The Throne of Fire

couple of days—for the first time in ages I’ve felt wanted again. Important. Not like a sideshow attraction. If things go wrong, just tell Tawaret…” He cleared his throat and gave Sadie a meaningful look. “Tell her I tried to turn back the clock.”

“Oh, Bes.” Sadie got up and ran around the table. She hugged the dwarf god and kissed his cheek.

“All right, all right,” he muttered. “Don’t go sappy on me. Let’s play this game.”

“Time is money,” Khonsu agreed.

Our parents stood.

“We cannot stay for this,” Dad said. “But, children…”

He didn’t seem to know how to complete the thought. Good luck probably wouldn’t have cut it. I could see the guilt and worry in his eyes, but he was trying hard not to show it. A good general, Horus would have said.

“We love you,” our mother finished. “You will prevail.”

With that, our parents turned to mist and vanished. Everything outside the pavilion darkened like a stage set. The senet game began to glow brighter.

“Shiny,” Ra said.

“Three blue pieces for you,” Khonsu said. “Three silver pieces for me. Now, who’s feeling lucky?”

The game started well enough. Sadie had skill at tossing the sticks. Bes had several thousand years of gaming experience. And I got the job of moving the pieces and making sure Ra didn’t eat them.

At first it wasn’t obvious who was winning. We just rolled and moved, and it was hard to believe we were playing for our souls, or true names, or whatever you want to call them.

We bumped one of Khonsu’s pieces back to start, but he didn’t seem upset. He seemed delighted by just about everything.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” I asked at one point. “Devouring innocent souls?”

“Not really.” He polished his crescent amulet. “Why should it?”

“But we’re trying to save the world,” Sadie said, “Ma’at, the gods—everything. Don’t you care if the world crumbles into Chaos?”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be so bad,” Khonsu said. “Change comes in phases, Ma’at and Chaos, Chaos and Ma’at. Being the moon god, I appreciate variation. Now, Ra, poor guy—he always stuck to a schedule. Same path every night. So predictable and boring. Retiring was the most interesting thing he ever did. If Apophis takes over and swallows the sun, well—I suppose the moon will still be there.”

“You’re insane,” Sadie said.

“Ha! I’ll bet you five extra minutes of moonlight that I’m perfectly sane.”

“Forget it,” Sadie said. “Just roll.”

Khonsu tossed the sticks. The bad news: he made alarming progress. He rolled a five and got one of his pieces almost to the end of the board. The good news: the piece got stuck at the House of Three Truths, which meant he could only roll a three to get it out.

Bes studied the board intently. He didn’t seem to like what he saw. We had one piece way back at the start and two pieces on the last row of the board.

“Careful now,” Khonsu warned. “This is where it gets interesting.”

Sadie rolled a four, which gave us two options. Our lead piece could go out. Or our second piece could bump Khonsu’s piece from the House of Three Truths and send it back to Start.

“Bump him,” I said. “It’s safer.”

Bes shook his head. “Then we’re stuck in the House of Three Truths. The chances of him rolling a three are slim. Take your first piece out. That way you’ll be assured of at least one extra hour.”

“But one extra hour won’t do it,” Sadie said.

Khonsu seemed to be enjoying our indecision. He sipped wine from a silvery goblet and smiled. Meanwhile Ra entertained himself by trying to pick the spikes off his war flail. “Ow, ow, ow.”

My forehead beaded with sweat. How was I sweating in a board game? “Bes, are you sure?”

“It’s your best bet,” he said.

“Bes best?” Khonsu chuckled. “Nice!”

I wanted to smack the moon god, but I kept my mouth shut. I moved our first piece out of play.

“Congratulations!” Khonsu said. “I owe you one hour of moonlight. Now it’s my turn.”

He tossed the sticks. They clattered on the dining table, and I felt like someone had snipped an elevator cable in my chest, plunging my heart straight down a shaft. Khonsu had rolled a three.

“Whoopsie!” Ra dropped his flail.

Khonsu moved his piece out of play. “Oh, what a shame. Now, whose ren do I collect first?”

“No, please!” Sadie said. “Trade back. Take the hour you owe us instead.”

“Those aren’t the rules,” Khonsu chided.

I looked down at the gouge I’d made in the table when I was eight. I knew that memory was about to disappear, like all my others. If I gave my ren to Khonsu, at least Sadie could still cast the final part of the spell. She would need Bes to protect her and advise her. I was the only expendable one.

I started to say, “I—”

“Me,” said Bes. “The move was my idea.”

“Bes, no!” Sadie cried.

The dwarf stood. He planted his feet and balled his fists, like he was getting ready to let loose with a BOO. I wished he’d do that and scare away Khonsu, but instead he looked at us with resignation. “It was part of the strategy, kids.”

“What?” I asked. “You planned this?”

He slipped off his Hawaiian shirt and folded it carefully, setting it on the table. “Most important thing is getting all three of your pieces off the board, and losing no more than one. This was the only way to do it. You’ll beat him easily now. Sometimes you have to lose a piece to win a game.”

“So true,” Khonsu said. “What a delight! A god’s ren. Are you ready, Bes?”

“Bes, don’t,” I pleaded. “This isn’t right.”

He scowled at me. “Hey, kid, you were willing to sacrifice. Are you saying I’m not as brave as some pipsqueak magician? Besides, I’m a god. Who knows? Sometimes we come back. Now, win the game and get out of here. Kick Menshikov in the knee for me.”

I tried to think of something to say, something that would stop this, but Bes said, “I’m ready.”

Khonsu closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, like he was enjoying some fresh mountain air. Bes’s form flickered. He dissolved into a montage of lightning-fast images—a troupe of dwarves dancing at a temple in the firelight; a crowd of Egyptians partying at a festival, carrying Bes and Bast on their shoulders; Bes and Tawaret in togas at some Roman villa, eating grapes and laughing together on a sofa; Bes dressed like George Washington in a powdered wig and silk suit, doing cartwheels in front of some British redcoats; Bes in the olive fatigues of a U.S. Marine, scaring away a demon in a World War II Nazi uniform.

As his silhouette melted, more recent images flickered past: Bes in a chauffeur’s uniform with a placard that read kane; Bes pulling us out of our sinking limo in the Mediterranean; Bes casting spells on me in Alexandria when I was poisoned, trying desperately to heal me; Bes and me in the back of the Bedouins’ pickup truck, sharing goat meat and Vaseline-flavored water as we traveled along the bank of the Nile. His last memory: two kids, Sadie and me, looking at him with love and concern. Then the image faded, and Bes was gone. Even his Hawaiian shirt had disappeared.

“You took all of him!” I yelled. “His body—everything. That wasn’t the deal!”

Khonsu opened his eyes and sighed deeply. “That was lovely.” He smiled at us as if nothing had happened. “I believe it’s your turn.”

His silver eyes were cold and luminous, and I had a feeling that for the rest of my life, I would hate looking at the moon.

Maybe it was rage, or Bes’s strategy, or maybe we just got lucky, but the rest of the game Sadie and I destroyed Khonsu easily. We bumped his pieces at every opportunity. Within five minutes, our last piece was off the board.