Tut

by P. J. Hoover

  “No can do, little Tut,” Qeb said.

  “Must you always called me ‘little Tut’?” I asked. I thought, after not seeing these guys for a century, they’d have gotten past that.

  “It’s a cute nickname,” Tia said. There she went with that cute thing again. “Little Tut.”

  “Whatever,” I said. “Where’s the room?”

  “You have to gain entry first,” Qeb said.

  “Who says?” I asked.

  “Duh. The gods,” Imsety said.

  “Right. And you guys always listen to the rule of the gods.” Never mind that they were gods themselves. Horus’s sons, aside from Hapi, weren’t top on the list of rule followers. I couldn’t believe Horus had assigned them down here. It must have been pretty slim pickings.

  “We’re official rule followers now,” Qeb said.

  He looked like he actually believed himself.

  “Fine. What do I have to do?” I figured maybe I’d have to go on some mighty quest or something. But if that’s what it took to get the knife, then so be it.

  Qeb clapped his hands, and lights I hadn’t known existed sprang on, illuminating three ankh symbols that were taller than I was. The one on the left was a blue so deep, it looked like it was made of lapis lazuli. I wasn’t going to comment on it, but it was the exact same blue as Tia’s eyes. Imsety would never let me hear the end of it if I made some comment like that. The one on the right was purple crystal, like an amethyst. And the one in the middle, which was twice as tall as the other two, was made of pure gold.

  Tia reached forward to touch one, but Imsety yanked her arm back.

  “Careful!” he said. “It’ll kill you if you touch it.”

  “Kill me?” She glared at me like somehow it was my fault she’d almost died.

  “I told you not to trust them,” I said, shooting Imsety a scowl. “What happens if I touch them? They won’t kill me.”

  Qeb shoved his brother out of the way. “No, they won’t kill you. You’re supposed to play a game with them. And if you win the game, you unlock the Hall of Artifacts.”

  “Oooh, Hall of Artifacts. That sounds so serious,” I said.

  “Of course it does,” Qeb said. “We’re all about serious these days. Remember, we developed responsibility.”

  I still wasn’t buying it, but arguing about it wasn’t the point of this adventure. “Okay, how do I play?”

  Imsety raised three fingers. “Answer three out of five questions correctly. Each correct answer unlocks one of the ankhs.”

  “That sounds easy enough,” I said. “I’m ready.”

  Imsety tossed his head back and laughed, like my arrogance was out of line. I was starting to remember why he and Gil never got along. “Don’t you want to know about incorrect answers?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I won’t get any wrong.”

  He continued talking like I hadn’t said a word. “First wrong answer is a freebie. Because everyone always gets at least one wrong. Second wrong answer and we shave your head.”

  My hand went to my hair before I could stop it. I loved my hair. After a decade, it was finally the exact length I wanted, just barely below my ears. “That’s never going to happen.”

  “Do you have a better suggestion?” Qeb asked.

  I reminded myself that these were gods we were talking about. They ripped out eyes and tore off body parts. Maybe shaving my head wasn’t such a sacrifice. There were other decades. It would grow back. Things could definitely be worse. And I needed the knife.

  “Go on,” I said.

  “Okay, then, on your third wrong answer, you get banished to another plane of existence,” Imsety said.

  I had no intention of getting banished anywhere. Or of getting my head shaved. I intended to win. “Can we get on with this? It’s getting late.”

  “Thought you’d never ask.” Imsety flexed his fingers outward until they cracked. “Let’s start with question number one.”

  A Canopic jar as round as a fishbowl magically appeared on the pub table next to him. He pulled a slip of papyrus from inside the jar and unfolded it. “Animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

  Kids always played this game. “Mineral,” I said, just because it was the least chosen answer.

  “Correct,” Imsety said, and the blue ankh shimmered and faded away. He crumpled the papyrus into a ball and tossed it at Qeb, hitting him in his falcon head.

  “Wait, that was the real question?”

  “Don’t get cocky, Boy King,” Imsety said. “They aren’t all that easy. Question two.” He pulled a second piece of papyrus from the oversized Canopic jar.

