The Complete Kane Chronicles (90 page)

I told Bast about our plan to visit the Hall of Judgment.

“I don’t like it,” she said.

Walt managed a laugh. “Is there a plan you’d like better?”

She tilted her head. “Now that you mention it, no. I don’t like plans. I’m a cat. Still, if half the things I’ve heard about Setne are true—”

“I know,” I said. “But it’s our only shot.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You don’t want me to come along? You’re sure? Maybe I could get Nut or Shu to watch Ra—”

“No,” I said. “Amos is going to need help at the First Nome. He doesn’t have the numbers to fend off an attack from both the rebel magicians and Apophis.”

Bast nodded. “I can’t enter the First Nome, but I can patrol outside. If Apophis shows himself, I will engage him in battle.”

“He’ll be at full strength,” Walt warned. “He’s getting stronger by the hour.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “I’ve fought him before, Walt Stone. I know him better than anyone. Besides, I owe it to Carter’s family. And to Lord Ra.”

“Kitty!” Ra appeared behind us, patted Bast on the head, and skipped away. “Meow, meow, meow!”

Watching him prance around, I wanted to scream and throw things. We’d risked everything to revive the old sun god, hoping we’d get a divine pharaoh who could stand toe-to-toe with Apophis. Instead we got a wrinkly, bald troll in a loincloth.

Give me Ra
, Apophis had urged.
I know you hate him.

I tried to put it out of my mind, but I couldn’t quite shake that image of an island in the Sea of Chaos—a personal paradise where the people I loved would be safe. I knew it was a lie. Apophis would never deliver on that promise. But I could understand how Sarah Jacobi and Kwai might be tempted.

Besides, Apophis knew how to strike a nerve. I
did
resent Ra for being so weak. Horus agreed with me.

We don’t need the old fool.
The war god’s voice spoke inside my head.
I’m not saying you should give him to Apophis, but he
is useless. We should put him aside and take the throne of the
gods for ourselves.

He made it sound so tempting—such an obvious solution.

But, no. If Apophis wanted me to give up Ra, then Ra must be valuable in some way. The sun god still had a role to play. I just had to figure out what it was.

“Carter?” Bast frowned. “I know you’re worried about me, but your parents saved me from the abyss for a reason. Your mother foresaw that I would make a difference in the final battle. I will fight Apophis to the death if necessary. He won’t get past me.”

I wavered. Bast had already helped us so much. She had almost been destroyed fighting the crocodile god Sobek. She’d enlisted her friend Bes to help us, and then seen him reduced to an empty shell. She’d helped us restore her old master, Ra, to the world, and now she was stuck babysitting him. I didn’t want to ask her to face Apophis again, but she was right. She knew the enemy better than anyone—except maybe Ra, when he was in his right mind.

“All right,” I said. “But Amos will need more help than you can give, Bast. He’ll need magicians.”

Walt frowned. “Who? After the disaster in Dallas, we don’t have many friends left. We could contact São Paulo and Vancouver—they’re still with us—but they won’t be able to spare many people. They’ll be worried about protecting their own nomes.”

I shook my head. “Amos needs magicians who know the path of the gods. He needs
us
. All of us.”

Walt digested that silently. “You mean, abandon Brooklyn House.”

Below us, the ankle-biters shrieked with joy as Shelby tried to tag them with her sparking crayons. Khufu sat on the fireplace mantel eating Cheerios, watching ten-year-old Tucker bounce a basketball off the statue of Thoth. Jaz was putting a bandage on Alyssa’s forehead. (Probably she’d been attacked by Sadie’s rogue Thermos, which was still on the loose.) In the middle of all this, Cleo was sitting on the sofa, engrossed in a book.

Brooklyn House was the first real home some of them had ever known. We’d promised to keep them safe and teach them to use their powers. Now I was about to send them unprepared into the most dangerous battle of all time.

“Carter,” Bast said, “they’re not ready.”

“They
have
to be,” I said. “If the First Nome falls, it’s all over. Apophis will attack us in Egypt, at the source of our power. We have to stand together with the Chief Lector.”

“One last battle.” Walt gazed sadly at the Great Room, maybe wondering whether or not he’d die before that battle happened. “Should we break the news to others?”

“Not yet,” I said. “The rebel magicians’ attack on the First Nome won’t happen until tomorrow. Let the kids have one last day at school. Bast, when they come home this afternoon, I want you to lead them to Egypt. Use Freak, use whatever magic you have to. If all goes well in the Underworld, Sadie and I will join you before the attack.”

