"He was a pathological liar," Thoth said. "A scoundrel, a traitor, a thief, and a brilliant magician. He prided himself on stealing books of knowledge, including mine. He battled monsters, adventured in the Duat, conquered G.o.ds, and broke into sacred tombs. He created curses that couldn't be lifted and unearthed secrets that should have stayed buried. He was quite the evil genius."

Walt tugged at his amulets. "Sounds like you admire him."

The G.o.d gave him a sidelong grin. "Well, I appreciate the pursuit of knowledge, but I couldn't endorse Setne's methods. He'd stop at nothing to possess the secrets of the universe. He wanted to be a G.o.d, you see-not the eye of a G.o.d. A full-fledged immortal."

"Which is impossible," I guessed.

"Hard, not impossible," Thoth said. "Imhotep, the first mortal magician-he was made a G.o.d after his death." Thoth turned toward his computers. "That reminds me, I haven't seen Imhotep in millennia. I wonder what he's up to. Perhaps I should Google him-"

"Thoth," Walt said, "concentrate."

"Right. So, Setne. He created this spell for destroying any being-even a G.o.d. I could never endorse such knowledge falling into the hands of a mortal, but hypothetically speaking, if you needed the spell to defeat Apophis, you might be able to convince Setne to teach you the enchantment and lead you to the shadow of Apophis."

"Except Setne's dead," I said. "We keep coming back to that."

Walt sat up. "Unless...you're suggesting we find his spirit in the Underworld. But if Setne was so evil, wouldn't Osiris have condemned him in the Hall of Judgment? Ammit would've eaten his heart, and he would have ceased to exist."

"Normally, yes," Thoth said. "But Setne is a special case. He's quite...persuasive. Even before the court of the Underworld, he was able to, ah, manipulate the legal system. Many times, Osiris sentenced him to oblivion, but Setne always managed to evade punishment. He got a lighter sentence, or he made a plea bargain, or he simply escaped. He's managed to survive-as a spirit, at least-all these eons."

Thoth turned his swirling eyes toward me. "But recently, Carter Kane, your father became Osiris. He's been cracking down on rebellious ghosts, trying to restore Ma'at to the Underworld. The next time the sun sets, approximately fourteen hours from now, Setne is scheduled for a new trial. He will come before your father. And this time-"

"My dad won't let him go." I felt like the demon's hands were closing around my throat again.

My father was fair but stern. He didn't take excuses from anyone. All the years we'd traveled together, I could never even get away with leaving my shirt untucked. If Setne was as bad as Thoth said, my father would show him no mercy. He'd toss this guy's heart to Ammit the Devourer like it was a doggie biscuit.

Walt's eyes shone with excitement. He looked more animated than I'd seen him in a long time. "We can plead with your dad," he said. "We can get Setne's trial delayed, or ask for a reduced sentence in exchange for Setne's help. The laws of the Underworld allow that."

I frowned. "How do you know so much about dead people's court?"

I regretted saying that immediately. I realized that he'd probably been preparing himself to face that courtroom. Maybe that's what he'd been discussing with Thoth earlier.

I'm afraid you don't have much time, Thoth had said.

"Sorry, man," I said.

"It's okay," Walt said. "But we have to try. If we can convince your dad to spare Setne-"

Thoth laughed. "That would be amusing, wouldn't it? If Setne got off yet again, because his evil ways were the only thing that might save the world?"

"Hilarious," I said. The brisket sandwich wasn't sitting well in my stomach. "So you're suggesting we go to my father's court and try to save the ghost of an evil psychotic magician. Then we ask this ghost to lead us to Apophis's shadow and teach us how to destroy it, while trusting that he won't escape, kill us, or betray us to the enemy."

Thoth nodded enthusiastically. "You'd have to be crazy! I certainly hope you are."

I took a deep breath. "I guess I'm crazy."

"Excellent!" Thoth cheered. "One more thing, Carter. To make this work, you'll need Walt's help, but he's running out of time. His only chance-"

"It's fine," Walt snapped. "I'll tell him myself."