  “Let’s have it,” I said.

  Imsety unfolded the piece of papyrus. “How many planets are in the solar system?” he read.

  I laughed out loud as images of Henry’s Pluto T-shirts came to mind. I didn’t care what Henry said. Pluto was not a planet.

  “Eight,” I said, slouching back with my arms crossed. This was going to be a piece of cake. I could smell victory.

  Imsety scratched his head. “This says nine.”

  I yanked the piece of papyrus from his hand and crumpled it myself. “That’s because it probably hasn’t been updated. There are only eight planets.”

  Imsety narrowed his eyes at me. “I don’t know. The quiz is never wrong.” He looked to Tia and Qeb for some sort of confirmation.

  Tia pouted. “I really want to see Tut with his head shaved.”

  Qeb put his hands up. “Dude, I know Pluto is a planet.”

  “Oh, come on, Tia,” I said. “Back me up, here.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Fine. There are only eight planets now. Pluto got demoted back in 2006. It’s officially a dwarf planet.”

  The purple ankh shimmered and also vanished like the blue one had.

  “No way,” Qeb said. “That’s not fair. I always loved Pluto. How could they demote it?”

  “You guys need to get out more often,” I said. I could almost imagine Qeb and Henry getting together to mourn Pluto over a spiced latte.

  “Horus told us we can’t leave,” Qeb said.

  “Then maybe watch the news?”

  “We’ve thought about it,” Imsety said. “But then Qeb will challenge me to a game, and no way can I back down from a challenge.”

  I could understand the logic.

  “Okay, that’s two right,” I said. “Last one.”

  Imsety grabbed a third slip of papyrus and unfolded it. “What’s your favorite color?”

  “Blue,” I said with no hesitation.

  “Wrong,” Imsety said, crumpling the papyrus and tossing it over his shoulder.

  “What do you mean, wrong? It’s my favorite color. I’m pretty sure I know what my favorite color is.”

  Imsety shrugged. “Sorry, little Tut. The quiz doesn’t agree.”

  I grabbed the piece of papyrus from the ground and smoothed it out.

  “Gold,” I read aloud. “But that’s not really a color. I mean not a traditional color. I figured you were talking about the colors of the rainbow.”

  Imsety buffed his fingernails on his sleeve, like this whole trivia game was some sort of minor distraction. “At no point did I specify any restrictions on the color. You got it wrong. That’s your freebie.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Just read the next question.”

  “With pleasure,” Imsety said. “And remember, this time we shave your head.”

  “I’m not going to get it wrong.”

  I hoped.

  He pulled a fourth piece of papyrus from the Canopic jar. After this one, there was only one piece left. He unfolded it and smoothed it out.

  “Pieces of what dead king are buried in five sacred spots around Washington, D.C.?” he read.

  Pieces of a dead king? I had no idea. Sure, there were tons of dead people buried around the District, but as far as I knew, none of them were kings who had been dismembered and scattered around. I ran my fingers through my hair. Sweat sprang
onto my forehead. Imsety and Qeb would really shave my head. Of that I had no doubt. But if I got this wrong, I’d only have one chance left to get into the Hall of Artifacts. The trivia quiz may have been stupid, but I still had to win.

  “Can you…” I started, thinking I could stall by asking for a clue.

  “Seti the First,” Tia said. “That’s simple. The new obelisks are built on top of the burial sites.”

  Imsety crumpled the papyrus. “That’s cheating. Your girlfriend can’t answer for you.”

  “Not his girlfriend,” Tia said, pointing to herself. “Remember?”

  He tossed the balled-up papyrus at me. I ducked out of the way.

  “It doesn’t count,” Imsety said. “Which means you have only one chance left.”

  I wasn’t about to complain. I hadn’t known the answer, and this way, I still had a head of hair.

  “Bring it on,” I said. “I’m ready.”

  “No cheating this time,” Qeb said.

  Tia made a pretend motion of zipping her mouth and tossing away a key.

  Imsety pulled the final piece of papyrus from the Canopic jar. “Last question. What’s the…” he started. “Oh, come on. This is way too easy.”

