Horus
Raise your hand if you hate mortal-made portals. It's disorienting, dark, cold and your lunch rarely stays in place. Oh, yes, and they rarely open on ground level. Carter falls onto a cold floor, Sadie and Zia crashing on top of him.
"Ow!" he grumbles.
Carter's body is covered in a layer of fine sand. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the harsh light. We're in a huge building. Crowds rushing past. It's a two-level airport concourse, with shops, lots of windows, and polished steel columns. It's dark outside. A voice echoes in Arabic.
Sadie spits sand out of her mouth. "Yuck!"
"Come on," Zia says. "We can't stay here."
Carter struggles to his feet. He turns and something catches his attention. In the middle of the concourse there is a life-sized replica of an Ancient Egyptian boat made from glowing display cases. a sales counter for perfume and jewelry.
"This is the Cairo airport," Carter says.
"Yes," Zia says. "Now, let's go!"
"Why the rush? Can Serqet...can she follow us through that sand gate?"
Zia shakes her head. "An artifact overheats whenever it creates a gate. It requires a twelve-hour cooldown before it can be used again. But we still have to worry about airport security. Unless you'd like to meet the Egyptian police, you'll come with me now."
She grabs his arm and steers Carter and Sadie through the crowd. People stare as we pass, but no one says anything.
"Why are we here?" Sadie asks.
"To see the ruins of Heliopolis," Zia says.
"Inside an airport?"
"Sadie, the ruins are under us." Carter remembers. He looks at Zia. "That's right, isn't it?"
She nods. "The ancient city was pillaged centuries ago. Some of its monuments were carted away, like Cleopatra's two needles. Most of its temples were broken down to make new buildings. What was left disappeared under Cairo's suburbs. The largest section is under this airport."
"And how does that help us?" Sadie asks.
Zia kicks open a maintenance door. On the other side is a broom closet. She mutters "Sahad" and the image of the closet disappears, revealing a set of stone steps leading down.
"Because not all Heliopolis is in ruins," Zia says. "Follow closely. And touch nothing."
The tunnel goes down for what seems like forever. It's incredibly small, too. Carter has to crouch and crawl most of the way and still manages to hit the ceiling a couple of times. This place can make even Bes feel tall. The only light comes from a ball of fire in Zia's hand. Shadows dance across the walls.
After an hour or two of descending, the tunnel finally opens up. Zia stops abruptly and it takes Carter a moment to figure out why. We are at the edge of a chasm. A single wooden plank connects our side to the opposed ledge. Over there, two jackal-headed granite warriors guard a doorway. Their spears are crossed over the entrance.
Sadie sighs. "Please, no more psychotic statues."
"Do not joke," Zia warns. "This is an entrance to the First Nome, the oldest branch of the House of Life, headquarters for all magicians. My job was to bring you here safely, but I cannot help you cross. Each magician must unbar the path for herself, and the challenge is different for each supplicant."
She looks at Sadie expectantly. Carter's thoughts fill the space, growing louder than my own. First Bast. Now Zia. They both expect Sadie to get shit done. As if she's better than him. As if she's special.
Their argument from the Metropolitan Museum flickers like a lightning flash. He's still upset with her. Annoyed. Done. She has no idea how much he wants to complain, to yell, to stop and take a breath for once and have a normal life. So many built up wants and feelings, all drowned out as soon as they appear. He can't complain. "You always have to look impeccable." His dad had said. And he hadn't meant just his clothes. He'd meant his attitude. The two of them had nothing but each other. Carter had to be strong. His dad needed him to be strong. Right now, I need him to be strong.
Sadie doesn't understand. She has it easy. She has it all. And now she's getting all the attention, like she is somehow the special one! It isn't fair!
Carter's voice is silenced by a stronger one. "Fairness means everyone gets what they need. And the only way to get what you need is to make it happen yourself."
Before I know it, Carter is marching across the plank, sword drown. He is moving purely on adrenalin and instincts. Lovely.
This is a really bad idea. He thinks.
