and had thought nothing of reading us Newton’s laws or the periodic table as bedtime stories. Most of it had gone over my head, but I wanted to remember. I’d always been irritated that Carter remembered Mum so much better than I did.

“Sleep has different stages,” Carter said. “Like, the first few hours, the brain is almost in a coma—a really deep sleep with hardly any dreams. Maybe that’s why this part of the river is so dark and formless. Then later in the night, the brain goes through R.E.M.—rapid eye movement. That’s when dreams happen. The cycles get more rapid and more vivid. Maybe the Houses of the Night follow a pattern like that.”

It seemed a bit far-fetched to me. Then again, Mum had always told us science and magic weren’t mutually exclusive. She’d called them two dialects of the same language. Bast had once told us there were millions of different channels and tributaries to the Duat’s river. The geography could change with each journey, responding to the traveler’s thoughts. If the river was shaped by all the sleeping minds in the world, if its course got more vivid and crazy as the night went along, then we were in for a rough ride.

The river eventually narrowed. A shoreline appeared on either side—black volcanic sand sparkling in the lights of our magic crew. The air turned colder. The underside of the boat scraped against rocks and sandbars, which made the leaks worse. Carter gave up on the pail and pulled wax from his supply bag. Together we tried to plug the leaks, speaking binding spells to hold the boat together. If I’d had any chewing gum, I would’ve used that as well.

We didn’t pass any signposts—NOW ENTERING THE THIRD HOUSE, SERVICES NEXT EXIT—but we’d clearly entered a different section of the river. Time was slipping away at an alarming rate, and still we hadn’t done anything.

“Perhaps the first challenge is boredom,” I said. “When will something happen?”

I should’ve known better than to say that aloud. Right in front of us, a shape loomed out of the darkness. A sandaled foot the size of a water bed planted itself on the prow of our ship and stopped us dead in the water.

It wasn’t an attractive foot, either. Definitely male. Its toes were splattered with mud, and its toenails were yellow, cracked, and overgrown. The leather sandal straps were covered in lichen and barnacles. In short, the foot looked and smelled very much like it had been standing on the same rock in the middle of the river, wearing the same sandal, for several thousand years.

Unfortunately, it was attached to a leg, which was attached to a body. The giant leaned down to look at us.

“You are bored?” his voice boomed, not in an unfriendly way. “I could kill you, if that would help.”

He wore a kilt like Carter’s, except that the giant’s skirt could have supplied enough fabric to make ten ship sails. His body was humanoid and muscular, covered with man-fur—the sort of gross body hair that makes me want to start a charity waxing foundation for overly fuzzy men. He had the head of a ram: a white snout with a brass ring in his nose and long curly horns hung with dozens of bronze bells. His eyes were set far apart, with luminous red irises and vertical slits for pupils. I suppose that all sounds rather frightening, but the ram man didn’t strike me as devilish. In fact he looked quite familiar, for some reason. He seemed more melancholy than threatening, as if he’d been standing on his little rock island in the middle of the river for so long, he’d forgotten why he was there.

[Carter asks when I became a ram whisperer. Do shut up, Carter.]

I honestly felt sorry for the ram man. His eyes were full of loneliness. I couldn’t believe he would hurt us—until he drew from his belt two very large knives with curly blades like his horns.

“You’re silent,” he noted. “Is that a yes for the killing?”

“No, thanks!” I said, trying to sound grateful for the offer. “One word and one question, please. The word is pedicure. The question is: Who are you?”

“Ahhh-ha-ha-ha,” he said, bleating like a sheep. “If you knew my name, we wouldn’t need introductions, and I could let you pass. Unfortunately, no one ever knows my name. A shame, too. I see you’ve found the Book of Ra. You’ve revived his crew and managed to sail his boat to the gates of the Fourth House. No one’s ever gotten this far before. I’m terribly sorry I have to slice you to pieces.”

He hefted his knives, one in each hand. Our glowing orbs swarmed in a frenzy, whispering, Yes! Slice her! Yes!

“Just a mo’,” I called up to the giant. “If we name you, we can pass?”

“Naturally.” He sighed. “But no one ever can.”

I glanced at Carter. This wasn’t the first time we’d been stopped on the River of Night and challenged to name a guardian on pain of death. Apparently, it was quite a common experience for Egyptian souls and magicians passing through the Duat. But I couldn’t believe we’d get such an easy test. I was sure now that I recognized the ram man. We’d seen his statue in the Brooklyn Museum.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” I asked Carter. “The chap who looks like Bullwinkle?”

“Don’t call him Bullwinkle!” Carter hissed. He looked up at the giant ram man and said, “You’re Khnum, aren’t you?”

The ram man made a rumbling sound deep in his throat. He scraped one of his knives against the ship’s rail. “Is that a question? Or is that your final answer?”

Carter blinked. “Um—”

“Not our final answer!” I yelped, realizing that we’d almost stepped into a trap. “Not even close. Khnum is your common name, isn’t it? You want us to say your true name, your ren.”

Khnum tilted his head, the bells on his horns jingling. “That would be nice. But, alas, no one knows it. Even I have forgotten it.”

“How can you forget your own name?” Carter asked. “And, yes, that’s a question.”

“I am part of Ra,” said the ram god. “I am his aspect in the underworld—a third of his personality. But when Ra stopped making his nightly journey, he no longer needed me. He left me here at the gates of the Fourth House, discarded like an old coat. Now I guard the gates…I have no other purpose. If I could recover my name, I could yield my spirit to whoever frees me. They could reunite me with Ra, but until then I cannot leave this place.”

