Nasira nodded. “That’s possible.” She glanced over her shoulder at me, her expression hardening, but only for a brief moment. “You seemed familiar with the god of death. May I ask how that is?”
A flutter of panic came through my chest and then splintered into guilt. “He visited me. I didn’t tell either of you because I didn’t know what it meant. I still don’t. He blessed me.”
Sayer looked at his sister and his expression was tense and unreadable.
“I really don’t like it when you two look at each other like that,” I snapped, exasperated.
Sayer’s gaze fell before raising to meet mine. “I’m sorry. I don’t think we know all of what it means either. A number of things.”
“Where did you learn to use magic like that?” Nasira asked, but her prying sounded more like an interrogation. “Was that his work? Anubis’s?”
“You taught me those spells,” I reminded her. The alarmed tone in her voice had me feeling the same.
She shook her head. “Not like that, I didn’t.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No, Ziva,” Sayer assured me. “You were brilliant. Perhaps more brilliant than we’d expected, that’s all.”
The confidence I’d felt in my skills tonight now churned into suffocating anxiety. Sayer might have meant his words, but Nasira’s reaction concerned me. I was reminded of Anubis’s blessing, unsure of the hidden magic in those simple words he spoke to me. The other Medjai carried on their conversation while I sat, silent within my inner storm, thinking, calculating, worrying.
CHAPTER
9
When we returned to the mansion, we parted, and I headed for my room to change into my nightgown. In my absence, someone had laundered and hung it in my wardrobe. I dressed and caught the faint fragrance of gardenia in the fabric. For some time, I tried to sleep, but I felt restless as a butterfly trapped in a jar. I couldn’t wait until morning to find out what Sayer had learned from the stela. Though I couldn’t have memorized all of the hieroglyphs earlier, there were a few symbols I remembered, and I could use what Sayer had taught me to practice translation.
I slid out of bed and wrapped a robe around myself. I cast a tahen spell before venturing from my rooms and in the direction of the library. The corridors were quiet and dark, but my little ball of netherlight illuminated my way. Every piece of furniture or statuary looked very different and much more sinister in the middle of the night, like dark caricatures of their daytime selves. Finding the library in the dark proved a challenge. But I’d made up my mind and wouldn’t give up now. There was no use in going back to bed only to lie there all night wishing I were elsewhere.
By some miracle, I reached my destination and exhaled with relief when I pulled the great library doors open. I paused when I saw the glow of an oil lamp. Someone else was already here.
I stepped inside, my bare feet padding softly. “Hello?” My voice was like a terrible crash in the silence and made me flinch. Drawing closer, I saw Sayer lift his head at a desk.
“Ziva,” he called quietly, and waved me over. Splayed in front of him was a sheet of paper covered in hieroglyphs with English words below them, and several reference books opened flat.
“Is this the stela translation?” I asked, stunned to find him already in here working. I took a seat in the wooden chair opposite him.
“Yes,” he replied, his voice a bit dry and tired, as though he hadn’t spoken in some time. “I couldn’t wait to begin. And here I am, up all night because I have no patience.”
I smiled, knowing exactly how he felt. “You’re not impatient. You just have to know.”
He returned my smile, though his was lopsided and weary. He was an attractive young man and when he smiled, there was something boyish and youthful in his face. “You speak as if you’re here for the same reason.”
“Quit reading my mind, Medjai,” I told him playfully.
He continued to watch me, the lamplight giving his skin a golden glow and lighting the stars in his dark eyes. Something pulsed in my belly and pulled at my spine, and I set my teeth to regain my ground. He was a kind of handsome that unraveled you and had a smile that was nothing short of savage magic. An unbidden vision coiled around my thoughts and I imagined him whispering my name against my skin in the dark. There was no harm in a fantasy, and I rather liked thinking of him that way—especially when he always looked at me with the same devilish eyebrow raised with interest.
I couldn’t be sure how long the moment lasted, but I forced words out to recharge our stalled conversation. “So, what did you find so far?”
