The Red Pyramid

by Rick Riordan

  “Why is that?” Carter asked. “I mean, no offense, but Thoth is the god of knowledge, right?”

  “Baboons are very wise animals,” Bast said.

  “Agh!” Khufu picked his nose, then turned his Technicolor bum our direction. He threw his friends the ball. They began to fight over it, showing one another their fangs and slapping their heads.

  “Wise?” I asked.

  “Well, they’re not cats, mind you,” Bast added. “But, yes, wise. Khufu says that as soon as Carter keeps his promise, he’ll take you to the professor.”

  I blinked. “The prof— Oh, you mean...right.”

  “What promise?” Carter asked.

  The corner of Bast’s mouth twitched. “Apparently, you promised to show him your basketball skills.”

  Carter’s eyes widened in alarm. “We don’t have time!”

  “Oh, it’s fine,” Bast promised. “It’s best that I go now.”

  “But where, Bast?” I asked, as I wasn’t anxious to be separated from her again. “How will we find you?”

  The look in her eyes changed to something like guilt, as if she’d just caused a horrible accident. “I’ll find you when you get out, if you get out....”

  “What do you mean if?” Carter asked, but Bast had already turned into Muffin and raced off.

  Khufu barked at Carter most insistently. He tugged his hand, pulling him onto the court. The baboons immediately broke into two teams. Half took off their jerseys. Half left them on. Carter, sadly, was on the no-jersey team, and Khufu helped him pull his shirt off, exposing his bony chest. The teams began to play.

  Now, I know nothing about basketball. But I’m fairly sure one isn’t supposed to trip over one’s shoes, or catch a pass with one’s forehead, or dribble (is that the word?) with both hands as if petting a possibly rabid dog. But that is exactly the way Carter played. The baboons simply ran him over, quite literally. They scored basket after basket as Carter staggered back and forth, getting hit with the ball whenever it came close to him, tripping over monkey limbs until he was so dizzy he turned in a circle and fell over. The baboons stopped playing and watched him in disbelief. Carter lay in the middle of the court, covered in sweat and panting. The other baboons looked at Khufu. It was quite obvious what they were thinking: Who invited this human? Khufu covered his eyes in shame.

  “Carter,” I said with glee, “all that talk about basketball and the Lakers, and you’re absolute rubbish! Beaten by monkeys!”

  He groaned miserably. “It was...it was Dad’s favorite game.”

  I stared at him. Dad’s favorite game. God, why hadn’t that occurred to me?

  Apparently he took my gobsmacked expression as further criticism.

  “I...I can tell you any NBA stat you want,” he said a bit desperately. “Rebounds, assists, free throw percentages.”

  The other baboons went back to their game, ignoring Carter and Khufu both. Khufu let out a disgusted noise, half gag and half bark.

  I understood the sentiment, but I came forward and offered Carter my hand. “Come on, then. It doesn’t matter.”

  “If I had better shoes,” he suggested. “Or if I wasn’t so tired—”

  “Carter,” I said with a smirk. “It doesn’t matter. And I’ll not breathe a word to Dad when we save him.”

  He looked at me with obvious gratitude. (Well, I am rather wonderful, after all.) Then he took my hand, and I hoisted him up.

  “Now for god’s sake, put on your shirt,” I said. “And Khufu, it’s time you took us to the professor.”

  Khufu led us into a deserted science building. The air in the hallways smelled of vinegar, and the empty classroom labs looked like something from an American high school, not the sort of place a god would hang out. We climbed the stairs and found a row of professors’ offices. Most of the doors were closed. One had been left open, revealing a space no bigger than a broom closet stuffed with books, a tiny desk, and one chair. I wondered if that professor had done something bad to get such a small office.

  “Agh!” Khufu stopped in front of a polished mahogany door, much nicer than the others. A newly stenciled name glistened on the glass: Dr. Thoth.

  Without knocking, Khufu opened the door and waddled inside.

  “After you, chicken man,” I said to Carter. (And yes, I’m sure he was regretting telling me about that particular incident. After all, I couldn’t completely stop teasing him. I have a reputation to maintain.)

