“How flattering,” I grumbled. “My soul glows.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “Please, sit.”
I had no interest in letting the matter drop, or sitting with him on a bunch of mummy wrappings, but my direct approach to information gathering didn’t seem to be working. I plopped down on the bench and tried to look as annoyed as possible.
“So.” I gave him a sulky glare. “What’s that form, then? Are you a godling?”
He frowned and put his hand to his chest. “You mean, am I inhabiting a human body? No, I can inhabit any graveyard, any place of death or mourning. This is my natural appearance.”
“Oh.” Part of me had hoped there was an actual boy sitting next to me-someone who just happened to be hosting a god. But I should’ve known that was too good to be true. I felt disappointed. Then I felt angry with myself for feeling disappointed.
It’s not like there was any potential, Sadie, I chided myself. He’s the bloody god of funerals. He’s like five thousand years old.
“So,” I said, “if you can’t tell me anything useful, at least help me. We need a feather of truth.”
He shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re asking. The feather of truth is too dangerous. Giving it to a mortal would be against the rules of Osiris.”
“But Osiris isn’t here.” I pointed at the empty throne. “That’s his seat, isn’t it? Do you see Osiris?”
Anubis eyed the throne. He ran his fingers along his gold chain as if it were getting tighter. “It’s true that I’ve waited here for ages, keeping my station. I was not imprisoned like the rest. I don’t know why…but I did the best I could. When I heard the five had been released, I hoped Lord Osiris would return, but…” He shook his head dejectedly. “Why would he neglect his duties?”
“Probably because he’s trapped inside my dad.”
Anubis stared at me. “The baboon did not explain this.”
“Well, I can’t explain as well as a baboon. But basically my dad wanted to release some gods for reasons I don’t quite…Maybe he thought, I’ll just pop down to the British Museum and blow up the Rosetta Stone! And he released Osiris, but he also got Set and the rest of that lot.”
“So Set imprisoned your father while he was hosting Osiris,” Anubis said, “which means Osiris has also been trapped by my-” He stopped himself. “By Set.”
Interesting, I thought.
“You understand, then,” I said. “You’ve got to help us.”
Anubis hesitated, then shook his head. “I can’t. I’ll get in trouble.”
I just stared at him and laughed. I couldn’t help it, he sounded so ridiculous. “You’ll get in trouble? How old are you, sixteen? You’re a god!”
It was hard to tell in the dark, but I could swear he blushed. “You don’t understand. The feather cannot abide the smallest lie. If I gave it to you, and you spoke a single untruth while you carried it, or acted in a way that was not truthful, you would burn to ashes.”
“You’re assuming I’m a liar.”
He blinked. “No, I simply-”
“You’ve never told a lie? What were you about to say just now-about Set? He’s your father, I’m guessing. Is that it?”
Anubis closed his mouth, then opened it again. He looked as if he wanted to get angry but couldn’t quite remember how. “Are you always this infuriating?”
“Usually more,” I admitted.
“Why hasn’t your family married you off to someone far, far away?”
He asked as if it were an honest question, and now it was my turn to be flabbergasted. “Excuse me, death boy! But I’m twelve! Well…almost thirteen, and a very mature almost thirteen, but that’s not the point. We don’t ‘marry off’ girls in my family, and you may know everything about funerals, but apparently you aren’t very up to speed on courtship rituals!”
Anubis looked mystified. “Apparently not.”
“Right! Wait-what were we talking about? Oh, thought you could distract me, eh? I remember. Set’s your father, yes? Tell the truth.”
Anubis gazed across the graveyard. The sound of the jazz funeral was fading into the streets of the French Quarter.
“Yes,” he said. “At least, that’s what the legends say. I’ve never met him. My mother, Nephthys, gave me to Osiris when I was a child.”
“She…gave you away?”
“She said she didn’t want me to know my father. But in truth, I’m not sure she knew what to do with me. I wasn’t like my cousin Horus. I wasn’t a warrior. I was a…different child.”
He sounded so bitter, I didn’t know what to say. I mean, I’d asked for the truth, but usually you don’t actually get it, especially from guys. I also knew something about being the different child-and feeling like my parents had given me away.
“Maybe your mum was trying to protect you,” I said. “Your dad being Lord of Evil, and all.”
“Maybe,” he said halfheartedly. “Osiris took me under his wing. He made me the Lord of Funerals, the Keeper of the Ways of Death. It’s a good job, but…you asked how old I am. The truth is I don’t know. Years don’t pass in the Land of the Dead. I still feel quite young, but the world has gotten old around me. And Osiris has been gone so long…He’s the only family I had.”
Looking at Anubis in the dim light of the graveyard, I saw a lonely teenage guy. I tried to remind myself that he was a god, thousands of years old, probably able to control vast powers well beyond magic toilet paper, but I still felt sorry for him.
“Help us rescue my dad,” I said. “We’ll send Set back to the Duat, and Osiris will be free. We’ll all be happy.”
Anubis shook his head again. “I told you-”
“Your scales are broken,” I noticed. “That’s because Osiris isn’t here, I’m guessing. What happens to all the souls that come for judgment?”
I knew I’d hit a nerve. Anubis shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “It increases chaos. The souls become confused. Some cannot go to the afterlife. Some manage, but they must find other ways. I try to help, but…the Hall of Judgment is also called the Hall of Ma’at. It is meant to be the center of order, a stable foundation. Without Osiris, it is falling into disrepair, crumbling.”
“Then what are you waiting for? Give us the feather. Unless you’re afraid your dad will ground you.”
His eyes flashed with irritation. For a moment I thought he was planning my funeral, but he simply sighed in exasperation. “I do a ceremony called the opening of the mouth. It lets the soul of the dead person come forth. For you, Sadie Kane, I would invent a new ceremony: the closing of the mouth.”
“Ha, ha. Are you going to give me the feather or not?”
He opened his hand. There was a burst of light, and a glowing feather floated above his palm-a snowy plume like a writing quill. “For Osiris’s sake-but I will insist on several conditions. First, only you may handle it.”
“Well, of course. You don’t think I’d let Carter-”
“Also, you must listen to my mother, Nephthys. Khufu told me you were looking for her. If you manage to find her, listen to her.”
“Easy,” I said, though the request did leave me strangely uncomfortable. Why would Anubis ask something like that?
“And before you go,” Anubis continued, “you must answer three questions for me as you hold the feather of truth, to prove that you are honest.”
My mouth suddenly felt dry. “Um…what sort of questions?”
“Any that I want. And remember, the slightest lie will destroy you.”
“Give me the bloody feather.”
As he handed it to me, the feather stopped glowing, but it felt warmer and heavier than a feather should.
“It’s the tail feather from a bennu,” Anubis explained, “what you’d call a phoenix. It weighs exactly the same as a human soul. Are you ready?”
“No,” I said, which must’ve been truthful, as I didn’t burn up. “Does that count as one question?”