He blinked hard, like he’d been trapped in the same reverie. “Well, the cardinal treasures reference Nefertari’s mummified organs, like the cardinal directions: north, south, east, and west.” My undoubtedly blank expression prompted him to explain further. “During the mummification process, four organs are removed from the body cavity and are each dried in natron within their own canopic jars. Qebehsenuef, the falcon, is guardian of the bowel. Duamutef, the jackal, is guardian of the stomach. Imsety, the man, is guardian of the liver, and Hapy, the baboon, is guardian of the lungs.”
“And everything else—aside from the heart, which needed to stay with the body—was all discarded, yes?” I inquired, unsure if I remembered correctly.
“Right.” He looked down to read and I took the moment to study him, the edge of his jaw and the short hairs speckling it. I wondered how soft the hair was—more precisely I wondered how soft it would feel brushing my skin.
“It says here, ‘The cardinal treasures of the queen of kings are the key to complete the resurrection. They will lead the way as the stars guide travelers. Reunite her treasures within the stargate and she will be remade as one of the wardens of eternity.’”
“What is the stargate?” I asked, imagining a doorway.
“The human flesh,” he explained. “It’s the conduit through which a soul connects with the netherworld. We will have to find her resting place and the four canopic jars. I recall an unidentified canopic jar which had been recovered from an illegal antiquities street dealer. The cartouche had been damaged, so we weren’t sure who it belonged to.”
Excitement gave me renewed energy. “You think of it now because it could possibly have belonged to Nefertari.”
He nodded. “If reuniting her sacred organs is part of her resurrection, then she would’ve wanted them to be very hard to find. Something perhaps only the Medjai can do. Something only you can do.”
“This sounds like our lead then,” I said.
“The canopic jar is at our actual headquarters in Cairo, Egypt. We call it the Pyramidion.”
“Oh,” I mumbled, deflated with disappointment. “I should’ve guessed that. We won’t fully understand what the stela means until we see the Pyramidion jar.”
“Right,” he agreed. “All this trouble, and we don’t have any answers at all.”
I leaned across the desk. “Yes, we do. We know what we need to find in order to locate Nefertari’s true tomb. The stela revealed she’ll be one of ‘the wardens of eternity’ when she’s reborn. Does that mean she’ll be immortal? Like Anubis? It sounds like a spell to make a god.”
He shrugged, his eyebrows raising with consideration. “That is certainly what’s implied here. Perhaps once she’s resurrected, she’ll be safe from Set. Immortals can still be destroyed, however, with much difficulty.”
“Nefertari must have promised Set something very important for him to go through all this trouble,” I started, thinking back. “It’s been thousands of years and he’s still trying to stop the resurrection. How infinitely petty.”
“When she betrayed him, he swore never to allow her the taste of life again,” Sayer explained. “No one holds a grudge like an immortal.”
“What was Nefertari supposed to give in return?” I asked.
Sayer shrugged. “We don’t know. There is no option but to beat Set and Kauket to Nefertari’s tomb. Because you are im
portant to her resurrection, Set will never allow you to live.”
“How could he know what part I play if I don’t even know?” I asked. “How do the Medjai even know?”
His brow furrowed, and he took a deep breath. “The high priest at the time was present when Nefertari made the deal with Set. He supposedly wrote all he knew on a scroll. It hasn’t aged well, and what has survived of the scroll is, inconveniently, partial. We’ve restored as much as we could, but we can’t restore what we don’t know was there.”
“I see,” I replied. “Earlier, Kauket had mentioned her king. Did she mean Set? What is he king of?”
Sayer shook his head. “Set is not a king. Osiris is king of the dead.”
“Hypothetically speaking,” I offered, “what if taking Osiris’s throne is Set’s endgame?”
He frowned and the muscle in his jaw clenched. “Set and Osiris have feuded for eons. Set could very well want the throne for himself. It’s a frightening thought, but not so farfetched.”