He sounded horribly depressed, like a little lost sheep, or rather a ten-meter-tall lost sheep with very large knives. I wanted to help him. Even more than that, I wanted to find a way not to get myself sliced to bits.

“If you don’t remember your name,” I said, “why couldn’t we just tell you any old name? How would you know whether it was the right answer or not?”

Khnum let his knives trail in the water. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Carter glared at me as if to say Why did you tell him?

The ram god bleated. “I think I will know my ren when I hear it,” he decided, “though I cannot be sure. Being only part of Ra, I am not sure of much. I’ve lost most of my memories, most of my power and identity. I am no more than a husk of my former self.”

“Your former self must’ve been enormous,” I muttered.

The god might have smiled, though it was hard to tell with the ram face. “I’m sorry you don’t have my ren. You’re a bright girl. You’re the first to make it this far. The first and the best.” He sighed forlornly. “Ah, well. I suppose we should get to the killing.”

The first and the best. My mind started racing.

“Wait,” I said. “I know your name.”

Carter yelped. “You do? Tell him!”

I thought of a line from the Book of Ra—first from Chaos. I drew on the memories of Isis, the only goddess who had ever known Ra’s secret name, and I began to understand the nature of the sun god.

“Ra was the first god to rise out of Chaos,” I said.

Khnum frowned. “That’s my name?”

“No, just listen,” I said. “You said you’re not complete without Ra, just a husk of your former self. But that’s true of all the other Egyptian gods as well. Ra is older, more powerful. He’s the original source of Ma’at, like—”

“Like the taproot of the gods,” Carter volunteered.

“Right,” I said. “I have no idea what a taproot is, but—right. All these eons, the other gods have been slowly fading, losing power, because Ra is missing. They might not admit it, but he’s their heart. They’re dependent on him. All this time, we’ve been wondering if it was worth it, to bring back Ra. We didn’t know why it was so important, but now I understand.”

Carter nodded, slowly warming to the idea. “Ra’s the center of Ma’at. He has to come back, if the gods are going to win.”

“And that’s why Apophis wants to bring back Ra,” I guessed. “The two are connected—Ma’at and Chaos. If Apophis can swallow Ra while the sun god is old and weak—”

“All the gods die,” Carter said. “The world crumbles into Chaos.”

Khnum turned his head so he could study me with one glowing red eye. “That’s all quite interesting,” he said. “But I’m not hearing my secret name. To wake Ra, you must first name me.”

I opened the Book of Ra and took a deep breath. I began to read the first part of the spell. Now, you may be thinking, Gosh, Sadie. Your big test was to read some words off a scroll? What’s so hard about that?

If you think that, you’ve clearly never read a spell. Imagine reading aloud onstage in front of a thousand hostile teachers who are waiting to give you bad marks. Imagine you can only read by looking at the backward reflection in a mirror. Imagine all the words are mixed around, and you have to put the sentences together in the right order as you go. Imagine if you make one mistake, one stumble, one mispronunciation, you’ll die. Imagine doing all that at once, and you’ll have some idea what it’s like to cast a spell from a scroll.

Despite that, I felt strangely confident. The spell suddenly made sense.

“‘I name you First from Chaos,’” I said. “‘Khnum, who is Ra, the evening sun. I summon your ba to awaken the Great One, for I am—’”

My first near-fatal mistake: the scroll said something like insert your name here. And I almost read it aloud that way: “For I am insert your name here!”

Well? It would’ve been an honest mistake. Instead, I managed to say, “‘I am Sadie Kane, restorer of the throne of fire. I name you Breath into Clay, the Ram of Night’s Flock, the Divine—’”

I almost lost it again. I was sure the Egyptian title said the Divine Pooter. But that made no sense, unless Khnum had magic powers I didn’t want to know about. Thankfully, I remembered something from the Brooklyn Museum. Khnum had been depicted as a potter sculpting a human from clay.

“‘—the Divine Potter,’” I corrected myself. “‘I name you Khnum, protector of the fourth gate. I return your name. I return your essence to Ra.’”

The god’s huge eyes dilated. His nostrils flared. “Yes.” He sheathed his knives. “Well done, my lady. You may pass into the Fourth House. But beware the fires, and be prepared for the second form of Ra. He will not be so grateful for your help.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

But the ram god’s body dissolved into mist. The Book of Ra sucked in the wisps of smoke, and it rolled shut. Khnum and his island were gone. The boat drifted on into a narrower tunnel.

“Sadie,” Carter said, “that was amazing.”

Normally, I would’ve been happy to astonish him with my brilliance. But my heart was racing. My hands were sweating, and I thought I might throw up. On top of that, I could feel the glowing orb crew coming out of their shock, beginning to fight me again.

No slice, they complained. No slice!

Mind your own business, I thought back at them. And keep the boat going.

“Um, Sadie?” Carter asked. “Why is your face turning red?”

I thought he was accusing me of blushing. Then I realized he too was red. The whole boat was awash in ruby light. I turned to look ahead of us, and I made a sound in my throat not too different from Khnum’s bleating.

“Oh, no,” I said. “Not this place again.”

Roughly a hundred meters ahead of us, the tunnel opened into a huge cavern. I recognized the massive boiling Lake of Fire; but the last time I hadn’t seen it from this angle.

We were picking up speed, heading down a series of rapids like a water slide. At the end of the rapids, the water turned into a fiery waterfall and dropped straight down into the lake about half a mile below. We were hurtling toward the precipice with absolutely no way to stop.

Keep the boat going, the crew whispered with glee. Keep the boat going!

We probably had less than a minute, but it seemed longer. I suppose if time flies when you’re having fun, it really creeps when you’re hurtling toward your death.

