The Complete Kane Chronicles (8 page)

I turned to Amos. “That was you. You were at Sadie’s party.”

“Vanilla icing,” he recalled. “Very tasty. But it was clear even then that you two would be difficult to raise in the same household.”

“And so…” I faltered. “What happens to us now?”

I didn’t want to admit it, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being separated from Sadie again. She wasn’t much, but she was all I had.

“You must be trained properly,” Amos said, “whether the House approves or not.”

“Why wouldn’t they approve?” I asked.

“I will explain everything, don’t worry. But we must start your lessons if we are to stand any chance of finding your father and putting things right. Otherwise the entire world is in danger. If we only knew where—”

“Phoenix,” I blurted out.

Amos stared at me. “What?”

“Last night I had…well, not a dream, exactly…” I felt stupid, but I told him what had happened while I slept.

Judging from Amos’s expression, the news was even worse than I thought.

“You’re
sure
he said ‘birthday present’?” he asked.

“Yeah, but what does that mean?”

“And a permanent host,” Amos said. “He didn’t have one yet?”

“Well, that’s what the rooster-footed guy said—”

“That was a demon,” Amos said. “A minion of chaos. And if demons are coming through to the mortal world, we don’t have much time. This is bad, very bad.”

“If you live in Phoenix,” I said.

“Carter, our enemy won’t stop in Phoenix. If he’s grown so powerful so fast… What did he say about the storm, exactly?”

“He said: ‘I will summon the greatest storm ever known.’”

Amos scowled. “The last time he said that, he created the Sahara. A storm that large could destroy North America, generating enough chaos energy to give him an almost invincible form.”

“What are you talking about? Who
is
this guy?”

Amos waved away the question. “More important right now: why didn’t you sleep with the headrest?”

I shrugged. “It was uncomfortable.” I looked at Sadie for support. “You didn’t use it, did you?”

Sadie rolled her eyes. “Well, of course I did. It was
obviously
there for a reason.”

Sometimes I really hate my sister. [Ow! That’s my foot!]

“Carter,” Amos said, “sleep is dangerous. It’s a doorway into the Duat.”

“Lovely,” Sadie grumbled. “Another strange word.”

“Ah…yes, sorry,” Amos said. “The Duat is the world of spirits and magic. It exists beneath the waking world like a vast ocean, with many layers and regions. We submerged just under its surface last night to reach New York, because travel through the Duat is much faster. Carter, your consciousness also passed through its shallowest currents as you slept, which is how you witnessed what happened in Phoenix. Fortunately, you survived that experience. But the deeper you go into the Duat, the more horrible things you encounter, and the more difficult it is to return. There are entire realms filled with demons, palaces where the gods exist in their pure forms, so powerful their mere presence would burn a human to ashes. There are prisons that hold beings of unspeakable evil, and some chasms so deep and chaotic that not even the gods dare explore them. Now that your powers are stirring, you must not sleep without protection, or you leave yourself open to attacks from the Duat or…unintended journeys through it. The headrest is enchanted, to keep your consciousness anchored to your body.”

“You mean I actually
did
…” My mouth tasted like metal. “Could he have killed me?”

Amos’s expression was grave. “The fact that your soul can travel like that means you are progressing faster than I thought. Faster than should be possible. If the Red Lord had noticed you—”

“The Red Lord?” Sadie said. “That’s the fiery bloke?”

Amos rose. “I must find out more. We can’t simply wait for him to find you. And if he releases the storm on his birthday, at the height of his powers—”

“You mean you’re going to Phoenix?” I could barely get the words out. “Amos, that fiery man defeated Dad like his magic was a joke! Now he’s got demons, and he’s getting stronger, and—you’ll be killed!”

Amos gave me a dry smile, like he’d already weighed the dangers and didn’t need a reminder. His expression reminded me painfully of Dad’s. “Don’t count your uncle out so quickly, Carter. I’ve got some magic of my own. Besides, I must see what is happening for myself if we’re to have any chance at saving your father and stopping the Red Lord. I’ll be quick and careful. Just stay here. Muffin will guard you.”

