The Complete Kane Chronicles (59 page)

After she left, Bes, Carter and I ordered more food from room service. We sat on the deck and watched the afternoon go by. The breeze from the Mediterranean was cool and pleasant. Modern Alexandria stretched out to our left—an odd mix of gleaming high-rises, shabby, crumbling buildings, and ancient ruins. The shoreline highway was dotted with palm trees and crowded with every sort of vehicle from BMWs to donkeys. From our penthouse suite, it all seemed a bit unreal—the raw energy of the city, the bustle and congestion below —while we sat on our veranda in the sky eating fresh fruit and the last melting bits of Lenin’s head.

I wondered if this was how the gods felt, watching the mortal world from their throne room in the Duat.

As we talked, I set the two scrolls from the Book of Ra on the patio table. They looked so plain and harmless, yet we’d almost died retrieving them. Still one more to find, then the
real
fun would begin—figuring out how to use them to awaken Ra. It seemed impossible we could do so much in forty-eight hours, yet here we sat, sidelined and exhausted, forced to rest until the morning. Carter and his bloody heroics, getting bitten by that Doctor Dolittle snake…and he calls
me
impulsive. Meanwhile, Amos and our rookie initiates were left alone at Brooklyn House, preparing to defend against Vlad Menshikov, a magician so ruthless, he was on a secret-name basis with the god of evil.

I told Carter what had happened in St. Petersburg after he got poisoned—how I’d given up Set’s name in exchange for the location of the last scroll: someplace called Bahariya. I described my vision of Anubis and Walt, my chat with Jaz’s spirit, and my trip back in time to Ra’s sun barge. The only thing I held back: what Set had said about Zia’s village being named al-Hamrah Makan. And yes, I know that was wrong —but I’d just been inside Carter’s head. I now understood how important Zia was to him. I knew how badly
any
information about her would rattle him.

Carter sat in his lounge chair and listened intently. His color had returned to normal. His eyes were clear and alert. It was hard to believe he’d been on death’s door only hours before. I wanted to credit my healing powers, but I had a feeling his recovery had just as much to do with rest, several ginger ales, and a room-service cheeseburger with chips.

“Bahariya…” He looked at Bes. “I know that name. Why do I know that name?”

Bes scratched his beard. He’d been glum and silent since I’d recounted our conversation with Set. The name Bahariya seemed especially to bother him.

“It’s an oasis,” he said, “way out in the desert. The mummies buried there were a secret until 1996. Then some fool donkey put its leg through a hole in the ground and broke open the top of a tomb.”

“Right!” Carter beamed at me, that
Gee, history is cool!
light in his eyes, so I knew he must be feeling better. “It’s called the Valley of the Golden Mummies.”

“I like gold,” I said. “Mummies—not so much.”

“Oh, you just haven’t met enough mummies,” Bes said.

I couldn’t tell if he was joking, and I decided not to ask. “So the last scroll is hidden there?”

Bes shrugged. “It would make sense. The oasis is out of the way. Wasn’t found until recently. There are also powerful curses in place to prevent portal travel. The mortal archaeologists have excavated some of the tombs, but there’s still a huge network of tunnels and chambers no one’s opened in thousands of years.
Lots
of mummies.”

I imagined horror film mummies with their arms out and their linen wraps coming undone, groaning as they chased screaming starlets and strangled archaeologists.

“When you say
lots
of mummies,” I ventured, “how many is lots?”

“They’ve uncovered a few hundred,” Bes said, “out of maybe ten thousand.”

“Ten thousand?” I looked at Carter, who didn’t seem bothered by this at all.

“Sadie,” he said, “it’s not like they’re going to come to life and kill you.”

“No,” Bes agreed. “Probably not. Almost for sure not.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. “I feel much better.”

(Yes, I know what I said earlier about dead people and cemeteries not bothering me. But ten thousand mummies? That was pushing it.)