“We’ve got to turn around!” Carter said. “Even if that wasn’t fire, we’ll never survive the drop!”

He began yelling at the orbs of light, “Turn around! Paddle! Mayday!”

They happily ignored him.

I stared at the flaming drop to oblivion and the Lake of Fire below. Despite the waves of heat rolling over us like dragon breath, I felt cold. I realized what needed to happen.

“‘Reborn in fire,’” I said.

“What?” Carter asked.

“It’s a line from the Book of Ra. We can’t turn around. We have to go over—straight into the lake.”

“Are you crazy? We’ll burn up!”

I ripped open my magic bag and rummaged through my supplies. “We have to take the ship through the fire. That was part of the sun’s nightly rebirth, right? Ra would have done it.”

“Ra wasn’t flammable!”

The waterfall was only twenty meters away now. My hands trembled as I poured ink into my writing palette. If you’ve never tried to use a calligraphy set while standing up on a boat, it isn’t easy.

“What are you doing?” Carter asked. “Writing your will?”

I took a deep breath and dipped my stylus in black ink. I visualized the hieroglyphs I needed. I wished Zia were with us. Not just because we had hit it off rather well in Cairo—[Oh, stop pouting, Carter. It’s not my fault she realized I’m the brilliant one in the family]—but because Zia was an expert with fire glyphs, and that’s just what we needed.

“Push up your hair,” I told Carter. “I need to paint your forehead.”

“I’m not plunging to my death with loser painted on my head!”

“I’m trying to save you. Hurry!”

He pushed his hair out of the way. I painted the glyphs for fire and shield on his forehead, and immediately my brother burst into flame.

I know—it was like a dream come true and a nightmare, all at once. He danced around, spewing some very creative curse words before realizing that the fire wasn’t hurting him. He was simply encased in a protective sheet of flames.

“What, exactly—” His eyes widened. “Hold on to something!”

The boat tipped sickeningly over the edge of the falls. I dashed the hieroglyphs onto the back of my hand, but it wasn’t a good copy. The flames spluttered weakly around me. Alas, I didn’t have time for anything better. I wrapped my arms around the rail, and we plummeted straight down.

Strange how many things can go through your mind as you fall to certain doom. From up high, the Lake of Fire looked quite beautiful, like the surface of the sun. I wondered if I would feel any pain on impact, or if we would simply evaporate. It was hard to see anything as we plummeted through the ash and smoke, but I thought I spotted a familiar island about a mile away—the black temple where I’d first met Anubis. I wondered if he could see me from there, and if he would rush to my rescue. I wondered if my chances of survival would be better if I pushed away from the boat and fell like a cliff diver, but I couldn’t make myself do it. I held on to the rail with all my might. I wasn’t sure if the magical fire shield was protecting me, but I was sweating fiercely, and I was fairly certain I’d left my throat and most of my internal organs at the top of the waterfall.

Finally we hit bottom with an understated whooooom.

How to describe the sensation of plunging into a lake of liquid fire? Well…it burned. And yet it was somehow wet, too. I didn’t dare breathe. After a moment’s hesitation, I opened my eyes. All I could see were swirling red and yellow flames. We were still underwater…or under fire? I realized two things: I was not burning to death, and the boat was moving forward.

I couldn’t believe my crazy protection glyphs had actually worked. As the boat slid through the swirling currents of heat, the voices of the crew whispered in my mind—more joyful than angry now.

Renew, they said. New life. New light.

That sounded promising until I grasped some less pleasant facts. I still couldn’t breathe. My body liked breathing. Also, it was getting much hotter. I could feel my protection glyph failing, the ink burning against my hand. I reached out blindly and grabbed an arm—Carter’s, I assumed. We held hands, and even though I couldn’t see him, it was comforting to know he was there. Perhaps it was my imagination, but the heat seemed to lessen.

Long ago, Amos had told us that we were more powerful together. We increased each other’s magic just by being in proximity. I hoped that was true now. I tried to send my thoughts to Carter, urging him to help me maintain the fire shield.

The ship sailed on through the flames. I thought we were starting to ascend, but it might have been wishful thinking. My vision began to go dark. My lungs were screaming. If I inhaled fire, I wondered if I would end up like Vlad Menshikov.

Just when I knew I would pass out, the boat surged upward, and we broke the surface.

I gasped—and not just because I needed the air. We had docked at the shoreline of the boiling lake, in front of a large limestone gateway, like the entrance to the ancient temple I’d seen at Luxor. I was still holding Carter’s hand. As far as I could tell, we were both fine.

The sun boat was better than fine. It had been renewed. Its sail gleamed white, the symbol of the sun shining gold in its center. The oars were repaired and newly polished. The paint was freshly lacquered black and gold and green. The hull no longer leaked, and the tent house was once more a beautiful pavilion. There was no throne, and no Ra, but the crew glowed brightly and cheerfully as they tied off the lines to the dock.

I couldn’t help it. I threw my arms around Carter and let out a sob. “Are you all right?”

He pulled away awkwardly and nodded. The glyph on his forehead had burned off.

“Thanks to you,” he said. “Where—”

“Sunny Acres,” said a familiar voice.

Bes came down the steps to the dock. He wore a new, even louder Hawaiian shirt and only his Speedo for pants, so I can’t say he was a sight for sore eyes. Now that he was in the Duat, he fairly glowed with power. His hair had turned darker and curlier, and his face looked decades younger.

“Bes!” I said. “What took you so long? Are Walt and Zia—”

“They’re fine,” he said. “And I told you I’d meet you at the Fourth House.” He jabbed his thumb at a sign carved into the limestone archway. “Used to be called the House of Rest. Apparently they’ve changed the name.”

