Anubis

The black temple of the Hall of Judgement has been a quite place for the past two thousand years. Stone pillars hold up the ceiling. Every surface is carved with hieroglyphs and images, biu there is no color. Just balck on black.

In the center of the temple is a large circular chamber. At its closes layer, the chamber is a great hall with blazing braziers and en empty throng at the far end. In the center of the hall, are the scales. Made from black iron, big enough to hold a human heart… and broken beyon repear. I've tried. Linen wrappings didn't help and that new mortal invention (ducktape, was it?) wasn't of much help either. One of the golden dishes is bent into a V shape. The other dish is hanging by a single rope.

Ammit is sleeping, curled up at the base of the scales. Her crocodile head can easily get lost in the bushiness of her lion's mane. Her front half is that of a hippo, but the back end is a hippo. If I have to spend the entirety of my existance alone, I'm glad its around a monster as cute and tiny as her.

But looking at the scales and the empty throne and the empty hall…. It's all too much. So, that's not where I am. The second layer of the chamber, where Duat meats the mortal world, is a ghostly graveyard. In some places places, the marble floor gives way to patches of mud and moss-covered paving stoes. Lines of aboveground tombs radiate from the center of the chamber in a wheel-spokes pattern. Many of the tombs have cracked open. Some are bricked up, others ringed with iron fences. Around the edges of the chamber, the black pillars shift form, sometimes changing into ancient cypress trees.

The black temple of the Hall of Judgement is usually a very quaite place. So why is it not now?

Iskandar let someone in. Why? Is it Osiris? No. I walk out, a black jackal creeping through the gloom of the island.

"Stay alert,"I hear a female voice say. She sniffs the air. "He's close."

And getting closer. From up close, I can see the outline of four people. No, two mortals, a baboon, a goddess.

"Who?" asks one of the mortals, a girl. There is a boy next to her. He carries a khopesh. Haven't seen a weapon in a while, a couple of hundereth years or so.

"The Dog," says the cat.

How dare she come in my home and insult me like that? I snarl at her, leaping out of the mist. Then I tackle her. Bast rolls over and wails in feline otrage, then races off. Good riddance.

I morph into my human form – a pale boy with black hair, brown eyes, jeans, a ripped T-shirt, combat boots and a black leather jacket. The golden collar of a jackal shifts into a golden chain around my neck.

I stand up, brushing off my jacket. "I'm not a dog," I grumble.

"No," the girl agrees. "You're..."

She hesitates.

"You're Anubis?" the boy asks. "We've come for the feather of truth."

I frown. My eyes fall on the girl's. I can't help but notice how pretty her blue eyes are. "You're not dead."

"No," she says. "Though we're trying awfully hard."

"I don't deal with the living," I say firmly. Then I look at the baboon and the boy. "However, you travel with a baboon. That shows good taste. I won't kill you until you've had a chance to explain. Why did Bast bring you here?"

"Actually," the boy says, "Thoth sent us. I guess it started in London, the night our dad blew up the British Museum. My name is Carter Kane, this is my sister Sadie. I'm fourteen and my home is a suitcase. Since I was eight years old, my dad and I have traveled the world. I was born in L.A, but my-"

"Agh! Agh!" The baboon, Khufu, interrupts him impatiently, conveying the entire story in two words. No wonder Thoth, who absorbs great amounts of knowledge like a sponge, likes baboons.

I nod. "I see." Then scowl at the boy. "So you're Horus. And you're..." my finger drifts towards the girl.

"I'm—I'm, um—" she stammers. "I'm not Isis. I mean, Isis is milling about inside, but I'm not her. She's just...visiting."

I tilt my head. "And the two of you intend to challenge Set?"

"That's the general idea," Carter agrees. "Will you help?"

I glower at the self-absorbed brat. Horus always expects everyone to drop their entire lives and help him. His problems are always the important ones, he has to make himself the hero of every story. And who will help me, for once? Who will actually help Ma'at?

"No." I say flatly. "I'll show you why."

I turn into a jackal and speed back inside the temple. I can hear them running after me.

When we reach the Hall of Judgement, the baboon lopes straight over the broken scales and climbs to the top. Great, now I'll have to clean and baboon hair off them. I stop before the steps of the throne and change back into human form.

"Welcome," I say, "to the last room you will ever see."

Carter looks around in awe. "The Hall of Judgment." He focuses on Ammit and frowned. "Is that..."

"Ammit the Devourer," Anubis said. "Look upon her and tremble."

Ammit makes a yipping sound and turns to sleep on her back. Her lion and hippo legs twitch.

"I always pictured her...bigger," Carter admits.

I stare him down. a harsh look. "Ammit only has to be big enough to eat the hearts of the wicked. Trust me, she does her job well. Or...she did it well, anyway."

