Rick Riordan - The Red Pyramid

Then I closed my eyes, and I heard another distant sound-music that triggered my earliest memories, my father smiling as he danced me round our house in Los Angeles.

“Jazz,” I said.

I opened my eyes, and the Hall of Judgment was gone. Or not gone, but faded. I could still see the broken scales and the empty throne. But no black columns, no roar of fire. Even Carter, Khufu, and Ammit had disappeared.

The cemetery was very real. Cracked paving stones wobbled under my feet. The humid night air smelled of spices and fish stew and old mildewed places. I might’ve been back in England-a churchyard in some corner of London, perhaps-but the writing on the graves was in French, and the air was much too mild for an English winter. The trees hung low and lush, covered with Spanish moss.

And there was music. Just outside the cemetery’s fence, a jazz band paraded down the street in somber black suits and brightly colored party hats. Saxophonists bobbed up and down. Cornets and clarinets wailed. Drummers grinned and swayed, their sticks flashing. And behind them, carrying flowers and torches, a crowd of revelers in funeral clothes danced round an old-fashioned black hearse as it drove along.

“Where are we?” I said, marveling.

Anubis jumped from the top of a tomb and landed next to me. He breathed in the graveyard air, and his features relaxed. I found myself studying his mouth, the curve of his lower lip.

“New Orleans,” he said.

“Sorry?”

“The Drowned City,” he said. “In the French Quarter, on the west side of the river-the shore of the dead. I love it here. That’s why the Hall of Judgment often connects to this part of the mortal world.”

The jazz procession made its way down the street, drawing more onlookers into the party.

“What are they celebrating?”

“A funeral,” Anubis said. “They’ve just put the deceased in his tomb. Now they’re ‘cutting the body loose.’ The mourners celebrate the dead one’s life with song and dance as they escort the empty hearse away from the cemetery. Very Egyptian, this ritual.”

“How do you know so much?”

“I’m the god of funerals. I know every death custom in the world-how to die properly, how to prepare the body and soul for the afterlife. I live for death.”

“You must be fun at parties,” I said. “Why have you brought me here?”

“To talk.” He spread his hands, and the nearest tomb rumbled. A long white ribbon shot out of a crack in the wall. The ribbon just kept coming, weaving itself into some kind of shape next to Anubis, and my first thought was, My god, he’s got a magic roll of toilet paper.

Then I realized it was cloth, a length of white linen wrappings-mummy wrappings. The cloth twisted itself into the form of a bench, and Anubis sat down.

“I don’t like Horus.” He gestured for me to join him. “He’s loud and arrogant and thinks he’s better than me. But Isis always treated me like a son.”

I crossed my arms. “You’re not my son. And I told you I’m not Isis.”

Anubis tilted his head. “No. You don’t act like a godling. You remind me of your mother.”

That hit me like a bucket of cold water (and sadly, I knew exactly what that felt like, thanks to Zia). “You’ve met my mother?”

Anubis blinked, as if realizing he’d done something wrong. “I-I know all the dead, but each spirit’s path is secret. I should not have spoken.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then clam up! Is she in the Egyptian afterlife? Did she pass your little Hall of Judgment?”

Anubis glanced uneasily at the golden scales, which shimmered like a mirage in the graveyard. “It is not my hall. I merely oversee it until Lord Osiris returns. I’m sorry if I upset you, but I can’t say anything more. I don’t know why I said anything at all. It’s just…your soul has a similar glow. A strong glow.”

“How flattering,” I grumbled. “My soul glows.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “Please, sit.”

I had no interest in letting the matter drop, or sitting with him on a bunch of mummy wrappings, but my direct approach to information gathering didn’t seem to be working. I plopped down on the bench and tried to look as annoyed as possible.

“So.” I gave him a sulky glare. “What’s that form, then? Are you a godling?”

He frowned and put his hand to his chest. “You mean, am I inhabiting a human body? No, I can inhabit any graveyard, any place of death or mourning. This is my natural appearance.”

“Oh.” Part of me had hoped there was an actual boy sitting next to me-someone who just happened to be hosting a god. But I should’ve known that was too good to be true. I felt disappointed. Then I felt angry with myself for feeling disappointed.

It’s not like there was any potential, Sadie, I chided myself. He’s the bloody god of funerals. He’s like five thousand years old.

“So,” I said, “if you can’t tell me anything useful, at least help me. We need a feather of truth.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re asking. The feather of truth is too dangerous. Giving it to a mortal would be against the rules of Osiris.”

“But Osiris isn’t here.” I pointed at the empty throne. “That’s his seat, isn’t it? Do you see Osiris?”

Anubis eyed the throne. He ran his fingers along his gold chain as if it were getting tighter. “It’s true that I’ve waited here for ages, keeping my station. I was not imprisoned like the rest. I don’t know why…but I did the best I could. When I heard the five had been released, I hoped Lord Osiris would return, but…” He shook his head dejectedly. “Why would he neglect his duties?”

“Probably because he’s trapped inside my dad.”

Anubis stared at me. “The baboon did not explain this.”

“Well, I can’t explain as well as a baboon. But basically my dad wanted to release some gods for reasons I don’t quite…Maybe he thought, I’ll just pop down to the British Museum and blow up the Rosetta Stone! And he released Osiris, but he also got Set and the rest of that lot.”

“So Set imprisoned your father while he was hosting Osiris,” Anubis said, “which means Osiris has also been trapped by my-” He stopped himself. “By Set.”

Interesting, I thought.

“You understand, then,” I said. “You’ve got to help us.”

Anubis hesitated, then shook his head. “I can’t. I’ll get in trouble.”

I just stared at him and laughed. I couldn’t help it, he sounded so ridiculous. “You’ll get in trouble? How old are you, sixteen? You’re a god!”

It was hard to tell in the dark, but I could swear he blushed. “You don’t understand. The feather cannot abide the smallest lie. If I gave it to you, and you spoke a single untruth while you carried it, or acted in a way that was not truthful, you would burn to ashes.”

“You’re assuming I’m a liar.”

He blinked. “No, I simply-”

“You’ve never told a lie? What were you about to say just now-about Set? He’s your father, I’m guessing. Is that it?”

Anubis closed his mouth, then opened it again. He looked as if he wanted to get angry but couldn’t quite remember how. “Are you always this infuriating?”

“Usually more,” I admitted.

“Why hasn’t your family married you off to someone far, far away?”

He asked as if it were an honest question, and now it was my turn to be flabbergasted. “Excuse me, death boy! But I’m twelve! Well…almost thirteen, and a very mature almost thirteen, but that’s not the point. We don’t ‘marry off’ girls in my family, and you may know everything about funerals, but apparently you aren’t very up to speed on courtship rituals!”