The Red Pyramid

by Rick Riordan

  “Then I don’t suppose you could collapse Set’s mountain and destroy his pyramid?” I asked.

  Geb’s laughter was like the world’s largest sand shaker. “I cannot intervene so directly between my children. Set is my son too.”

  I almost stamped my foot in frustration. Then I remembered I was giant and might smash the whole camp. Could a ba do that? Better not to find out. “Well, your favors aren’t very useful, then.”

  Geb shrugged, sloughing off a few tons of sand from his shoulders. “Perhaps some advice to help you achieve what you desire. Go to the place of the crosses.”

  “And where is that?”

  “Close,” he promised. “And, Sadie Kane, you are right. You have lost too much. Your family has suffered. I know what that is like. Just remember, a parent would do anything to save his children. I gave up my happiness, my wife—I took on the curse of Ra so that my children could be born.” He looked up at the sky wistfully. “And while I miss my beloved more each millennium, I know neither of us would change our choice. I have five children whom I love.”

  “Even Set?” I asked incredulously. “He’s about to destroy millions of people.”

  “Set is more than he appears,” Geb said. “He is our flesh and blood.”

  “Not mine.”

  “No?” Geb shifted, lowering himself. I thought he was crouching, until I realized he was melting into the dunes. “Think on it, Sadie Kane, and proceed with care. Danger awaits you at the place of crosses, but you will also find what you need most.”

  “Could you be a little more vague?” I grumbled.

  But Geb was gone, leaving only a taller than normal dune in the sands; and my ba sank back into my body.

  S A D I E

  32. The Place of Crosses

  I WOKE WITH MUFFIN SNUGGLED on my head, purring and chewing my hair. For a moment, I thought I was home. I used to wake with Muffin on my head all the time. Then I remembered I had no home, and Bast was gone. My eyes started tearing up again.

  No, Isis’s voice chided. We must stay focused.

  For once, the goddess was right. I sat up and brushed the white sand off my face. Muffin meowed in protest, then waddled two steps and decided she could settle for my warm place on the blanket.

  “Good, you’re up,” Amos said. “We were about to wake you.”

  It was still dark. Carter stood on the deck of the boat, pulling on a new linen coat from Amos’s supply locker. Khufu loped over to me and made a purring sound at the cat. To my surprise, Muffin leaped into his arms.

  “I’ve asked Khufu to take the cat back to Brooklyn,” Amos said. “This is no place for her.”

  Khufu grunted, clearly unhappy with his assignment.

  “I know, my old friend,” Amos said. His voice had a hard edge; he seemed to be asserting himself as the alpha baboon. “It is for the best.”

  “Agh,” Khufu said, not meeting Amos’s eyes.

  Unease crept over me. I remembered what Amos said: that his release might have been a trick of Set’s. And Carter’s vision: Set was hoping that Amos would lead us to the mountain so we could be captured. What if Set was influencing Amos somehow? I didn’t like the idea of sending Khufu away.

  On the other hand, I didn’t see much choice but to accept Amos’s help. And seeing Khufu there, holding Muffin, I couldn’t bear the idea of putting either of them in danger. Maybe Amos had a point.

  “Can he travel safely?” I asked. “Out here all by himself?”

  “Oh, yes,” Amos promised. “Khufu—and all baboons—have their own brand of magic. He’ll be fine. And just in case...”

  He brought out a wax figurine of a crocodile. “This will help if the need arises.”

  I coughed. “A crocodile? After what we just—”

  “It’s Philip of Macedonia,” Amos explained.

  “Philip is wax?”

  “Of course,” Amos said. “Real crocodiles are much too difficult to keep. And I did tell you he’s magic.”

  Amos tossed the figurine to Khufu, who sniffed it, then stuffed it into a pouch with his cooking supplies. Khufu gave me one last nervous look, glanced fearfully at Amos, then ambled over the dune with his bag in one arm and Muffin in the other.

  I didn’t see how they would survive out here, magic or no. I waited for Khufu to appear on the crest of the next dune, but he never did. He simply vanished.