"No," I answer. "We do not fear this."
"Carter!" Sadie cries.
We keep walking. Carter does his best to look straight ahead, but the sheer thought of the gaping void under our feet makes him dizzy. He's getting trough, though, going steady.
As he gets closer to the opposite side, the doorway between the two statues began to glow, like a curtain of red light.
Carter takes a deep breath. If he just charges through the doorway fast enough…
A dagger shoots out of the tunnel. Time for me to step in. The khopesh deflects the dagger moments before it strikes Carter in the chest. Two more shot out of the tunnel. We duck under one of the daggers, then hook the other with the curved blade of the khopesh, turn the dagger and fling it back into the tunnel. We make it to the other side of the plank and stop in front of the red light. I'm not in the mood for taking chances, so we slice through the light. It flickers and dies. I expect the statues to come at us, but they just stand there like.. well, statues. The only sound is a dagger clattering against the rocks in the chasm far below.
The doorway begins to glow again. The red light coalesces into the form of a five-foot-tall bird with a man's head. He is strangely familiar. A black ornamental wig glistens on his head, and his face is etched with wrinkles. A fake braided pharaoh beard is stuck on his chin. Where have I seen that guy before? Carter raises his sword, but Zia yells, "Carter, no!"
The ba folds his wings and narrows his kohl-lined eyes. The man scratches at the stone floor. Then he smiles, his eyes lightning up with recognition. "Pari, nisu nafeer."
Interesting…
Zia gasps. Guess she and Sadie have crossed the chasm without us noticing. And they both look like they're about to pass out.
Finally, Zia seems to collect herself. She bows to the ba. Sadie follows her example.
The man winks at us, then vanishes. The red light fades. The statues uncross their spears from the entrance.
"That's it?" Carter asks. "What did the turkey say?"
Zia looks at him with something like fear. "That was not a turkey, Carter. That was a ba."
"Another monster?"
"A human soul. In this case, a spirit of the dead. A magician from ancient times, come back to serve as a guardian. They watch the entrances of the House."
She studies Carter's face as if trying to solve a puzzle with its pieces missing.
"What?" Carter asks. "Why are you looking at me that way?"
"Nothing. We must hurry."
She squeezes past him on the ledge and disappears into the tunnel.
Sadie stands there for a second, staring at him, too.
"All right," Carter says. "What did the bird guy say? You understood it?"
She nods uneasily. "He mistook you for someone else. He must have bad eyesight."
"Because?"
"Because he said, 'Go forth, good king.'"
It's nice being seen.
We pass through the tunnel and enter a huge city of halls and chambers. The ceiling is so high that you ca forget you're underground. Every chamber is lined with massive stone columns, painted to resemble palm trees. Fires burn in copper braziers. They must be mixed up with incense, since the air smells like cinnamon, clove, nutmeg and copper. A thought passes through Carter's head:
The city smells like Zia.
At this time of the day, there are very few people out in the streets. Mostly older men and women. Some wear linen robes, some modern clothes. A man in a business suit walks past with a leopard on a leash. Nice. Another one barks orders to a small army of brooms, mops, and buckets that are scuttling around, cleaning up the city.
"Like that cartoon," Sadie says. "Where Mickey Mouse tries to do magic and the brooms keep splitting and toting water."
"'The Sorcerer's Apprentice,'" Zia says. "You do know that was based on an Egyptian story, don't you?"
Sadie just stares back.
We pass through a hall of jackal-headed statues. Their eyes seem to follow us as we pass. I should probably contact my cousin later. I'm sure he misses me. I mean, who doesn't?
A few minutes later, Zia leads us through an open-air market with dozens of stalls selling boomerang wands, animated clay dolls, parrots, cobras, papyrus scrolls, and hundreds of different glittering amulets.
Next is a path of stones over a dark river filled with flesh eating fish.
"Are those piranhas?" Carter asks.
"Tiger fish from the Nile," Zia says. "Like piranhas, except these can weigh up to sixteen pounds."
Carter nods, making a point to watch his step more closely.
