by Rick Riordan
[Ouch! I thought we agreed: no pinching!]
Two weeks after the battle with Apophis, Zia and I were sitting in the food court at the Mall of America in Bloomington, Minnesota.
Why there? I’d heard the Mall of America was the biggest in the country, and I figured we’d start big. It was an easy trip through the Duat. Freak was happy to sit on the roof and eat frozen turkeys while Zia and I explored the mall.
[That’s right, Sadie. For our first real date, I picked up Zia in a boat pulled by a deranged griffin. So what? Like your dates aren’t weird?]
Anyway, when we got to the food court, Zia’s jaw dropped. “Gods of Egypt…”
The restaurant choices were pretty overwhelming. Since we couldn’t decide, we got a little of everything: Chinese, Mexican (the Macho Nachos), pizza, and ice cream—the four basic food groups. We grabbed a table overlooking the amusement park at the center of the mall.
A lot of other kids were hanging out in the food court. Many of them stared at us. Well…not at me. They were mostly looking at Zia and no doubt wondering what a girl like her was doing with a guy like me.
She’d healed up nicely since the battle. She wore a simple sleeveless dress of beige linen and black sandals—no makeup, no jewelry except for her gold scarab necklace. She looked way more glamorous and mature than the other girls in the mall.
Her long black hair was tied back in a ponytail, except for a little strand that curled behind her right ear. She’d always had luminous amber eyes and warm coffee-and-milk skin, but since hosting Ra, she seemed to glow even more. I could feel her warmth from across the table.
She smiled at me over her bowl of chow mein. “So, this is what typical American teenagers do?”
“Well…sort of,” I said. “Though I don’t think either of us will ever pass for typical.”
“I hope not.”
I had trouble thinking straight when I looked at her. If she’d asked me to jump over the railing, I probably would’ve done it.
Zia twirled her fork through her noodles. “Carter, we haven’t talked much about…you know, my being the Eye of Ra. I can guess how strange that was for you.”
See? Just your typical teenage conversation in the mall.
“Hey, I understand,” I said. “It wasn’t strange.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, it was strange,” I admitted. “But Ra needed your help. You were amazing. Have you, uh, talked to him since…?”
She shook her head. “He’s retreated from the world, just like he said. I doubt I’ll be the Eye of Ra again—unless we face another Doomsday.”
“So, with our luck, not for a few more weeks, you mean.”
Zia laughed. I loved her laugh. I loved that little curl of hair behind her ear.
(Sadie says I’m being ridiculous. Like she’s one to talk.)
“I had a meeting with your Uncle Amos,” Zia said. “He has lots of help at the First Nome now. He thought it would be good for me to spend some time away, try to live a more…typical life.”
My heart tripped and stumbled straight into my ribs. “You mean, like, leave Egypt?”
Zia nodded. “Your sister suggested I stay at Brooklyn House, attend American school. She says…how did she put it? Americans are an odd bunch, but they grow on you.”
Zia scooted around the table and took my hand. I sensed about twenty jealous guys glaring at me from the other tables of the food court.
“Would you mind if I stayed in Brooklyn House? I could help teach the initiates. But if that would make you uncomfortable—”
“No!” I said much too loudly. “I mean, no, I don’t mind. Yes, I’d like that. A lot. Quite a bit. Totally fine.”
Zia smiled. The temperature in the food court seemed to go up another ten degrees. “So that’s a yes?”
“Yes. I mean, unless it would make you uncomfortable. I wouldn’t want to make things awkward or—”
“Carter?” she said gently. “Shut up.”
She leaned over and kissed me.
I did as she commanded, no magic necessary. I shut up.
S A D I E
21. The Gods Are Sorted; My Feelings Are Not
AH, MY THREE FAVORITE WORDS: Carter, shut up.
Zia really has come a long way since we first met. I think there’s hope for her, even if she does fancy my brother.
At any rate, Carter has wisely left the last bit of the story for me to tell.
After the battle with Apophis, I felt horrible on many levels. Physically, I was knackered. Magically, I’d used up every last bit of energy. I was afraid I might have permanently damaged myself, as I had a smoldering feeling behind my sternum that was either my exhausted magic reservoir or very bad heartburn.