“If all goes well,” Bast said dryly. “Yes, that happens a lot.”

She glanced over at the sun god, who was trying to eat the doorknob to Sadie’s room. “What about Ra?” she asked. “If Apophis is going to attack in two days…”

“Ra has to keep making his nightly journey,” I said. “That’s part of Ma’at. We can’t mess with it. But on the morning of the equinox, he’ll need to be in Egypt. He’ll have to face Apophis.”

“Like
that
?” Bast gestured toward the old god. “In his loincloth?”

“I know,” I admitted. “It sounds crazy. But Apophis still thinks Ra is a threat. Maybe facing Apophis in battle will remind Ra who he is. He might rise to the challenge and become…what he used to be.”

Walt and Bast didn’t answer. I could tell from their expressions that they didn’t buy it. Neither did I. Ra was gumming Sadie’s doorknob with intent to kill, but I didn’t think he’d be much good against the Lord of Chaos.

Still, it felt good to have a plan of action. That was much better than standing around, dwelling on the hopelessness of our situation.

“Use today to organize,” I told Bast. “Gather up the most valuable scrolls, amulets, weapons—anything we can use to help the First Nome. Let Amos know you’re coming. Walt and I will head to the Underworld and meet Sadie. We’ll rendezvous with you in Cairo.”

Bast pursed her lips. “All right, Carter. But be careful of Setne. However bad you think he is? He’s ten times worse.”

“Hey, we defeated the god of evil,” I reminded her.

Bast shook her head. “Set is a god. He doesn’t change. Even with a god of Chaos, you can pretty much predict how he’ll act. Setne, on the other hand…he has both power
and
human unpredictability. Don’t trust him. Swear to me.”

“That’s easy,” I said. “I promise.”

Walt folded his arms. “So how are we going to get to the Underworld? Portals are unreliable. We’re leaving Freak here, and the boat is destroyed—”

“I have another boat in mind,” I said, trying to believe it was a good idea. “I’m going to summon an old friend.”

S A D I E

I’
D BECOME QUITE AN EXPERT
at visiting the godly nursing home—which was a sad statement on my life.

The first time Carter and I found our way there, we had traveled the River of Night, plunged down a fiery waterfall, and almost died in a lake of lava. Since then, I’d discovered I could simply call on Isis to transport me, as she could open doorways to many locations in the Duat. Honestly, though, dealing with Isis was almost as annoying as swimming through fire.

After my
shabti
conversation with Carter, I joined Zia on a limestone cliff overlooking the Nile. It was already midday in Egypt. Getting over portal-lag had taken me longer than I’d expected. After changing into more sensible clothes, I’d had a quick lunch and one more strategy talk with Amos deep in the Hall of Ages. Then Zia and I had climbed back to the surface. Now we stood at a ruined shrine to Isis on the river just south of Cairo. It was a good place to summon the goddess, but we didn’t have much time.

Zia still wore her combat outfit—camouflage cargo pants and an olive tank top. Her staff was slung over her back, and her wand hung at her belt. She rummaged through her pack, checking her supplies one last time.

“What did Carter say?” she asked.

[That’s right, brother dear. I stepped out of earshot before I contacted you, so Zia didn’t hear any of those teasing comments. Honestly, I’m not
that
mean.]

I told her what we’d discussed, but I couldn’t bring myself to share how my mum’s spirit was in danger. I’d known about the problem in general terms since I’d spoken with Anubis, of course, but the knowledge that our mother’s ghost was huddled under a cliff somewhere in the Duat, resisting the pull of the serpent’s shadow—well, that bit of information had lodged in my chest like a bullet. If I tried to touch it, I feared it would go straight to my heart and kill me.

I explained about my villainous ghost friend Uncle Vinnie, and how we intended to solicit his help.

Zia looked appalled. “Setne? As in
the
Setne? Does Carter realize—?”

“Yep.”

“And Thoth suggested this?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re actually going along with it?”

“Yep.”

She gazed down the Nile. Perhaps she was thinking of her home village, which had stood on the banks of this river until it was destroyed by the forces of Apophis. Perhaps she was imagining her entire homeland crumbling into the Sea of Chaos.

I expected her to tell me that our plan was insane. I thought she might abandon me and go back to the First Nome.

But I suppose she had got used to the Kane family—poor girl. She must’ve known by now that
all
our plans were insane.

“Fine,” she said. “How do we reach this…nursing home of the gods?”

