“What is?” she asked.
“Six edible parts of a palm tree.” I laughed. “It’s seven actually.”
Neith frowned. “Impossible!”
“Oh, yes?” I raised my eyebrows. “Have you ever lived off the land in Covent Garden? Have you ever trekked through the wilds of Camden Lock and lived to tell about it?”
Neith’s bow dipped ever so slightly. “I do not know those places.”
“I thought not!” I said triumphantly. “Oh, the stories we could’ve shared, Neith. The tips for survival. Once I went for a whole week on nothing but stale biscuits and the juice of the Ribena.”
“Is that a plant?” Neith asked.
“With every nutrient you need for survival,” I said. “If you know where to buy—I mean harvest it.”
I lifted my wand, hoping she would see this as a dramatic move, not a threat. “Why once, in my bunker at Charing Cross Station, I stalked the deadly prey known as Jelly Babies.”
Neith’s eyes widened. “They are dangerous?”
“Horrible,” I agreed. “Oh, they seem small alone, but they always appear in great numbers. Sticky, fattening—quite deadly. There I was, alone with only two quid and a Tube pass, beset by Jelly Babies, when…Ah, but never mind. When the Jelly Babies come for you…you will find out on your own.”
She lowered her bow. “Tell me. I must know how to hunt Jelly Babies.”
I looked at Walt gravely. “How many months have I trained you, Walt?”
“Seven,” he said. “Almost eight.”
“And have I ever deemed you worthy of hunting Jelly Babies with me?”
“Uh…no.
”
“There you have it!” I knelt and began tracing on the rampart floor with my wand. “Even Walt is not ready for such knowledge. I could draw for you here a picture of the dreaded Jelly Baby, or even—gods forbid!—the Jacob’s Digestive Cream. But that knowledge might destroy a lesser hunter.”
“I am the goddess of hunting!” Neith inched closer, staring in awe at the glowing markings—apparently not realizing I was making protective hieroglyphs. “I must know.”
“Well…” I glanced at the horizon. “First, you must understand the importance of timing.”
“Yes!” Neith said eagerly. “Tell me of this.”
“For instance…” I tapped the hieroglyphs and activated my spell. “It’s sunset. We’re still alive. We win.”
Neith’s expression hardened. “Trickery!”
She lunged at me, but the protective glyphs flared, pushing back the goddess. She raised her bow and shot her arrows.
What happened next was surprising on many levels. First, the arrows must have been heavily enchanted, because they sailed right through my defenses. Second, Walt lunged forward with impossible speed. Faster than I could scream (which I did), Walt snatched the arrows out of the air. They crumbled to gray dust, scattering in the wind.
Neith stepped back in horror. “It’s you. This is unfair!”
“We won,” Walt said. “Honor your agreement.”
A look passed between them that I didn’t quite understand—some sort of contest of wills.
Neith hissed through clenched teeth. “Very well. You may go. When Apophis rises, I will fight at your side. But I will not forget how you trespassed on my territory, child of Set. And you—”
She glared at me. “I lay this hunter’s curse upon you: someday you will be tricked by your prey as I have been tricked today. May you be set upon by a pack of wild Jelly Babies!”