Rick Riordan - The Throne of Fire

We rode through South London. The scene along Camberwell Road was almost as depressing as my thoughts. Rows of grubby brick apartments and low-rent shops lined the street. An old woman scowled at us from a bus stop. In the doorway of an Asda grocery store, a couple of young tough guys eyed the Mercedes as if they wanted to steal it. I wondered if they were gods or magicians in disguise, because most people didn’t notice the car.

I couldn’t imagine where Bes was taking us. It didn’t seem like the kind of neighborhood where you’d find a lot of Egyptian artifacts.

Finally a big park opened up on our left: misty green fields, tree-lined paths, and a few ruined walls like aqueducts, covered in vines. The land sloped upward to a hilltop with a radio tower.

Bes jumped the curb and drove straight over the grass, knocking down a sign that said keep to the path. The evening was gray and rainy, so there weren’t many people around. A couple of joggers on the nearby path didn’t even look at us, as if they saw Mercedes limos four-wheeling across the park every day.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Watch and learn, kid,” Bes said.

Being called “kid” by a guy shorter than me was a little annoying, but I kept my mouth shut. Bes drove straight up the hill. Close to the top was stone staircase maybe thirty feet wide, built into the hillside. It seemed to lead nowhere. Bes slammed on the brakes and we swerved to a stop. The hill was higher than I’d realized. Spread out below us was the whole of London.

Then I looked more closely at the staircase. Two sphinxes made of weathered stone lay on either side of the stairs, watching over the city. Each was about ten feet long with the typical lion’s body and pharaoh’s head, but they seemed totally out of place in a London park.

“Those aren’t real,” I said.

Bes snorted. “Of course they’re real.”

“I mean they aren’t from Ancient Egypt. They’re not old enough.”

“Picky, picky,” Bes said. “These are the stairs to the Crystal Palace. Big glass-and-steel exhibit hall the size of a cathedral used to sit right here on this hill.”

Sadie frowned. “I read about that in school. Queen Victoria had a party there or something.”

“A party or something?” Bes grunted. “It was the Grand Exhibition in 1851. Showcase of British Imperial might, et cetera. They had good candied apples.”

“You were there?” I asked.

Bes shrugged. “The palace burned down in the 1930s, thanks to some stupid magicians—but that’s another story. All that’s left now are a few relics, like these stairs and the sphinxes.”

“A stairway to nowhere,” I said.

“Not nowhere,” Bes corrected. “Tonight it’ll take us to St. Petersburg.”

Walt sat forward. His interest in the statues had apparently shaken him out of his gloom.

“But if the sphinxes aren’t really Egyptian,” he said, “how can they open a portal?”

Bes gave him a toothy grin. “Depends on what you mean by really Egyptian, kid. Every great empire is a wannabe Egypt. Having Egyptian stuff around makes them feel important.

That’s why you’ve got ‘new’ Egyptian artifacts in Rome, Paris,

London—you name it. That obelisk in Washington—”

“Don’t mention that one, please,” Sadie said.

“Anyway,” Bes continued, “these are still Egyptian sphinxes. They were built to play up the connection between the British Empire and the Egyptian Empire. So yeah, they can channel magic. Especially if I’m driving. And now…” He looked at Walt. “It’s probably time for you to get out.”

I was too surprised to say anything, but Walt stared at his lap as if he’d been expecting this.

“Hang on,” Sadie said. “Why can’t Walt come with us? He’s a magician. He can help.”

Bes’s expression turned serious. “Walt, you haven’t told them?”

“Told us what?” Sadie demanded.

Walt clutched his amulets, as if there might be one that would help him avoid this conversation. “It’s nothing. Really. It’s just…I should help out at Brooklyn House. And Jaz thought—”

He faltered, probably realizing that he shouldn’t have brought up her name.

“Yes?” Sadie’s tone was dangerously calm. “How’s Jaz doing?”

“She’s—she’s still in a coma,” Walt said. “Amos says she’ll probably make it, but that’s not what I—”

“Good,” Sadie said. “Glad she’ll get better. So you need to get back, then. That’s brilliant. Off you go. Anubis said we should hurry.”

Not very subtle, the way she threw his name out there. Walt looked like she’d kicked him in the chest.

I knew Sadie wasn’t being fair to him. From my conversation with Walt back at Brooklyn House, I knew he liked Sadie. Whatever was bothering him, it wasn’t any kind of romantic thing with Jaz. On the other hand, if I tried to take his side, Sadie would just tell me to butt out. I might even make things worse between Sadie and him.

“It’s not that I want to go back,” he managed.

“But you can’t go with us,” Bes said firmly. I thought I heard concern in his voice, even pity. “Go on, kid. It’s fine.”

Walt fished something out of his pocket. “Sadie, about your birthday…you, um, probably don’t want any more presents. It’s not a magic knife, but I made this for you.”

He poured a gold necklace into her hand. It had a small Egyptian symbol:

“That’s the basketball hoop on Ra’s head,” I said.

Walt and Sadie both frowned at me, and I realized I probably wasn’t making the moment more magical for them. “I mean it’s the symbol that surrounds Ra’s sun crown,” I said. “A never-ending loop, the symbol of eternity, right?”

Sadie swallowed as if the magic potion was still bubbling in her stomach. “Eternity?”

Walt shot me a look that clearly meant Please stop helping.

“Yeah,” he said, “um, it’s called shen. I just thought, you know, you’re looking for Ra. And good things, important things, should be eternal. So maybe it’ll bring you luck. I meant to give it to you this morning, but…I kind of lost my nerve.”

Sadie stared the talisman glittering in her palm. “Walt, I don’t—I mean, thank you, but—”

“Just remember I didn’t want to leave,” he said. “If you need help, I’ll be there for you.” He glanced at me and corrected himself: “I mean both of you, of course.”

“But now,” Bes said, “you need to go.”

“Happy birthday, Sadie,” Walt said. “And good luck.”

He got out of the car and trudged down the hill. We watched until he was just a tiny figure in the gloom. Then he vanished into the woods.

“Two farewell gifts,” Sadie muttered, “from two gorgeous guys. I hate my life.”

She latched the gold necklace around her throat and touched the shen symbol.

Bes gazed down at the trees where Walt had disappeared. “Poor kid. Born unusual, all right. It isn’t fair.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Why were you so anxious for Walt to leave?”

The dwarf rubbed his scraggly beard. “Not my place to explain. Right now we’ve got work to do. The more time we give Menshikov to prepare his defenses, the harder this is going to get.”

I wasn’t ready to drop it, but Bes stared at me stubbornly, and I knew I wasn’t going to get any more answers from him. Nobody can look stubborn like a dwarf.

“So, Russia,” I said. “By driving up an empty staircase.”

“Exactly.” Bes floored the accelerator. The Mercedes churned grass and mud and barreled up the stairs. I was sure we’d reach the top and get nothing but a broken axle, but at the last second, a portal of swirling sand opened in front of us. Our wheels left the ground, and the black limousine flew headlong into the vortex.