We turn another corner and pass by an ornate building of black rock. The doorway, shaped like a coiled serpent, is guarded by two seated pharaohs.
"What's in there?" Sadie asks.
Without waiting for an answer, she walks over to the doorway. Carter and Zia follow her. Inside there are rows of children. They all look around six to ten and are sitting crossed-legged on cushions, staring into what looks like scrying bowls. The chamber is lit only by a few candles. Even though the kids are maybe twenty, the room can hold twice as many.
"Our initiates," Zia says, "learning to scry. The First Nome must keep in contact with our brethren all over the world. We use our youngest as...operators, I suppose you would say."
"So you've got bases like this all over the world?"
"Most are much smaller, but yes."
"Egypt is the First Nome. New York is the Twenty-first. What's the last one, the Three-hundred-and-sixtieth?"
"That would be Antarctica. A punishment assignment. Nothing there but a couple of cold magicians and some magic penguins."
"Magic penguins?"
"Don't ask."
Sadie points to the children inside. "How does it work? They see images in the water?"
"It's oil," Zia says. "But yes."
"So few," Sadie says. "Are these the only initiates in the whole city?"
"In the whole world," Zia corrects. "There were more before—" She stops herself.
"Before what?" Carter asks.
Before they betrayed their own gods.
"Nothing," Zia says darkly. "Initiates do our scrying because young minds are most receptive. Magicians begin training no later than the age of ten...with a few dangerous exceptions."
"You mean us," Carter says.
She glances at him, probably still thinking about what the bird had said. 'Good king.' Looking at the boy now, the thought does seem absurd. But with me around-
"They'll be waiting for you," Zia says, cutting off my train of thought. "Come along."
We walk so far, Carter's feet begin to ache. Finally, we arrive at a crossroad. On the right is a massive set of bronze doors. Fires blaze on either side. On the left is a twenty foot tall sphinx, carved into the wall. There is a doorway between its paws, but it's bricked in and covered in cobwebs.
"That looks like the Sphinx at Giza," Carter says.
"That's because we are directly under the real Sphinx," Zia says. "That tunnel leads straight up to it. Or it used to, before it was sealed."
"But… The Sphinx is, like, twenty miles from the Cairo Airport."
"Roughly."
"No way we've walked that far."
Zia smiles for the first time and Carter is so caught up in how pretty her eyes are, that he almost misses what she's saying. "Distance changes in magic places, Carter. Surely you've learned that by now."
Sadie clears her throat. "So why is the tunnel closed, then?"
"The Sphinx was too popular with archaeologists," Zia says. "They kept digging around. Finally, in the 1980s, they discovered the first part of the tunnel under the Sphinx."
"Dad told me about that!" Carter says. "But he said the tunnel was a dead end."
"It was when we got through with it. We couldn't let the archaeologists know how much they're missing. Egypt's leading archaeologist recently speculated that they've only discovered thirty percent of the ancient ruins in Egypt. In truth, they've only discovered one tenth, and not even the interesting tenth."
"What about King Tut's tomb?"
"That boy king?" Zia rolls her eyes. "Boring. You should see some of the good tombs."
Zia turns to face the bronze doors.
"This is the Hall of Ages." She touches the seal with the symbol of the House of Life. The hieroglyphs light up and the doors open. Zia turns back, deadly serious. "You are about to meet the Chief Lector. Behave yourselves, unless you wish to be turned into insects."
The Hall of Ages. By date, one of the most magnificent demonstrations of Egypt's history and magic. Double rows of stone pillars hold up a ceiling so high, that compared to it the Great Room in Brooklyn is like an ant. A blue shimmering carpet runs down the center of the hall, as if the Nile itself is flawing under us. The hall itself is so long, that it's impossible to see the end. Balls of fire float in the air, changing color whenever they bump into each other. Milliards of tiny hieroglyphs also drift through the air, randomly combining into words and then breaking apart.
Carter reaches out and a pair of glowing red legs walks across his palm before jumping off and dissolving.