I blinked. “The cat will guard us? You can’t just leave us here! What about our training?”

“When I return,” Amos promised. “Don’t worry, the mansion is protected. Just do not leave. Do not be tricked into opening the door for anyone. And whatever happens,
do not
go into the library. I absolutely forbid it. I will be back by sunset.”

Before we could protest, Amos walked calmly to the edge of the terrace and jumped.

“No!” Sadie screamed. We ran to the railing and looked over. Below was a hundred-foot drop into the East River. There was no sign of Amos. He’d simply vanished.

Philip of Macedonia splashed in his pool. Muffin jumped onto the railing and insisted we pet her.

We were alone in a strange mansion with a baboon, a crocodile, and a weird cat. And apparently, the entire world was in danger.

I looked at Sadie. “What do we do now?”

She crossed her arms. “Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it? We explore the library.”

S A D I E

HONESTLY, CARTER IS SO THICK
sometimes I can’t believe we’re related.

I mean when someone says
I forbid it,
that’s a good sign it’s worth doing. I made for the library straightaway.

“Hold on!” Carter cried. “You can’t just—”

“Brother dear,” I said, “did your soul leave your body again while Amos was talking, or did you actually
hear
him? Egyptian gods
real.
Red Lord
bad.
Red Lord’s birthday: very soon, very bad. House of Life: fussy old magicians who hate our family because Dad was a bit of a rebel, whom by the way you could take a lesson from. Which leaves us—
just
us—with Dad missing, an evil god about to destroy the world, and an uncle who just jumped off the building—and I
can’t
actually blame him.” I took a breath. [Yes, Carter, I do have to breathe occasionally.] “Am I missing anything? Oh, yes, I also have a brother who is supposedly quite powerful from an ancient bloodline, blah, blah, et cetera, but is too afraid to visit a library. Now, coming or not?”

Carter blinked as if I’d just hit him, which I suppose I had in a way.

“I just…” He faltered. “I just think we should be careful.”

I realized the poor boy was quite scared, which I couldn’t hold against him, but it did startle me. Carter was my
big
brother, after all—older, more sophisticated, the one who traveled the world with Dad. Big brothers are the ones who are supposed to pull their punches. Little sisters—well, we should be able to hit as hard as we like, shouldn’t we? But I realized that possibly, just possibly, I’d been a bit harsh with him.

“Look,” I said. “We need to help Dad, yes? There’s got to be some powerful stuff in that library, otherwise Amos wouldn’t keep it locked up. You do want to help Dad?”

Carter shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah…of course.”

Well, that was one problem sorted, so we headed for the library. But as soon as Khufu saw what we were up to, he scrambled off the sofa with his basketball and jumped in front of the library doors. Who knew baboons were so speedy? He barked at us, and I have to say baboons have
enormous
fangs. And they’re not any prettier when they’ve been chewing up exotic pink birds.

Carter tried to reason with him. “Khufu, we’re not going to steal anything. We just want—”

“Agh!”
Khufu dribbled his basketball angrily.

“Carter,” I said, “you’re not helping. Look here, Khufu. I have…ta-da!” I held up a little yellow box of cereal I’d taken from the buffet table. “Cheerios! Ends with an
-o.
Yumsies!”

“Aghhh!” Khufu grunted, more excited now than angry.

“Want it?” I coaxed. “Just take it to the couch and pretend you didn’t see us, yes?”

I threw the cereal towards the couch, and the baboon lunged after it. He grabbed the box in midair and was so excited, he ran straight up the wall and sat on the fireplace mantel, where he began gingerly picking out Cheerios and eating them one at a time.

Carter looked at me with grudging admiration. “How did you—”

“Some of us think ahead. Now, let’s open these doors.”

That was not so easily done. They were made of thick wood laced with giant steel chains and padlocked.
Complete
overkill.