“Anyway,” Bes said, “most of the mummies are from Roman times. They’re not even properly Egyptian. Bunch of Latin wannabes trying to get into
our
afterlife because it’s cooler. But some of the older tombs…well, we’ll just have to see. With two parts of the Book of Ra, you should be able to track down the third part once you get close enough.”

“How, exactly?” I asked.

Bes shrugged. “When magic items get broken up, the pieces are like magnets. The closer they get, the more they attract each other.”

That didn’t necessarily make me feel better. I imagined myself running through a tunnel with flaming scrolls stuck to both hands.

“Right,” I said. “So all we have to do is creep through a network of tombs past ten thousand golden mummies, who probably, almost for sure, won’t come to life and kill us.”

“Yeah,” Bes said. “Well, they’re not really solid gold. Most of them are just painted with gold. But, yeah.”

“That makes a huge difference.”

“Then it’s decided.” Carter sounded positively thrilled. “We can leave in the morning. How far is it?”

“A little over two hundred miles,” Bes said, “but the roads are iffy. And portals…well, like I said, the oasis is cursed against them. And even if it wasn’t, we’re back in the First Nome. It would be wise to use as little magic as possible. If you’re discovered in Desjardins’ home territory…”

He didn’t need to finish that sentence.

I gazed at the skyline of Alexandria curving along the shore of the glittering Mediterranean. I tried to picture it as it might’ve been in ancient times, before Cleopatra, Egypt’s final pharaoh, chose the wrong side in a Roman civil war and lost her life and her kingdom. This was the city where Ancient Egypt had died. It didn’t seem a very auspicious place to start a quest.

Unfortunately, I had no choice. I’d have to travel two hundred miles through the desert to some isolated oasis and find one needle of a scroll in a haystack of mummies. I didn’t see how we could accomplish this in the time we had left.

Worse, I hadn’t yet told Carter my last bit of information about Zia’s village. I could just keep my mouth shut. That would be the selfish thing. It might even be the right thing, as I needed his help, and I couldn’t afford to have him distracted.

But I couldn’t keep it from him. I’d invaded his mind and learned his secret name. The least I could do was be honest with him.

“Carter…there’s something else. Set wanted you to know. Zia’s village was named Makan al-Ramal al-Hamrah.”

Carter turned a bit green again. “You just forgot to mention this?”

“Remember, Set is a liar,” I said. “He wasn’t being helpful. He volunteered the information because he wanted to cause chaos between us.”

I could already tell I was losing him. His mind was caught in a strong current that had been pulling him along since January—the idea that he could save Zia. Now that I’d been in his mind, I knew he wouldn’t rest—he
couldn’t
rest—until he’d found her. It went far beyond liking the girl. He’d convinced himself she was part of his destiny.

One of his darker secrets? Deep down, Carter still resented our father for failing to save our mum, even though she had died for a noble cause, and even though it was her choice to sacrifice herself. Carter simply could
not
fail Zia in the same way, no matter what the stakes. He needed someone to believe in him, someone to save—and he was convinced Zia was that person. Sorry, a little sister just wouldn’t do.

It hurt me, especially since I didn’t agree with him, but I knew better than to argue. It would only push him farther away.

“Makan al-Ramal al-Hamrah…” he said. “My Arabic isn’t very good. But Hamrah is red.”

“Yes,” Bes agreed. “Al-Ramal means ‘the sands.’”

Carter’s eyes widened. “The Place of Red Sands! The voice at the Brooklyn Museum said Zia was asleep at the Place of Red Sands.” He looked at me pleadingly. “Sadie, it’s the ruins of her home village.
That’s
where Iskandar hid her. We have to find her.”

Just like that: the fate of the world goes out the window. We have to find Zia.

