“I’m sure he’s fine.”
But I felt a little disappointed. Personally, I was thinking about the moment when Zia had taken my hand in the dining room last night: Sometimes you have to follow your heart. This might be our last day on earth. If it was, I should really tell Zia how I felt about her. I mean, I thought she knew, but I didn’t know that she knew, so…Oh, man. Headache.
I started to say, “Zia—”
Setne materialized next to us. “All better!”
In the daylight, he looked almost like flesh-and-blood, but when he turned in a circle, showing off his new clothes, his face and hands flickered holographically. I’d given him permission to put on something besides the loincloth. In fact, I’d insisted. But I hadn’t expected an outfit so mind-boggling.
Maybe he was trying to live up to Sadie’s nickname for him: Uncle Vinnie. He wore a black suit jacket with padded shoulders, a red T-shirt, a crisp pair of jeans, and blindingly white running shoes. Around his neck was a heavy gold chain of interlocking ankhs. On each pinky he wore a ring the size of a jawbreaker, with the symbol of power—was—set in diamonds. His hair was combed back with even more grease. His eyes were lined with kohl. He looked like the Ancient Egyptian Mafia.
Then I noticed something missing from his ensemble. He didn’t seem to be wearing the Ribbons of Hathor.
I’ll admit: I panicked. I yelled the command word Zia had taught me: “Tas!”
The symbol for Bind flared in Setne’s face:
The Ribbons of Hathor reappeared around his neck, wrists, ankles, chest, and waist. They expanded aggressively, cocooning Setne in a pink tornado until he was wrapped tight as a mummy, with nothing showing but his eyes.
“Mm!” he protested.
I took a deep breath. Then I snapped my fingers. The bindings shrank back to their normal size.
“What was that for?” Setne demanded.
“I didn’t see the ribbons.”
“You didn’t…” Setne laughed. “Carter, Carter, Carter. Come on, pal. That’s just an illusion—a cosmetic change. I can’t really get out of these things.”
He held out his wrists. The ribbons vanished, then reappeared. “See? I’m just concealing them, ’cause pink doesn’t go with my outfit.”
Zia snorted. “Nothing goes with that outfit.”
Setne shot her an irritated look. “No need to get personal, doll. Just relax, okay? You saw what happens—one word from you, and I’m tied up good. No problems.”
His tone sounded so reasonable. Setne was no problem. Setne would cooperate. I could just relax.
In the back of my mind, the voice of Horus said, Careful.
I raised my mental guard. Suddenly I was aware of hieroglyphs floating in the air around me—half-visible wisps of smoke. I willed them to disappear, and they fizzled like gnats in a bug zapper. “Stop it with the magic words, Setne. I’ll relax when our business is done and you’re back in my dad’s custody. Now, where are we going?”
A moment of surprise passed over Setne’s face. He hid it with a smile. “Sure, no problem. Glad to see that path of the gods magic is working out for you. How you doing in there, Horus?”
Zia snarled impatiently. “Just answer the question, you maggot, before I burn that smile off your face.”
She thrust out her hand. Flames wreathed her fingers.
“Zia, whoa,” I said.
I’d seen her get angry before, but the burn-your-smile-off tactic seemed a little harsh even for her.
Setne didn’t seem concerned. From his jacket, he pulled a strange white comb—were those human finger bones?—and brushed his greasy hair.
“Poor Zia,” he said. “The old man is getting to you, isn’t he? Having any trouble with, ah, temperature control yet? I’ve seen a few people in your situation spontaneously combust. Not pretty.”
His words obviously rattled Zia. Her eyes seethed with loathing, but she closed her fist and extinguished the flames. “You vile, despicable—”
“Take it easy, doll,” Setne said. “I’m just expressing concern. As for where we’re going—south of Cairo, the ruins of Memphis.”
I wondered what he’d meant about Zia. I decided this wasn’t the time to ask. I didn’t want Zia’s flaming fingers in my face.
I tried to recall what I knew about Memphis. I remembered it was one of the old capitals of Egypt, but it had been destroyed centuries ago. Most of the ruins were buried under modern Cairo. Some were scattered in the desert to the south. My dad had probably taken me to excavation sites in that area once or twice, but I didn’t have any clear recollection. After a few years, all the dig sites sort of blended together.
“Where exactly?” I demanded. “Memphis was a big place.”
Setne wiggled his eyebrows. “You got that right. Man, the times I used to have in Gamblers’ Alley…but never mind. The less you know, pal, the better. We don’t want our snaky Chaos friend gleaning information from your mind, do we? Speaking of which, it’s a miracle he hasn’t already seen your plans and sent some nasty monster to stop you. You seriously need to work on your mental defenses. Reading your mind is way too easy. As for your girlfriend here…”
He leaned toward me with a grin. “Would you like to know what she’s thinking?”
Zia understood the Ribbons of Hathor better than I did. Instantly, the band around Setne’s neck tightened and became a lovely pink collar with a leash. Setne gagged and clawed at his throat. Zia grabbed the other end of the lead.