But most important, for it wouldn't be the Hall of Ages without them, are the memories. Between the columns, images shift, coming into focus and then blurring out again like mirages.
"Come on," Zia says. "And don't spend too much time looking."
An impossible feat, really. The first section of the memories casts a golden light across the hall. A blazing sun rises above an ocean.* A mountain emerges from the waters. Gods stride across the Nile Valley: a man with black skin and the head of a jackal, a lioness with bloody fangs, a beautiful woman with wings of light. Such peaceful times.
Sadie steps off the rug. In a trance, she reaches toward the images.
"Stay on the carpet!" Zia grabs Sadie's hand and pulls her back toward the center of the hall. "You are seeing the Age of the Gods. No mortal should dwell on these images."
"But..." Sadie blinks. "They're only pictures, aren't they?"
"Memories," Zia says, "so powerful they could destroy your mind."
"Oh."
Down the hall, the gold turns to silver. Armies clash. Egyptians in kilts and sandles and leather armour fight with spears. A tall, dark-skinned man in red-and-white armor places a double crown on his head. Narmer, the king who united Upper and Lower Egypt.
"This is the Old Kingdom," Carter guesses. "The first great age of Egypt."
Zia nods. As we walk down the hall, workers build the first step pyramid out of stone. Another few steps, and the biggest pyramid of all rises from the desert at Giza. Its outer layer of smooth white casing stones gleams in the sun. Ten thousand workers gather at its base and kneel before the pharaoh, who raises his hands to the sun, dedicating his own tomb.
"Khufu," Carter says.
Sadie look up, suddenly interested. "The baboon?"
"No, the pharaoh who built the Great Pyramid," Carter says. "It was the tallest structure in the world for almost four thousand years."
The images become coppery.
"The Middle Kingdom," Zia announces. "A bloody, chaotic time. And yet this is when the House of Life came to maturity."
The scenes begin to shift more rapidly. Armies fight, temples rise and crumble, ships sail the Nile, magicians throw fire. Every step is hundreds of years, yet the hall still goes on forever. Time flies by so quickly, especially if you're a god. It's times like this when I remember how long yesterday's been, how ancient Egypt actually is.
We cross another threshold, and the light turns bronze.
"The New Kingdom," Carter guesses. "The last time Egypt was ruled by Egyptians."
Zia says nothing as the scenes pass by us. Or we pass by the scenes? Whatever. Hatshepsut, the greatest female pharaoh, puts on a fake beard and rules Egypt as a man. Ramesses the Great leads his chariots into battle. Magicians duel in a palace. One of them, a man with a shaggy black beard and wide eyes, throws his staff, which turns into a serpent and devours a thousand other snakes.
Carter tries to swallow. "Is that—"
"Musa," Zia says. "Or Moshe, as his own people knew him. You call him Moses. The only foreigner ever to defeat the House in a magic duel."
He stares at her. "You're kidding, right?"
"We would not kid about such a thing."
The scenes shift again. A man stands over a table of battle figurines. He's dressed as a pharaoh, but his face is oddly familiar. He looks up and smiles. The ba at the chasm.
"Who is that?" Carter asks.
"Nectanebo II," Zia says. "The last native Egyptian king, and the last sorcerer pharaoh. He could move entire armies, create or destroy navies by moving pieces on his board, but in the end, it was not enough."
We step over another line and the memories go blue.
"These are the Ptolemaic times," Zia says. "Alexander the Great conquered the known world, including Egypt. He set up his general Ptolemy as the new pharaoh, and founded a line of Greek kings to rule over Egypt."
The Ptolemaic section is shorter and sadder. The temples are smaller. The rulers are desperate or lazy or downright apathetic. There are no great battles, all the way up until the end. Romans march into the city of Alexandrea. A woman with dark hair and a white dress drops a snake into her blouse.
"Cleopatra," Zia says, "the seventh queen of that name. She tried to stand against the might of Rome, and she lost. When she took her life, the last line of pharaohs ended. Egypt, the great nation, faded. Our language was forgotten. The ancient rites were suppressed. The House of Life survived, but we were forced into hiding."
