“You mean us,” I said.
She glanced at me apprehensively, and I knew she was still thinking about what the bird spirit had called me: a good king. It seemed so unreal, like our family name in that Blood of the Pharaohs scroll. How could I be related to some ancient kings? And even if I was, I certainly wasn’t a king. I had no kingdom. I didn’t even have my single suitcase anymore.
“They’ll be waiting for you,” Zia said. “Come along.”
We walked so far, my feet began to ache.
Finally we arrived at a crossroads. On the right was a massive set of bronze doors with fires blazing on either side; on the left, a twenty-foot-tall sphinx carved into the wall. A doorway nestled between its paws, but it was bricked in and covered in cobwebs.
“That looks like the Sphinx at Giza,” I said.
“That’s because we are directly under the real Sphinx,” Zia said. “That tunnel leads straight up to it. Or it used to, before it was sealed.”
“But...” I did some quick calculations in my head. “The Sphinx is, like, twenty miles from the Cairo Airport.”
“Roughly.”
“No way we’ve walked that far.”
Zia actually smiled, and I couldn’t help noticing how pretty her eyes were. “Distance changes in magic places, Carter. Surely you’ve learned that by now.”
Sadie cleared her throat. “So why is the tunnel closed, then?”
“The Sphinx was too popular with archaeologists,” Zia said. “They kept digging around. Finally, in the 1980s, they discovered the first part of the tunnel under the Sphinx.”
“Dad told me about that!” I said. “But he said the tunnel was a dead end.”
“It was when we got through with it. We couldn’t let the archaeologists know how much they’re missing. Egypt’s leading archaeologist recently speculated that they’ve only discovered thirty percent of the ancient ruins in Egypt. In truth, they’ve only discovered one tenth, and not even the interesting tenth.”
“What about King Tut’s tomb?” I protested.
“That boy king?” Zia rolled her eyes. “Boring. You should see some of the good tombs.”
I felt a little hurt. Dad had named me after Howard Carter, the guy who discovered King Tut’s tomb, so I’d always felt a personal attachment to it. If that wasn’t a “good” tomb, I wondered what was.
Zia turned to face the bronze doors.
“This is the Hall of Ages.” She placed her palm against the seal, which bore the symbol of the House of Life.
The hieroglyphs began to glow, and the doors swung open.
Zia turned to us, her expression deadly serious. “You are about to meet the Chief Lector. Behave yourselves, unless you wish to be turned into insects.”
C A R T E R
14. A French Guy Almost Kills Us
THE LAST COUPLE OF DAYS I’d seen a lot of crazy things, but the Hall of Ages took the prize.
Double rows of stone pillars held up a ceiling so high, you could’ve parked a blimp under it with no trouble. A shimmering blue carpet that looked like water ran down the center of the hall, which was so long, I couldn’t see the end even though it was brightly lit. Balls of fire floated around like helium basketballs, changing color whenever they bumped into one another. Millions of tiny hieroglyphic symbols also drifted through the air, randomly combining into words and then breaking apart.
I grabbed a pair of glowing red legs.
They walked across my palm before jumping off and dissolving.
But the weirdest things were the displays.
I don’t know what else to call them. Between the columns on either side of us, images shifted, coming into focus and then blurring out again like holograms in a sandstorm.