One of the snake demons set Robert Windham’s heart on the scales of justice. I’d seen many pictures of Anubis performing this duty, and I wished he were here now. Anubis would’ve been much more interesting to watch than some snake demon.
On the opposite scale, the Feather of Truth appeared. (Don’t get me started on the Feather of Truth.)
The scales wavered. The two saucers stopped, just about even. The pinstriped ghost sobbed with relief. Ammit whimpered disappointedly.
“Most impressive,” my father said. “Robert Windham, you have been found sufficiently virtuous, despite the fact you were an investment banker.”
“Red Cross donations, baby!” the ghost yelled.
“Yes, well,” Dad said dryly, “you may proceed to the afterlife.”
A door opened to the left of the dais. The snake demons hauled Robert Windham to his feet.
“Thank you!” he yelled, as the demons escorted him out. “And if you need any financial advice, Lord Osiris, I still believe in the long term viability of the market—”
The door shut behind him.
Disturber sniffed indignantly. “Horrible man.”
My father shrugged. “A modern soul who appreciated the ancient ways of Egypt. He couldn’t have been all bad.” Dad turned to us. “Children, this is Disturber, one of my advisors and gods of judgment.”
“Sorry?” I pretended not to have heard. “Did you say he’s disturbed?”
“Disturber is my name!” the god shouted angrily. “I judge those who are guilty of losing their temper!”
“Yes.” Despite my father’s weariness, his eyes sparkled with amusement. “That was Disturber’s traditional duty, although now that he’s my last minister, he helps me with all my cases. There used to be forty-two judgment gods for different crimes, you see, but—”
“Like Hot Foot and Fire-embracer,” Zia said.
Disturber gasped. “How do you know of them?”
“We saw them,” Zia said. “In the Fourth House of the Night.”
“You—saw—” Disturber almost dropped his scroll altogether. “Lord Osiris, we must save them immediately! My brethren—”
“We will discuss it,” Dad promised. “First, I want to hear what brings my children to the Duat.”
We took turns explaining: the rebel magicians and their secret alliance with Apophis, their impending attack on the First Nome, and our hope to find a new sort of execration spell that might stop Apophis for good.
Some of our news surprised and troubled our father—like the fact that many magicians had fled the First Nome, leaving it so poorly defended that we’d sent our initiates from Brooklyn House to help, and that Amos was flirting with the powers of Set.
“No,” Dad said. “No, he can’t! These magicians who’ve abandoned him—inexcusable! The House of Life must rally to the Chief Lector.” He began to rise. “I should go to my brother—”
“My lord,” Disturber said, “you are not a magician anymore. You are Osiris.”
Dad grimaced, but he eased back into his throne. “Yes. Yes, of course. Please, children, continue.”
Some of our news Dad already knew. His shoulders slumped when we mentioned the spirits of the dead who were disappearing, and the vision of our mum lost somewhere in the deep Duat, fighting against the pull of a dark force that Carter and I were certain was the shadow of Apophis.
“I have searched for your mother everywhere,” Dad said despondently. “This force that is taking the spirits—whether it’s the serpent’s shadow or something else—I cannot stop it. I can’t even find it. Your mother…”
His expression turned brittle as ice. I understood what he was feeling. For years he had lived with guilt because he couldn’t prevent our mum’s death. Now she was in danger again, and even though he was the lord of the dead, he felt helpless to save her.
“We can find her,” I promised. “All of this is connected, Dad. We have a plan.”
Carter and I explained about the sheut, and how it might be used for a king-sized execration spell.
My father sat forward. His eyes narrowed. “Anubis told you this? He revealed the nature of the sheut to a mortal?”