by Rick Riordan
It was hard to tell in the dark, but I could swear he blushed. “You don’t understand. The feather cannot abide the smallest lie. If I gave it to you, and you spoke a single untruth while you carried it, or acted in a way that was not truthful, you would burn to ashes.”
“You’re assuming I’m a liar.”
He blinked. “No, I simply—”
“You’ve never told a lie? What were you about to say just now—about Set? He’s your father, I’m guessing. Is that it?”
Anubis closed his mouth, then opened it again. He looked as if he wanted to get angry but couldn’t quite remember how. “Are you always this infuriating?”
“Usually more,” I admitted.
“Why hasn’t your family married you off to someone far, far away?”
He asked as if it were an honest question, and now it was my turn to be flabbergasted. “Excuse me, death boy! But I’m twelve! Well...almost thirteen, and a very mature almost thirteen, but that’s not the point. We don’t ‘marry off’ girls in my family, and you may know everything about funerals, but apparently you aren’t very up to speed on courtship rituals!”
Anubis looked mystified. “Apparently not.”
“Right! Wait—what were we talking about? Oh, thought you could distract me, eh? I remember. Set’s your father, yes? Tell the truth.”
Anubis gazed across the graveyard. The sound of the jazz funeral was fading into the streets of the French Quarter.
“Yes,” he said. “At least, that’s what the legends say. I’ve never met him. My mother, Nephthys, gave me to Osiris when I was a child.”
“She...gave you away?”
“She said she didn’t want me to know my father. But in truth, I’m not sure she knew what to do with me. I wasn’t like my cousin Horus. I wasn’t a warrior. I was a...different child.”
He sounded so bitter, I didn’t know what to say. I mean, I’d asked for the truth, but usually you don’t actually get it, especially from guys. I also knew something about being the different child—and feeling like my parents had given me away.
“Maybe your mum was trying to protect you,” I said. “Your dad being Lord of Evil, and all.”
“Maybe,” he said halfheartedly. “Osiris took me under his wing. He made me the Lord of Funerals, the Keeper of the Ways of Death. It’s a good job, but...you asked how old I am. The truth is I don’t know. Years don’t pass in the Land of the Dead. I still feel quite young, but the world has gotten old around me. And Osiris has been gone so long...He’s the only family I had.”
Looking at Anubis in the dim light of the graveyard, I saw a lonely teenage guy. I tried to remind myself that he was a god, thousands of years old, probably able to control vast powers well beyond magic toilet paper, but I still felt sorry for him.
“Help us rescue my dad,” I said. “We’ll send Set back to the Duat, and Osiris will be free. We’ll all be happy.”
Anubis shook his head again. “I told you—”
“Your scales are broken,” I noticed. “That’s because Osiris isn’t here, I’m guessing. What happens to all the souls that come for judgment?”
I knew I’d hit a nerve. Anubis shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “It increases chaos. The souls become confused. Some cannot go to the afterlife. Some manage, but they must find other ways. I try to help, but...the Hall of Judgment is also called the Hall of Ma’at. It is meant to be the center of order, a stable foundation. Without Osiris, it is falling into disrepair, crumbling.”
“Then what are you waiting for? Give us the feather. Unless you’re afraid your dad will ground you.”
His eyes flashed with irritation. For a moment I thought he was planning my funeral, but he simply sighed in exasperation. “I do a ceremony called the opening of the mouth. It lets the soul of the dead person come forth. For you, Sadie Kane, I would invent a new ceremony: the closing of the mouth.”
“Ha, ha. Are you going to give me the feather or not?”
He opened his hand. There was a burst of light, and a glowing feather floated above his palm—a snowy plume like a writing quill. “For Osiris’s sake—but I will insist on several conditions. First, only you may handle it.”
“Well, of course. You don’t think I’d let Carter—”
“Also, you must listen to my mother, Nephthys. Khufu told me you were looking for her. If you manage to find her, listen to her.”