I could have pointed out several things: He was going on the word of an evil spirit that was probably speaking directly from Apophis. If Apophis knew where Zia was kept, why would he tell us, except to delay and distract us? And if he wanted Zia dead, why hadn’t he killed her already? Also, Set had given us the name al-Hamrah Makan. Set was
never
up to any good. He was clearly hoping to divide us. Finally, even if we had the name of the village, that didn’t mean we could find it. The place had been wiped out almost a decade ago.

But looking at Carter, I realized there was no reasoning with him. This wasn’t a reasonable choice. He saw a chance to save Zia, and he was going to take it.

I simply said, “It’s a bad idea.” And yes, it felt
quite
strange being forced to play the responsible sibling.

Carter turned to Bes. “Could you find this village?”

The dwarf god tugged at his Hawaiian shirt. “Maybe, but it would take time. You’ve got a little more than two days left. The equinox starts the day after tomorrow at sunset. Getting to the oasis of Bahariya is a full day of travel. Finding this ruined village—easily another day—and if it’s on the Nile, it’s in the opposite direction. Once you’ve got the Book of Ra, you’ll need to allow another day at least to figure out how to use it. I guarantee awakening Ra will mean a trip into the Duat, where time is always unpredictable. You’ll have to be back with Ra at dawn on the equinox—”

“We don’t have enough time,” I summed up. “It’s either the Book of Ra, or Zia.”

Why did I press Carter, when I knew what he was going to say?

“I can’t leave her.” He looked at the sun, now dipping toward in the horizon. “She’s got a part to play, Sadie. I don’t know what it is, but she’s important. We can’t lose her.”

I waited. It was obvious what had to happen, but Carter wasn’t going to say it.

I took a deep breath. “We’ll have to separate. You and Bes go after Zia. I’ll track down the scroll.”

Bes coughed. “Speaking of bad ideas…”

Carter couldn’t look me in the eyes. I knew he cared about me. He didn’t want to be rid of me, but I could sense his relief. He wanted to be released from his responsibilities so he could hunt down Zia. “You saved my life,” he said. “I can’t let you go alone into the desert.”

I unclasped my
shen
necklace. “I won’t go alone. Walt offered to help.”

“He can’t,” Bes said.

“But you won’t tell me why,” I said.

“I—” Bes faltered. “Look, I promised Bast I’d watch you, keep you safe.”

“And I expect you to watch Carter very well. He’ll need you to find this village. As for me, Walt and I can manage.”

“But—”

“Whatever Walt’s bloody secret is, whatever you’re trying to protect him from, it’s making him miserable. He wants to help. And I’m going to let him.”

The dwarf glared at me, possibly wondering if he could yell
BOO!
and win the argument. I suppose he realized I was too stubborn.

He sighed in resignation. “Two young people traveling alone through Egypt…a boy and a girl. It’ll look strange.”

“I’ll just say Walt’s my brother.”

Carter winced. I hadn’t meant to be harsh, but I suppose the comment was a bit hurtful. Looking back, I’m sorry for that, but at the time I was terrified and angry. Carter was putting me in an impossible position.

“Go,” I said firmly. “Save Zia.”

Carter tried to read my expression, but I avoided looking at him. This was not the time for us to have one of our silent conversations. He didn’t really want to know what I was thinking.

“How will we find each other?” he asked.

“Let’s meet back here,” I suggested. “We’ll leave at dawn. Allow ourselves twenty-four hours, no longer, for me to find the scroll, you to find Zia’s village, and both of us get back to Alexandria.”

Bes grunted. “Not enough time. Even if everything goes perfectly, that’ll leave you about twelve hours to put together the Book of Ra and use it before the eve of the equinox.”

He was right. It was impossible.

Yet Carter nodded. “It’s our only chance. We have to try.”

He looked at me hopefully, but I think I knew even then that we wouldn’t meet in Alexandria. We were the Kanes, which meant
everything
would go wrong.

“Fine,” I muttered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should go pack.”

I walked inside before I could start crying.