  I expected another broom closet. Instead, the office was impossibly big.

  The ceiling rose at least ten meters, with one side of the office all windows, looking out over the Memphis skyline. Metal stairs led up to a loft dominated by an enormous telescope, and from somewhere up there came the sound of an electric guitar being strummed quite badly. The other walls of the office were crammed with bookshelves. Worktables overflowed with weird bits and bobs—chemistry sets, half-assembled computers, stuffed animals with electrical wires sticking out of their heads. The room smelled strongly of cooked beef, but with a smokier, tangier scent than I’d ever smelled.

  Strangest of all, right in front of us, half a dozen longnecked birds—ibises—sat behind desks like receptionists, typing on laptop computers with their beaks.

  Carter and I looked at each other. For once I was at a loss for words.

  “Agh!” Khufu called out.

  Up in the loft, the strumming stopped. A lanky man in his twenties stood up, electric guitar in hand. He had an unruly mane of blond hair like Khufu’s, and he wore a stained white lab coat over faded jeans and a black T-shirt. At first I thought blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth. Then I realized it was some sort of meat sauce.

  “Fascinating.” He broke into a wide grin. “I’ve discovered something, Khufu. This is not Memphis, Egypt.”

  Khufu gave me a sideways look, and I could swear his expression meant, Duh.

  “I’ve also discovered a new form of magic called blues music,” the man continued. “And barbecue. Yes, you must try barbecue.”

  Khufu looked unimpressed. He climbed to the top of a bookshelf, grabbed a box of Cheerios, and began to munch.

  The guitar man slid down the banister with perfect balance and landed in front of us. “Isis and Horus,” he said. “I see you’ve found new bodies.”

  His eyes were a dozen colors, shifting like a kaleidoscope, with hypnotic effect.

  I managed to stutter, “Um, we’re not—”

  “Oh, I see,” he said. “Trying to share the body, eh? Don’t think I’m fooled for a minute, Isis. I know you’re in charge.”

  “But she’s not!” I protested. “My name is Sadie Kane. I assume you’re Thoth?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You claim not to know me? Of course I’m Thoth. Also called Djehuti. Also called—”

  I stifled a laugh. “Ja-hooty?”

  Thoth looked offended. “In Ancient Egyptian, it’s a perfectly fine name. The Greeks called me Thoth. Then later they confused me with their god Hermes. Even had the nerve to rename my sacred city Hermopolis, though we’re nothing alike. Believe me, if you’ve ever met Hermes—”

  “Agh!” Khufu yelled through a mouthful of Cheerios.

  “You’re right,” Thoth agreed. “I’m getting off track. So you claim to be Sadie Kane. And...” He swung a finger toward Carter, who was watching the ibises type on their laptops. “I suppose you’re not Horus.”

  “Carter Kane,” said Carter, still distracted by the ibises’ screens. “What is that?”

  Thoth brightened. “Yes, they’re called computers. Marvelous, aren’t they? Apparently—”

  “No, I mean what are the birds typing?” Carter squinted and read from the screen. “‘A Short Treatise on the Evolution of Yaks’?”

  “My scholarly essays,” Thoth explained. “I try to keep several projects going at once. For instance, did you know this university does not offer majors in astrology or leechcraft? Shocking! I intend to change that. I’m renovating new headquarters right
now down by the river. Soon Memphis will be a true center of learning!”

  “That’s brilliant,” I said halfheartedly. “We need help defeating Set.”

  The ibises stopped typing and stared at me.

  Thoth wiped the barbecue sauce off his mouth. “You have the nerve to ask this after last time?”

  “Last time?” I repeated.

  “I have the account here somewhere....” Thoth patted the pockets of his lab coat. He pulled out a rumpled piece of paper and read it. “No, grocery list.”

  He tossed it over his shoulder. As soon as the paper hit the floor, it became a loaf of wheat bread, a jug of milk, and a six-pack of Mountain Dew.

  Thoth checked his sleeves. I realized the stains on his coat were smeared words, printed in every language. The stains moved and changed, forming hieroglyphs, English letters, Demotic symbols. He brushed a stain off his lapel and seven letters fluttered to the floor, forming a word: crawdad. The word morphed into a slimy crustacean, like a shrimp, which wiggled its legs for only a moment before an ibis snapped it up.