“Why’s that?” I asked. “More frightening than him wanting to kill me?”
“You’ve seen enough of the gods’ power to know a war between them would only bring destruction to both the human and immortal worlds,” he said gravely. “If Kauket and Anubis had battled to the death, they could’ve destroyed Manhattan in a single night. A second world war between human nations has already begun. We must do whatever is in our power to stop all of this or humanity won’t survive to see a new century.”
“May I ask you something?” I ventured. “Between you and me. If we are friends.”
“Of course,” he said, puzzled. “We are friends.”
“What do you think about Anubis choosing to bless me?” I asked. “Nasira was scaring me.”
“Don’t let her reaction eat at you,” he told me gently. “When Nasira is faced with something she doesn’t understand, she gets afraid and she gets defensive. I believe, with my entire heart, something I trust deeply, that your being blessed by a god is a good thing. Nasi does not trust in the gods, but I do.”
His words and the softly earnest way in which he said them eased the tension from my shoulders. I exhaled and nodded. “Okay.”
His brow raised, and he took a deep breath. “But please do not tell her I said she gets afraid. She will throw my heart to Ammit without hesitation.”
My laugh was soft and coaxed a smile from him. “Your secret is safe with me. Tomorrow we should pay Sweeney a visit. He might know something more. He could even have one of the canopic jars with him.”
“I’ll suggest that to Nasi,” Sayer agreed. “Get some sleep. You’ll need your energy for tomorrow—that is, if you still want to do this.”
“I don’t want to sleep,” I replied, unable to hide my smile. “How could I after tonight? Now that I’m beginning to know what I’m doing with magic . . . I suppose I’m not sure exactly how to describe the feeling.”
“I know what you mean,” he said. “You like to feel strong and in control. You depend on nothing and nobody but yourself.”
“You’re reading my mind again,” I told him.
“Don’t have to,” he said. “You and I are a lot alike, Ziva.”
I laughed softly. “I can’t be sure if that’s a good thing.”
“We’ll have to wait and see, I suppose.” He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms high above his head and yawned. “I think I will call it a night. There’s not much more I can do right now.”
“Then I’ll meet with you bright and early?” I asked.
That breath-seizing smile of his returned. “Your enthusiasm might rival Nasira’s. I will see you tomorrow, Ziva. Good night.”
When I headed to the main hall for my morning run, I was pleased to find Nasira waiting for me. To me, it meant she had faith I hadn’t been scared off after last night.
“I want to apologize,” she said, frowning, her gaze wavering. “I didn’t mean to sound so alarmed about how you fought against Kauket. You showed rare instinct. I’ve never seen any neophyte cast a lightning spell like that.”
“Well, I wasn’t lying when I said no one had ever taught me spells except you,” I told her, feeling defensive.
Her dark eyes grew wide. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. Of course, I believe you. My reaction was a stunned one, nothing more. You were very impressive and I’m excited to see your potential realized.”
“Thank you,” I said, and with relief, my confidence returned.
“Well, I’m not sure if you’ve spoken to Sayer yet this morning, but he and I agreed we should seek out the archaeologist again, preferably today. As soon as possible.”
“I did,” she replied, “and I agree with you both. Sayer is making calls to find out which Manhattan hotel Sweeney resides in. Starting at the top, of course. The good doctor seems like that sort.”
The prospect of another exciting adventure had my blood stirring. I looked forward to expelling some of my energy with exercise. “This afternoon sounds like a good time to pay Sweeney a visit.”
Nasira gave me a quick nod and a smile. “It’s a plan.”
We returned in good time and headed straight for breakfast so I wouldn’t miss out again. Sayer was already seated and lifted his head from his plateful of food to wave us over. I sat across from him and eagerly reached for different dishes to fill my own plate.
“I learned from yesterday,” I said. “Eat first, then bathe. I’ll never miss another breakfast. Or another plate of French toast.”
“Pray tell, what did you find, dearest brother?” Nasira asked.