C A R T E R

A
T THIS POINT
, I
SHOULD CHANGE
my secret name to
Embarrassed to Death by Sister,
because that pretty much sums up my existence.

I’m going skip over our travel preparations, how Sadie summoned Walt and explained the situation, how Bes and I said our farewells at dawn and rented a car from one of Bes’s “reliable friends,” and how that car broke down halfway to Cairo.

Basically, I’m going to skip to the part where Bes and I were rumbling along a dusty road in the back of a pickup truck driven by some Bedouins, looking for a village that no longer existed.

By this point it was late afternoon, and I was starting to think Bes’s estimate of needing one day to find al-Hamrah Makan was way too optimistic. With each hour we wasted, my heart felt heavier. I’d risked everything to help Zia. I’d left Amos and our initiates alone at Brooklyn House to defend against the most evil magician in the world. I’d left my sister to continue the quest for the last scroll without me. If I failed to find Zia…well, I
couldn’t
fail.

Traveling with professional nomads had some advantages. For one thing, the Bedouins knew every village, farm, and dusty crossroads in Egypt. They were happy to stop and ask the locals about the vanished village we were seeking.

For another thing, the Bedouins revered Bes. They treated him as a living good-luck charm. When we stopped for lunch (which took two hours to make), the Bedouins even gave us the best part of the goat. As far as I could tell, the best part of the goat wasn’t too different from the worst part of the goat, but I suppose it was a big honor.

The bad thing about traveling with Bedouins? They weren’t in a hurry. It took us all day to wind our way south along the Nile Valley. The journey was hot and boring. In the back of the truck, I couldn’t even talk to Bes without getting a mouthful of sand, so I had way too much time to think.

Sadie described my obsession pretty well. The moment she’d given me the name of Zia’s village, I couldn’t focus on anything else. Of course, I figured it was some sort of trick. Apophis was trying to divide us and keep us from succeeding on our quest. But I also believed he was telling the truth, if only because the truth is what would rattle me the most. He had destroyed Zia’s village when she was a child—for what reason, I didn’t know. Now she was hidden there in a magic sleep. Unless I saved her, Apophis would kill her.

Why hadn’t he killed her already if he knew where she was? I wasn’t sure—and that bothered me. Maybe he didn’t have the power yet. Maybe he didn’t want to. After all, if he was trying to lure me into a trap, she was the best bait. Whatever the case, Sadie was right: it wasn’t a rational choice for me. I
had
to save Zia.

Despite that, I felt like a creep for leaving Sadie on her own yet again. First I’d let her go off to London even though I knew it was a bad idea. Now I’d sent her to track down a scroll in a catacomb full of mummies. Sure, Walt would help her, and she could usually take care of herself. But a good brother would have stayed with her. Sadie had just saved my life, and I was like, “Great. See you later. Have fun with the mummies.”

I’ll just say Walt is my brother.

Ouch.

If I’m honest with myself, Zia wasn’t the only reason I was anxious to go off on my own. I was in shock that Sadie had discovered my secret name. Suddenly she knew me better than anyone in the world. I felt like she’d opened me up on the surgery table, examined me, and sewn me back together. My first instinct was to run away, to put as much distance between us as possible.

I wondered if Ra had felt the same way when Isis learned his name—if that was the real reason he went into exile: complete humiliation.

Also, I needed time to process what Sadie had accomplished. For months we’d been trying to relearn the path of the gods. We’d struggled to figure out how the ancient magicians tapped the gods’ powers without getting possessed or overwhelmed. Now I suspected Sadie had found the answer. It had something to do with a god’s
ren.

A secret name wasn’t just a name, like a magic word. It was the sum of the god’s experiences. The more you understood the god, the closer you got to knowing their secret name, and the more you could channel their power.

If that was true, then the path of the gods was basically sympathetic magic—finding a similarity between two things, like a regular corkscrew and a corkscrew-headed demon, and using that similarity to form a magic bond. Only here, the bond was between the magician and a god. If you could find a common trait or experience, you could tap the god’s power.

