“You must be fun at parties,” I said. “Why have you brought me here?”
“To talk.” He spread his hands, and the nearest tomb rumbled. A long white ribbon shot out of a crack in the wall. The ribbon just kept coming, weaving itself into some kind of shape next to Anubis, and my first thought was, My god, he’s got a magic roll of toilet paper.
Then I realized it was cloth, a length of white linen wrappings—mummy wrappings. The cloth twisted itself into the form of a bench, and Anubis sat down.
“I don’t like Horus.” He gestured for me to join him. “He’s loud and arrogant and thinks he’s better than me. But Isis always treated me like a son.”
I crossed my arms. “You’re not my son. And I told you I’m not Isis.”
Anubis tilted his head. “No. You don’t act like a godling. You remind me of your mother.”
That hit me like a bucket of cold water (and sadly, I knew exactly what that felt like, thanks to Zia). “You’ve met my mother?”
Anubis blinked, as if realizing he’d done something wrong. “I—I know all the dead, but each spirit’s path is secret. I should not have spoken.”
“You can’t just say something like that and then clam up! Is she in the Egyptian afterlife? Did she pass your little Hall of Judgment?”
Anubis glanced uneasily at the golden scales, which shimmered like a mirage in the graveyard. “It is not my hall. I merely oversee it until Lord Osiris returns. I’m sorry if I upset you, but I can’t say anything more. I don’t know why I said anything at all. It’s just...your soul has a similar glow. A strong glow.”
“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 wh
o 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!”