  I deserved something easy. My quest for vengeance was noble and just. Horemheb had to be eliminated.

  “Read it.”

  “Fine,” Imsety said. “What’s the volume of a pyramid? Seriously? That’s like basic pharaoh training one-oh-one.”

  “Darn right it is,” I said. I’d learned about the great pyramids of Giza when I was six years old. My tutors had drilled me, making sure I could do all the calculations in my head. I silently sent them a prayer of thanks. “Area of the base times the height divided by three.”

  Imsety ripped the slip of papyrus in half and threw it to the ground. “I cannot believe we didn’t even get to shave your head.”

  After the questions, I couldn’t, either.

  “Maybe next time,” I said. “Not.”

  The final ankh—the golden one in the center—shimmered and twisted upward, pulling the entire wall with it. A dark room lay ahead. I’d won.

  “Guess I won,” I said.

  “Well played,” Qeb said. “I thought we had you there with that dead king thing.”

  I thought so, too, but I didn’t dare voice it. The gods could play by any rules they wanted. I didn’t want them to retract my victory.

  “Yeah, not everyone knows about Seti the First being cut into pieces and buried under the obelisks,” Imsety said. “Our dad told you, didn’t he?”

  Horus had never mentioned anything of the sort. I had no clue the obelisks had been built on top of Pharaoh Seti the First’s body parts. Who knew?

  “Yep,” I lied. “You know Horus.”

  Full of more secrets than Imsety was full of hot air.

  “You should stop by more often, little Tut,” Qeb said, mussing my hair, which I was very happy to still have.

  “You should drop by the town house sometime,” I said. “Horus would love to see you.”

  “That’s debatable,” Qeb said. It was so hard to read what he was really thinking with that falcon head of his.

  “Sure he would. Just not on the new moon.” If Qeb dropped by then, Horus might kill him. Let’s put it this way: new moons and Horus? Not the best of friends. During the new moon, Horus went totally blind. Not just missing-one-eye blind, but couldn’t see out of the other one either. And when Horus was blind, Horus was dangerous. And pretty much crazy. He’d tried to scratch both my eyes out one time. Gil had almost pulled Horus’s claws out, he’d been so mad. That had been a thousand years ago, and ever since, Horus disappeared for a few days around the new moon.

  Qeb clacked his falcon beak, which made me guess he was laughing. “Right. I almost forgot about that.”

  I never forgot about it. The image of my eyeballs clawed out made it impossible to forget.

  Ahead of us, the dark room beckoned. I couldn’t risk losing entry.

  “Come on.” I grabbed Tia’s hand and pulled her through the open doorway. And then the door lowered behind us. We were swallowed in darkness.

  8

  WHERE THE SHABTIS DRAW BLOOD

  “It’s dark in here,” Tia said not two seconds after the ankh door lowered behind us.

  Even though I knew it was showing off, I let light erupt from my scarab heart before she could grab her flashlight. Unlit torches lined the walls.

  “Sort of a cool trick,” she said, “but watch this.” She reached into her cargo pants pocket, and I figured she was going to grab her flashlight, but instead, she pulled a pack of matches out. I wondered what else she had stashed in her pockets. Maybe a midnight snack?

  Tia lit a match and touched it to a torch. Suddenly the entire wall was on fire. One torch lit the next and then the next, as if somehow they were all connected. The room exploded with light.

  It looked like a museum had been teleported inside. Gold columns—like real gold, not paint from the craft store—stretched from floor to ceiling. Statues and paintings covered every inch of wall. And shelves started just feet from where we stood and continued on, out of sight. Maybe all this stuff had come from the Library of Alexandria, and maybe at one point, it had even been catalogued. But the time of that was long gone. If Imsety and Qeb were in charge of neatness and orderliness, they’d given up ages ago.

  “What are these?” Tia used the toe of her combat boot to prod a pile of stone tablets that were leaning against a column.

  The symbols carved into the tablets were from back when Gil had been king of Mesopotamia, way before my time. “Sumerian accounting records.”