  “Ah, never mind,” Thoth said at last. “I’ll just tell you the short version: To avenge his father, Osiris, Horus challenged Set to a duel. The winner would become king of the gods.”

  “Horus won,” Carter said.

  “You do remember!”

  “No, I read about it.”

  “And do you remember that without my help, Isis and you both would’ve died? Oh, I tried to mediate a solution to prevent the battle. That is one of my jobs, you know: to keep balance between order and chaos. But no-o-o, Isis convinced me to help your side because Set was getting too powerful. And the battle almost destroyed the world.”

  He complains too much, Isis said inside my head. It wasn’t so bad.

  “No?” Thoth demanded, and I got the feeling he could hear her voice as well as I could. “Set stabbed out Horus’s eye.”

  “Ouch.” Carter blinked.

  “Yes, and I replaced it with a new eye made of moonlight. The Eye of Horus—your famous symbol. That was me, thank you very much. And when you cut off Isis’s head—”

  “Hold up.” Carter glanced at me. “I cut off her head?”

  I got better, Isis assured me.

  “Only because I healed you, Isis!” Thoth said. “And yes, Carter, Horus, whatever you call yourself, you were so mad, you cut off her head. You were reckless, you see—about to charge Set while you were still weak, and Isis tried to stop you. That made you so angry you took your sword— Well, the point is, you almost destroyed each other before you could defeat Set. If you start another fight with the Red Lord, beware. He will use chaos to turn you against each other.”

  We’ll defeat him again, Isis promised. Thoth is just jealous.

  “Shut up,” Thoth and I said at the same time.

  He looked at me with surprise. “So, Sadie...you are trying to stay in control. It won’t last. You may be blood of the pharaohs, but Isis is a deceptive, power-hungry—”

  “I can contain her,” I said, and I had to use all my will to keep Isis from blurting out a string of insults.

  Thoth fingered the frets of his guitar. “Don’t be so sure. Isis probably told you she helped defeat Set. Did she also tell you she was the reason Set got out of control in the first place? She exiled our first king.”

  “You mean Ra?” Carter said. “Didn’t he get old and decide to leave the earth?”

  Thoth snorted. “He was old, yes, but he was forced to leave. Isis got tired of waiting for him to retire. She wanted her husband, Osiris, to become king. She also wanted more power. So one day, while Ra was napping, Isis secretly collected a bit of the sun god’s drool.”

  “Eww,” I said. “Since when does drool make you powerful?”

  Thoth scowled at me accusingly. “You mixed the spit with clay to create a poisonous snake. That night, the serpent slipped into Ra’s bedroom and bit him on the ankle. No amount of magic, even mine, could heal him. He would’ve died—”

  “Gods can die?” Carter asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Thoth said. “Of course most of the time we rise again from the Duat—eventually. But this poison ate away at Ra’s very being. Isis, of course, acted innocent. She cried to see Ra in pain. She tried to help with her magic. Finally she told Ra there was only one way to save him: Ra must tell her his secret name.”

  “Secret name?” I asked. “Like Bruce Wayne?”

  “Everything in Creation has a secret name,” Thoth said. “Even gods. To know a being’s secret name is to have power over that creature. Isis promised that with Ra’s secret name, she could heal him. Ra was in so much pain, he agreed. And Isis healed him.”

  “But it gave her power over him,” Carter guessed.

  “Extreme power,” Thoth agreed. “She forced Ra to retreat into the heavens, opening the way for her beloved, Osiris, to become the new king of the gods. Set had been an important lieutenant to Ra, but he could not bear to see his brother Osiris become king. This made Set and Osiris enemies, and here we are five millennia later, still fighting that war, all because of Isis.”

  “But that’s not my fault!” I said. “I would never do something like that.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” Thoth asked. “Wouldn’t you do anything to save your family, even if it upset the balance of the cosmos?”

  His kaleidoscope eyes locked on mine, and I felt a surge of defiance. Well, why shouldn’t I help my family? Who was this nutter in a lab coat telling me what I could and couldn’t do?