“Your friend, Dr. Sweeney, is staying at the Waldorf-Astoria on Park Ave.,” Sayer explained. “I rang a few places, posing as his assistant, and was given his room number. Apparently, the backers of his expedition are footing the bill during his stay in New York.”
I smiled, feeling quite devious. “Then let’s eat and dress to impress, shall we?”
We found parking not far from the entrance of the hotel. The old Waldorf-Astoria had been torn down to make way for the Empire State Building, which became the tallest building in the world, but it couldn’t shadow the opulence of the new hotel. The granite Art Deco facade glittered in the midday sun and when I looked up, the limestone of the upper floors blinded me.
On the streets, we certainly attracted many looks of curiosity in our black gear—weapons concealed, of course—but when we entered the hotel, curiosity turned to disgust and disdain. Every man, woman, and child we passed was dressed impeccably and we were clearly a blemish in their habitat. I wondered if Sayer and Nasira noticed the way people responded to our presence. None of it affected me terribly; I was used to being treated this way. But I still didn’t like it. Today, however, I walked with my head held high, knowing the sort of power I had was greater than the false superiority of people who had more money than I. Like Nasira had said, I had potential. Everyone around me in this over-the-top, glitzy lobby had already peaked.
A man waiting by the elevators grew quite nervous when he saw us. He peeked at us sidelong and quickly looked away. The elevator car touched down and dinged, but the man hesitated at the open door. I imagined he was afraid we’d follow him in.
Nasira stepped forward and claimed the compartment, and Sayer and I followed. She paused and glanced at the man, presumably to wait for him to join us if he’d have liked. But he didn’t, and I pushed the button to close the door.
“We need to get Sweeney to let us in,” Nasira said. “There can’t be any forced entry. We’ll be in and out clean-like. He’ll recognize me from last night, so Ziva, your American accent and lovely face are it.”
I nodded without protest. I could do this.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Sayer’s pleased smile and I gained a little more strength and courage.
He directed us to the correct room and my friends pinned their backs against the wall on either side of the door, out of the peephole’s view. I took a deep breath and knocked.
“Yes?�
�� came a man’s answer.
“Room service, Dr. Sweeney,” I said, hoping to sound as pleasant and nonchalant as possible. Eagerness might make him suspicious.
Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door and a moment later came a reply. “I didn’t order room service.”
I supposed I hadn’t thought this far ahead. The first thing I thought of became my quick response. “You didn’t order this tiramisu with a kettle of hot chocolate?”
Sayer raised an eyebrow at me, half-smiling.
Sweeney paused before he replied, “Why, yes—yes, I did indeed order that.”
He cracked open the door, and my taw spell shoved it wide, blowing him off his feet and onto his back. My Medjai companions and I stormed into the room. Nasira cast a spell I didn’t recognize, and Sweeney began to gasp for air, unable to cry out. He scratched at his throat, eyes bulging with fear. He scrambled away from us, bumping into the side of his bed and collapsing to the floor.
Nasira knelt in front of him and said coldly, “I will allow you to breathe if you promise not to scream. The instant you try, I will take your air again. Is this clear?”
Wild-eyed with fright, he nodded vigorously.
“Nasira,” I said in a low tone, alarmed by her—for lack of a more appropriate word—viciousness. I hadn’t seen this side of her before. When I looked at Sayer, his expression was blank.
She released him, and he took a long, grateful drag of oxygen. “You—you were at the party last night!” he exclaimed. “Who are you people?”
“Protectors of this world,” she replied. “And we need some information from you. Was Nefertari’s stela found at the Ramesseum as you claimed?”
“Well, yes,” he insisted. “What would I gain from lying about that?”
She scoffed, an ugly sound. “No, you’re a thief, not a threat. Was anything else of Nefertari’s found during your dig?”
“A few things, yes. Some jewelry and a canopic jar we can’t confirm belonged to her, but—”
“The canopic jar—was Nefertari’s cartouche inscribed on it?” Sayer demanded.
Wardens of Eternity Page 10
