“So why can’t you just transform a boat so it’s strong enough to sail through this storm?” Aria asked.
The princess looked confused by the questions, pausing for a moment before responding. “No magic can change the weather, and no ship, regardless of how strong, could sail the Nile in this. Storms like this are rare but unpredictable. There’s no way around it.” She leaned against the column again, closing her eyes in grief.
“No power in the world could speed this storm up, or enable us to sail through it.” Babi sighed.
“Maybe we don’t need to sail through it.” Jagger lifted his chin high. “Maybe we can sail over it.”
THAT’S CHARMING
“Over it? That’s impossible.” Babi sat up, then grabbed his head and lowered himself back down to the bed with a groan.
“Not really.” Jagger’s mind was purring, ticking through possibilities.
“Yeah,” Aria exclaimed, jumping to his idea like only a girl who’d logged a million flight hours could. “If you wanted to create, say, a flying ship, could you do that with wax?”
“A flying ship?” Tatia shook her head. “I can’t imagine such a thing, Aria Jones.” She crumpled her eyes in concentration. “I could create a wax bird, but it would fall out of the air within a few miles.”
“Okay.” Jagger nodded. “What if you had something stronger, like real birds? Could you transform them into something like Hemet and Mutef? Giant, robot birds that could fly farther?” Jagger knew that flying over the storm was the solution they needed—they could be back at Amarna tonight if only they could figure out how to merge his knowledge of flight with their magic.
“I could enhance birds, make them larger and faster and able to fly farther. But I couldn’t control them. Birds are their own creatures. And why would I want to, Jagger Jones? To what end?”
“You want to fly to Amarna? Like in an air ship?” Babi twined his fingers above his head. “Even if that were possible, how would that be any safer than sailing by boat? You’d still need to sail against the storm, only you’d do it from the sky rather than on the river. Seems more dangerous.”
“No.” Jagger shook his head. “We just need to rise above the clouds. Thunderstorm clouds can get pretty high though—cumulonimbus cloud peaks can reach twenty thousand feet. So we have to get very high, very fast. Once we rise above the storm, we can fly over it.”
“Over it?” Babi squinted.
“We do it all the time.” Aria waved away his concern, nonchalant. “We’ve flown all over the world and through all sorts of storms. Why can’t we just hop on a magical, flying boat and fly it to Amarna? Airplanes are way faster than ships. We ought to know, we’ve spent enough time in both.”
Mut and Tatia exchanged a confused glance. Jagger was struck again by the power of modern science—these guys may have some cool gods and magic, but technology was pretty magical too.
Tatia played with a braid, eyes narrowed. “Even if we figured out how to control a bird, wouldn’t it be too heavy? How would it stay in the air?”
“Well first, you need thrust.” Jagger and Gramps loved to discuss the mechanics of flight. When Jagger was four, Gramps, who flew planes for the military in his younger years, taught him how to make paper airplanes. Surprised that Jagger’s plane flew farther than his own, Gramps asked how he’d done it. When Jagger explained lift and thrust and drag, Gramps called him whiz kid—it was the first time anyone ever labeled Jagger that way—and talked Grams into making Jagger’s favorite salted caramel, homemade ice cream. He’d been called a whiz kid a million times since, but most people used it like a slur, like it was a bad thing to be smart. Not Gramps though. Gramps thought it was the coolest! “To understand how thrust works, first you need to know—”
“ZZZZZZZ.” Aria mimed falling asleep, then opened one eye, and aimed it at Tatia. “The same way birds stay in the air.”
“Birds are birds, Aria Jones. Birds fly. I could transform a bird into something large enough to carry us easily enough—Mut and I both excel at altering sizes—but I can’t force a bird to follow my commands.”
“Okay.” Jagger was shutting down options, looking for an idea that would work. “So wax isn’t strong enough, and birds won’t take orders. What other kinds of substances can you transform? There must be something with the right magical properties—”
“Perhaps …” Mut’s smile was wicked. “Perhaps something stronger than wax but still biddable, something without its own will but with the form of a bird. Something made of a substance our princess masters exceptionally well?” She was playing with her hair. Pulling something from her braids, she opened her hand.