The sign was in hieroglyphs, but I had no trouble reading it.

“‘Sunny Acres Assisted-Living Community,’” I read. “‘Formerly the House of Rest. Under New Management.’ What exactly—”

“We should get going,” Bes said. “Before your stalker arrives.”

“Stalker?” Carter asked.

Bes pointed to the top of the fiery waterfall, now a good half mile away. At first I didn’t see anything. Then there was a streak of white against the red flames—as if a man in an ice cream suit had plunged into the lake. Apparently I hadn’t imagined that white smudge in the darkness. We were being followed.

“Menshikov?” I said. “That’s—that’s—”

“Bad news,” Bes said. “Now, come on. We have to find the sun god.”
SADIE


20. We Visit the House of the Helpful Hippo
HOSPITALS. CLASSROOMS. Now I’ll add to my list of least-favorite places: old people’s homes.

That may sound odd, as I lived with my grandparents. I suppose their flat counts as an old people’s home. But I mean institutions. Nursing homes. Those are the worst. They smell like an unholy mixture of canteen food, cleaning supplies, and pensioners. The inmates (sorry, patients) always look so miserable. And the homes have absurdly happy names, like Sunny Acres. Please.

We stepped through the limestone gateway into a large open hall—the Egyptian version of assisted living. Rows of colorfully painted columns were studded with iron sconces holding blazing torches. Potted palms and flowering hibiscus plants were placed here and there in a failed attempt to make the place feel cheerful. Large windows looked out on the Lake of Fire, which I suppose was a nice view if you enjoyed brimstone. The walls were painted with scenes of the Egyptian afterlife, along with jolly hieroglyphic mottos like IMMORTALITY WITH SECURITY and LIFE STARTS AT 3000!

Glowing servant lights and clay shabti in white medical uniforms bustled about, carrying trays of medication and pushing wheelchairs. The patients, however, didn’t bustle much. A dozen withered figures in linen hospital gowns sat around the room, staring vacantly into space. A few wandered the room, pushing wheelie poles with IV bags. All wore bracelets with their names in hieroglyphs.

Some looked human, but many had animal heads. An old man with the head of a crane rocked back and forth in a metal folding chair, pecking at a game of senet on the coffee table. An old woman with a grizzled lioness’s head scooted herself around in a wheelchair, mumbling, “Meow, meow.” A shriveled blue-skinned man not much taller than Bes hugged one of the limestone columns and cried softly, as if he were afraid the column might try to leave him.

In other words, the scene was thoroughly depressing.

“What is this place?” I asked. “Are those all gods?”

Carter seemed just as mystified as I was. Bes looked like he was about to crawl out of his skin.

“Never actually been here,” he admitted. “Heard rumors, but…” He swallowed as if he’d just eaten a spoonful of peanut butter. “Come on. Let’s ask at the nurses’ station.”

The desk was a crescent of granite with a row of telephones (though I couldn’t imagine who they’d call from the Duat), a computer, lots of clipboards, and a platter-size stone disk with a triangular fin—a sundial, which seemed strange, as there was no sun.

Behind the counter, a short, heavy woman stood with her back to us, checking a whiteboard with names and medication times. Her glossy black hair was plaited down her back like an extra-large beaver’s tail, and her nurse’s cap barely fit on her wide head.

We were halfway to the desk when Bes froze. “It’s her.”

“Who?” Carter asked.

“This is bad.” Bes turned pale. “I should’ve known…. Curse it! You’ll have to go without me.”

I looked more closely at the nurse, who still had her back to us. She did seem a bit imposing, with massive beefy arms, a neck thicker than my waist, and oddly tinted purplish skin. But I couldn’t understand why she bothered Bes so much.

I turned to ask him, but Bes had ducked behind the nearest potted plant. It wasn’t big enough to hide him, and certainly didn’t camouflage his Hawaiian shirt.

“Bes, stop it,” I said.

“Shhh! I’m invisible!”

Carter sighed. “We don’t have time for this. Come on, Sadie.”

He led the way to the nurses’ station.

“Excuse us,” he called across the desk.

The nurse turned, and I yelped. I tried to contain my shock, but it was difficult, as the woman was a hippopotamus.

I don’t mean that as an unflattering comparison. She was actually a hippo. Her long snout was shaped like an upsidedown valentine heart, with bristly whiskers, tiny nostrils, and a mouth with two large bottom teeth. Her eyes were small and beady. Her face looked quite odd framed with luxurious black hair, but it wasn’t nearly as peculiar as her body. She wore her nurse’s blouse open like a jacket, revealing a bikini top that—how to put this delicately—was trying to cover a very great deal of top with very little fabric. Her purple-pink belly was incredibly swollen, as if she were nine months pregnant.

“May I help you?” she asked. Her voice was pleasant and kindly—not what one would expect from a hippopotamus. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t expect any voice from a hippopotamus.

“Um, hippo—I mean, hullo!” I stammered. “My brother and I are looking for…” I glanced at Carter and found he was not staring at the nurse’s face. “Carter!”

“What?” He shook himself out of his trance. “Right. Sorry. Uh, aren’t you a goddess? Tawaret, or something?”

The hippo woman bared her two enormous teeth in what I hoped was a smile. “Why, how nice to be recognized! Yes, dear. I’m Tawaret. You said you were looking for someone? A relative? Are you gods?”

Behind us, the potted hibiscus rustled as Bes picked it up and tried to move it behind a column. Tawaret’s eyes widened.

“Is that Bes?” she called. “Bes!”

The dwarf stood abruptly and brushed off his shirt. His face was redder than Set’s. “Plant looks like it’s getting enough water,” he muttered. “I should check the ones over there.”