Carter stepped forward. He tried to raise the doors by lifting his hand, which had been quite impressive the night before, only now accomplished nothing.

He shook the chains the old-fashioned way, then yanked on the padlocks.

“No good,” he said.

Ice needles tingled on the back of my neck. It was almost as if someone—or something—was whispering an idea in my head. “What was that word Amos used at breakfast with the saucer?”

“For ‘join’?” Carter said. “
Hi-nehm
or something.”

“No, the other one, for ‘destroy’.”

“Uh,
ha-di.
But you’d need to know magic and the hieroglyphics, wouldn’t you? And even then—”

I raised my hand toward the door. I pointed with two fingers and my thumb—an odd gesture I’d never made before, like a make-believe gun except with the thumb parallel to the ground.

“Ha-di!”

Bright gold hieroglyphs burned against the largest padlock.

And the doors exploded. Carter hit the floor as chains shattered and splinters flew all over the Great Room. When the dust cleared, Carter got up, covered in wood shavings. I seemed to be fine. Muffin circled my feet, mewing contentedly, as if this were all very normal.

Carter stared at me. “How exactly—”

“Don’t know,” I admitted. “But the library’s open.”

“Think you overdid it a little? We’re going to be in so much trouble—”

“We’ll just figure out a way to zap the door back, won’t we?”

“No more zapping, please,” Carter said. “That explosion could’ve killed us.”

“Oh, do you think if you tried that spell on a person—”

“No!” He stepped back nervously.

I felt gratified that I could make him squirm, but I tried not to smile. “Let’s just explore the library, shall we?”

The truth was, I couldn’t have
ha-di-
ed anyone. As soon as I stepped forward, I felt so faint that I almost collapsed.

Carter caught me as I stumbled. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I managed, though I didn’t feel fine. “I’m tired”—my stomach rumbled—“and famished.”

“You just ate a huge breakfast.”

It was true, but I felt as if I hadn’t had food in weeks.

“Never mind,” I told him. “I’ll manage.”

Carter studied me skeptically. “Those hieroglyphs you created were golden. Dad and Amos both used blue. Why?”

“Maybe everyone has his own color,” I suggested. “Maybe you’ll get hot pink.”

“Very funny.”

“Come on, pink wizard,” I said. “Inside we go.”

The library was so amazing, I almost forgot my dizziness. It was bigger than I’d imagined, a round chamber sunk deep into solid rock, like a giant well. This didn’t make sense, as the mansion was sitting on top of a warehouse, but then again nothing else about the place was exactly normal.

From the platform where we stood, a staircase descended three stories to the bottom floor. The walls, floor, and domed ceiling were all decorated with multicolored pictures of people, gods, and monsters. I’d seen such illustrations in Dad’s books (yes, all right, sometimes when I was in the Piccadilly bookshop I’d wander into the Egypt section and sneak a look at Dad’s books, just to feel some connection to him, not because I wanted to read them) but the pictures in the books had always been faded and smudged. These in the library looked newly painted, making the entire room a work of art.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

A blue starry sky glittered on the ceiling, but it wasn’t a solid field of blue. Rather, the sky was painted in a strange swirling pattern. I realized it was shaped like a woman. She lay curled on her side—her body, arms, and legs dark blue and dotted with stars. Below, the library floor was done in a similar way, the green-and-brown earth shaped into a man’s body, dotted with forests and hills and cities. A river snaked across his chest.

The library had no books. Not even bookshelves. Instead, the walls were honeycombed with round cubbyholes, each one holding a sort of plastic cylinder.

At each of the four compass points, a ceramic statue stood on a pedestal. The statues were half-size humans wearing kilts and sandals, with glossy black wedge-shaped haircuts and black eyeliner around their eyes.

[Carter says the eyeliner stuff is called kohl, as if it matters.]

At any rate, one statue held a stylus and scroll. Another held a box. Another held a short, hooked staff. The last was empty-handed.