Up on the scales, Khufu grunts. He almost loses his balance on the central beam, and the dented scale clangs against the floor.

"Why are the scales broken?" Sadie asks.

I frown. "Ma'at is weakening. I've tried to fix them, but..." I spread my hands helplessly.

Sadie points to the ghostly rows of tombs. "Is that why the, ah, graveyard is butting in?"

She sees it?

Carter looks at her strangely. "What graveyard?"

But he doesn't. Maybe I can get away with her, talk only with aunt about what's going on. She will understand. At least, she'll try to. I won't get much more than arrogance from Horus.

"The tombs," she says. "The trees."

"He can't see them," I tell her. "But you, Sadie—you're perceptive. What do you hear?"

She closes her eyes and I move us out of the Hall of Judgement. The temple is still there for us to come back to, but faded in the background, a cemetery solidifying in its place. Cracked paving stones wobble under our feet. The humid night air smells of spices and fish stew. The writing on the graves is in French. Trees hang low and lush, covered in Spanish moss.

"Jazz," Sadie smiles and opens her eyes. Something about that smiles makes me feel weird.

Music plays. Just outside the cemetery's fence, a jazz band parades down the street in somber black suits and brightly colored party hats. Saxophonists bob up and down. Cornets and clarinets wail. Drummers grin and sway, their sticks flashing. And behind them, carrying flowers and torches, a crowd of revelers in funeral clothes dance round an old-fashioned black hearse as it drives along.

"Where are we?" Sadie says, marveling.

I smile, too. "New Orleans."

"Sorry?"

"The Drowned City," I say. "In the French Quarter, on the west side of the river—the shore of the dead. I love it here. That's why the Hall of Judgment often connects to this part of the mortal world."

The jazz procession makes its way down the street, drawing more onlookers into the party.

"What are they celebrating?" Sadie asks.

"A funeral. They've just put the deceased in his tomb. Now they're 'cutting the body loose.' The mourners celebrate the dead one's life with song and dance as they escort the empty hearse away from the cemetery. Very Egyptian, this ritual."

"How do you know so much?"

"I'm the god of funerals. I know every death custom in the world—how to die properly, how to prepare the body and soul for the afterlife. I live for death."

"You must be fun at parties. Why have you brought me here?"

"To talk."

I spread my hands and the nearest tomb rumbles. A long ribbon of white linen shoots out of a crack in the wall. The ribbon twists itself into a bench and I sit down.

"I don't like Horus." I gesture for her to join me. "He's loud and arrogant and thinks he's better than me. But Isis always treated me like a son."

Sadie crosses her arms. "You're not my son. And I told you I'm not Isis."

I tilt my head. I'm usually not good at interacting with the living, but something about her makes it feel comfortable. Inside her head, two souls shine, nestled together. Hers is different than Aunt's. Yet so familiar. I've seen such a strong aura only once before. Sadie Kane.

"No." I admit. "You don't act like a godling. You remind me of your mother."

She looks like she's seen a ghost. "You've met my mother?"

In that moment she looks so breakable, so sad yet so hopeful.

"I—I know all the dead," I tell her. "but each spirit's path is secret. I should not have spoken."

Her eyes flicker with anger. "You can't just say something like that and then clam up! Is she in the Egyptian afterlife? Did she pass your little Hall of Judgment?"

I glance uneasily at the golden scales, which shimmer like a mirage in the graveyard. "It is not my hall. I merely oversee it until Lord Osiris returns. I'm sorry if I upset you, but I can't say anything more. I don't know why I said anything at all. It's just...your soul has a similar glow. A strong glow."

"How flattering," she grumbles. "My soul glows."

I really am awful at this whole talking thing.

"I'm sorry," I say again. "Please, sit."

She sits down, arms crossed, glaring at me. "So, what's that form, then? Are you a godling?"

I frown and put my hand to my chest. "You mean, am I inhabiting a human body? No, I can inhabit any graveyard, any place of death or mourning. This is my natural appearance."

"Oh." She sounds disappointed. "So, if you can't tell me anything useful, at least help me. We need a feather of truth."

I shake my head. "You don't know what you're asking. The feather of truth is too dangerous. Giving it to a mortal would be against the rules of Osiris."

"But Osiris isn't here." she points at the empty throne. "That's his seat, isn't it? Do you see Osiris?"

I eye the throne. I've always been the obedient one, a contrast to Horus's constant battles. And was it ever really my place to anger the person who took me in as his own? My uncle could've said no to Mother and Aunt Isis, he could've left me for Set to find. Yet, he gave me not only a home, but a domain of my own. I'm not a troublemaker. I'm a follower of Ma'at. I'm good. I'm not like my… I run my fingers along my golden chain. Even so, where is Uncle? He's the most lawful one out of all Demon Day brothers, the most justfull one. He should be here right now. He promised we're family. When Egypt fell and our own people turned against us, he promised I won't be left alone.