  Then I realized I didn’t know who was thinking that: Isis or me. Panic started building in my chest. If I couldn’t tell my own thoughts from those of Isis, how long before I went completely mad?

  “No, Thoth,” I croaked. “You have to believe me. I’m in control—me, Sadie—and I need your help. Set has our father.”

  I let it spill out, then—everything from the British Museum to Carter’s vision of the red pyramid. Thoth listened without comment, but I could swear new stains developed on his lab coat as I talked, as if some of my words were being added to the mix.

  “Just look at something for us,” I finished. “Carter, hand him the book.”

  Carter rummaged through his bag and brought out the book we’d stolen in Paris. “You wrote this, right?” he said. “It tells how to defeat Set.”

  Thoth unfolded the papyrus pages. “Oh, dear. I hate reading my old work. Look at this sentence. I’d never write it that way now.” He patted his lab coat pockets. “Red pen—does anyone have one?”

  Isis chafed against my willpower, insisting that we blast some sense into Thoth. One fireball, she pleaded. Just one enormous magical fireball, please?

  I can’t say I wasn’t tempted, but I kept her under control.

  “Look, Thoth,” I said. “Ja-hooty, whatever. Set is about to destroy North America at the very least, possibly the world. Millions of people will die. You said you care about balance. Will you help us or not?”

  For a moment, the only sounds were ibis beaks tapping on keyboards.

  “You are in trouble,” Thoth agreed. “So let me ask, why do you think your father put you in this position? Why did he release the gods?”

  I almost said, To bring back Mum. But I didn’t believe that anymore.

  “My mum saw the future,” I guessed. “Something bad was coming. I think she and Dad were trying to stop it. They thought the only way was to release the gods.”

  “Even though using the power of the gods is incredibly dangerous for mortals,” Thoth pressed, “and against the law of the House of Life—a law that I convinced Iskandar to make, by the way.”

  I remembered something the old Chief Lector had told me in the Hall of Ages. “Gods have great power, but only humans have creativity.” “I think my mum convinced Iskandar that the rule was wrong. Maybe he couldn’t admit it publicly, but she made him change his mind. Whatever is coming—it’s so bad, gods and mortals are going to need each other.”

  “And what is coming?” Thoth asked
. “The rise of Set?” His tone was coy, like a teacher trying a trick question.

  “Maybe,” I said carefully, “but I don’t know.”

  Up on the bookshelf, Khufu belched. He bared his fangs in a messy grin.

  “You have a point, Khufu,” Thoth mused. “She does not sound like Isis. Isis would never admit she doesn’t know something.”

  I had to clamp a mental hand over Isis’s mouth.

  Thoth tossed the book back to Carter. “Let’s see if you act as well as you talk. I will explain the spell book, provided you prove to me that you truly have control of your gods, that you’re not simply repeating the same old patterns.”

  “A test?” Carter said. “We accept.”

  “Now, hang on,” I protested. Maybe being homeschooled, Carter didn’t realize that “test” is normally a bad thing.

  “Wonderful,” Thoth said. “There is an item of power I require from a magician’s tomb. Bring it to me.”

  “Which magician’s tomb?” I asked.

  But Thoth took a piece of chalk from his lab coat and scribbled something in the air. A doorway opened in front of him.

  “How did you do that?” I asked. “Bast said we can’t summon portals during the Demon Days.”

  “Mortals can’t,” Thoth agreed. “But a god of magic can. If you succeed, we’ll have barbecue.”

  The doorway pulled us into a black void, and Thoth’s office disappeared.

  S A D I E

  24. I Blow Up Some Blue Suede Shoes

  “WHERE ARE WE?” I ASKED.

  We stood on a deserted avenue outside the gates of a large estate. We still seemed to be in Memphis—at least the trees, the weather, the afternoon light were all the same.

  The estate must’ve been several acres at least. The white metal gates were done in fancy designs of silhouetted guitar players and musical notes. Beyond them, the driveway curved through the trees up to a two-story house with a white-columned portico.

  “Oh, no,” Carter said. “I recognize those gates.”

  “What? Why?”