by Rick Riordan
Then there’s all those blue-skinned gods. Blue represented the sky and water, right? But think about what happens if you get super chilly. Your lips and skin turn blue! So maybe blue also stands for ice, and one of those blue gods is my ice guy.
If so, he wouldn’t do just ice. Egypt isn’t a super- cold climate, so he wouldn’t have enough to do. But a lot of deities are in charge of more than one thing—funerals and death, magic and motherhood—so my blue god could make other frozen stuff, like ice cream and snow cones, on the side.
Which brings me to Ptah. He’s blue. He’s kind of been forgotten, and has faded into the background behind Horus, Isis, Ra, and the other big guys. And get this: he creates stuff just by uttering words he makes up. So maybe one day he happened to murmur the word ice—or snow, slush, hail, whatever—and ka-bam! The Nile freezes over and the ancient Egyptians are making igloos next to the pyramids.
So, I’ve decided I’m going to follow the path of Ptah. He might not turn out to be my ice god, but from where I’m sitting, which is on the sofa surrounded by my penguins, he’s the closest thing to it.
I DON’T KNOW ABOUT ANY GOD OF ICE. BUT A GOD OF THE SEA? YEAH, I THINK IT’S FAIR TO SAY I KNOW ABOUT THAT ONE.—SETNE
The other day Sadie joked that we should add snake charming to our curriculum. I know she was kidding, but I’m seriously considering it. Who knows? If Apophis rises up from the abyss again, maybe we can hypnotize him into submission. Anything would be better than having him explode all over the place.
Short answer essay question: Can you imagine if the serpent of Chaos had been allergic to Bast?
OMG! Spending millennia battling Ra’s feline champion while sneezing? Priceless! Itchy, watery eyes and no hands to rub them with! If the agony of having his tail trapped under the monument of Ma’at hadn’t driven him insane, the constant sniffling from his stuffy nose would have. And then there’s the scratchy throat, which would have been completely maddening, since his whole body is basically throat.
So, to answer the question…yes, I can imagine it.
And if you’re wondering whether there’s a story about Apophis in this book, there isn’t. The less said about that snake, the better.
I watched Shelby playing with her toys the other day. And by “playing,” I mean pulling the heads off her plastic animals and reattaching them to the bodies of headless dolls. (I’m afraid to ask where the dolls’ heads are.) I wonder if the animal deities were created that way. It might explain why many of them are so cranky.
Match the deity’s name to his/her corresponding animal, role, and most noticeable attribute:
Answers:
Sobek:Crocodile, Bodyguard of Ra, Moist, mucus-filled eyes
Serqet:Scorpion, Follower of Set, Arachnid-infested body
Sekhmet:Lioness, Destroyer, Bloodlust-filled eyes
Nekhbet:Vulture, Scavenger of the weak, Greasy black feathers
Wadjet:Cobra, Protector of Lower Egypt, Forked tongue
Tawaret:Hippo, Caregiver, Pregnant (not pregnant)
Babi:Baboon, Muscle for Set, Meat-encrusted silver fur
Bast:Cat, Eye of Ra, Sleek and athletic
Like Bes, Tawaret is allowed to contact us now and then because, well, because she’s the sweetest, most caring hippo you’ll ever hope to meet and she deserves to get whatever she wants. That last bit was in Bes’s words, by the way, not mine.—Sadie
WHEN Egypt was in its prime, I used to wallow in the Nile and listen to the youngest initiates of the First Nome learn this chant. It’s silly, but it helped the little dears remember the river’s animals—most of which are not silly, but in fact quite deadly—and the gods and goddesses of those animals. The children did movements and made sounds to go along with each creature, too. Best of all was the toe-tapping rhythm of the sistrum—that’s an ancient Egyptian rattle—and the drum. I simply had to shake my booty when I heard that jingle-jingle tump-tump-tump! Nephthys made me stop, though. She claimed my bouncy exuberance displaced too much of her river.
Back then, the chant went on for hours, because there were so many of us animal deities to sing about. Now, though, initiates only chant about the top eight. It breaks my heart how many of the old ones have been forgotten. When I think how much Heket, Gengen-Wer, Mekhet, and the rest of the darlings here at Sunny Acres would enjoy hearing children chant their names…Well, maybe someday.
