The Serpent's Shadow (Kane Chronicles #3)(54)

I wasn’t sure whether to weep or scream. I only managed to keep my calm because I sensed that Setne would find any reaction extremely funny.

He faced my father. “What do you say, Lord Osiris? It’s a chance to get your wife back, defeat Apophis, restore Bes’s soul, save the world! All I ask is that when I come back, the court take my good deeds into consideration when you sentence me. How fair is that, huh?”

The chamber was silent except for the crackling fires in the braziers.

Finally Disturber seemed to shake himself out of a trance. “My lord…what is your ruling?”

Dad looked at me. I could tell he hated this plan. But Setne had tempted him with the one thing he couldn’t pass up: a chance to save our mum. The vile ghost had promised me one last day alone with Walt, which I wanted more than anything, and a chance to save Bes, which was a close second. He’d put Carter and Zia together and promised them a chance to save the world.

He’d put hooks in all of us and reeled us in like fish from a sacred lake. But despite the fact that I knew we were being played, I couldn’t find a reason to say no.

“We have to, Dad,” I said.

He lowered his head. “Yes, we do. May Ma’at protect us all.”

“Oh, we’ll have fun!” Setne said cheerfully. “Shall we get going? Doomsday isn’t gonna wait!”

C A R T E R

11. Don’t Worry, Be Hapi

TYPICAL.

Sadie and Walt go off looking for a friendly shadow, while Zia and I escort a psychotic murderous ghost to his heavily trapped stash of forbidden magic. Gee, who got the better end of that deal?

The Egyptian Queen burst out of the Underworld and into the Nile like a breaching whale. Its paddle wheel churned through the blue water. Its smokestacks billowed golden smoke into the desert air. After the gloom of the Duat, the sunlight was blinding. Once my eyes adjusted, I saw we were chugging downriver, heading north, so we must have surfaced somewhere to the south of Memphis.

On either side, marshy green riverbanks columned with palm trees stretched into the humid haze. A few houses dotted the landscape. A battered pickup truck rumbled down the riverfront road. A sailboat glided by on our port side. No one paid us any attention.

I wasn’t sure exactly where we were. It could’ve been anywhere along the Nile. But judging from the position of the sun, it was already late morning. We’d eaten and slept in my father’s realm, figuring we wouldn’t be able to close our eyes once we had custody of Setne. It hadn’t felt like much of a rest, but obviously we’d spent more time down under than I realized. The day was slipping by. Tomorrow at dawn, the rebels would attack the First Nome, and Apophis would rise.

Zia stood next to me at the bow. She’d showered and changed into a spare set of combat clothes—a camo tank top, olive cargo pants tucked into her boots. Maybe that doesn’t sound glamorous, but in the morning sunlight she was beautiful. Best of all, she was here in person—not a reflection in the scrying bowl, not a shabti. When the wind changed directions I caught the scent of her lemon shampoo. Our forearms touched as we leaned against the rail, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her skin was feverishly warm.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

She had trouble focusing on me. Up close, the flecks of green and black in her amber eyes were sort of hypnotizing. “I was thinking about Ra,” she said. “Wondering who’s taking care of him today.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

But I felt a little disappointed. Personally, I was thinking about the moment when Zia had taken my hand in the dining room last night: Sometimes you have to follow your heart. This might be our last day on earth. If it was, I should really tell Zia how I felt about her. I mean, I thought she knew, but I didn’t know that she knew, so…Oh, man. Headache.

I started to say, “Zia—”

Setne materialized next to us. “All better!”

In the daylight, he looked almost like flesh-and-blood, but when he turned in a circle, showing off his new clothes, his face and hands flickered holographically. I’d given him permission to put on something besides the loincloth. In fact, I’d insisted. But I hadn’t expected an outfit so mind-boggling.

Maybe he was trying to live up to Sadie’s nickname for him: Uncle Vinnie. He wore a black suit jacket with padded shoulders, a red T-shirt, a crisp pair of jeans, and blindingly white running shoes. Around his neck was a heavy gold chain of interlocking ankhs. On each pinky he wore a ring the size of a jawbreaker, with the symbol of power—was—set in diamonds. His hair was combed back with even more grease. His eyes were lined with kohl. He looked like the Ancient Egyptian Mafia.

Then I noticed something missing from his ensemble. He didn’t seem to be wearing the Ribbons of Hathor.

I’ll admit: I panicked. I yelled the command word Zia had taught me: “Tas!”

The symbol for Bind flared in Setne’s face:

The Ribbons of Hathor reappeared around his neck, wrists, ankles, chest, and waist. They expanded aggressively, cocooning Setne in a pink tornado until he was wrapped tight as a mummy, with nothing showing but his eyes.

“Mm!” he protested.

I took a deep breath. Then I snapped my fingers. The bindings shrank back to their normal size.

“What was that for?” Setne demanded.

“I didn’t see the ribbons.”