He started to walk away, but Tawaret called again, “Bes! It’s me, Tawaret! Over here!”

Bes stiffened like she’d shot him in the back. He turned with a tortured smile.

“Well…hey. Tawaret. Wow!”

She scrambled out from the behind the desk, wearing high heels that seemed inadvisable for a pregnant water mammal. She spread her chubby arms for a hug, and Bes thrust out his hand to shake. They ended up doing an awkward sort of dance, half hug, half shake, which made one thing perfectly obvious to me.

“So, you two used to date?” I asked.

Bes shot eye-daggers at me. Tawaret blushed, which made it the first time I’d ever embarrassed a hippo.

“A long time ago…” Tawaret turned to the dwarf god. “Bes, how are you? After that horrible time at the palace, I was afraid—”

“Good!” he shouted. “Yes, thanks. Good. You’re good? Good! We’re here on important business, as Sadie was about to tell you.”

He kicked me in the shin, which I thought quite unnecessary.

“Yes, right,” I said. “We’re looking for Ra, to awaken him.”

If Bes had been hoping to redirect Tawaret’s train of thought, the plan worked. Tawaret opened her mouth in a silent gasp, and as if I’d just suggested something horrible, like a hippo hunt.

“Awaken Ra?” she said. “Oh, dear…oh, that is unfortunate. Bes, you’re helping them with this?”

“Uh-hum,” he stuttered. “Just, you know—”

“Bes is doing us a favor,” I said. “Our friend Bast asked him to look after us.”

I could tell right away I’d made matters worse. The temperature in the air seemed to drop ten degrees.

“I see,” Tawaret said. “A favor for Bast.”

I wasn’t sure what I’d said wrong, but I tried my best to backtrack. “Please. Look, the fate of the world is at stake It’s very important we find Ra.”

Tawaret crossed her arms skeptically. “Dear, he’s been missing for millennia. And trying to awaken him would be terribly dangerous. Why now?”

“Tell her, Sadie.” Bes inched backward as if preparing to dive into the hibiscus. “No secrets here. Tawaret can be trusted completely.”

“Bes!” She perked up immediately and fluttered her eyelashes. “Do you mean that?”

“Sadie, talk!” Bes pleaded.

And so I did. I showed Tawaret the Book of Ra. I explained why we needed to wake the sun god—the threat of Apophis’s ascension, mass chaos and destruction, the world about to end at sunrise, et cetera. It was difficult to judge her hippoish expressions [Yes, Carter, I’m sure that’s a word], but as I spoke, Tawaret twirled her long black hair nervously.

“That’s not good,” she said. “Not good at all.”

She glanced behind her at the sundial. Despite the lack of sun, the needle cast a clear shadow over the hieroglyphic number five:“You’re running out of time,” she said.

Carter frowned at the sundial. “Isn’t this place the Fourth House of the Night?”

“Yes, dear,” Tawaret agreed. “It goes by different names —Sunny Acres, the House of Rest—but it’s also the Fourth House.”

“So how can the sundial be on five?” he asked. “Shouldn’t we be, like, frozen at the fourth hour?”

“Doesn’t work that way, kid,” Bes put in. “Time in the mortal world doesn’t stop passing just because you’re in the Fourth House. If you want to follow the sun god’s voyage, you have to keep in synch with his timing.”

I felt a head-splitting explanation coming on. I was ready to accept blissful ignorance and get on with finding Ra, but Carter, naturally, wouldn’t let it drop.

“So what happens if we get too far behind?” he asked.

Tawaret checked the sundial again, which was slowly creeping past five. “The houses are connected to their times of night. You can stay in each one as long as you want, but you can only enter or exit them close to the hours they represent.”

“Uh-huh.” I rubbed my temples. “Do you have any headache medicine behind that nurses’ station?”

“It’s not that confusing,” said Carter, just to be annoying. “It’s like a revolving door. You have to wait for an opening and jump in.”

“More or less,” Tawaret agreed. “There is a little wiggle room with most of the Houses. You can leave the Fourth House, for instance, pretty much whenever you want. But certain gates are impossible to pass unless you time it exactly right. You can only enter the First House at sunset. You can only exit the Twelfth House at dawn. And the gates of the Eighth House, the House of Challenges…can only be entered during the eighth hour.”

“House of Challenges?” I said. “I hate it already.”

“Oh, you have Bes with you.” Tawaret stared at him dreamily. “The challenges won’t be a problem.”

Bes shot me a panicked look, like, Save me!

“But if you take too long,” Tawaret continued, “the gates will close before you can get there. You’ll be locked in the Duat until tomorrow night.”

“And if we don’t stop Apophis,” I said, “there won’t be a tomorrow night. That part I understand.”

“So can you help us?” Carter asked Tawaret. “Where is Ra?”

The goddess fidgeted with her hair. Her hands were a cross between human and hippo, with short stubby fingers and thick nails.

“That’s the problem, dear,” she said. “I don’t know. The Fourth House is enormous. Ra is probably here somewhere, but the hallways and doors go on forever. We have so many patients.”

“Don’t you keep track of them?” Carter asked. “Isn’t there a map or something?”

Tawaret shook her head sadly. “I do my best, but it’s just me, the shabti and the servant lights…. And there are thousands of old gods.”

My heart sank. I could barely keep track of the ten or so major gods I’d met, but thousands? In this room alone, I counted a dozen patients, six hallways leading off in different directions, two staircases, and three elevators. Perhaps it was my imagination, but it seemed as if some of the hallways had appeared since we’d entered the room.

“All these old folks are gods?” I asked.