Zia learned the eight-animal chant when she was at the First Nome. She taught it to the ankle-biters at Brooklyn House. She refused to do the movements, though. I asked if it was because they completed a dangerous magic spell when done with the chant and the music. Turns out they’re just embarrassing—as Carter discovered when I caught him practicing them in his room.—Sadie
(Arms straight out, palms together; open and close like a crocodile mouth on chomp)
Deep in the Nile lurks a crocodile
Sobek (chomp-chomp), Sobek (chomp)
(Stand on tiptoes and lumber forward, arms dog-paddling)
Nearby is a hippo, swimming on tiptoe
Tawaret (splash-splash), Tawaret (splash)
(Bare teeth and circle head around while roaring)
A lioness roars on the sandy shores
Sekhmet (roar-roar), Sekhmet (roar)
(Alternate pats to the rump—your own rump, please—while barking)
While a bright-bummed baboon barks out of tune
Babi (agh-agh), Babi (agh)
(Circle the room flapping and cawing; if desired, one child can play the “victim”)
A vulture flies while its victim dies
Nekhbet (caw-caw), Nekhbet (caw)
(Curl first two fingers of right hand in front of mouth and jab forward while hissing)
Fangs don’t miss in the cobra’s kiss
Wadjet (hissss-hissss), Wadjet (hissss)
(Raise arm over head, shape thumb and middle finger in a sideways C and dart forward)
The scorpion’s sting could mean the end of things
Serqet (zztt-zztt), Serqet (zztt)
(Wiggle bum and pounce)
But the cat saves the day in a purr-fect way!
Bast (meow-meow), Bast (meow)
MAGIC should come with a warning label: Can be hazardous to your health. Side effects include dizziness, extreme fatigue, and blackouts. Prolonged exposure has been linked to spontaneous combustion and addiction to unlimited power. And that’s just the stuff we know about.
Given how dangerous magic is, you’d think I’d be overrun with patients in need of my sunu healing talents. But after we won the battle against Chaos, my workload was very light. It was frustrating, because in order to expand my knowledge, I needed new cases to treat. So I took matters into my own hands.
Don’t misunderstand me. I didn’t run around inflicting pain, sickness, and magical infections on the residents of Brooklyn House. No indeed! I inflicted them on myself.
I took it slow at first—a papyrus cut here, a patch of scaly (as in reptilian) skin there, a purple-and-orange rash everywhere. A bandage, a salve, and an ointment took care of them easily. So I moved on to more challenging problems that required spells and magical medication: deviating and then undeviating my septum, growing hair where hair shouldn’t be and then pruning it back (Bes asked for the instructions for this affliction, but not the cure), and the dreaded belly-button reversal (innies become outies, and vice versa). Again, great results, no side effects.
I was on a roll and…Okay, I’ll admit it. I got overconfident. So, I threw a real doozy of a malignancy at myself—the Tongue Twister. This ailment is as rare as it is painful. The only known cure is an incredibly complicated spell that must be chanted with absolute precision. I was the only sunu capable of speaking the spell. The trouble was, I had given myself the Tongue Twister, which, as the name implies, twists the tongue. In short, the power of clear speech was no longer in my wheelhouse.
Frantic, I grabbed the spell and ran to find Sadie. She isn’t a healer, but she was the best spell-caste
r I knew. If she could just loosen my tongue a little bit, I could manage the rest.
I found her in the Great Room by the statue of Thoth, talking with Carter and Walt.
“Bleah-glup!” I yelped. “Bleah-glup!”
“And a very bleah-glup to you too, Jaz,” Sadie replied politely.
“Is that a Nashville cheerleader word or something?” Walt wondered.
Sadie shrugged. “Search me. I’m not a cheerleader. I get cheered for.”
“Or booed at,” Carter put in.
“Srrdimm,” I growled in frustration. “Ffffffttzzzzttt!”
Walt’s eyes widened with alarm. “Good Ra, she’s sprung a leak.”
“Pa-pa-pa-pa-GORP!”
“Whoa, steady there, Jaz,” Sadie said, holding her hands up defensively. “No need to get all hot under the collar!”