Emotionally, I wasn’t much better. I had watched Carter embrace Zia when she emerged from the steaming goo of the serpent, which was all very well, but it only reminded me of my own turmoil.
Where was Walt? (I’d decided to call him that, or I would drive myself crazy figuring out his identity.) He had been standing nearby just after the battle. Now he was gone.
Had he left with the other gods? I was already worried about Bes and Bast. It wasn’t like them to disappear without saying good-bye. And I wasn’t keen on what Ra had said about the gods leaving the earth for a while.
You cannot push me away without pushing away the gods, Apophis had warned.
The bloody serpent might have mentioned that before we execrated him. I had just made my peace with the whole Walt/Anubis idea—or mostly, at any rate—and now Walt had vanished. If he’d been declared off-limits again, I was going to crawl into a sarcophagus and never come out.
While Carter was with Zia in the infirmary, I wandered the corridors of the First Nome, but found no sign of Walt. I tried to contact him with the shen amulet. No answer. I even tried to contact Isis for advice, but the goddess had gone silent. I didn’t like that.
So, yes, I was quite distracted in the Hall of Ages during Carter’s little acceptance speech: I’d like to thank all the little people for making me pharaoh, et cetera, et cetera.
I was glad to visit the Underworld and be reunited with my mum and dad. At least they weren’t off-limits. But I was quite disappointed not to find Walt there. Even if he wasn’t allowed in the mortal world, shouldn’t he be in the Hall of Judgment, taking over the duties of Anubis?
That’s when my mother pulled me aside. (Not literally, of course. Being a ghost, she couldn’t pull me anywhere.) We stood to the left of the dais where the dead musicians played lively music. JD Grissom and his wife, Anne, smiled at me. They seemed happy, and I was glad for that, but I still had trouble seeing them without feeling guilty.
My mum tugged at her necklace—a ghostly replica of my own tyet amulet. “Sadie…we’ve never gotten to talk much, you and I.”
Bit of an understatement, since she died when I was six. I understood what she meant, though. Even after our reunion last spring, she and I had never really chatted. Visiting her in the Duat was rather hard, and ghosts don’t have e-mail or Skype or mobile phones. Even if they had had a proper Internet connection, “friending” my dead mother on Facebook would have felt rather odd.
I didn’t say any of that. I just nodded.
“You’ve grown strong, Sadie,” Mum said. “You’ve had to be brave for so long, it must be hard for you to let your defenses down. You’re afraid to lose any more people you care about.”
I felt lightheaded, as if I were turning into a ghost, too. Had I become see-through, like my mother? I wanted to argue and protest and joke. I didn’t want to hear my mother’s commentary, especially when it was so accurate.
At the same time, I was so mixed up inside about Walt, so worried about what had happened to him, I wanted to break down and cry on my mother’s shoulder. I wanted her to hug me and tell me it was all right. Unfortunately, one can’t cry on the shoulder of a ghost.
“I know,” Mum said sadly, as if reading my thoughts. “I wasn’t there for
you when you were small. And your father…well, he had to leave you with Gran and Gramps. They tried to provide you with a normal life, but you’re so much more than normal, aren’t you? And now here you are, a young woman.…” She sighed. “I’ve missed so much of your life, I don’t know if you’ll want my advice now. But for what it’s worth: trust your feelings. I can’t promise that you’ll never get hurt again, but I can promise you the risk is worth it.”
I studied her face, unchanged since the day she had died: her wispy blond hair, her blue eyes, the rather mischievous curve of her eyebrows. Many times, I’d been told that I looked like her. Now I could see it clearly. As I’d got older, it was quite striking how much our faces looked alike. Put some purple highlights in her hair, and Mum would’ve made an excellent Sadie stunt double.
“You’re talking about Walt,” I said at last. “This is a heart-to-heart chat about boys?”
Mum winced. “Yes, well…I’m afraid I’m rubbish at this. But I had to try. When I was a girl, Gran wasn’t much of a resource for me. I never felt I could talk to her.”
“I should think not.” I tried to imagine talking about guys with my grandmother while Gramps yelled at the telly and called for more tea and burnt biscuits.