Aria gasped and clapped her hands together. She dropped her purse on the ground, and rummaged thought it until she plucked a charm from her charm bracelet stranded in the bottom of her bag. She added her piece of jewelry to Mut’s palm.
Tatia bit her lip. “Yes. I could do that. But it won’t help Mek if we fall from the sky to our deaths—”
“We won’t,” Jagger assured her.
“The storm—”
“Will be uncomfortable, but we’ll get past it.”
“But won’t the sun scorch you?” Babi’s eyes were wide with fascination.
Jagger chuckled. “No. In fact, the cold will be one of two problems we’ll face once we climb past the storm—”
“What do you mean cold?” the princess asked. “That’s preposterous. We’ll be closer to the sun.”
“That’s not how it works,” Jagger assured her. “It’s cold up there. But we have an even bigger problem. Depending on how high we have to fly to get above the clouds, we may get altitude sickness. There’s less oxygen in the air as you get higher. If we go too high, we’ll all be bumbling idiots. We could pass out if we get over eighteen thousand feet, and this storm may be that high. But maybe …” Jagger tapped his fingers against his arms, thinking about the time he and Andrew made homemade space helmets. “I needed a hose, water, some kind of big bubble, lots of extra clothes, and an airtight container.”
Cold wind stung Jagger’s face that evening as the sun fell in the sky. It had taken hours for him to figure out the science, and another for Tatia to cast her “truly brilliant, magic spell.”
Tatia had created the giant falcon Jagger and Mut rode out of a golden Horus amulet Mut plucked from her wig. Their bird—Jagger had mentally named him Caesar—was gleaming gold, like the amulet had been. Jagger admired the beating, gold wings as he gripped the strap tighter. The leather strap was wrapped around the giant, metallic bird, holding him and Mut in their seats and allowing them to steer. Caesar’s wings creaked as they moved up and down, then fell silent when he paused, gliding on the currents.
Aria and the princess flew next to them on a pink and purple owl with glittering, yellow eyes. Mom had bought Aria the charm near the Acropolis in Athens, one of many charms added to Aria’s bracelet over the years from around the globe, this one to honor the goddess Athena’s passion for wisdom, symbolized by the owl.
Jagger looked down, hoping to spot the Nile below them, but all he could see was storm clouds. Getting over the storm had been nerve wracking. And once they did, he’d wondered if his creative adaption of papyrus reeds, alabaster jugs, and an old tic-tac container from Aria’s purse—used to create ad hoc oxygen tanks in case they got high enough to need them—would be enough. Fortunately, it was. Mut and Tatia both sucked oxygen every ten minutes or so as they cruised along at about fifteen thousand feet, if Jagger’s estimate was right.
Tatia yanked her top layer of clothing tighter around her and leaned closer to the owl. She wore layers of white linen, her black, side ponytail peeking out from the cloth wrapped around her head. She looked nervous, glancing down and mumbling to herself. Maybe they’d found the one thing their tough princess was scared of: heights. It didn’t help that she refused to believe Jagger’s explanation of oxygen and weather patterns and the mechanics of air travel. Her di
sapproval of scientific facts reminded him of his own unwillingness to believe in anything magical—a belief that had collapsed in the face of spell after spell.
In the end, Tatia was so attracted to the idea of getting home in time to save Mek’s Ka, her fear wasn’t much of an obstacle.
Next to her, Aria’s grin didn’t stop. Jagger could hear her in his head: this is better than the time we zip lined in Costa Rica, or went dog sledding in Scandinavia! He smiled, watching his little sis enjoy the storm clouds twist and turn below them.
“I don’t think you could have convinced Meretaten to ride that thing for anything, or anyone, other than Mek.” The wind carried Mut’s voice back to him. He dodged the loose end of the linen band wrapped around her head. “The sisters have always been close.”