Tawaret nodded. “Most were minor deities even in ancient times. The magicians didn’t consider them worth imprisoning. Over the centuries, they’ve wasted away, lonely and forgotten. Eventually they made their way here. They simply wait.”

“To die?” I asked.

Tawaret got a faraway look in her eyes. “I wish I knew. Sometimes they disappear, but I don’t know if they simply get lost wandering the halls, or find a new room to hide in, or truly fade to nothing. The sad truth is it amounts to the same thing. Their names have been forgotten by the world above. Once your name is no longer spoken, what good is life?”

She glanced at Bes, as if trying to tell him something.

The dwarf god looked away quickly. “That’s Mekhit, isn’t it?” He pointed to the old lion woman who was making her way around in a wheelchair. “She had a temple near Abydos, I think. Minor lion goddess. Always got confused with Sekhmet.”

The lioness snarled weakly when Bes said the name Sekhmet. Then she went back to rolling her chair, muttering, “Meow, meow.”

“Sad story,” Tawaret said. “She came here with her husband, the god Onuris. They were a celebrity couple in the old days, so romantic. He once traveled all the way to Nubia to rescue her. They got married. Happy ending, we all thought. But they were both forgotten. They came here together. Then Onuris disappeared. Mekhit’s mind began to go quickly after that. Now she rolls her chair around the room aimlessly all day. She can’t remember her own name, though we keep reminding her.”

I thought about Khnum, whom we’d met on the river, and how sad he’d seemed, not knowing his secret name. I looked at the old goddess Mekhit, meowing and snarling and scooting along with no memory of her former glory. I imagined trying to care for a thousand gods like that—senior citizens who never got better and never died.

“Tawaret, how can you stand it?” I said in awe. “Why do you work here?”

She touched her nurse’s cap self-consciously. “A long story, dear. And we have very little time. I wasn’t always here. I was once a protector goddess. I scared away demons, though not as well as Bes.”

“You were plenty scary,” Bes said.

The hippo goddess sighed with adoration. “That’s so sweet. I also protected mothers giving birth—”

“Because you’re pregnant?” Carter asked, nodding at her enormous belly.

Tawaret looked mystified. “No. Why would you think that?”

“Um—”

“So!” I broke in. “You were explaining why you take care of aging gods.”

Tawaret checked the sundial, and I was alarmed to see how fast the shadow was creeping toward six. “I’ve always liked to help people, but in the world above, well…it became clear I wasn’t needed anymore.”

She was careful not to look at Bes, but the dwarf god blushed even more.

“Someone was needed to look after the aging gods,” Tawaret continued. “I suppose I understand their sadness. I understand about waiting forever—”

Bes coughed into his fist. “Look at the time! Yes, about Ra. Have you seen him since you’ve been working here?”

Tawaret considered. “It’s possible. I saw a falcon-headed god in a room in the southeast wing, oh, ages ago. I thought it was Nemty, but it’s possible it could have been Ra. He sometimes liked to go about in falcon form.”

“Which way?” I pleaded. “If we can get close, the Book of Ra may be able to guide us.”

Tawaret turned to Bes. “Are you asking me for this, Bes? Do you truly believe it’s important, or are you just doing it because Bast told you to?”

“No! Yes!” He puffed out his cheeks in exasperation. “I mean, yes, it’s important. Yes, I’m asking. I need your help.”

Tawaret pulled a torch from the nearest sconce. “In that case, right this way.”

We wandered the halls of an infinite magic nursing home, led by a hippo nurse with a torch. Really, just an ordinary night for the Kanes.

We passed so many bedrooms I lost count. Most of the doors were closed, but a few were open, showing frail old gods in their beds, staring at the flickering blue light of televisions or simply lying in the dark crying. After twenty or thirty such rooms, I stopped looking. It was too depressing.

I held the Book of Ra, hoping it would get warmer as we approached the sun god, but no such luck. Tawaret hesitated at each intersection. I could tell she felt uncertain about where she was leading us.

After a few more hallways and still no change in the scroll, I began to feel frantic. Carter must’ve noticed.

“It’s okay,” he promised. “We’ll find him.”

I remembered how fast the sundial had been moving at the nurses’ station. And I thought about Vlad Menshikov. I wanted to believe he’d been turned into a deep-fried Russian when he fell into the Lake of Fire, but that was probably too much to hope for. If he was still hunting us, he couldn’t be far behind.

We turned down another corridor and Tawaret froze. “Oh, dear.”

In front of us, an old woman with the head of a frog was jumping around—and when I say jumping, I mean she leaped ten feet, croaked a few times, then leaped against the wall and stuck there before leaping to the opposite wall. Her body and limbs looked human, dressed in a green hospital gown, but her head was all amphibian—brown, moist, and warty. Her bulbous eyes turned in every direction, and by the distressed sound of her croaking, I guessed she was lost.

“Heket’s got out again,” Tawaret said. “Excuse me a moment.”

She hurried over to the frog woman.

Bes pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt. He dabbed his forehead nervously. “I wondered what had ever happened to Heket. She’s the frog goddess, you know.”

“I never would’ve guessed,” Carter said.

I watched as Tawaret tried to calm down the old goddess. She spoke in soothing tones, promising to help Heket find her room if she’d just stop bouncing off the walls.

“She’s brilliant,” I said. “Tawaret, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Bes said. “Yeah, she’s fine.”

“Fine?” I said. “Clearly, she likes you. Why are you so…”

Suddenly the truth smacked me in the face. I felt almost as thick as Carter.

“Oh, I see. She mentioned a horrible time at a palace, didn’t she? She’s the one who freed you in Russia.”