“I think,” I ventured, “that mothers normally warn against following one’s heart, getting involved with the wrong sort of boy, getting a bad reputation. That sort of thing.”
“Ah.” Mum nodded contritely. “Well, you see, I can’t do that. I suppose I’m not worried about you doing the wrong thing, Sadie. I am worried that you might be afraid to trust someone—even the right someone. It’s your heart, of course. Not mine. But I’d say Walt is more nervous than you are. Don’t be too hard on him.”
“Hard on him?” I almost laughed. “I don’t even know where he is! And he’s hosting a god who—who—”
“Whom you also like,” Mum supplied. “And that’s confusing, yes. But they are really one person, now. Anubis has so much in common with Walt. Neither has ever had a real life to look forward to. Now, together, they do.”
“You mean…” The horrible burning sensation behind my sternum began to ease, ever so slightly. “You mean I will see him again? He’s not exiled, or whatever nonsense the gods are going on about?”
“You will see him,” my mother affirmed. “Because they are one, inhabiting a single mortal body, they may walk the earth, as the Ancient Egyptian god-kings did. Walt and Anubis are both good young men. They are both nervous, and quite awkward in the mortal world, and scared about how people will treat them. And they both feel the same way about you.”
I was probably blushing terribly. Carter stared at me from the top of the dais, no doubt wondering what was wrong. I didn’t trust myself to meet his eyes. He was a bit too good at reading my expression.
“It’s so bloody hard,” I complained.
Mother laughed softly. “Yes, it is. But if it’s any consolation…dealing with any man means dealing with multiple personalities.”
I glanced up at my father, who was flickering back and forth between Dr. Julius Kane and Osiris, the Smurf-blue god of the Underworld.
“I take your point,” I said. “But where is Anubis? I mean Walt. Ugh! There I go again.”
“You will see him soon,” Mum promised. “I wanted you to be prepared.”
My mind said: This is too confusing, too unfair. I can’t handle a relationship like this.
But my heart said: Shut up! Yes, I can!
“Thanks, Mum,” I said, no doubt failing miserably to look calm and collected. “This business with the gods pulling away. Does that mean we won’t see you and Dad as much?”
“Probably,” she admitted. “But you know what to do. Keep teaching the path of the gods. Bring the House of Life back to its former glory. You and Carter and Amos will make Egyptian magic stronger than ever. And that’s good…because your challenges are not over.”
“Setne?” I guessed.
“Yes, him,” Mum said. “But there are other challenges as well. I haven’t completely lost the gift of prophecy, even in death. I see murky visions of other gods and rival magic.”
That really didn’t sound good.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “What other gods?”
“I don’t know, Sadie. But Egypt has always faced challenges from outside—magicians from elsewhere, even gods from elsewhere. Just be vigilant.”
“Lovely,” I muttered. “I preferred talking about boys.”
Mother laughed. “Once you return to the mortal world, there will be one more portal. Look for it tonight. Some old friends of yours would like a word.”
I had a feeling I knew whom she meant.
She touched a ghostly pendant around her neck—the tyet symbol of Isis.
“If you need me,” Mum said, “use your necklace. It will call to me, just as the shen necklace calls to Walt.”
“That would’ve been handy to know sooner.”
“Our connection wasn’t strong enough before. Now…I think it is.” She kissed my forehead, though it felt like only a faint cool breeze. “I’m proud of you, Sadie. You have your whole life ahead of you. Make the most of it!”
That night at Brooklyn House, a swirling sand portal opened on the terrace, just as my mother had promised.
“That’s for us,” I said, getting up from the dinner table. “Come on, brother, dear.”
On the other side of the portal, we found ourselves at the beach by the Lake of Fire. Bast was waiting, tossing a ball of yarn from hand to hand. Her pure black bodysuit matched her hair. Her feline eyes danced in the red light of the waves.
“They’re waiting for you.” She pointed up the steps to the House of Rest. “We’ll talk when you come back down.”
I didn’t need to ask why she wasn’t coming. I heard the melancholy in her voice. She and Tawaret had never got along because of Bes. Obviously, Bast wanted to give the hippo goddess some space. But also, I wondered if my old friend was starting to realize that she’d let a good man get away.