  “Now, then,” Amos said. “From what Carter has told me, Set means to unleash his destruction tomorrow at sunrise. That gives us very little time. What Carter would not explain is how you plan to destroy Set.”

  I glanced at Carter and saw warning in his eyes. I understood immediately, and felt a flush of gratitude. Perhaps the boy wasn’t completely thick. He shared my concerns about Amos.

  “It’s best we keep that to ourselves,” I told Amos flatly. “You said so yourself. What if Set attached a magic listening device to you or something?”

  Amos’s jaw tightened. “You’re right,” he said grudgingly. “I can’t trust myself. It’s just...so frustrating.”

  He sounded truly anguished, which made me feel guilty. I was tempted to change my mind and tell him our plan, but one look at Carter and I kept my resolve.

  “We should head to Phoenix,” I said. “Perhaps along the way...”

  I slipped my hand into my pocket. Nut’s letter was gone. I wanted to tell Carter about my talk with the earth god, Geb, but I didn’t know if it was safe in front of Amos. Carter and I had been a team for so many days now, I realized that I resented Amos’s presence a little. I didn’t want to confide in anyone else. God, I can’t believe I just said that.

  Carter spoke up. “We should stop in Las Cruces.”

  I’m not sure who was more surprised: Amos or me.

  “That’s near here,” Amos said slowly. “But...” He picked up a handful of sand, murmured a spell, and threw the sand into the air. Instead of scattering, the grains floated and formed a wavering arrow, pointing southwest toward a line of rugged mountains that made a dark silhouette against the horizon.

  “As I thought,” Amos said, and the sand fell to the earth. “Las Cruces is out of our way by forty miles—over those mountains. Phoenix is northwest.”

  “Forty miles isn’t so bad,” I said. “Las Cruces...” The name seemed strangely familiar to me, but I couldn’t decide why. “Carter, why there?”

  “I just...” He looked so uncomfortable I knew it must have something to do with Zia. “I had a vision.”

  “A vision of loveliness?” I ventured.

  He looked like he was trying to swallow a golf ball, which confirmed my suspicions. “I just think we should go there,” he said. “We might find something important.”

  “Too risky,” Amos said. “I can’t allow it with the House of Life on your trail. We should stay in the wilderness, away from cities.”

  Then suddenly: click. My brain had one of those amazing moments when it actually works correctly.

  “No, Carter’s right,” I said. “We have to go there.”

  It was my brother’s turn to look surprised. “I am? We do?”

  “Yes.” I took the plunge and told them about my talk with Geb.

  Amos brushed some sand off his jacket. “That’s interesting, Sadie. But I don’t see how Las Cruces comes into play.”

  “Because it’s Spanish, isn’t it?” I said. “Las Cruces. The crosses. Just as Geb told me.”

  Amos hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Get in the boat.”

  “A bit short on water for a boat ride, aren’t we?” I asked.

  But I followed him on board. Amos took off his coat and uttered a magic word. Instantly, the coat came to life, drifted to the stern and grasped the tiller.

  Amos smiled at me, and some of that old twinkle came back into his eyes. “Who needs water?”

  The boat shuddered and lifted into the sky.

  If Amos ever got tired of being a magician, he could’ve gotten a job as a sky boat tour operator. The vista comin
g over the mountains was quite stunning.

  At first, the desert had seemed barren and ugly to me compared to the lush greens of England, but I was starting to appreciate that the desert had its own stark beauty, especially at night. The mountains rose like dark islands in a sea of lights. I’d never seen so many stars above us, and the dry wind smelled of sage and pine. Las Cruces spread out in the valley below—a glowing patchwork of streets and neighborhoods.

  As we got closer, I saw that most of the town was nothing very remarkable. It might’ve been Manchester or Swindon or any place, really, but Amos aimed our ship toward the south of the city, to an area that was obviously much older—with adobe buildings and tree-lined streets.

  As we descended, I began to get nervous.

  “Won’t they notice us in a flying boat?” I asked. “I mean, I know magic is hard to see, but—”

  “This is New Mexico,” Amos said. “They see UFOs here all the time.”

  And with that, we landed on the roof of a small church.

