"I'm trying to scry my nephew. It's not working." Amos said one December day.
Yousseff cleared his throat. He was Amos's top general assistant, his second in command. He was wearing sleek obsidian black robes that matched his glittery stud earrings "There have been reports of the scrying methods not working with our initiates," he said. "We didn't want to bother you because you have more important things to do.
"Please bother me," Amos said gently but imperiously. "I am the head of the First Nome. It's important that I know if we have issues with our initiates. Not specific personnel issues, but overall."
"Well, we just thought you had more important issues than to be bothered with this," Yousseff said.
"WHO thought I had more important issues than this?" Amos was angry now.
"Sadie."
"Sadie!" Amos exclaimed. "You've been discussing our scrying issues with Sadie!"
"There have been issues in the Twenty-First Nome with scrying as well." Yousseff attempted to placate Amos.
"And she didn't want to tell me why? I'm her uncle!" Amos took a moment to try to regulate himself. "If there are problems with the Twenty-First Nome, it's imperative that I know what they are. I control all three hundred and sixty nomes, of course."
"I believe that's what Carter was going to discuss with you in the scrying pot." Yousseff said nervously. His hands were jittery, flying haphazardly. His mouth twisted into a sick smile.
Amos paused. "I see." He pulled out his cell phone and texted Carter, his fingers flying. The scrying pots aren't working. The text didn't go through, although it immediately autocorrected. "Damn. I need to go upstairs for cell service."
He went upstairs to the living room of the one-story penthouse the First Nome used for accommodations such as these (connection issues not working) and leaned back in a green faux leather loveseat. His bedroom was also on that first floor, above the First Nome. The text went through as he settled into the seat. Carter responded immediately.
I figured. We're having the same problems up here. Do you want to Facetime or do hand hieroglyphics?
No. I have meetings through the rest of the day. Amos leaned back and took a nap.
The next day, Amos met with his Greek counterpart, Chiron over Zoom. They were in a first-story penthouse above the First Nome in Cairo. He was zooming from the kitchen, the stainless steel refrigerator and orange tiles (handmade by the initiates from the First Nome) in the background.
It was their regularly scheduled monthly meeting. It was deliberately scheduled to be held after the winter and summer solstice, when the Greek gods had their meetings.
"Any news from the heavens?"
Chiron smiled. It was a half smile, half smirk. "No news from Mount Olympus. It's been closed, unfortunately. The gods have not been answering our prayers."
Amos laughed. "Do they ever?" While Chiron and Amos didn't get to talk often, they were genuinely friends.
"Are you having any problems with, er - communication?"
"It's funny you say that," Amos said, his brow furrowing. "Mortal communication methods are, as ever, not dependable. But our scrying methods are not working in the First Nome and the Twenty-First Nome."
"Twenty-First Nome." Chiron's tongue rolled over the words. "Brooklyn. Your niece and nephew live there. Do you have any, ah, personal experience with these problems?"
"I ran into some problems when I tried to scry Carter yesterday," Amos admitted. While his instinct was to say, "let me know if the problems continue," and click off, the problems continued. It had been a year since Percy Jackson disappeared and Hera issued a quest of seven demigods, both Roman and Greek, to bring the gods back to one type of form, Roman or Greek. The Roman demigods had destabilized Camp Half-Blood and a lot of demigods worked heroically to bring the camps together after the fight.
Amos thought he should be wary of the Romans, but he didn't bring it up. He discussed it with Chiron during previous meetings. At first, Chiron agreed with him. But after inter-camp exchanges, Chiron changed his mind. Chiron understood where Amos was coming from, but it was three thousand years ago that the Romans destroyed Ancient Egypt.
"Are you sure there has been no contact from the gods?"
"Hermes still does his deliveries," Chiron said. "He seems…unwell."
"Hmm." While Amos sympathized, he didn't feel he could help Hermes. "Let me know if Hermes gets better. In the meantime, we can arrange a meeting between yourself and Dionysus and Bast at Brooklyn House to discuss problems with messaging. I'm aware there are issues with hand hieroglyphics in addition to scrying."
"Right. I can get right on that." Chiron's bearded head bobbed.
"Are there any other issues we need to discuss?"
"I can't think of anything. We'll go over this in more detail at the Brooklyn House meeting."
"I think I should be there," Amos said.
"Of course." Chiron smiled warmly. "It will be good to see you, old friend."