“Easy,” I said, though the request did leave me strangely uncomfortable. Why would Anubis ask something like that?
“And before you go,” Anubis continued, “you must answer three questions for me as you hold the feather of truth, to prove that you are honest.”
My mouth suddenly felt dry. “Um...what sort of questions?”
“Any that I want. And remember, the slightest lie will destroy you.”
“Give me the bloody feather.”
As he handed it to me, the feather stopped glowing, but it felt warmer and heavier than a feather should.
“It’s the tail feather from a bennu,” Anubis explained, “what you’d call a phoenix. It weighs exactly the same as a human soul. Are you ready?”
“No,” I said, which must’ve been truthful, as I didn’t burn up. “Does that count as one question?”
Anubis actually smiled, which was quite dazzling. “I suppose it does. You bargain like a Phoenician sea trader, Sadie Kane. Second question, then: Would you give your life for your brother?”
“Yes,” I said immediately.
(I know. It surprised me too. But holding the feather forced me to be truthful. Obviously it didn’t make me any wiser.)
Anubis nodded, apparently not surprised. “Final question: If it means saving the world, are you prepared to lose your father?”
“That’s not a fair question!”
“Answer it honestly.”
How could I answer something like that? It wasn’t a simple yes/no.
Of course I knew the “right” answer. The heroine is supposed to refuse to sacrifice her father. Then she boldly goes off and saves her dad and the world, right? But what if it really was one or the other? The whole world was an awfully large place: Gran and Gramps, Carter, Uncle Amos, Bast, Khufu, Liz and Emma, everyone I’d ever known. What would my dad say if I chose him instead?
“If...if there really was no other way,” I said, “no other way at all— Oh, come off. It’s a ridiculous question.”
The feather began to glow.
“All right,” I relented. “If I had to, then I suppose...I suppose I would save the world.”
Horrible guilt crushed down on me. What kind of daughter was I? I clutched the tyet amulet on my necklace—my one remembrance of Dad. I know some of you lot will be thinking: You hardly ever saw your dad. You barely knew him. Why would you care so much?
But that didn’t make him any less my dad, did it? Or the thought of losing him forever any less horrible. And the thought of failing him, of willingly choosing to let him die even to save the world—what sort of awful person was I?
I could barely meet Anubis’s eyes, but when I did, his expression softened.
“I believe you, Sadie.”
“Oh, really. I’m holding the bloody feather of truth, and you believe me. Well, thanks.”
“The truth is harsh,” Anubis said. “Spirits come to the Hall of Judgment all the time, and they cannot let go of their lies. They deny their faults, their true feelings, their mistakes...right up until Ammit devours their souls for eternity. It takes strength and courage to admit the truth.”
“Yeah. I feel so strong and courageous. Thanks.”
Anubis stood. “I should leave you now. You’re running out of time. In just over twenty-four hours, the sun will rise on Set’s birthday, and he will complete his pyramid—unless you stop him. Perhaps when next we meet—”
“You’ll be just as annoying?” I guessed.
He fixed me with those warm brown eyes. “Or perhaps you could bring me up to speed on modern courtship rituals.”
/>
I sat there stunned until he gave me a glimpse of a smile—just enough to let me know he was teasing. Then he disappeared.
“Oh, very funny!” I yelled. The scales and the throne vanished. The linen bench unraveled and dumped me in the middle of the graveyard. Carter and Khufu appeared next to me, but I just kept yelling at the spot where Anubis had stood, calling him some choice names.
“What’s going on?” Carter demanded. “Where are we?”
“He’s horrible!” I growled. “Self-important, sarcastic, incredibly hot, insufferable—”
“Agh!” Khufu complained.
“Yeah,” Carter agreed. “Did you get the feather or not?”
I held out my hand, and there it was—a glowing white plume floating above my fingers. I closed my fist and it disappeared again.
“Whoa,” Carter said. “But what about Anubis? How did you—”
“Let’s find Bast and get out of here,” I interrupted. “We’ve got work to do.”