“Hold up,” Carter said. “I think she really is getting hot under the collar!”
My hand flew to my throat. They peered at my neckline and exchanged worried looks. “Uh-oh. The power of Sekhmet is coming through,” Walt muttered. “We need to find out what’s wrong. Now.”
Their worry morphed to fear, and with good reason. Sekhmet wasn’t called the Destroyer for nothing. If I was channeling that part of her magic…
I roared—or tried to. It came out as a squeaky, high “Eeee-blblblblbl!”
“Jaz!” Sadie cried in horror. “Your tongue! It’s all twisted! Is that why you can’t talk correctly?”
I nodded vigorously.
“Who did this to you?” Carter demanded.
I hung my head and pointed to my chest.
Sadie looked grim. “Her shirt. Her shirt did it.”
“No,” Walt objected. “I think she did it to herself. And she can’t cure the problem because she has to speak a spell. Right?”
Nodding again, I handed Sadie the spell and pleaded to her with my eyes. She looked at the papyrus and whistled. “This is a toughie. If I get even one word wrong, I could make things even worse. Maybe you should wait for it to wear off?”
I blinked back tears and shook my head.
Sadie took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll give it a try. Let’s—”
Before she could finish, Khufu intervened. He’d been watching and listening from his perch on Thoth’s head. Now he dropped down, snatched the scroll from Sadie, and shoved it into his mouth.
“Khufu! No!” Sadie cried. “Bad baboon! Bad!”
Khufu rolled his eyes, spat out the papyrus, jumped up, and shoved it in my mouth. If you’re ever given the chance to taste papyrus infused with baboon saliva…don’t. I gagged and started to spit it out, but Khufu slapped his paw over my mouth. That left just one way to get the foul taste out of my mouth: chew and swallow. So, that’s what I did.
Khufu removed his paw with a satisfied grunt and padded away.
“Uh, gross!” I yelled. “Somebody get me a toothbrush!”
Khufu’s technique had worked!
Walt, Carter, and Sadie stared at me and then started laughing. “Remind me never to bother reciting spells again,” Sadie said. “I’ll just eat them instead.”
“Not me,” I said. “Now if you’ll excuse me…Somewhere in this house there’s a bottle of mouthwash with my name on it.”
I once made the mistake of telling Bast that I wished I’d had a dog when I was younger. She just stared at me. I now understand the phrase “If looks could kill…”—Sadie
Circle the correct answer:
1. Bast once had a crush on a) Apophis; b) Bes; c) Ra; d) none of the above.
2. Bast conceals weapons in her a) sleeves; b) poufed-up hair; c) amulet; d) enemies’ bodies.
3. Bast is afraid of a) nothing; b) Tawaret; c) Horus; d) yarn.
4. Bast taught two classes at Brooklyn House. What were they? a) Shedding and Yowl for Attention; b) Glaring and You CAN Hack Up That Hairball!; c) Napping and Advanced Cat Grooming; d) Cardboard Box Sitting for Beginners and I Brought You This Dead Mouse.
5. Bast is also known as a) the Fart of Camel; b) the Eye of Ra; c) the Claw of Shredding; d) the Can of Friskies.
Answers:
1. d: The cat goddess does not crush on others. She does, however, allow others to crush on her while she pointedly ignores them.
2. a: And by weapons, we mean wickedly sharp knives that she deploys by flicking her wrists. FYI: Her poufed-up hair indicates that something has scared her. When she’s scared, she’s likely to flick her wrists, so steer clear! She wears an amulet on a collar, but it isn’t weaponized. (At least, I don’t think it is.) Change the word conceals to jabs, stabs, or buries, and the correct answer would be d.
3. b: Tawaret is a gentle giant unless her squeeze, Bes, is harmed in any way. Since Bast once toyed with Bes’s affections like…well, like a cat with a mouse, she learned to stay out of Tawaret’s way. As for the others, I bet she could take Horus in a fight, and I’ve seen her go ballistic on a ball of yarn.
4. c: I must talk to Carter about adding Yowl for Attention and Glaring to our curriculum. I would be excellent at teaching both.