“We’ll make it in time, right?” Jagger had done the math over and over again. They should be fine, now that they’d conquered the storm, but what if Mek was gone when they got back? What if the servant Tatia left in charge hadn’t administered the elixir properly? Or the princess had been wrong about how long her sister could hold on?
“We’ll make it.” Mut sounded confident.
The clouds parted, and Jagger caught a glimpse of the green strip of fertile land that bordered the Nile. A surge of homesickness stabbed him. He closed his eyes, imaging the too-familiar view of Chicago from the sky, the vastness of Lake Michigan and the skyscrapers stretched out along it, and the grid of streets and neighborhoods fanning out from the city. Home. They’d be there soon.
He cleared his throat. “What about Babi? Will he be okay?”
“He’s under Meri-Ptah’s care. She’s the best healer in the land. He was devastated he couldn’t join us though. Sailing through the air is exactly the kind of adventure that appeals to our dear captain.”
“And Hemet and Mutef? Won’t you miss them?”
“Desperately.” Jagger heard the wistfulness in her voice and understood that the sacrifice had been hers as well as theirs. “I always miss my companions when they’re not with me. But they’ve made their choice. They can hardly drive me around on my chariot now. They’ll make their way to Amarna as soon as Babi is ready to travel.”
“What’s going to happen to the General, and Herihor, and Smenkare?” Jagger had no idea what kind of punishment they’d face. Did ancient Egypt have cozy, white-collar prisons or would they be tortured and burned at the stake? If his knowledge of history panned out, Smenkare at least had more time, but what of the other two men?
Mut mumbled something about the king’s dedication to peace and the warmth of love and honor, and the two of them fell silent.
“How long until we land?” she asked a while later as the moon climbed the sky. He’d tried to explain it, but neither Tatia nor Mut really understood the notion of sky travel. They didn’t seem to believe they could get to Amarna so quickly.
“I think we passed Abydos about an hour ago, so, at this speed, probably two hours more.” He’d calculated the speed of the birds and the distance of the flight, shorter now that they could chart a direct path.
“The palace will be sleeping, but the sentries will get a good shock.” Her laugher was like bells, floating away on the wind.
They fell silent again, listening to the sounds of Caesar’s flapping wings, buffeted by the wind, Aria and Tatia flying by their side, until Amarna appeared like a spot on a map, dark and silent. They’d left the storm behind and spent the last leg of the flight watching the meandering river sparkle far below as a bright moon filled the sky, surrounded by stars.
Jagger’s stomach churned as he looked down on the peaceful city.
They were too late for two princesses. But another would be waiting.
He hoped.
PURR-TING COMPANY
The birds stretched their metal wings, gliding on the wind. The palace emerged from the dark. It was miniature at first, but the straight lines of roads and walls grew quickly, gleaming in the moonlight as they descended. It was an hour before dawn when Tatia ordered her pink and purple owl to land in the rectangular, open space next to the palace.
Rubbing his sore legs, Jagger followed Tatia through the maze of waist-high altars. Was that blood? He cringed, wondering how many cows had been slaughtered in this place. He was suddenly relieved he hadn’t eaten hamburger recently.
They paused at a palace side door, looking back at the birds. The falcon flapped its wings and took off. Caesar didn’t spare them a glance. The owl, however, watched them with yellow eyes before hooting and following Caesar into the starry sky.
“We should have taken them home.” Aria grinned at him. “Can you imagine? Best pets ever.”
He bumped her playfully, shaking his head. He and Aria had been begging Mom for a dog for years. She refused, blaming her job, which was one more reason to dislike Mom’s travel schedule.
“Let’s go.” Tatia waved them forward. She led them through cold, stone, palace halls, dodging the few guards and servants that were up. Ten minutes later, the princess fell onto her bed next to Mek.
Still alive. Jagger unclenched.
By the looks of it, she was barely hanging on. Rather than the peaceful sleep of their previous visit, Mek struggled to breathe. Sweat dotted her brow, and her face looked sallow. Black moons curved under her eyes.