Bes mopped his neck with the handkerchief. He really was sweating quite a lot. “Wh-what makes you say that?”

“Because you’re so embarrassed around her! Like…” I was about to say “like she’s seen you in your underpants,” but I doubted that would mean much to the God of Speedos. “Like she’s seen you at your worst, and you want to forget it.”

Bes stared at Tawaret with a pained expression, the way he had stared at Prince Menshikov’s palace in St. Petersburg.

“She’s always saving me,” he said bitterly. “She’s always wonderful, nice, kind. Back in ancient times, everyone assumed we were dating. They always said we were a cute couple—the two demon-scaring gods, the two misfits, whatever. We did go out a few times, but Tawaret was just too—too nice. And I was kind of obsessed with somebody else.”

“Bast,” Carter guessed.

The dwarf god’s shoulders slumped. “That obvious, huh? Yeah, Bast. She was the most popular goddess with the common folk. I was the most popular god. So, you know, we’d see each other at festivals and such. She was…well, beautiful.”

Typical man, I thought. Only seeing the surface. But I kept my mouth shut.

“Anyway,” Bes sighed, “Bast treated me like a little brother. She still does. Has no interest in me at all, but it took me a long time to realize that. I was so obsessed, I wasn’t very good to Tawaret over the years.”

“But she came to get you in Russia,” I said.

He nodded. “I sent out distress calls. I thought Bast would come to my aid. Or Horus. Or somebody. I didn’t know where they all were, you understand, but I had a lot of friends back in the old days. I figured somebody would show up. The only one who did was Tawaret. She risked her life sneaking into the palace during the dwarf wedding. She saw the whole thing—saw me humiliated in front of the big folk. During the night, she broke my cage and freed me. I owe her everything. But once I was free…I just fled. I was so ashamed, I couldn’t look at her. Every time I think of her, I think about that night, and I hear the laughing.”

The pain in his voice was raw, as if he were describing something that had happened yesterday, not three centuries ago.

“Bes, it isn’t her fault,” I said gently. “She cares about you. It’s obvious.”

“It’s too late,” he said. “I’ve hurt her too much. I wish I could turn back the clock, but…”

He faltered. Tawaret was walking toward us, leading the frog goddess by the arm.

“Now, dear,” Tawaret said, “just come with us, and we’ll find your room. No need for leaping.”

“But it’s a leap of faith,” Heket croaked. (I mean she made that sound; she didn’t die in front of us, thankfully.) “My temple is around here somewhere. It was in Qus. Lovely city.”

“Yes, dear,” Tawaret said. “But your temple is gone now. All our temples are gone. You have a nice bedroom, though—”

“No,” Heket murmured. “The priests will have sacrifices for me. I have to…”

She fixed her large yellow eyes on me, and I understood how a fly must feel right before it’s zapped by a frog tongue.

“That’s my priestess!” Heket said. “She’s come to visit me.”

“No, dear,” Tawaret said. “That’s Sadie Kane.”

“My priestess.” Heket patted my shoulder with her moist webbed hand, and I did my best not to cringe. “Tell the temple to start without me, will you? I’ll be along later. Will you tell them?”

“Um, yeah,” I said. “Of course, Lady Heket.”

“Good, good.” Her eyes became unfocused. “Very sleepy now. Hard work, remembering…”

“Yes, dear,” Tawaret said. “Why don’t you lie down in one of these rooms for now?”

She shepherded Heket into the nearest vacant room.

Bes followed her with sad eyes. “I’m a terrible dwarf.”

Perhaps I should’ve reassured him, but my mind was racing on to other matters. Start without me, Heket had said. A leap of faith.

Suddenly I found it hard to breathe.

“Sadie?” Carter asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I know why the scroll isn’t guiding us,” I said. “I have to start the second part of the spell.”

“But we’re not there yet,” Carter said.

“And we won’t be unless I start the spell. It’s part of finding Ra.”

“What is?” Tawaret appeared at Bes’s side and almost scared the dwarf out of his Hawaiian shirt.

“The spell,” I said. “I have to take a leap of faith.”

“I think the frog goddess infected her,” Carter fretted.

“No, you dolt!” I said. “This is the only way to find Ra. I’m sure of it.”

“Hey, kid,” Bes said, “if you start that spell, and we don’t find Ra by the time you’re finished reading it—”

“I know. The spell will backfire.” When I said backfire, I meant it quite literally. If the spell didn’t find its proper target, the power of the Book of Ra might blow up in my face.

“It’s the only way,” I insisted. “We don’t have time to wander the halls forever, and Ra will only appear if we invoke him. We have to prove ourselves by taking the risk. You’ll have to lead me. I can’t stumble on the words.”

“You have courage, dear.” Tawaret held up her torch. “Don’t worry, I’ll guide you. Just do your reading.”

I opened the scroll to the second section. The rows of hieroglyphs, which had once seemed like disconnected phrases of rubbish, now made perfect sense.

“‘I invoke the name of Ra,’” I read aloud, “‘the sleeping king, lord of the noonday sun, who sits upon the throne of fire…’”

Well, you get the idea. I described how Ra rose from the sea of Chaos. I recalled his light shining on the primordial land of Egypt, bringing life to the Nile Valley. As I read, I felt warmer.

“Sadie,” Carter said, “you’re smoking.”

Hard not to panic when someone makes a comment like that, but I realized Carter was right. Smoke was curling off my body, forming a column of gray that drifted down the hallway.

“Is it my imagination,” Carter asked, “or is the smoke showing us the way? Ow!”

He said that last part because I stomped his foot, which I could do quite well without breaking my concentration. He got the message: Shut up and start walking.

