The Throne of Fire (Kane Chronicles #2)

The Throne of Fire (Kane Chronicles #2)
Rick Riordan



1. Fun with Spontaneous Combustion

CARTER HERE.

Look, we don’t have time for long introductions. I need to tell this story quickly, or we’re all going to die.

If you didn’t listen to our first recording, well…pleased to meet you: the Egyptian gods are running around loose in the modern world; a bunch of magicians called the House of Life is trying to stop them; everyone hates Sadie and me; and a big snake is about to swallow the sun and destroy the world.

[Ow! What was that for?]

Sadie just punched me. She says I’m going to scare you too much. I should back up, calm down, and start at the beginning.

Fine. But personally, I think you should be scared.

The point of this recording is to let you know what’s really happening and how things went wrong. You’re going to hear a lot of people talking trash about us, but we didn’t cause those deaths. As for the snake, that wasn’t our fault either. Well…not exactly. All the magicians in the world have to come together. It’s our only chance.

So here’s the story. Decide for yourself. It started when we set Brooklyn on fire.

The job was supposed to be simple: sneak into the Brooklyn Museum, borrow a particular Egyptian artifact, and leave without getting caught.

No, it wasn’t robbery. We would have returned the artifact eventually. But I guess we did look suspicious: four kids in black ninja clothes on the roof of the museum. Oh, and a baboon, also dressed like a ninja. Definitely suspicious.

The first thing we did was send our trainees Jaz and Walt to open the side window, while Khufu, Sadie, and I examined the big glass dome in the middle of the roof, which was supposed to be our exit strategy.

Our exit strategy wasn’t looking too good.

It was well after dark, and the museum was supposed to be closed. Instead, the glass dome glowed with light. Inside, forty feet below, hundreds of people in tuxedos and evening gowns mingled and danced in a ballroom the size of an airplane hangar. An orchestra played, but with the wind howling in my ears and my teeth chattering, I couldn’t hear the music. I was freezing in my linen pajamas.

Magicians are supposed to wear linen because it doesn’t interfere with magic, which is probably a great tradition in the Egyptian desert, where it’s hardly ever cold and rainy. In Brooklyn, in March—not so much.

My sister, Sadie, didn’t seem bothered by the cold. She was undoing the locks on the dome while humming along to something on her iPod. I mean, seriously—who brings their own tunes to a museum break-in?

She was dressed in clothes like mine except she wore combat boots. Her blond hair was streaked with red highlights —very subtle for a stealth mission. With her blue eyes and her light complexion, she looked absolutely nothing like me, which we both agreed was fine. It’s always nice to have the option of denying that the crazy girl next to me is my sister.

“You said the museum would be empty,” I complained.

Sadie didn’t hear me until I pulled out her earbuds and repeated myself.

“Well, it was supposed to be empty.” She’ll deny this, but after living in the States for the last three months, she was starting to lose her British accent. “The Web site said it closed at five. How was I to know there’d be a wedding?”

A wedding? I looked down and saw that Sadie was right. Some of the ladies wore peach-colored bridesmaid dresses. One of the tables had a massive tiered white cake. Two separate mobs of guests had lifted the bride and groom on chairs and were carrying them through the room while their friends swirled around them, dancing and clapping. The whole thing looked like a head-on furniture collision waiting to happen.

Khufu tapped on the glass. Even in his black clothes, it was hard for him to blend into the shadows with his golden fur, not to mention his rainbow-colored nose and rear end.

“Agh!” he grunted.

Since he was a baboon, that could’ve meant anything from Look, there’s food down there to This glass is dirty to Hey, those people are doing stupid things with chairs.

“Khufu’s right,” Sadie interpreted. “We’ll have a hard time sneaking out through the party. Perhaps if we pretend we’re a maintenance crew—”

“Sure,” I said. “‘Excuse us. Four kids coming through with a three-ton statue. Just going to float it up through the roof. Don’t mind us.’”

Sadie rolled her eyes. She pulled out her wand—a curved length of ivory carved with pictures of monsters—and pointed it at the base of the dome. A golden hieroglyph blazed, and the last padlock popped open.

“Well, if we’re not going to use this as an exit,” she said, “why am I opening it? Couldn’t we just come out the way we’re going in—through the side window?”

“I told you. The statue is huge. It won’t fit through the side window. Plus, the traps—”

“Try again tomorrow night, then?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Tomorrow the whole exhibit is being boxed up and shipped off on tour.”

She raised her eyebrows in that annoying way she has. “Perhaps if someone had given us more notice that we needed to steal this statue—”

“Forget it.” I could tell where this conversation was going, and it wasn’t going to help if Sadie and I argued on the roof all night. She was right, of course. I hadn’t given her much notice. But, hey—my sources weren’t exactly reliable. After weeks of asking for help, I’d finally gotten a tip from my buddy the falcon war god Horus, speaking in my dreams: Oh, by the way, that artifact you wanted? The one that might hold the key to saving the planet? It’s been sitting down the street in the Brooklyn Museum for the last thirty years, but tomorrow it leaves for Europe, so you’d better hurry! You’ll have five days to figure out how to use it, or we’re all doomed. Good luck!