Rick Riordan - The Red Pyramid

But Geb was gone, leaving only a taller than normal dune in the sands; and my ba sank back into my body.

S A D I E

I WOKE WITH MUFFIN SNUGGLED on my head, purring and chewing my hair. For a moment, I thought I was home. I used to wake with Muffin on my head all the time. Then I remembered I had no home, and Bast was gone. My eyes started tearing up again.

No, Isis’s voice chided. We must stay focused.

For once, the goddess was right. I sat up and brushed the white sand off my face. Muffin meowed in protest, then waddled two steps and decided she could settle for my warm place on the blanket.

“Good, you’re up,” Amos said. “We were about to wake you.”

It was still dark. Carter stood on the deck of the boat, pulling on a new linen coat from Amos’s supply locker. Khufu loped over to me and made a purring sound at the cat. To my surprise, Muffin leaped into his arms.

“I’ve asked Khufu to take the cat back to Brooklyn,” Amos said. “This is no place for her.”

Khufu grunted, clearly unhappy with his assignment.

“I know, my old friend,” Amos said. His voice had a hard edge; he seemed to be asserting himself as the alpha baboon. “It is for the best.”

“Agh,” Khufu said, not meeting Amos’s eyes.

Unease crept over me. I remembered what Amos said: that his release might have been a trick of Set’s. And Carter’s vision: Set was hoping that Amos would lead us to the mountain so we could be captured. What if Set was influencing Amos somehow? I didn’t like the idea of sending Khufu away.

On the other hand, I didn’t see much choice but to accept Amos’s help. And seeing Khufu there, holding Muffin, I couldn’t bear the idea of putting either of them in danger. Maybe Amos had a point.

“Can he travel safely?” I asked. “Out here all by himself?”

“Oh, yes,” Amos promised. “Khufu-and all baboons-have their own brand of magic. He’ll be fine. And just in case…”

He brought out a wax figurine of a crocodile. “This will help if the need arises.”

I coughed. “A crocodile? After what we just-”

“It’s Philip of Macedonia,” Amos explained.

“Philip is wax?”

“Of course,” Amos said. “Real crocodiles are much too difficult to keep. And I did tell you he’s magic.”

Amos tossed the figurine to Khufu, who sniffed it, then stuffed it into a pouch with his cooking supplies. Khufu gave me one last nervous look, glanced fearfully at Amos, then ambled over the dune with his bag in one arm and Muffin in the other.

I didn’t see how they would survive out here, magic or no. I waited for Khufu to appear on the crest of the next dune, but he never did. He simply vanished.

“Now, then,” Amos said. “From what Carter has told me, Set means to unleash his destruction tomorrow at sunrise. That gives us very little time. What Carter would not explain is how you plan to destroy Set.”

I glanced at Carter and saw warning in his eyes. I understood immediately, and felt a flush of gratitude. Perhaps the boy wasn’t completely thick. He shared my concerns about Amos.

“It’s best we keep that to ourselves,” I told Amos flatly. “You said so yourself. What if Set attached a magic listening device to you or something?”

Amos’s jaw tightened. “You’re right,” he said grudgingly. “I can’t trust myself. It’s just…so frustrating.”

He sounded truly anguished, which made me feel guilty. I was tempted to change my mind and tell him our plan, but one look at Carter and I kept my resolve.

“We should head to Phoenix,” I said. “Perhaps along the way…”

I slipped my hand into my pocket. Nut’s letter was gone. I wanted to tell Carter about my talk with the earth god, Geb, but I didn’t know if it was safe in front of Amos. Carter and I had been a team for so many days now, I realized that I resented Amos’s presence a little. I didn’t want to confide in anyone else. God, I can’t believe I just said that.

Carter spoke up. “We should stop in Las Cruces.”

I’m not sure who was more surprised: Amos or me.

“That’s near here,” Amos said slowly. “But…” He picked up a handful of sand, murmured a spell, and threw the sand into the air. Instead of scattering, the grains floated and formed a wavering arrow, pointing southwest toward a line of rugged mountains that made a dark silhouette against the horizon.

“As I thought,” Amos said, and the sand fell to the earth. “Las Cruces is out of our way by forty miles-over those mountains. Phoenix is northwest.”

“Forty miles isn’t so bad,” I said. “Las Cruces…” The name seemed strangely familiar to me, but I couldn’t decide why. “Carter, why there?”

“I just…” He looked so uncomfortable I knew it must have something to do with Zia. “I had a vision.”

“A vision of loveliness?” I ventured.

He looked like he was trying to swallow a golf ball, which confirmed my suspicions. “I just think we should go there,” he said. “We might find something important.”

“Too risky,” Amos said. “I can’t allow it with the House of Life on your trail. We should stay in the wilderness, away from cities.”

Then suddenly: click. My brain had one of those amazing moments when it actually works correctly.

“No, Carter’s right,” I said. “We have to go there.”

It was my brother’s turn to look surprised. “I am? We do?”

“Yes.” I took the plunge and told them about my talk with Geb.

Amos brushed some sand off his jacket. “That’s interesting, Sadie. But I don’t see how Las Cruces comes into play.”

“Because it’s Spanish, isn’t it?” I said. “Las Cruces. The crosses. Just as Geb told me.”

Amos hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Get in the boat.”

“A bit short on water for a boat ride, aren’t we?” I asked.

But I followed him on board. Amos took off his coat and uttered a magic word. Instantly, the coat came to life, drifted to the stern and grasped the tiller.

Amos smiled at me, and some of that old twinkle came back into his eyes. “Who needs water?”

The boat shuddered and lifted into the sky.

If Amos ever got tired of being a magician, he could’ve gotten a job as a sky boat tour operator. The vista coming over the mountains was quite stunning.

At first, the desert had seemed barren and ugly to me compared to the lush greens of England, but I was starting to appreciate that the desert had its own stark beauty, especially at night. The mountains rose like dark islands in a sea of lights. I’d never seen so many stars above us, and the dry wind smelled of sage and pine. Las Cruces spread out in the valley below-a glowing patchwork of streets and neighborhoods.

As we got closer, I saw that most of the town was nothing very remarkable. It might’ve been Manchester or Swindon or any place, really, but Amos aimed our ship toward the south of the city, to an area that was obviously much older-with adobe buildings and tree-lined streets.

As we descended, I began to get nervous.

“Won’t they notice us in a flying boat?” I asked. “I mean, I know magic is hard to see, but-”

“This is New Mexico,” Amos said. “They see UFOs here all the time.”

And with that, we landed on the roof of a small church.

It was like dropping back in time, or onto a Wild West film set. The town square was lined with stucco buildings like an Indian pueblo. The streets were brightly lit and crowded-it looked like a festival-with stall vendors selling strings of red peppers, Indian blankets, and other curios. An old stagecoach was parked next to a clump of cacti. In the plaza’s bandstand, men with large guitars and loud voices played mariachi music.