That might explain how I’d blasted open the doors at the Hermitage with the Fist of Horus—a spell I’d never been able to do on my own. Without thinking about it, without needing to combine souls with Horus, I’d tapped into his emotions. We both hated feeling confined. I’d used that simple connection to invoke a spell and break the chains. Now, if I could just figure out how to do stuff like that more reliably, it might save us in the coming battles….

We traveled for miles in the Bedouins’ truck. The Nile snaked through green and brown fields to our left. We had nothing to drink but water from an old plastic jug that tasted like Vaseline. The goat meat wasn’t sitting well in my stomach. Every once in a while I’d remember the poison that had coursed through my body, and my shoulder would start to ache where the
tjesu heru
had bitten me.

Around six in the evening we got our first lead. An old
fellahin,
a peasant farmer selling dates on the roadside, said he knew the village we were seeking. When he heard the name Makan al-Ramal al-Hamrah he made a protective sign against the Evil Eye, but since Bes was the one asking, the old man told us what he knew.

He said Red Sands was an evil place, very badly cursed. No one ever visited nowadays. But the old man remembered the village from before it had been destroyed. We would find it ten kilometers south, at a bend in the river where the sand turned bright red.

Well, duh,
I thought, but I couldn’t help being excited.

The Bedouins decided to make camp for the night. They wouldn’t be going with us the rest of the way, but they said they’d be honored if Bes and I borrowed their truck.

A few minutes later, Bes and I were cruising along in the pickup. Bes wore a floppy hat almost as ugly as his Hawaiian shirt. It was pulled so low, I wasn’t sure he could see anything, especially since he was barely eye-level with the dashboard.

Every time we hit a bump, Bedouin trinkets jangled on the rearview mirror—a metal disk etched with Arabic calligraphy, a Christmas-tree–shaped pine air freshener, some animal teeth on a leather strap, and a little icon of Elvis Presley for reasons I didn’t understand. The truck had no suspension and hardly any padding on the seats. I felt like I was riding a mechanical bull. Even without the jostling, my stomach would’ve been upset. After months of searching and hoping, I couldn’t believe I was so close to finding Zia.

“You look terrible,” Bes said.

“Thanks.”

“I mean magically speaking. You don’t look ready for a fight. Whatever’s waiting for us, you understand it isn’t going to be friendly?”

Under the brim of his hat, his jaw jutted out like he was bracing for an argument.

“You think this is a mistake,” I said. “You think I should’ve stayed with Sadie.”

He shrugged. “I think if you were looking at it straight, you’d see this has
TRAP
written all over it. The old Chief Lector—Iskandar—he wouldn’t have hidden your girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“—without putting some protective spells around her. Set and Apophis apparently
both
want you to find this place, which means it
cannot
be good for you. You’re leaving your sister and Walt on their own. On top of all that, we’re traipsing through Desjardins’ backyard, and after that stunt in St. Petersburg, Menshikov won’t rest until he finds you. So, yeah, I’d say this isn’t your brightest idea.”

I stared out the windshield. I wanted to be mad at Bes for calling me stupid, but I was afraid he might be right. I’d been hoping for a happy reunion with Zia. The chances were I’d never make it through tonight alive.

“Maybe Menshikov is still recovering from his head injuries,” I said hopefully.

Bes laughed. “Take it from me, kid. Menshikov is already after you. He never forgets an insult.”

His voice smoldered with anger, like it did in St. Petersburg when he’d told us about the dwarf wedding. I wondered what had really happened to Bes in that palace, and why he was still brooding over it three hundred years later.

“Was it Vlad?” I asked. “Was he the one who captured you?”

It didn’t seem so far-fetched. I’d met several magicians who were centuries old. But Bes shook his head.