And I marched out of the graveyard before he could ask me more questions, because I was in no mood to tell the truth.
C A R T E R
29. Zia Sets a Rendezvous
[Yeah, thanks a lot, Sadie. You get to tell the part about the Land of the Dead. I get to describe Interstate 10 through Texas.]
Long story short: It took forever and was totally boring, unless your idea of fun is watching cows graze.
We left New Orleans about 1 a.m. on December twenty-eighth, the day before Set planned to destroy the world. Bast had “borrowed” an RV—a FEMA leftover from Hurricane Katrina. At first Bast suggested taking a plane, but after I told her about my dream of the magicians on the exploding flight, we agreed planes might not be a good idea. The sky goddess Nut had promised us safe air travel as far as Memphis, but I didn’t want to press our luck the closer we got to Set.
“Set is not our only problem,” Bast said. “If your vision is correct, the magicians are closing in on us. And not just any magicians—Desjardins himself.”
“And Zia,” Sadie put in, just to annoy me.
In the end, we decided it was safer to drive, even though it was slower. With luck, we’d make Phoenix just in time to challenge Set. As for the House of Life, all we could do was hope to avoid them while we did our job. Maybe once we dealt with Set, the magicians would decide we were cool. Maybe...
I kept thinking about Desjardins, wondering if he really could be a host for Set. A day ago, it had made perfect sense. Desjardins wanted to crush the Kane family. He’d hated our dad, and he hated us. He’d probably been waiting for decades, even centuries, for Iskandar to die, so he could become Chief Lector. Power, anger, arrogance, ambition: Desjardins had it all. If Set was looking for a soulmate, literally, he couldn’t do much better. And if Set could start a war between the gods and magicians by controlling the Chief Lector, the only winner would be the forces of chaos. Besides, Desjardins was an easy guy to hate. Somebody had sabotaged Amos’s house and alerted Set that Amos was coming.
But the way Desjardins saved all those people on the plane—that just didn’t seem like something the Lord of Evil would do.
Bast and Khufu took turns driving while Sadie and I dozed off and on. I didn’t know baboons could drive recreational vehicles, but Khufu did okay. When I woke up around dawn, he was navigating through early morning rush hour in Houston, baring his fangs and barking a lot, and none of the other drivers seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.
For breakfast, Sadie, Bast, and I sat in the RV’s kitchen while the cabinets banged open and the dishes clinked and miles and miles of nothing went by outside. Bast had snagged us some snacks and drinks (and Friskies, of course) from a New Orleans all-night convenience store before we left, but nobody seemed very hungry. I could tell Bast was anxious. She’d already shredded most of the RV’s upholstery, and was now using the kitchen table as a scratching post.
As for Sadie, she kept opening and closing her hand, staring at the feather of truth as if it were a phone she wished would ring. Ever since her disappearance in the Hall of Judgment, she’d been acting all distant and quiet. Not that I’m complaining, but it wasn’t like her.
“What happened with Anubis?” I asked her for the millionth time.
She glared at me, ready to bite my head off. Then she apparently decided I wasn’t worth the effort. She fixed her eyes on the glowing feather that hovered over her palm.
“We talked,” she said carefully. “He asked me some questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Carter, don’t ask. Please.”
Please? Okay, that really wasn’t like Sadie.
I looked at Bast, but she wasn’t any help. She was slowly gouging the Formica to bits with her claws.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
She kept her eyes on the table. “In the Land of the Dead, I abandoned you. Again.”
“Anubis startled you,” I said. “It’s no big deal.”
Bast gave me the big yellow eyes, and I got the feeling I’d only made things worse.
“I made a promise to your father, Carter. In exchange for my freedom, he gave me a job even more important than fighting the Serpent: protecting Sadie—and if it ever became necessary, protecting both of you.”
Sadie flushed. “Bast, that’s...I mean, thank you and all, but we’re hardly more important than fighting...you know, him.”
