Tawaret didn’t exactly smile, but her eyes softened with kindness. “Not who, my dear. Where. It’s the Seventh House. Tell your father hello.”
My spirits lifted just a little. “Dad will be there?”
“Good luck, Carter and Sadie.” Tawaret kissed us both on the cheek, which felt sort of like getting sideswiped by a friendly, bristly, slightly moist blimp.
The goddess looked at Bes, and I was sure she was going to cry. Then she turned and hurried up the steps, her shabti behind her.
“Weasels are sick,” Ra said thoughtfully.
On that bit of godly wisdom, we boarded the ship. The glowing crew lights manned the oars, and the sun boat pulled away from the docks.
“Eat.” Ra began gumming a piece of rope.
“No, you can’t eat that, you old git,” Sadie chided.
“Uh, kid?” Bes said. “Maybe you shouldn’t call the king of the gods an old git.”
“Well, he is,” Sadie said. “Come on, Ra. Come into the tent. I want to see something.”
“No tent,” he muttered. “Zebras.”
Sadie tried to grab his arm, but he crawled away from her and stuck out his tongue. Finally she took the pharaoh’s crook from my belt (without asking, of course) and waved it like a dog bone. “Want the crook, Ra? Nice tasty crook?”
Ra grabbed for it weakly. Sadie backed up and eventually managed to coax Ra into the pavilion. As soon as he reached the empty dais, a brilliant light exploded around him, completely blinding me.
“Carter, look!” Sadie cried.
“I wish I could.” I blinked the yellow spots out of my eyes.
On the dais stood a chair of molten gold, a fiery throne carved with glowing white hieroglyphs. It looked just like Sadie had described from her vision, but in real life it was the most beautiful and terrifying piece of furniture I’d ever seen. The crew lights buzzed around it in excitement, brighter than ever.
Ra didn’t seem to notice the chair, or he didn’t care. His hospital gown had changed into regal robes with a collar of gold, but he still looked like the same withered old man.
“Have a seat,” Sadie told him.
“Don’t wanna chair,” he muttered.
“That was almost a complete sentence,” I said. “Maybe it’s a good sign?”
“Zebras!” Ra grabbed the crook from Sadie and hobbled across the deck, yelling, “Wheee! Wheee!”
“Lord Ra!” Bes called. “Careful!”
I considered tackling the sun god before he could fall out of the boat, but I didn’t know how the crew would react to that. Then Ra solved our problem for us. He smacked into the mast and crumpled to the deck.
We all rushed forward, but the old god seemed only dazed.
He drooled and muttered as we dragged him back into the pavilion and set him on his throne. It was tricky, because the throne gave off heat of about a thousand degrees, and I didn’t want to catch fire (again); but the heat didn’t seem to bother Ra.
We stepped back and looked at the king of the gods, slumped in his chair snoring, and cradling his crook like a teddy bear. I placed the war flail across his lap, hoping it might make a difference—maybe complete his powers or something. No such luck.
“Sick weasels,” Ra muttered.
“Behold,” Sadie said bitterly. “The glorious Ra.”
Bes shot her an irritated look. “That’s right, kid. Make fun. We gods just love to have mortals laughing at us.”
Sadie’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, Bes. I didn’t mean—”