“His grandfather, Prince Alexander Menshikov.” Bes said the name like it was a major insult. “He was secretly the head of the Eighteenth Nome. Powerful. Cruel. A lot like his grandson. I’d never dealt with a magician like that. It was the first time I’d been captured.”

“But didn’t the magicians lock all you gods in the Duat after Egypt fell?”

“Most of us,” Bes agreed. “Some slept the entire two millennia until your dad unleashed us. Others broke out from time to time and the House of Life would track them down and put them back. Sekhmet broke out in 1918. Big influenza epidemic. But a few of the gods like me stayed in the mortal world the entire time. Back in the ancient days, I was just, you know, a friendly guy. I scared away spirits. The commoners liked me. So when Egypt fell, the Romans adopted me as one of their gods. Then, in the Middle Ages, the Christians modeled gargoyles after me, to protect their cathedrals and whatnot. They made up legends about gnomes, dwarves, helpful leprechauns—all based on me.”

“Helpful leprechauns?”

He scowled. “You don’t think I’m helpful? I look good in green tights.”

“I didn’t need that image.”

Bes huffed. “Anyway, the House of Life was never serious about tracking me down. I just kept a low profile and stayed out of trouble. I was never captured until Russia. Probably still be a prisoner there if it wasn’t for—” He stopped himself, as if realizing he’d said too much.

He turned off the road. The truck rattled over hard-packed sand and rocks, heading for the river.

“Someone helped you escape?” I guessed. “Bast?”

The dwarf’s neck turned bright red. “No…not Bast. She was stuck in the abyss fighting Apophis.”

“Then—”

“The point is, I got free, and I got my revenge. I managed to get Alexander Menshikov convicted on corruption charges. He was disgraced, stripped of his wealth and titles. His whole family was shipped off to Siberia. Best day of my life. Unfortunately, his grandson Vladimir made a comeback. Eventually he moved back to St. Petersburg, rebuilt his grandfather’s fortune, and took over the Eighteenth Nome. If Vlad had the chance to capture me…”

Bes shifted in the driver’s seat like the springs were getting uncomfortable. “I guess why I’m telling you this… You’re okay, kid. The way you stood up for your sister on Waterloo Bridge, ready to take me on—that took guts. And trying to ride a
tjesu heru
? That was plenty brave. Stupid, but brave.”

“
Um,
thanks.”

“You remind me of myself,” Bes continued, “back when I was a young dwarf. You got a stubborn streak. When it comes to girl problems, you’re clueless.”

“Girl problems?” I thought nobody could embarrass me as much as Sadie did when she learned my secret name, but Bes was doing a pretty good job. “This isn’t just a girl problem.”

Bes regarded me like I was a poor lost puppy. “You want to save Zia. I get that. You want her to like you. But when you rescue somebody…it complicates things. Don’t get starry-eyed about somebody you can’t have, especially if it blinds you to somebody who’s really important. Don’t…don’t make my mistakes.”

I heard the pain in his voice. I knew he was trying to help, but it still felt weird getting guy advice from a four-foot-tall god in an ugly hat.

“The person who rescued you,” I said. “It was a goddess, wasn’t it? Someone besides Bast—somebody you were involved with?”

His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “Kid.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad we had this talk. Now, if you value your teeth—”

“I’ll shut up.”

“That’s good.” Bes put his foot on the brake. “Because I think we’re here.”

The sun was going down at our backs. Everything in front of us was bathed in red light—the sand, the water of the Nile, the hills on the horizon. Even the fronds of the palm trees looked like they were tinged with blood.

Set would love this place,
I thought.

There was no sign of civilization—just a few gray herons flying overhead and an occasional splash in the river: maybe fish or a crocodile. I imagined this part of the Nile hadn’t looked too different in the time of the pharaohs.

“Come on,” Bes said. “Bring your stuff.”

Bes didn’t wait for me. When I caught up to him, he was standing on the riverbank, sifting sand through his fingers.