“Sadie.” Carter pointed to the center of the room. Sitting on a long stone table was Dad’s workbag.

Carter started down the stairs, but I grabbed his arm. “Hang on. What about traps?”

He frowned. “Traps?”

“Didn’t Egyptian tombs have traps?”

“Well…sometimes. But this isn’t a tomb. Besides, more often they had curses, like the burning curse, the donkey curse—”

“Oh, lovely. That sounds so much better.”

He trotted down the steps, which made me feel quite ridiculous, as I’m usually the one to forge ahead. But I supposed if someone had to get cursed with a burning skin rash or attacked by a magical donkey, it was better Carter than me.

We made it to the middle of the room with no excitement. Carter opened the bag. Still no traps or curses. He brought out the strange box Dad had used in the British Museum.

It was made of wood, and about the right size to hold a loaf of French bread. The lid was decorated much like the library, with gods and monsters and sideways-walking people.

“How did the Egyptians move like that?” I wondered. “All sideways with their arms and legs out. It seems quite silly.”

Carter gave me one of his
God, you’re stupid
looks. “They didn’t walk like that in real life, Sadie.”

“Well, why are they painted like that, then?”

“They thought paintings were like magic. If you painted yourself, you had to show all your arms and legs. Otherwise, in the afterlife you might be reborn without all your pieces.”

“Then why the sideways faces? They never look straight at you. Doesn’t that mean they’ll lose the other side of their face?”

Carter hesitated. “I think they were afraid the picture would be
too
human if it was looking right at you. It might try to
become
you.”

“So is there anything they
weren’t
afraid of?”

“Little sisters,” Carter said. “If they talked too much, the Egyptians threw them to the crocodiles.”

He had me for a second. I wasn’t used to him displaying a sense of humor. Then I punched him. “Just open the bloody box.”

The first thing he pulled out was a lump of white gunk.

“Wax,” Carter pronounced.

“Fascinating.” I picked up a wooden stylus and a palette with small indentations in its surface for ink, then a few glass jars of the ink itself—black, red, and gold. “And a prehistoric painting set.”

Carter pulled out several lengths of brown twine, a small ebony cat statue, and a thick roll of paper. No, not paper. Papyrus. I remembered Dad explaining how the Egyptians made it from a river plant because they never invented paper. The stuff was so thick and rough, it made me wonder if the poor Egyptians had had to use toilet papyrus. If so, no wonder they walked sideways.

Finally I pulled out a wax figurine.

“Ew,”
I said.

He was a tiny man, crudely fashioned, as if the maker had been in a hurry. His arms were crossed over his chest, his mouth was open, and his legs were cut off at the knees. A lock of human hair was wrapped round his waist.

Muffin jumped on the table and sniffed the little man. She seemed to think him quite interesting.

“There’s nothing here,” Carter said.

“What do you want?” I asked. “We’ve got wax, some toilet papyrus, an ugly statue—”

“Something to explain what happened to Dad. How do we get him back? Who was that fiery man he summoned?”

I held up the wax man. “You heard him, warty little troll. Tell us what you know.”

I was just messing about. But the wax man became soft and warm like flesh. He said, “I answer the call.”

I screamed and dropped him on his tiny head. Well, can you blame me?

“Ow!”
he said.

Muffin came over to have a sniff, and the little man started cursing in another language, possibly Ancient Egyptian. When that didn’t work, he screeched in English: “Go away! I’m not a mouse!”

I scooped up Muffin and put her on the floor.

Carter’s face had gone as soft and waxy as the little man’s. “What
are
you?” he asked.

“I’m a
shabti,
of course!” The figurine rubbed his dented head. He still looked quite lumpish, only now he was a living lump. “Master calls me Doughboy, though I find the name insulting. You may call me Supreme-Force-Who-Crushes-His-Enemies!”

“All right, Doughboy,” I said.

He scowled at me, I think, though it was hard to tell with his mashed-up face.

“You
weren’t supposed to trigger me! Only the master does that.”