“Just a mo’.” I closed my eyes and concentrated.

Yoo-hoo, Isis?
I thought.
Anyone home?

Sadie
, the goddess answered immediately.

In my mind she appeared as a regal woman with dark braided hair. Her dress was gossamer white. Her prismatic wings shimmered like sunlight rippling through clear water.

I wanted to smack her.

Well, well
, I said.
If it isn’t my good friend who decides whom
I can and can’t date.

She had the nerve to look surprised.
Are you speaking of
Anubis?

Right, first try!
I should’ve left it at that since I needed Isis’s help. But seeing her floating there all shiny and queenly made me angrier than ever.
Where do you get the nerve, eh? Going
behind my back, lobbying to keep Anubis away from me. How is
that your business?

Surprisingly, Isis kept her temper.
Sadie, there are things you
don’t understand. There are rules.

Rules?
I demanded.
The world is about to end, and you’re
worried about which boys are socially acceptable for me?

Isis steepled her fingers.
The two issues are more connected
than you realize. The traditions of Ma’at must be followed, or
Chaos wins. Immortals and mortals can only interact in specific,
limited ways. Besides, you cannot afford to be distracted. I’m
doing you a favor.

A favor!
I said.
If you want to do me a
real
favor, we need
passage to the Fourth House of the Night—the House of Rest,
Sunny Acres, or whatever you want to call it. After that, you can
butt out of my private life!

Perhaps that was rude of me, but Isis had stepped over the line. Besides, why should I act proper with a goddess who had previously rented space in my head? Isis should have known me better!

The goddess sighed.
Sadie, proximity to the gods is dangerous.
It must be regulated with utmost care. You know this. Your uncle
is still tainted from his experience with Set. Even your friend Zia
is struggling.

What do you mean?
I asked.

If you join with me, you’ll understand,
Isis promised.
Your
mind will be clear. It’s past time we united again and combined
our strength.

There it was: the sales pitch. Every time I called on Isis, she tried to persuade me to meld with her as we’d done before—mortal and god inhabiting one body, acting with a single will. Each time, I said no.

So,
I ventured,
proximity to the gods is dangerous, but you’re
anxious to join forces with me again. I’m glad you’re looking out
for my safety.

Isis narrowed her eyes.
Our situation is different, Sadie. You
need my strength.

Certainly it was tempting. Having the full power of a goddess at my command was quite a rush. As the Eye of Isis, I would feel confident, unstoppable, completely without fear. One could get addicted to such power—and that was the problem.

Isis could be a good friend, but her agenda wasn’t always best for the mortal world—or for Sadie Kane.

She was driven by her loyalty to her son Horus. She’d do anything to see him on the throne of the gods. She was ambitious, vengeful, power-hungry, and envious of anyone who might have more magic than she did.

She claimed my mind would be clearer if I let her in. What she really meant was that I’d start seeing things her way. It would be harder to separate my thoughts from hers. I might even come to believe she was right by keeping Anubis and me apart. (Horrifying idea.)

Unfortunately, Isis had a point about joining forces. Sooner or later we’d have to. There was no other way I’d have the power to challenge Apophis.

But now wasn’t the time. I wanted to remain Sadie Kane as long as possible—just my own wonderful self without any godly hitchhiker.

Soon
, I told Isis.
I have things to do first. I need to be sure my
decisions are my own. Now, about that doorway to the House
of Rest…

Isis was quite good at looking hurt and disapproving at the same time, which must have made her an impossible mother. I almost felt sorry for Horus.

Sadie Kane
, she said,
you are my favorite mortal, my chosen
magician. And still you do not trust me.

I didn’t bother to contradict her. Isis knew how I felt.

The goddess spread her arms in resignation.
Very well. But
the path of the gods is the only answer. For all the Kanes, and for
that one.
She nodded in Zia’s direction.
You will need to advise
her, Sadie. She must learn the path quickly.

What do you mean?
I asked again. I really wished she would stop talking in riddles. Gods are so annoying that way.

Zia was a much more experienced magician than I was. I didn’t know how I could advise her. Besides, Zia was a fire elementalist. She tolerated us Kanes, but she had never shown the slightest interest in the path of the gods.

Good luck
, Isis said.
I will await your call.

The image of the goddess rippled and vanished. When I opened my eyes, a square of darkness the size of a doorway hovered in the air.

“Sadie?” Zia asked. “You were silent for so long, I was getting worried.”

“No need.” I tried for a smile. “Isis just likes to talk. Next stop, the Fourth House of the Night.”

