Rick Riordan - The Serpent's Shadow

“Where are the other gods?” I asked. “Shouldn’t they be helping you?”

Thoth wrinkled his nose as if he smelled a demon with intestinal problems. “Perhaps you and Walt should come inside. Now that you’re here, we have a lot to talk about.”

I’ll say this for Thoth. He knew how to decorate a pyramid.

The former arena’s basketball court was still there, no doubt so his baboons could play. (Baboons love basketball.) The JumboTron still hung from the ceiling, flashing a series of hieroglyphs that announced things like: GO TEAM! DEFENSE! and THOTH 25—DEMONS 0 in Ancient Egyptian.

The stadium seating had been replaced with a series of tiered balconies. Some were lined with computer stations, like mission control for a rocket launch. Others had chemistry tables cluttered with beakers, Bunsen burners, vials of smoking goo, jars of pickled organs, and stranger things. The nosebleed section was devoted to scroll cubbies—a library easily as big as the one in the First Nome. And behind the left backboard rose a three-story-tall whiteboard covered in computations and hieroglyphs.

Hanging from the girders, instead of championship banners and retired numbers, were black tapestries embroidered with gold incantations.

Courtside was Thoth’s living area—a freestanding gourmet kitchen, a plush collection of couches and easy chairs, piles of books, buckets of Legos and Tinker Toys, a dozen flat-screen TVs showing different news programs and documentaries, and a small forest of electric guitars and amplifiers—everything a scatterbrained god needed to be able to do twenty things at once.

Thoth’s baboons took Freak into the locker room to groom him and let him rest. I think they were worried he might eat the ibises, since they did look a bit like turkeys.

Thoth turned to Walt and me, looking us over critically. “You need rest. Then I’ll fix you some dinner.”

“We don’t have time,” I said. “We have to—”

“Carter Kane,” Thoth scolded. “You’ve just battled Apophis, gotten the Horus knocked out of you, been dragged through the Duat and half-strangled. You’re no good to anyone until you get some sleep.”

I wanted to protest, but Thoth pressed his hand to my forehead. Weariness washed over me.

“Rest,” Thoth insisted.

I collapsed on the nearest couch.

I’m not sure how long I slept, but Walt got up first. When I woke, he and Thoth were deep in conversation.

“No,” Thoth said. “It’s never been done. And I’m afraid you don’t have time.…” He faltered when he noticed me sitting up. “Ah. Good, Carter. You’re awake.”

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” he said, a little too cheerily. “Come and eat.”

His kitchen counter was laden with fresh-cut brisket, sausage, ribs, and cornbread, plus an industrial-sized dispenser of iced tea. Thoth had once told me that barbecue was a form of magic, and I guess he was right. The smell of food made me temporarily forget my troubles.

I scarfed down a brisket sandwich and drank two glasses of tea. Walt nibbled on a rib, but he didn’t seem to have much of an appetite.

Meanwhile Thoth picked up a Gibson guitar. He struck a power chord that shook the arena floor. He’d gotten better since I’d last heard him. The chord actually sounded like a chord, not like a mountain goat being tortured.

I gestured around with a piece of cornbread. “This place is looking good.”

Thoth chuckled. “Better than my last headquarters, eh?”

The first time Sadie and I had crossed paths with the god of knowledge, he’d been holed up at a local university campus. He had tested our worth by sending us on a quest to trash Elvis Presley’s house (long story), but hopefully we were past the testing phase now. I preferred hanging out courtside eating barbecue.

Then I thought about the visions Face of Horror had shown me—my mother in danger, a darkness swallowing the souls of the dead, the world dissolving in a sea of Chaos—except for one small island floating across the waves. The memory kind of killed my appetite.

“So…” I pushed my plate away. “Tell me about the demon attacks. And what were you saying to Walt?”

Walt stared at his half-eaten pork rib.

Thoth strummed a minor chord. “Where to start…? The attacks began seven days ago. I’m cut off from the other gods. They haven’t come to my rescue, I imagine, because they’re having similar problems. Divide and conquer—Apophis understands that basic military principle. Even if my brethren could help me…well, they have other priorities. Ra was recently brought back, as you may recall.”

Thoth gave me a hard look, like I was an equation he couldn’t balance. “The sun god must be guarded on his nightly journey. That takes a lot of godpower.”

My shoulders sagged. I didn’t need one more thing to feel guilty about. I also didn’t think it was fair of Thoth to act so critical of me. Thoth had been on our side, more or less, about bringing back the sun god. Maybe seven days of demon attacks had started to change his mind.

“Can’t you just leave?” I asked.

Thoth shook his head. “Perhaps you can’t see so deeply into the Duat, but the power of Apophis has completely encircled this pyramid. I am quite stuck.”

I gazed up at the arena’s ceiling, which suddenly seemed much lower. “Which means…we’re stuck too?”

Thoth waved aside the question. “ You should be able to pass back through. The serpent’s net is designed to catch a god. You and Walt aren’t large or important enough to be caught.”

I wondered if that were true, or if Apophis was allowing me to come and go—to have the choice of surrendering Ra.

You interest me, Carter, Apophis had said. Yield to me, and I will spare you.

I took a deep breath. “But, Thoth, if you’re on your own…I mean, how much longer can you last?”

The god brushed at his lab coat, which was covered with scribbles in a dozen languages. The word time fluttered off his sleeve. Thoth caught it, and suddenly he was checking a gold pocket watch.

“Let’s see. Judging from the weakening of the pyramid’s defenses and the rate at which my power is being expended, I’d say I could withstand nine more attacks, or just over two days, which would take us to dawn on the equinox. Ha! That can’t be a coincidence.”

“And then?” Walt asked.

“Then my pyramid will be breached. My minions will be killed. I’m guessing Doomsday will happen all over, in fact. The fall equinox would be a sensible time for Apophis to rise. He’ll probably cast me into the abyss, or possibly scatter my essence across the universe in a billion pieces. Hmm…the physics of a god’s death.” His pocket watch turned into a pen. He scribbled something on the neck of his guitar. “That would make an excellent research paper.”

“Thoth,” Walt prompted. “Tell Carter what you told me, about why you’re being targeted.”

“I thought that was obvious,” Thoth said. “Apophis wants to distract me from helping you. That is why you’ve come, isn’t it? To find out about the serpent’s shadow?”

For a moment I was too stunned to speak. “How did you know?”

“Please.” Thoth played a Jimi Hendrix riff, then set down his guitar. “I am the god of knowledge. I knew sooner or later you’d come to the conclusion that your only hope of victory was a shadow execration.”

“A shadow execration,” I repeated. “That’s an actual spell with an actual name? It could work?”

“In theory.”

“And you didn’t volunteer this information— why? ”

Thoth snorted. “Knowledge of any value can’t be given. It must be sought and earned. You’re a teacher now, Carter. You should know this.”