“Setne, you are I are going to the wheelhouse,” she announced. “You will give the captain exact information about where we’re going, or you’ll never breathe again. Understood?”
She didn’t wait for a response. He couldn’t have given one anyway. She dragged him across the deck and up the stairs like a very bad dog.
As soon as they’d disappeared into the pilot’s house, someone next to me chuckled. “Remind me not to get on her bad side.”
Horus’s instincts kicked in. Before I knew what was happening, I’d summoned my khopesh from the Duat and was resting the curved edge against my visitor’s throat.
“Really?” said the god of Chaos. “This is how you greet an old friend?”
Set leaned casually against the rail in a black three-piece suit and a matching porkpie hat. The outfit was striking against his bloodred skin. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been bald. Now he had braided cornrows decorated with rubies. His black eyes glittered behind small round glasses. With a chill, I realized he was impersonating Amos.
“Stop that.” I pressed my blade against his throat. “Stop mocking my uncle!”
Set looked offended. “Mocking? My dear boy, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery! Now, please, can we talk like civilized semi-divine beings?”
With one finger he pushed the khopesh away from his neck. I lowered my blade. Now that I was over my initial shock, I had to admit I was curious about what he wanted.
“Why are you here?” I demanded.
“Oh, pick a reason. The world ends tomorrow. Perhaps I wanted to say good-bye.” He grinned and waved. “Bye! Or perhaps I wanted to explain. Or give you a warning.”
I glanced toward the wheelhouse. I couldn’t see Zia. No alarm bells were ringing. No one else seemed to have noticed that the god of evil had just materialized on our boat.
Set followed my gaze. “How about that Setne, huh? I love that guy.”
“You would,” I muttered. “Was he named after you?”
“Nah. Setne is just his nickname. His real name is Khaemwaset, so you can see why he likes Setne better. I hope he doesn’t kill you right away. He’s a lot of fun…until he kills you.”
“Is that what you wanted to explain?”
Set adjusted his glasses. “No, no. It’s the thing with Amos. You’ve got the wrong idea.”
“You mean that you possessed him and tried to destroy him?” I asked. “That you almost shattered his mind? And that now you want to do it again?”
“The first two—true. The last one—no. Amos called me, kid. You gotta understand, I could never have invaded his mind in the first place if he didn’t share some of my qualities. He understands me.”
I clenched my sword. “I understand you, too. You’re evil.”
Set laughed. “You figure that out all by yourself? The god of evil is evil? Sure I am, but not pure evil. Not pure Chaos, either. After I spent some time in Amos’s head, he understood. I’m like that improvisational jazz he loves—chaos within order. That’s our connection. And I’m still a god, Carter. I’m…what do you call it? The loyal opposition.”
“Loyal. Yeah, right.”
Set gave me a sly smile. “Okay, I want to rule the world. Destroy anyone who gets in my way? Of course. But that snake Apophis—he takes things too far. He wants to pull the whole of creation down into a big soupy primordial mess. Where’s the fun in that? If it comes down to Ra or Apophis, I fight on Ra’s side. That’s why Amos and I have a deal. He’s learning the path of Set. I’m going to help him.”
My arms trembled. I wanted to cut Set’s head off, but I wasn’t sure I had the strength. I also wasn’t sure it would hurt him. I knew from Horus that gods tended to laugh off simple injuries like decapitation.
“You expect me to believe you’ll cooperate with Amos?” I asked. “Without trying to overpower him?”
“Sure, I’ll try. But you should have more faith in your uncle. He’s stronger than you think. Who do you think sent me here to explain?”
An electric charge went through my body. I wanted to believe Amos had everything under control, but this was Set talking. He did remind me a lot of the ghost magician Setne—and that wasn’t a good thing.
“You’ve done your explaining,” I said. “Now you can leave.”
Set shrugged. “Okay, but it does seem like there was one more thing…” He tapped his chin. “Oh, right. The warning.”
“The warning?” I repeated.
“Because usually when Horus and I fight, it would be me who was responsible for what’s about to kill you. But this time, it’s not. I thought you should know. Apophis is so copying my moves, but like I said…” He took off his porkpie hat and bowed, the rubies glittering in his cornrows. “Imitation is flattery.”
“What are you—?”
The riverboat lurched and groaned as if we’d hit a sandbar. Up in the wheelhouse, the alarm bell dinged. The glowing crew orbs zipped around the deck in a panic.
“What’s happening?” I grabbed the rail.
“Oh, that’d be the giant hippo,” Set said casually. “Good luck!”
He disappeared in a cloud of red smoke as a monstrous shape rose from the Nile.
You might not think a hippo could inspire terror. Screaming “Hippo!” doesn’t have the same impact as screaming “Shark!” But I’m telling you—as the Egyptian Queen careened to one side, its paddle wheel lifting completely out of the water, and I saw that monster emerge from the deep, I nearly discovered the hieroglyphs for accident in my pants.