  It was like dropping back in time, or onto a Wild West film set. The town square was lined with stucco buildings like an Indian pueblo. The streets were brightly lit and crowded—it looked like a festival—with stall vendors selling strings of red peppers, Indian blankets, and other curios. An old stagecoach was parked next to a clump of cacti. In the plaza’s bandstand, men with large guitars and loud voices played mariachi music.

  “This is the historic area,” Amos said. “I believe they call it Mesilla.”

  “Have a lot of Egyptian stuff here, do they?” I asked dubiously.

  “Oh, the ancient cultures of Mexico have a lot in common with Egypt,” Amos said, retrieving his coat from the tiller. “But that’s a talk for another day.”

  “Thank god,” I muttered. Then I sniffed the air and smelled something strange but wonderful—like baking bread and melting butter, only spicer, yummier. “I—am—starving.”

  It didn’t take long, walking the plaza, to discover handmade tortillas. God, they were good. I suppose London has Mexican restaurants. We’ve got everything else. But I’d never been to one, and I doubt the tortillas would’ve tasted this heavenly. A large woman in a white dress rolled out balls of dough in her flour-caked hands, flattened and baked the tortillas on a hot skillet, and handed them to us on paper napkins. They didn’t need butter or jam or anything. They were so delicate, they just melted in my mouth. I made Amos pay for about a dozen, just for me.

  Carter was enjoying himself too until he tried the red-chili tamales at another booth. I thought his face would explode. “Hot!” he announced. “Drink!”

  “Eat more tortilla,” Amos advised, trying not to laugh. “Bread cuts the heat better than water.”

  I tried the tamales myself and found they were excellent, not nearly as hot as a good curry, so Carter was just being a wimp, as usual.

  Soon we’d eaten our fill and began wandering the streets, looking for...well, I wasn’t sure, exactly. Time was a-wasting. The sun was going down, and I knew this would be the last night for all of us unless we stopped Set, but I had no idea why Geb had sent me here. You will also find what you need most. What did that mean?

  I scanned the crowds and caught a glimpse of a tall young guy with dark hair. A thrill went up my spine—Anubis? What if he was following me, making sure I was safe? What if he was what I needed most?

  Wonderful thought, except it wasn’t Anubis. I scolded myself for thinking I could have luck that good. Besides, Carter had seen Anubis as a jackal-headed monster. Perhaps Anubis’s appearance with me was just a trick to befuddle my brain—a trick that worked quite well.

  I was daydreaming about that, and about whether or not they had tortillas in the Land of the Dead, when I locked eyes with a girl across the plaza.

  “Carter.” I grabbed his arm and nodded in the direction of Zia Rashid. “Someone’s here to see you.”

  Zia was ready for battle in her loose black linen clothes, staff and wand in hand. Her dark choppy hair was blown to one side like she’d flown here on a strong wind. Her amber eyes looked about as friendly as a jaguar’s.

  Behind her was a vendor’s table full of tourist souvenirs, and a poster that read: new mexico: land of enchantment. I doubted the vendor knew just how much enchantment was standing right in front of his merchandise.

  “You came,” Zia said, which seemed a bit on the obvious side. Was it my imagination, or was she looking at Amos with apprehension—even fear?

  “Yeah,” Carter said nervously. “You, uh, remember Sadie. And this is—”

  “Amos,” Zia said uneasily.

  Amos bowed. “Zia Rashid, it’s been several years. I see Iskandar sent his best.”

  Zia looked as if he’d smacked her in the face, and I realized Amos hadn’t heard the news.

  “Um, Amos,” I said. “Iskandar is dead.”

  He stared at us in disbelief as we told him the story.

  “I see,” he said at last. “Then the new Chief Lector is—”

  “Desjardins,” I said.

  “Ah. Bad news.”

  Zia frowned. Instead of addressing Amos, she turned to me. “Do not dismiss Desjardins. He’s very powerful. You’ll need his help—our help—to challenge Set.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you,” I said, “that Desjardins might be helping Set?”

  Zia glared at me. “Never. Others might. But not Desjardins.”

  Clearly she meant Amos. I suppose that should’ve made me even more suspicious of him, but instead I got angry.