“It’s time.” Tatia ran her hand over her sister’s bald head.
Aria sniffled as Mut pulled the canopic jar from her bag and spilled the nine gemstones onto the white bedcover. The stones sparkled in the dim light. The glow of magic animating them and illuminating the room cast an eerie light on Mek’s face.
Tatia reached out and grabbed Jagger’s hand. “Thank you, Jagger Jones. The gods were right. You saved my sister’s Ka. You saved my family.”
“We saved our family,” Aria corrected her.
Jagger stroked his throat—he felt nauseous looking down at Mek, so much like Aria. But unlike his sister, Tatia’s wouldn’t survive the day. “I didn’t … I mean, I still don’t understand …”
“They chose you for a reason,” Tatia replied, reading his thoughts.
He exhaled. “But you’re the one who showed up in the nick of time and saved us—you and Mut. I would have failed if it weren’t for—”
“We would still be in Thebes if it weren’t for you, Jagger Jones.” She released his hand.
“We’d be crocodile food by now if it weren’t for you, Aria,” Mut added.
“My sister would lose not only her life, but her afterlife. And your sister would be dead if you hadn’t discovered the faith to revive her,” Tatia said.
Would she?
Mut smiled. “You stood up to the General even when you believed your sister was gone. That took courage. And a kind of self-sacrifice that’s not easily found.”
Aria squeezed his arm. “Yeah, that was okay work, Brainy.” Then she looked down at Mek, swallowing hard. “We’ve come this far. But we haven’t helped Mek yet. We need to do this before …” Her eyes darted to Tatia.
“Yes, Aria Jones. You’re right. Again.” Tatia sighed and pulled the blankets down to reveal the ankh sitting on Mek’s stomach.
Wordlessly, the two magicians shifted to stand across from each other, one on each side of Mek’s head. They spread their arms, fingers nearly touching, over Mek’s body.
Aria grabbed Jagger’s elbow, tugging him out of the way. “She’ll still be alive. Kind of.” She sniffled.
Jagger put an arm around her, surprised to realize he agreed. He didn’t even believe in an afterlife, but somehow, here and now, he knew this was not the end of Mek.
Mut and Tatia each selected two stones and held them in their outstretched palms. Mek’s malachite sat on the bed next to her.
“I am Isis,” Tatia chanted.
“I am Nepthys,” Mut added.
“I am Selket,” the princess continued.
“I am Neith,” Mut finished.
“We call on th
e Ba,” they chanted together. “We call on the Ka. We call on the Ba and Ka to unite, to join with the Heart, the Name, and the Shadow, to come home to the one to whom they belong.”
Wind struck Jagger’s skin as colorful lights erupted around the room. The birds painted on the walls looked like they were moving in the lights that sparkled and danced across the space.
“Mint and lotus,” Aria whispered.
“We call you, Osiris. We call you, Anubis. We call on the Devourer to watch on, as the feather is weighed against Meketaten’s heart and she is found pure. We call on the gods of old to take her to you, to welcome her home.” The wind whipped harder as the lights spiraled up then down, like fireworks.
“Wisdom,” Tatia chanted.
“Health,” added Mut.
“Energy.”
“Vitality,” finished Mut.
They repeated the chant nine times. It became harder to hear as the noise of the wind rose higher and higher. When the mantra finally ended, the wind shot toward Mek, pulling the lights into her. Jagger pulled Aria close, covering his head with his other arm. They were pelted by hard air. It was like no storm he’d ever endured … and that was saying something coming from a Chicago kid.
The wind died suddenly, leaving Jagger feeling bruised and battered. He dropped his arm to see the two magicians in the same place, arms out, hands empty. The gemstones had attached themselves to the ankh. The large, green malachite sat in the middle, the others scattered around it, looking just as it had when Aria reached out to touch it in the tomb. But this time the gemstones were truly there, no longer a mere vision.
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