Tawaret took my arm and guided me forward. Bes and Carter flanked us like security guards. We followed the trail of smoke down two more corridors and up a flight of stairs. The Book of Ra became uncomfortably warm in my hands. The smoke from my body began obscuring the letters.

“You’re doing well, Sadie,” Tawaret said. “This hallway looks familiar.”

I don’t know how she could tell, but I stayed focused on the scroll. I described Ra’s sun boat sailing across the sky. I spoke of his kingly wisdom and the battles he’d won against Apophis.

A bead of sweat trickled down my face. My eyes began to burn. I hoped they weren’t literally on fire.

When I came to the line, “Ra, the sun’s zenith…” I realized we’d stopped in front of a door.

It didn’t look any different from any other door, but I pushed it open and stepped inside. I kept reading, though I was quickly approaching the end of the spell.

Inside, the room was dark. In the sputtering light of Tawaret’s torch, I saw the oldest man in the world sleeping in bed—his face shriveled, his arms like sticks, his skin so translucent, I could see every vein. Some of the mummies in Bahariya had looked more alive than this old husk.

“‘The light of Ra returns,’” I read. I nodded at the heavily curtained windows, and fortunately Bes and Carter got my meaning. They yanked back the curtains, and red light from the Lake of Fire flooded the room. The old man didn’t move. His mouth was pursed like his lips had been sewn together.

I moved to his bedside and kept reading. I described Ra awakening at dawn, sitting in his throne as his boat climbed the sky, the plants turning toward the warmth of the sun.

“It’s not working,” Bes muttered.

I began to panic. There were only two lines left. I could feel the power of the spell backing up, beginning to overheat my body. I was still smoking, and I didn’t like the smell of flame-broiled Sadie. I had to awaken Ra or I’d burn alive.

The god’s mouth… Of course.

I set the scroll on Ra’s bed and did my best to hold it open with one hand. “‘I sing the praises of the sun god.’”

I stretched out my free hand to Carter and snapped my fingers.

Thank goodness, Carter understood.

He rummaged through my bag and passed me the obsidian netjeri blade from Anubis. If ever there was a moment for Opening the Mouth, this was it.

I touched the knife to the old man’s lips and spoke the last line of the spell: “‘Awake, my king, with the new day.’”

The old man gasped. Smoke spiraled into his mouth like he’d become a vacuum cleaner, and the magic of the spell funneled into him. My temperature dropped to normal. I almost collapsed with relief.

Ra’s eyes fluttered open. With horrified fascination, I watched as blood began to flow through his veins again, slowly inflating him like a hot air balloon.

He turned toward me, his eyes unfocused and milky with cataracts. “Uh?”

“He still looks old,” Carter said nervously. “Isn’t he supposed to look young?”

Tawaret curtsied to the sun god (which you should not try at home if you are a pregnant hippo in heels) and felt Ra’s forehead. “He isn’t whole yet,” she said. “You’ll need to complete the night’s journey.”

“And the third part of the spell,” Carter guessed. “He’s got one more aspect, right? The scarab?”

Bes nodded, though he didn’t look terribly optimistic. “Khepri, the beetle. Maybe if we find the last part of his soul, he’ll be reborn properly.”

Ra broke into a toothless grin. “I like zebras!”

I was so tired, I wondered if I’d heard him correctly. “Sorry, did you say zebras?”

He beamed at us like a child who’d just discovered something wonderful. “Weasels are sick.”

“O-h-h-kay,” Carter said. “Maybe he needs these…”

Carter took the crook and flail from his belt. He offered them to Ra. The old god pulled the crook to his mouth and began gumming it like a pacifier.

I started to feel uneasy, and not just because of Ra’s condition. How much time had passed, and where was Vlad Menshikov?

“Let’s get him to the boat,” I said. “Bes, can you—”

“Yep. Excuse me, Lord Ra. I’ll have to carry you.” He scooped the sun god out of bed and we bolted from the room. Ra couldn’t have weighed very much, and Bes didn’t have any difficulty keeping up despite his short legs. We ran down the corridor, retracing our steps, as Ra warbled, “Wheeee! Wheeee! Wheeee!”

Perhaps he was having a good time, but I was mortified. We’d been through so much trouble, and this was the sort of god we’d woken? Carter looked as grim as I felt.

We raced past other decrepit gods, who all got quite excited. Some pointed and made gurgling noises. One old jackal-headed god rattled his IV pole and yelled, “Here comes the sun! There goes the sun!”

We burst into the lobby, and Ra said, “Uh-oh. Uh-oh on the floor.”

His head lolled. I thought he wanted to get down. Then I realized he was looking at something. On the floor next to my foot lay a glittering silver necklace: a familiar amulet shaped like a snake.

For someone who’d been smoking hot only a few minutes before, I suddenly felt terribly chilly. “Menshikov,” I said. “He was here.”

Carter drew his wand and scanned the room. “But where is he? Why would he just drop that and walk away?”

“He left it on purpose,” I guessed. “He wants to taunt us.”

As soon as I said it, I knew it was true. I could almost hear Menshikov laughing as he continued his journey downriver, leaving us behind.

“We have to get to the boat!” I said. “Hurry, before—”

“Sadie.” Bes pointed to the nurses’ station. His expression was grim.

“Oh, no,” Tawaret said. “No, no, no…”

On the sundial, the needle’s shadow was pointing to eight. That meant even if we could still leave the Fourth House, even if we could get through the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Houses, it wouldn’t matter. According to what Tawaret had told us, the gates of the Eighth House would already be closed.

No wonder Menshikov had left us here without bothering to fight us.

We’d already lost.