  Tia brushed her hand over one, and dust flew everywhere. “Shouldn’t they be on display somewhere?”

  “Do you have any idea how many tablets like this there are in the world?” I said. “The Sumerians kept track of everything.”

  “Can you read them?”

  “Of course I can read them,” I said.

  “What’s this one say?” she asked.

  “Something about how many camels were traded for grain.”

  “And this one?”

  “Marriage records.”

  “This one?”

  “Are you testing me?”

  “Not at all.” She left the stack of tablets and moved on to some limestone blocks near the side wall. “Okay, what’s this?”

  It wasn’t Sumerian at all. It was from my kingdom—Egypt. It only took me one look at the hieroglyphics to know what we were looking at. “The tomb of Ay. I mean, it’s not put together or anything, but most of the pieces are here.”

  “Didn’t Ay rule after you?”

  She knew about Egyptian gods. I guess she knew her Egyptian history, too.

  “I don’t want to talk about who ruled after me,” I said.

  “Why not?” Tia said.

  “Because he should have never been pharaoh,” I said. “I was pharaoh.”

  “But you’re immortal,” Tia said. “Isn’t that better?”

  “It’s debatable. Anyway, just stay here, okay? I don’t want you looking over my shoulder.”

  “You can’t get rid of me, Tut.” Tia crossed her arms and waited, slouching in the most adorable way, while tapping the toe of her combat boot. Her streak of orange hair fell over her forehead, making it look like she was winking at me, even though I knew she wasn’t.

  “Yes, I can,” I said. I could … okay, my options were nil. It wasn’t like I could come back another night when she wasn’t here. I needed to find the scroll to get information on the knife tonight. Tia wouldn’t know what it was for, anyway.

  “Just stay out of my way.”

  “I knew you’d give in,” Tia said. She brushed the orange streak from her face, making it obvious she wasn’t winking at me. She was gloating.

  “I did not give in.” I leaned down to ground level. “What did Horus say?” I asked Colonel Cody.

  “The cat informed us to look for an invisible
scroll made of gold with ink of blood,” Colonel Cody said.

  “You named your cat Horus?” Tia asked.

  “Sort of.”

  It was time for spell number sixty-eight. The spell to reveal all things. I pulled the scroll from the Book of the Dead out from under my shirt and pressed out the wrinkles.

  “The doors of the sky are open for me…” I began.

  My scarab heart started to pound, pulsing the energy through my body. I drew on this energy. I continued the words from the spell, and the energy doubled. Tripled. It took everything I had to keep saying the words and to not get lost in how amazing the energy running through me felt.

  As the last words of the spell fell from my lips, the energy gathered together and shot out of me, forming a trail. I tucked the page from the Book of the Dead back under my shirt and followed the trail, passing tablets and tombs and sarcophagi until I came to a marble table covered in scrolls. There was no question about it—the spell had led me to this table. I reached my hand out, moving it along the trail. It brushed against something that wasn’t there; something invisible.

  I wrapped my fingers around the object and it winked into existence. It was shiny gold carved with symbols painted in red—bloodred.

  “You found it!” Tia said.

  The trail and energy evaporated, and the piece of power from the Book of the Dead that I’d just used was ripped from me. Even though I’d only had it for a matter of hours, it felt like a part of me had been stolen away. I only had two spells left.

  “Yeah, look at that. I found it.”

  “How did you do it?” she asked.

  I almost told her about Horus and the Book of the Dead. Almost, except something told me to keep my mouth shut.

  “Just a spell I looked up at home,” I said. “It’s no big deal.”

  “Right, no big deal. So open it.” Tia grabbed for the scroll.

  “No.” I pulled it away. I could look later, once she wasn’t around.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “No.”

  “Fine. Be that way,” Tia said. And she pouted. And even though it killed me to admit it, she looked really cute when she pouted. So cute that all my senses must have escaped me. The next thing I knew, she’d grabbed the scroll from under my arm and unrolled it. I tried to grab it back, but I didn’t want to tear it. Plus, my curiosity and desire for revenge took over, so I knelt down next to her.