The next age shines a red light. Arab armies ride into Egypt, followed by the Turks. Napoleon marches his army under the shadow of the pyramids. The British come and build the Suez Canal. Slowly and steadily, Cairo grows into a modern city as the old ruins fade farther and farther under the sands of the desert.
"Each year," Zia says, "the Hall of Ages grows longer to encompass our history. Up until the present."
Sadie grabs Carter's arm. We've reached the end of the hall. In front stands a dais and on it an empty throne – a glided wooden chair. A flail and a shepherd's crook are carved in its back – the ancient symbols of the pharaoh.
On the step below the throne stands the oldest magician in the House of Life. He looks worse then the last time I saw him. The crinkles and lines run deeper in his brown skin, so thin that his veins look more vivid. White linen robes hang loosely off his small frame. The leopard skin cape around his shoulders seems to drag him down and his hand shakes as he holds a big wooden staff. The multicolored hieroglyphs flying through the air? That's where they're coming from. They float all around him, emitted by his very essence.
At first, his milky eyes stare into space. Then he focuses on Carter. No. No, he isn't focusing on Carter. His is scanning him. Searching.. Oh, shit!
"Hide!" I tell Carter, but I doubt he'd able to. All of a sudden, his whole body tenses as if bracing for a hit. Iskandar raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. So am I. The boy did it.
Iskandar glances behind and says something in Alexandrian Greek. I never got the hang of that language. A second man steps out of the shadows. Cream-colored robes, forked beard, a stern look in his eyes.
The man that was with Zia in the museum.
"Yup. Just don't panic."
Our communication is getting better. That's promising.
The bearded man glares at Sadie and Carter.
"I am Desjardins," he says with a French accent. "My master, Chief Lector Iskandar, welcomes you to the House of Life."
Not knowing what to say, Carter decides to take the safe path and embarrass me. Thank you.
"He's really old. Why isn't he sitting on the throne?"
Desjardins' nostrils flare, but Iskandar just chuckles and says something else in that language.
Desjardins translates stiffly: "The master says thank you for noticing; he is in fact really old. But the throne is for the pharaoh. It has been vacant since the fall of Egypt to Rome. It is...comment dit-on? Symbolic. The Chief Lector's role is to serve and protect the pharaoh. Therefore he sits at the foot of the throne."
Carter looks at Iskandar nervously, wondering how many years he's been sitting on that step. "If you...if he can understand English...what language is he speaking?"
"The Chief Lector understands many things. But he prefers to speak Alexandrian Greek, his birth tongue."
Sadie clears her throat. "Sorry, his birth tongue? Wasn't Alexander the Great way back in the blue section, thousands of years ago? You make it sound like Lord Salamander is—"
"Lord Iskandar," Desjardins hisses. "Show respect!"
Iskandar looks Carter in the eyes, then says something in Greek.
"The master says not to worry. You will not be held responsible for the past crimes of your family. At least, not until we have investigated you further." Desjardins translates.
"Gee...thanks."
"Do not mock our generosity, boy," Desjardins warns. "Your father broke our most important law twice: once at Cleopatra's Needle, when he tried to summon the gods and your mother died assisting him. Then again at the British Museum, when your father was foolish enough to use the Rosetta Stone itself. Now your uncle too is missing—"
"You know what's happened to Amos?" Sadie blurts out.
Desjardins scowls. "Not yet"
"You have to find him!" Sadie cries. "Don't you have some sort of GPS magic or—"
"We are searching," Desjardins says. "But you cannot worry about Amos. You must stay here. You must be...trained."
Yeah, I bet 'trained' is not the word he's thinking of.
Iskandar turns to speak directly to Carter. His tone is surprisingly calm.
"The master warns that the Demon Days begin tomorrow at sunset," Desjardins translates. "You must be kept safe."
"But we have to find our dad!" Carter protests. "Dangerous gods are on the loose out there. We saw Serqet. And Set!"