5. b: Do cats even fart? I know they shred, and look out when there’s a can of Friskies being opened! But of course, the answer is the Eye of Ra. Bast was Ra’s champion, battling Apophis, the serpent of Chaos, for thousands of years deep in the abyss.
NOT long after saving the world from the forces of Chaos, I received a package from Gran and Gramps Faust. Inside was a jumble of belongings I’d left behind in London, a tin of Gran’s famous charbroiled biscuits (cookies, you Americans call them), and this note:
Dear Sadie,
Heard that barmy baboon god and nutter vulture goddess are back in the Duat where they belong. Good riddance. Why they ever thought Gran and I would make compatible hosts is beyond me. Took us weeks to clean up their mess—with no help from the House, of course. Bloody magicians are never around when you need them, only when they need you.
Gran says to return the biscuit tin.
Gramps
Such a heartfelt outpouring of emotion for their only granddaughter. Still, they’re wonderful in their own quirky way. I quite love them, and I know that they love me.
After I read the note and introduced the biscuits to the nearest rubbish bin, I rummaged through the box. Among the bits and bobs was an old cassette tape. Carter and I have recorded messages on such tapes (maybe you’ve read the transcripts?), but this wasn’t one of those. Curious, I popped it into my old tape recorder and hit PLAY.
Mrow.
My jaw dropped at Muffin’s distinct meow, because honestly, in the six years she was my cat, I never once suspected she knew how to use a tape recorder. Oh, or that she was the cat goddess Bast. But seriously, the tape recorder thing blew me away.
I’d like to say the recording blew me away too, but it was just a lot of meowing and purring, plus one unfortunate hairball incident that sounded as disgusting on tape as it would in person. I don’t speak Cat, but I remembered a divine word Uncle Amos had once spoken to communicate with our Russian friend, Leonid. I figured it was worth a shot, so I held the tape and murmured, “Med-wah.” Speak.
Suddenly, Bast’s voice filled the room. Other voices, too, but mostly Bast’s. I choked up a little, hearing her. But as I listened, I started to smile because…well, it was just so Bast.
That’s when I realized the recording was a gold mine for trainees who might follow the path of the cat goddess. So, I woke up Doughboy—the ill-tempered wax shabti from my dad’s magic kit—and instructed him to transcribe it onto papyrus. I’ve entitled it The Book of Being Muffin, because…well, read the highlights below and you’ll see why.
FROM THE BOOK OF BEING MUFFIN
ON TRANSPORTATION
Julius, I shall be forever indebted to you and Ruby for releasing me from the prison abyss. But if you ever cram me inside that infernal cat carrier again, I will claw my way up one side of your body and down the other.
ON NAPPING
It’s only been a month since
I burst out of an ancient Egyptian obelisk and landed inside this orange tabby cat. Yet in that short time, I have become brilliant at napping.
ON SHREDDING
MUFFIN: Ha-ha! Take that, cursed flowered upholstery!
GRAMPS: Agh! Gerroff, cat!
ON SEAFOOD-FLAVORED FRISKIES
(Sound of Sadie opening a can of Friskies)
SADIE: There you go, Muffin.
(Silence)
SADIE: Come on, eat up. It’s chicken. You like chicken.
(Silence)
SADIE: Suddenly you don’t like chicken. Well, I’m not giving you a different flavor.
(Silence)
SADIE: Stare all you want. I won’t cave.
(Silence)
SADIE: Fine.
(Sound of Sadie opening a second can of Friskies)
MUFFIN: Works every time.
ON THREATS
My chief mission is to protect my kitten, Sadie. Danger lurks in every room. So far, I have subdued a brown paper bag in the living room by repeatedly diving inside, rustling about, and charging out. In the kitchen, I conquered a balled-up bit of foil by ignoring it for a full minute and then pouncing. It is now in the abyss beneath the refrigerator. Nothing ever returns from that dark place. I also ferreted out a cup of tea that tried to hide on the counter. Then Gran tagged in and finished the job, dispatching the remains before they could reassemble for a counterattack.
To date, only one enemy has eluded me. The mysterious red dot appeared out of nowhere and darted about Sadie’s room at random. It survived multiple direct paw hits, then vanished. It escaped this time, but be warned, dot…I will not fail again.
