The Red Pyramid (Kane Chronicles #1)

The Red Pyramid (Kane Chronicles #1) Page 52

“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.

“This is the historic area,” Amos said. “I believe they call it Mesilla.”

“Have a lot of Egyptian stuff here, do they?” I asked dubiously.

“Oh, the ancient cultures of Mexico have a lot in common with Egypt,” Amos said, retrieving his coat from the tiller. “But that’s a talk for another day.”

“Thank god,” I muttered. Then I sniffed the air and smelled something strange but wonderful—like baking bread and melting butter, only spicer, yummier. “I—am—starving.”

It didn’t take long, walking the plaza, to discover handmade tortillas. God, they were good. I suppose London has Mexican restaurants. We’ve got everything else. But I’d never been to one, and I doubt the tortillas would’ve tasted this heavenly. A large woman in a white dress rolled out balls of dough in her flour-caked hands, flattened and baked the tortillas on a hot skillet, and handed them to us on paper napkins. They didn’t need butter or jam or anything. They were so delicate, they just melted in my mouth. I made Amos pay for about a dozen, just for me.

Carter was enjoying himself too until he tried the red-chili tamales at another booth. I thought his face would explode. “Hot!” he announced. “Drink!”

“Eat more tortilla,” Amos advised, trying not to laugh. “Bread cuts the heat better than water.”

I tried the tamales myself and found they were excellent, not nearly as hot as a good curry, so Carter was just being a wimp, as usual.

Soon we’d eaten our fill and began wandering the streets, looking for...well, I wasn’t sure, exactly. Time was a-wasting. The sun was going down, and I knew this would be the last night for all of us unless we stopped Set, but I had no idea why Geb had sent me here. You will also find what you need most. What did that mean?

I scanned the crowds and caught a glimpse of a tall young guy with dark hair. A thrill went up my spine—Anubis? What if he was following me, making sure I was safe? What if he was what I needed most?

Wonderful thought, except it wasn’t Anubis. I scolded myself for thinking I could have luck that good. Besides, Carter had seen Anubis as a jackal-headed monster. Perhaps Anubis’s appearance with me was just a trick to befuddle my brain—a trick that worked quite well.

I was daydreaming about that, and about whether or not they had tortillas in the Land of the Dead, when I locked eyes with a girl across the plaza.

“Carter.” I grabbed his arm and nodded in the direction of Zia Rashid. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Zia was ready for battle in her loose black linen clothes, staff and wand in hand. Her dark choppy hair was blown to one side like she’d flown here on a strong wind. Her amber eyes looked about as friendly as a jaguar’s.

Behind her was a vendor’s table full of tourist souvenirs, and a poster that read: new mexico: land of enchantment. I doubted the vendor knew just how much enchantment was standing right in front of his merchandise.

“You came,” Zia said, which seemed a bit on the obvious side. Was it my imagination, or was she looking at Amos with apprehension—even fear?

“Yeah,” Carter said nervously. “You, uh, remember Sadie. And this is—”

“Amos,” Zia said uneasily.

Amos bowed. “Zia Rashid, it’s been several years. I see Iskandar sent his best.”

Zia looked as if he’d smacked her in the face, and I realized Amos hadn’t heard the news.

“Um, Amos,” I said. “Iskandar is dead.”

He stared at us in disbelief as we told him the story.

“I see,” he said at last. “Then the new Chief Lector is—”

“Desjardins,” I said.

“Ah. Bad news.”

Zia frowned. Instead of addressing Amos, she turned to me. “Do not dismiss Desjardins. He’s very powerful. You’ll need his help—our help—to challenge Set.”

“Has it ever occurred to you,” I said, “that Desjardins might be helping Set?”

Zia glared at me. “Never. Others might. But not Desjardins.”

Clearly she meant Amos. I suppose that should’ve made me even more suspicious of him, but instead I got angry.

“You’re blind,” I told Zia. “Desjardins’ first order as Chief Lector was to have us killed. He’s trying to stop us, even though he knows Set is about to destroy the continent. And Desjardins was there that night at the British Museum. If Set needed a body—”

The top of Zia’s staff burst into flame.

Carter quickly moved between us. “Whoa, both of you just calm down. We’re here to talk.”

“I am talking,” Zia said. “You need the House of Life on your side. You have to convince Desjardins you’re not a threat.”

“By surrendering?” I asked. “No, thank you. I’d rather not be turned into a bug and squashed.”

Amos cleared his throat. “I’m afraid Sadie is right. Unless Desjardins has changed since I last saw him, he is not a man who will listen to reason.”

Zia fumed. “Carter, could we speak in private?”

He shifted from foot to foot. “Look, Zia, I—I agree we need to work together. But if you’re going to try to convince me to surrender to the House—”

“There’s something I must tell you,” she insisted. “Something you need to know.”