I kissed her on the cheek. Then Carter and I climbed the stairs.
Inside the nursing home, the atmosphere was festive. Fresh flowers decorated the nurses’ station. Heket the frog goddess walked upside down along the ceiling, hanging party streamers, while a group of elderly dog-headed gods danced and sang the hokey-pokey—a very slow version, but still impressive. You put your walker in / you put your IV out—and so forth. The ancient lion-headed goddess Mekhit was slow-dancing with a tall male god. She purred loudly with her head on his shoulder.
“Carter, look,” I said. “Is that—?”
“Onuris!” Tawaret answered, trotting over in her nurse’s outfit. “Mekhit’s husband! Isn’t it wonderful? We were sure he’d faded ages ago, but when Bes called the old gods to war, Onuris came tottering out of a supply closet. Many others appeared too. They were finally needed, you see! The war gave them a reason to exist.”
The hippo goddess crushed us in an enthusiastic hug. “Oh, my dears! Just look how happy everyone is! You’ve given them new life.”
“I don’t see as many as before,” Carter noticed.
“Some went back to the heavens,” Tawaret said. “Or off to their old temples and palaces. And, of course, your dear father, Osiris, took the judgment gods back to his throne room.”
Seeing the old gods so happy warmed my heart, but I still felt a twinge of worry. “Will they stay this way? I mean, they won’t fade again?”
Tawaret spread her stubby hands. “I suppose that depends on you mortals. If you remember them and make them feel important, they should be fine. But come, you’ll want to see Bes!”
He sat in his usual chair, staring blankly out the window at the Lake of Fire. The scene was so familiar, I feared he’d lost his ren again.
“Is he all right?” I cried, running up to him. “What’s wrong with him?”
Bes turned, looking startled. “Besides being ugly? Nothing, kid. I was just thinking—sorry.”
He rose (as much as a dwarf can rise) and hugged us both.
“Glad you kids could make it,” Bes said. “You know Tawaret and I are going to build a home on the lakeside. I’ve gotten used to this view. She’ll keep working at the House of Rest. I’ll be a house dwarf for a while. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get some little dwarf hippo babies to look after!”
“Oh, Bes!” Tawaret blushed fiercely and batted her hippo eyelids.
The dwarf god chuckled. “Yeah, life is good. But if you kids need me, just holler. I’ve always had more luck coming to the mortal world than most gods.”
Carter scowled fretfully. “Do you think we’ll need you a lot? I mean, of course we want to see you! I just wondered—”
Bes grunted. “Hey, I’m an ugly dwarf. I’ve got a sweet car, an excellent wardrobe, and amazing powers. Why wouldn’t you need me?”
“Good point,” Carter agreed.
“But, uh, don’t call too often,” Bes said. “After all, my honeycakes and I got a few millennia of quality time to catch up on.”
He took Tawaret’s hand, and for once I didn’t find the name of this place—Sunny Acres—quite so depressing.
“Thank you for everything, Bes,” I said.
“Are you kidding?” he said. “You gave me my life back, and I don’t just mean my shadow.”
I got the distinct feeling the two gods wanted some time by themselves, so we said our good-byes and headed down the steps to the lake.
The white sand portal was still swirling. Bast stood next to it, engrossed in her ball of yarn. She laced it between her fingers to make a rectangle like a cat’s cradle. (No, I didn’t mean that as a pun, but it did seem appropriate.)
“Having fun?” I asked.
“Thought you’d want to see this.” She held up the cat’s cradle. A video image flickered across its surface like on a computer screen.
I saw the Hall of the Gods with its soaring columns and polished floors, its braziers burning with a hundred multicolored fires. On the central dais, the sun boat had been replaced with a golden throne. Horus sat there in his human form—a bald muscular teen in full battle armor. He held a crook and flail across his lap, and his eyes gleamed—one silver, one gold. At his right stood Isis, smiling proudly, her rainbow wings shimmering. On his left stood Set, the red-skinned Chaos god with his iron staff. He looked quite amused, as if he had all sorts of wicked things planned for later. The other gods knelt as Horus addressed them. I scanned the crowd for Anubis—with or without Walt—but again, I didn’t see him.