  “You’re blind,” I told Zia. “Desjardins’ first order as Chief Lector was to have us killed. He’s trying to stop us, even though he knows Set is about to destroy the continent. And Desjardins was there that night at the British Museum. If Set needed a body—”

  The top of Zia’s staff burst into flame.

  Carter quickly moved between us. “Whoa, both of you just calm down. We’re here to talk.”

  “I am talking,” Zia said. “You need the House of Life on your side. You have to convince Desjardins you’re not a threat.”

  “By surrendering?” I asked. “No, thank you. I’d rather not be turned into a bug and squashed.”

  Amos cleared his throat. “I’m afraid Sadie is right. Unless Desjardins has changed since I last saw him, he is not a man who will listen to reason.”

  Zia fumed. “Carter, could we speak in private?”

  He shifted from foot to foot. “Look, Zia, I—I agree we need to work together. But if you’re going to try to convince me to surrender to the House—”

  “There’s something I must tell you,” she insisted. “Something you need to know.”

  The way she said that made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Could this be what Geb meant? Was it possible that Zia held the key to defeating Set?

  Suddenly Amos tensed. He pulled his staff out of thin air and said, “It’s a trap.”

  Zia looked stunned. “What? No!”

  Then we all saw what Amos had sensed. Marching towards us from the east end of the plaza was Desjardins himself. He wore cream-colored robes with the Chief Lector’s leopard-skin cape tied across his shoulders. His staff glowed purple. Tourists and pedestrians veered out of his way, confused and nervous, as if they weren’t sure what was going on but they knew enough to clear off.

  “Other way,” I urged.

  I turned and saw two more magicians in black robes marching in from the west.

  I pulled my wand and pointed it at Zia. “You set us up!”

  “No! I swear—” Her face fell. “Mel. Mel must’ve told him.”

  “Right,” I grumbled. “Blame Mel.”

  “No time for explanations,” Amos said, and he blasted Zia with a bolt of lightning. She crashed into the souvenir table.

  “Hey!” Carter protested.

  “She’s the enemy,” Amos said. “And we have enough enemies.”

  Carter rushed to Zia’s side (naturally) while more pedestrians panicked and scattered
for the edges of the square.

  “Sadie, Carter,” Amos said, “if things go bad, get to the boat and flee.”

  “Amos, we’re not leaving you,” I said.

  “You’re more important,” he insisted. “I can hold off Desjardins for— Look out!”

  Amos spun his staff towards the two magicians in black. They’d been muttering spells, but Amos’s gust of wind swept them off their feet, sending them swirling out of control at the center of a dust devil. They churned along the street, picking up trash, leaves, and tamales, until the miniature tornado tossed the screaming magicians over the top of a building and out of sight.

  On the other side of the plaza, Desjardins roared in anger: “Kane!”

  The Chief Lector slammed his staff into the ground. A crack opened in the pavement and began snaking towards us. As the crevice grew wider, the buildings trembled. Stucco flaked off the walls. The fissure would’ve swallowed us, but Isis’s voice spoke in my mind, telling me the word I needed.

  I raised my wand. “Quiet. Hah-ri.”

  Hieroglyphs blazed to life in front of us:

  The fissure stopped just short of my feet. The earthquake died.

  Amos sucked in a breath. “Sadie, how did you—”

  “Divine Words, Kane!” Desjardins stepped forward, his face livid. “The child dares speak the Divine Words. She is corrupted by Isis, and you are guilty of assisting the gods.”

  “Step off, Michel,” Amos warned.

  Part of me found it amusing that Desjardins’ first name was Michel, but I was too scared to enjoy the moment.

  Amos held out his wand, ready to defend us. “We must stop Set. If you’re wise—”

  “I would what?” Desjardins said. “Join you? Collaborate? The gods bring nothing but destruction.”

  “No!” Zia’s voice. With Carter’s help, she’d somehow managed to struggle to her feet. “Master, we can’t fight each other. That’s not what Iskandar wanted.”

  “Iskandar is dead!” Desjardins bellowed. “Now, step away from them, Zia, or be destroyed with them.”