At the mention of the names, Iskandar's expression tightens. He turns and orders Desjardins something. Desjardins protests, but Iskandar repeats his order. Finally, Desjardins bows to the Chef Lector and turns towards Carter.
"The Chief Lector wishes to hear your story."
So Carter tells him, with Sadie jumping in whenever he has to take a breath. Whenever Carter is about to say something pointing towards my involvement, I whisper "Not that part, be silent.". I guess my mother has the same plan in mind, for Sadie also omits some parts of the story. When they're done, Carter glances at Zia. She stays silent, but her eyes are studying him.
Iskandar traces a circle on the step with his staff. More hieroglyphs appear in the air and float away.
A heartbeat goes by in silence. Desjardins seems to grow impatient. He steps forward and glares at Carter and Sadie. "You are lying. That could not have been Set. He would need a powerful host to remain in this world. Very powerful."
"Look, you," Sadie says. "I don't know what all this rubbish is about hosts, but I saw Set with my own eyes. You were there at the British Museum—you must have done, too. And if Carter saw him in Phoenix, Arizona, then..." She looked at her brother doubtfully. "Then he's probably not crazy."
"Thanks, Sis," Carter mumbles, but Sadie is just getting started.
"And as for Serqet, she's real too! Our friend, my cat, Bast, died protecting us!"
"So," Desjardins says coldly, "you admit to consorting with gods. That makes our investigation much easier. Bast is not your friend. The gods caused the downfall of Egypt. It is forbidden to call on their powers. Magicians are sworn to keep the gods from interfering in the mortal world. We must use all our power to fight them."
"Bast said you were paranoid," Sadie adds.
Desjardins clenches his fists. The air crackles and feels with the smell of ozone. The hairs on Carter's neck stand straight up. Before anything bad can happen, Zia steps in front of Carter and Sadie.
"Lord Desjardins," she pleads, "there was something strange. When I ensnared the scorpion goddess, she re-formed almost instantly. I could not return her to the Duat, even with the Seven Ribbons. I could only break her hold on the host for a moment. Perhaps the rumors of other escapes—"
"What other escapes?" Carter asks.
She glances at him reluctantly. "Other gods, many of them, released since last night from artifacts all over the world. Like a chain reaction—"
"Zia!" Desjardins snaps. "That information is not for sharing."
"Look," Carter says, "lord, sir, whatever—Bast warned us this would happen. She said Set would release more gods."
"Master," Zia pleads, "if Ma'at is weakening, if Set is increasing chaos, perhaps that is why I could not banish Serqet."
"Ridiculous," Desjardins says. "You are skilled, Zia, but perhaps you were not skilled enough for this encounter. And as for these two, the contamination must be contained."
Zia gives up trying to reason with Desjardins and turns to Iskandar. "Master, please. Give me a chance with them."
"You forget your place," Desjardins snaps. "These two are guilty and must be destroyed."
Carter's throat starts closing up. He looks at Sadie. The hall is so long, it'd be pointless to try an escape.
Iskandar finally looks up. He smiles at Zia with true affection. He say something in Greek, and Zia bows deeply.
Desjardins looks ready to explode. He sweeps his robes away from his feet and marches behind the throne.
"The Chief Lector will allow Zia to test you," he growls. "Meanwhile, I will seek out the truth—or the lies—in your story. You will be punished for the lies."
Carter turns to Iskandar and copies Zia's bow. Sadie does the same.
"Thank you, master," Carter says.
The Chef Lector studies him for a long time. It doesn't feel hostile, but I don't like our chances. Finally, he mumble something. Two words reach me: Nectanebo and ba. He opens his hand and hieroglyphs swarm the dais. With a blinding flash of light, the two man disappear.
Zia turns toward the kids, her expression grim. "I will show you to your quarters. In the morning, your testing begins. We will see what magic you know, and how you know it."
Carter and Sadie exchange an uneasy look.
"Sounds fun," Sadie says. "And if we fail this test?"
"This is not the sort of test you fail, Sadie Kane. You pass or you die."