I’ll be honest. I never quite understood the difference between the swirling sand portals that magicians can summon with artifacts and the doors of darkness that gods are able to conjure. Perhaps the gods use a more advanced wireless network. Perhaps they simply have better aim.

Whatever the reason, Isis’s portal worked much more reliably than the one I’d created to get to Cairo. It deposited us right in the lobby of Sunny Acres.

As soon as we stepped through, Zia scanned our surroundings and frowned. “Where is everyone?”

Good question. We’d arrived at the correct godly nursing home—the same potted plants, the same massive lobby with windows looking out on the Lake of Fire, the same rows of limestone columns plastered with tacky posters of smiling seniors and mottos like:
These Are Your Golden Centuries!

But the nurses’ station was unattended. IV poles were clustered in one corner like they were having a conference. The sofas were empty. The coffee tables were littered with half-played games of checkers and senet. Ugh, I
hate
senet.

I stared at an empty wheelchair, wondering where its occupant had gone, when suddenly the chair burst into flames, collapsing in a pile of charred leather and half-melted steel.

I stumbled backward. Behind me, Zia held a ball of white-hot fire in her hand. Her eyes were as wild as a cornered animal’s.

“Are you mad?” I yelled. “What are you—?”

She lobbed her second fireball at the nurses’ station. A vase full of daisies exploded in a shower of flaming petals and pottery shards.

“Zia!”

She didn’t seem to hear me. She summoned another fireball and took aim at the sofas.

I should have run for cover. I wasn’t prepared to die saving badly upholstered furniture. Instead, I lunged at her and grabbed her wrist. “Zia, stop it!”

She glared at me with flames in her eyes—and I mean that quite literally. Her irises had become disks of orange fire.

This was terrifying, of course, but I stood my ground. Over the past year I’d got rather used to surprises—what with my cat being a goddess, my brother turning into a falcon, and Felix producing penguins in the fireplace several times a week.

“Zia,” I said firmly. “We can’t burn down the nursing home. What’s got into you?”

A look of confusion passed over her face. She stopped struggling. Her eyes returned to normal.

She stared at the melted wheelchair, then the smoldering remains of the bouquet on the carpet. “Did I—?”

“Decide those daisies needed to die?” I finished. “Yes, you did.”

She extinguished her fireball, which was lucky, as it was starting to bake my face. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I—I thought I had it under control.…”

“Under control?” I let go of her hand. “You mean to say you’ve been throwing
a lot
of random fireballs lately?”

She still looked bewildered, her gaze drifting around the lobby. “N-no…maybe. I’ve been having blackouts. I come to, and I don’t remember what I’ve done.”

“Like just now?”

She nodded. “Amos said…at first he thought it might be a side effect of my time in that tomb.”

Ah, the tomb. For months, Zia had been trapped in a watery sarcophagus while her
shabti
ran about impersonating her. The Chief Lector Iskandar had thought this would protect the real Zia—from Set? From Apophis? We still weren’t sure. At any rate, it didn’t strike me as the most brilliant idea for a supposedly wise two-thousand-year-old magician to have come up with. During her slumbers, Zia had endured horrible nightmares about her village burning and Apophis destroying the world. I suppose that might lead to some nasty post-traumatic stress.

“You said Amos thought that
at first
,” I noted. “There’s more to the story, then?”

Zia gazed at the melted wheelchair. The light from outside turned her hair the color of rusted iron.

“He was here,” she murmured. “He was here for eons, trapped.”

I took a moment to process that. “You mean Ra.”

“He was miserable and alone,” she said. “He had been forced to abdicate his throne. He left the mortal world and lost the will to live.”

I stamped out a smoldering daisy on the carpet. “I don’t know, Zia. He looked quite happy when we woke him up, singing and grinning and so on.”

“No.” Zia walked toward the windows, as if drawn by the lovely view of brimstone. “His mind is still sleeping. I’ve spent time with him, Sadie. I’ve watched his expressions while he naps. I’ve heard him whimpering and mumbling. That old body is a cage, a prison. The true Ra is trapped inside.”

She was starting to worry me now. Fireballs I could deal with. Incoherent rambling—not so much.

“I suppose it makes sense you’d have sympathy with Ra,” I ventured. “You’re a fire elementalist. He’s a fiery sort of god. You were trapped in that tomb. Ra was trapped in a nursing home. Perhaps that’s what caused your blackout just now. This place reminded you of your own imprisonment.”