The Serpent's Shadow (Kane Chronicles #3)(105)

“Is he all right?” I cried, running up to him. “What’s wrong with him?”

Bes turned, looking startled. “Besides being ugly? Nothing, kid. I was just thinking—sorry.”

He rose (as much as a dwarf can rise) and hugged us both.

“Glad you kids could make it,” Bes said. “You know Tawaret and I are going to build a home on the lakeside. I’ve gotten used to this view. She’ll keep working at the House of Rest. I’ll be a house dwarf for a while. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get some little dwarf hippo babies to look after!”

“Oh, Bes!” Tawaret blushed fiercely and batted her hippo eyelids.

The dwarf god chuckled. “Yeah, life is good. But if you kids need me, just holler. I’ve always had more luck coming to the mortal world than most gods.”

Carter scowled fretfully. “Do you think we’ll need you a lot? I mean, of course we want to see you! I just wondered—”

Bes grunted. “Hey, I’m an ugly dwarf. I’ve got a sweet car, an excellent wardrobe, and amazing powers. Why wouldn’t you need me?”

“Good point,” Carter agreed.

“But, uh, don’t call too often,” Bes said. “After all, my honeycakes and I got a few millennia of quality time to catch up on.”

He took Tawaret’s hand, and for once I didn’t find the name of this place—Sunny Acres—quite so depressing.

“Thank you for everything, Bes,” I said.

“Are you kidding?” he said. “You gave me my life back, and I don’t just mean my shadow.”

I got the distinct feeling the two gods wanted some time by themselves, so we said our good-byes and headed down the steps to the lake.

The white sand portal was still swirling. Bast stood next to it, engrossed in her ball of yarn. She laced it between her fingers to make a rectangle like a cat’s cradle. (No, I didn’t mean that as a pun, but it did seem appropriate.)

“Having fun?” I asked.

“Thought you’d want to see this.” She held up the cat’s cradle. A video image flickered across its surface like on a computer screen.

I saw the Hall of the Gods with its soaring columns and polished floors, its braziers burning with a hundred multicolored fires. On the central dais, the sun boat had been replaced with a golden throne. Horus sat there in his human form—a bald muscular teen in full battle armor. He held a crook and flail across his lap, and his eyes gleamed—one silver, one gold. At his right stood Isis, smiling proudly, her rainbow wings shimmering. On his left stood Set, the red-skinned Chaos god with his iron staff. He looked quite amused, as if he had all sorts of wicked things planned for later. The other gods knelt as Horus addressed them. I scanned the crowd for Anubis—with or without Walt—but again, I didn’t see him.

I couldn’t hear the words, but I reckoned it was a similar speech to the one Carter had delivered to the House of Life.

“He’s doing the same thing I did,” Carter protested. “I bet he even stole my speech. That copycat!”

Bast clucked disapprovingly. “No need to call names, Carter. Cats are not copiers. We are all unique. But, yes, what you do as pharaoh in the mortal world will often be mirrored in the world of the gods. Horus and you, after all, rule the forces of Egypt.”

“That,” I said, “is a truly scary thought.”

Carter swatted me lightly on the arm. “I just can’t believe that Horus left without even a good-bye. It’s as if he tossed me aside as soon as he was done using me, and then forgot about me.”

“Oh, no,” Bast said. “Gods wouldn’t do that. He simply had to leave.”

But I wondered. Gods were rather selfish creatures, even those who weren’t cats. Isis hadn’t given me a proper good-bye or thank-you either.

“Bast, you’re coming with us, aren’t you?” I pleaded. “I mean, this silly exile can’t apply to you! We need our nap instructor at Brooklyn House.”

Bast wadded up her ball of yarn and tossed it down the steps. Her expression was quite sad for a feline. “Oh, my kittens. If I could, I would pick you up by the scruffs of your necks and carry you forever. But you’ve grown. Your claws are sharp, your eyesight is keen, and cats must make their own way in the world. I must say farewell for now, though I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

I wanted to protest that I hadn’t grown up and I didn’t even have claws.

(Carter disagrees, but what does he know?)

But part of me knew Bast was right. We’d been lucky to have her with us for so long. Now we had to be adult cats—er, humans.

“Oh, Muffin…” I hugged her fiercely, and could feel her purring.

She ruffled my hair. Then she rubbed Carter’s ears, which was quite funny.

“Go on, now,” she said. “Before I start to mewl. Besides…” She fixed her eyes on the ball of yarn, which had rolled to the bottom of the steps. She crouched and tensed her shoulders. “I have some hunting to do.”

“We’ll miss you, Bast,” I said, trying not to cry. “Good hunting.”

“Yarn,” she said absently, creeping down the steps. “Dangerous prey, yarn…”

Carter and I stepped through the portal. This time it deposited us onto the roof of Brooklyn House.