“You don’t understand,” Bast said. “The two of you are not just blood of the pharaohs. You’re the most powerful royal children to be born in centuries. You’re the only chance we have of reconciling the gods and the House of Life, of relearning the old ways before it’s too late. If you could learn the path of the gods, you could find others with royal blood and teach them. You could revitalize the House of Life. What your parents did—everything they did, was to prepare the way for you.”
Sadie and I were silent. I mean, what do you say to something like that? I guessed I’d always felt like my parents loved me, but willing to die for me? Believing it was necessary so Sadie and I could do some amazing world-saving stuff? I didn’t ask for that.
“They didn’t want to leave you alone,” Bast said, reading my expression. “They didn’t plan on it, but they knew releasing the gods would be dangerous. Believe me, they understood how special you are. At first I was protecting you two because I promised. Now even if I hadn’t promised, I would. You two are like kittens to me. I won’t fail you again.”
I’ll admit I got a lump in my throat. I’d never been called someone’s kitten before.
Sadie sniffled. She brushed something from under her eye. “You’re not going to wash us, are you?”
It was good to see Bast smile again. “I’ll try to resist. And by the way, Sadie, I’m proud of you. Dealing with Anubis on your own—those death gods can be nasty customers.”
Sadie shrugged. She seemed strangely uncomfortable. “Well, I wouldn’t call him nasty. I mean, he looked hardly more than a teenager.”
“What are you talking about?” I said. “He had the head of a jackal.”
“No, when he turned human.”
“Sadie...” I was starting to get worried about her now. “When Anubis turned human he still had the head of a jackal. He was huge and terrifying and, yeah, pretty nasty. Why, what did he look like to you?”
Her cheeks reddened. “He looked...like a mortal guy.”
“Probably a glamour,” Bast said.
“No,” Sadie insisted. “It couldn’t have been.”
“Well, it’s not important,” I said. “We got the feather.”
Sadie fidgeted, as if it was very important. But then she closed her fist, and the feather of truth disappeared. “It won’t do us any good without the secret name of Set.”
“I’m working on that.” Bast’s gaze shifted around the room—she seemed afraid of being overheard. “I’ve got a plan. But it’s dangerous.”
I sat forward. “What is it?”
“We’ll hav
e to make a stop. I’d rather not jinx us until we get closer, but it’s on our way. Shouldn’t cause much of a delay.”
I tried to calculate. “This is the morning of the second Demon Day?”
Bast nodded. “The day Horus was born.”
“And Set’s birthday is tomorrow, the third Demon Day. That means we have about twenty-four hours until he destroys North America.”
“And if he gets his hands on us,” Sadie added, “he’ll ramp up his power even more.”
“It’ll be enough time,” Bast said. “It’s roughly twenty-four hours driving from New Orleans to Phoenix, and we’ve already been on the road over five hours. If we don’t have any more nasty surprises—”
“Like the kind we have every day?”
“Yes,” Bast admitted. “Like those.”
I took a shaky breath. Twenty-four hours and it would be over, one way or the other. We’d save Dad and stop Set, or everything would’ve been for nothing—not just what Sadie and I had done, but all our parents’ sacrifices too. Suddenly I felt like I was underground again, in one of those tunnels in the First Nome, with a million tons of rock over my head. One little shift in the ground, and everything would come crashing down.
“Well,” I said. “If you need me, I’ll be outside, playing with sharp objects.”
I grabbed my sword and headed for the back of the RV.
I’d never seen a mobile home with a porch before. The sign on the back door warned me not to use it while the vehicle was in motion, but I did anyway.
It wasn’t the best place to practice swordplay. It was too small, and two chairs took up most of the space. The cold wind whipped around me, and every bump in the road threw me off balance. But it was the only place I could go to be alone. I needed to clear my thoughts.
I practiced summoning my sword from the Duat and putting it back. Soon I could do it almost every time, as long as I kept my focus. Then I practiced some moves—blocks, jabs, and strikes—until Horus couldn’t resist offering his advice.