"It's true that I've waited here for ages, keeping my station. I was not imprisoned like the rest. I don't know why...but I did the best I could. When I heard the five had been released, I hoped Lord Osiris would return, but..." I shake my head dejectedly. "Why would he neglect his duties?"

"Probably because he's trapped inside my dad." Sadie says, as if reminding me.

I stare at her. "The baboon did not explain this."

"Well, I can't explain as well as a baboon. But basically my dad wanted to release some gods for reasons I don't quite...Maybe he thought, I'll just pop down to the British Museum and blow up the Rosetta Stone! And he released Osiris, but he also got Set and the rest of that lot."

"So Set imprisoned your father while he was hosting Osiris," I say, almost laughing at the irony. "which means Osiris has also been trapped by my—" I stop myself. "By Set."

"You understand, then," Sadie says. "You've got to help us."

Maybe… No. I shake my head. "I can't. I'll get in trouble."

I don't know what I expect her reaction to be, but a laugh was not it. "You'll get in trouble? How old are you, sixteen? You're a god!"

"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."

I blush instinctively. "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."

I blink, confused for a moment. "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?"

I try to defend myself, but there is nothing I can say. This girl is so… so… ugh!

"Are you always this infuriating?" I ask her.

"Usually more," she admits.

"Why hasn't your family married you off to someone far, far away?"

She stares at me. "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!"

"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."

Do I know the truth? I gaze across the graveyard. The sound of jazz is fading into the streets of the French Quarter.

"Yes," I say. "At least, that's what the legends say." Or, some of them anyway. "I've never met him. My mother, Nephthys, gave me to Osiris when I was a child."

"She...gave you away?"

I sigh. "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."

"Maybe your mum was trying to protect you," Sadie tries. "Your dad being Lord of Evil, and all."

"Maybe," I say. "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."

"Help us rescue my dad. We'll send Set back to the Duat, and Osiris will be free. We'll all be happy."

I shake my head. "I told you—"

"Your scales are broken," Sadie notes. "That's because Osiris isn't here, I'm guessing. What happens to all the souls that come for judgment?"

My heart aches for each and every single one of them, is what happens.

I shift 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."

I clench my jaw. For a moment, I think I'm about to snarl. But I understand her point of view too much to be angry. She just wants to save her father. It's not her fault mine is a fucking asshole. I sigh.

"I do a ceremony called the opening of the mouth." I tell her. "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?"

I open my hand, visualizing the space over it as solid and heavy and with a burst of light the Feather of Truth appears in mt palm.

"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."

"And before you go," I continue, "you must answer three questions for me as you hold the feather of truth, to prove that you are honest."

She hesitates. "Um...what sort of questions?"

"Any that I want. And remember, the slightest lie will destroy you."

"Give me the bloody feather."

She stiffens up as I give her the feather. Once it touches her palm, it stops glowing.

"It's the tail feather from a bennu," I explain, "what you'd call a phoenix. It weighs exactly the same as a human soul. Are you ready?"

"No," She looks at me. "Does that count as one question?"

I smile. "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," she says immediately.

I nod. Like goddess, like host. "Final question: If it means saving the world, are you prepared to lose your father?"

"That's not a fair question!"

"Answer it honestly."

It really isn't fair. But knowing what's to come, knowing the only way Osiris can return to his throne… she'll need a head start on the idea.

She takes in a deep breath. "If...if there really was no other way, no other way at all— Oh, come off. It's a ridiculous question."

The feather begins to glow, illuminating her caramel hair.

"All right," she relents. "If I had to, then I suppose...I suppose I would save the world."

She stares at the feather, as if afraid it would disappear. When Sadie finally looks up at me, she looks on the verge of tears. Her blue eyes are like glass, the flame behind them struggling to ignite.

"I believe you, Sadie." I say.

And the fire's back, her irritation masking everything else. "Oh, really. I'm holding the bloody feather of truth, and you believe me. Well, thanks."

"The truth is harsh," I say. "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."

I stand up. "I should leave you now. You're running out of time. In just under 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?" she guesses.

I fix my eyes on hers. "Or perhaps you could bring me up to speed on modern courtship rituals."

She stares at me, stunned. I smirk, letting her know it's tease.

"Oh, very funny!" she yells.

I leave her in New Orleans, teleporting Horus's host and the baboon, too, as I'm on it. Then I laugh. I haven't laughed in a while. My gaze falls on the broken scales, the empty throne. My smile fades. Maybe, hopefully, soon the Hall of Judgement would be alive again. As alive as death herself.