The Red Pyramid (Kane Chronicles #1)(96)

Looking at Anubis in the dim light of the graveyard, I saw a lonely teenage guy. I tried to remind myself that he was a god, thousands of years old, probably able to control vast powers well beyond magic toilet paper, but I still felt sorry for him.

“Help us rescue my dad,” I said. “We’ll send Set back to the Duat, and Osiris will be free. We’ll all be happy.”

Anubis shook his head again. “I told you—”

“Your scales are broken,” I noticed. “That’s because Osiris isn’t here, I’m guessing. What happens to all the souls that come for judgment?”

I knew I’d hit a nerve. Anubis shifted 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.”

His eyes flashed with irritation. For a moment I thought he was planning my funeral, but he simply sighed in exasperation. “I do a ceremony called the opening of the mouth. 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?”

He opened his hand. There was a burst of light, and a glowing feather floated above his palm—a snowy plume like a writing quill. “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,” I said, though the request did leave me strangely uncomfortable. Why would Anubis ask something like that?

“And before you go,” Anubis continued, “you must answer three questions for me as you hold the feather of truth, to prove that you are honest.”

My mouth suddenly felt dry. “Um...what sort of questions?”

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

“Give me the bloody feather.”

As he handed it to me, the feather stopped glowing, but it felt warmer and heavier than a feather should.

“It’s the tail feather from a bennu,” Anubis explained, “what you’d call a phoenix. It weighs exactly the same as a human soul. Are you ready?”

“No,” I said, which must’ve been truthful, as I didn’t burn up. “Does that count as one question?”

Anubis actually smiled, which was quite dazzling. “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,” I said immediately.

(I know. It surprised me too. But holding the feather forced me to be truthful. Obviously it didn’t make me any wiser.)

Anubis nodded, apparently not surprised. “Final question: If it means saving the world, are you prepared to lose your father?”

“That’s not a fair question!”

“Answer it honestly.”

How could I answer something like that? It wasn’t a simple yes/no.

Of course I knew the “right” answer. The heroine is supposed to refuse to sacrifice her father. Then she boldly goes off and saves her dad and the world, right? But what if it really was one or the other? The whole world was an awfully large place: Gran and Gramps, Carter, Uncle Amos, Bast, Khufu, Liz and Emma, everyone I’d ever known. What would my dad say if I chose him instead?

“If...if there really was no other way,” I said, “no other way at all— Oh, come off. It’s a ridiculous question.”

The feather began to glow.

“All right,” I relented. “If I had to, then I suppose...I suppose I would save the world.”

Horrible guilt crushed down on me. What kind of daughter was I? I clutched the tyet amulet on my necklace—my one remembrance of Dad. I know some of you lot will be thinking: You hardly ever saw your dad. You barely knew him. Why would you care so much?

But that didn’t make him any less my dad, did it? Or the thought of losing him forever any less horrible. And the thought of failing him, of willingly choosing to let him die even to save the world—what sort of awful person was I?

I could barely meet Anubis’s eyes, but when I did, his expression softened.

“I believe you, Sadie.”

“Oh, really. I’m holding the bloody feather of truth, and you believe me. Well, thanks.”

“The truth is harsh,” Anubis said. “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.”

Anubis stood. “I should leave you now. You’re running out of time. In just over 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—”