Before I could ask what he meant, the overtime buzzer blared from the arena's speakers.

"It's almost dawn," Thoth said. "You two had better leave, before the demons return. Good luck. And by all means, give Setne my regards-if you live that long, of course."

C A R T E R.

8. My Sister, The Flowerpot.

THE RIDE BACK WASN'T FUN.

Walt and I held on to the boat while our teeth chattered and our eyes jiggled. The magic fog had turned the color of blood. Ghostly voices whispered angrily, like they'd decided to riot and loot the ethereal world.

Sooner than I expected, Freak pushed his way out of the Duat. We found ourselves over the New Jersey dockyards, our boat trailing steam as Freak bobbed wearily through the air. In the distance, the Manhattan skyline gleamed gold in the sunrise.

Walt and I hadn't spoken during the trip. The Duat tends to put a damper on conversation. Now he regarded me sheepishly.

"I should explain some things," he said.

I can't pretend I wasn't curious. As his sickness had progressed, Walt had gotten more and more secretive. I wondered what he'd been talking about with Thoth.

But it wasn't my business. After Sadie learned my secret name last spring and got a free tour of my innermost thoughts, I'd become sensitive about respecting people's privacy.

"Look, Walt, it's your personal life," I said. "If you don't want to tell-"

"But it's not just personal. You need to know what's going on. I-I won't be around much longer."

I gazed down at the harbor, the Statue of Liberty pa.s.sing below us. For months I'd known Walt was dying. It never got easier to accept. I remembered what Apophis had said at the Dallas Museum: Walt wouldn't live long enough to see the end of the world.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Isn't there some way-?"

"Anubis is sure," he said. "I've got until sunset tomorrow, at the very latest."

I didn't want to hear another impossible deadline. By sunset tonight, we had to save the ghost of an evil magician. By sunset tomorrow, Walt would die. And the sunrise after that, if we were really lucky, we could look forward to Doomsday.

I never liked being thwarted. Whenever I felt like something was impossible, I usually tried even harder out of sheer stubbornness.

But at this point, I felt like Apophis was having a good laugh at my expense.

Oh, you're not a quitter? he seemed to be asking. How about now? What if we give you a few more impossible tasks? Are you a quitter now?

Anger made a small hard knot in my gut. I kicked the side of the boat and nearly broke my foot.

Walt blinked. "Carter, it's-"

"Don't say it's all right!" I snapped. "It's not all right."

I wasn't mad at him. I was mad at the unfairness of his stupid curse, and the fact that I kept failing people who depended on me. My parents had died to give Sadie and me a chance to save the world, which we were close to botching. In Dallas, dozens of good magicians had died because they'd tried to help me. Now we were about to lose Walt.

Sure, he was important to Sadie. But I relied on him just as much. Walt was my unofficial lieutenant at Brooklyn House. The other kids listened to him. He was a calming presence in every crisis, the deciding vote in every debate. I could trust him with any secret-and even with making the execration statue of Apophis, which I couldn't tell my uncle about. If Walt died...

"I won't let it happen," I said. "I refuse."

Wild thoughts ran through my mind: Maybe Anubis was lying to Walt about his imminent death, trying to push Walt away from Sadie. (Okay, unlikely. Sadie wasn't that much of a prize.) [Yeah, Sadie, I really said that. Just checking to see if you were still paying attention.]

Maybe Walt could beat the odds. People survived cancer miraculously. Why not ancient curses? Maybe we could put him in suspended animation like Iskandar had done for Zia, until we found an antidote. Sure, his family had been searching for a cure unsuccessfully for centuries. Jaz, our best healer, had tried everything with no luck. But maybe we'd overlooked something.

"Carter," Walt said. "Will you let me finish? We've got to make plans."

"How can you be so calm?" I demanded.

Walt fingered his shen necklace, the twin of the one he'd given Sadie. "I've known about my curse for years. I won't let it stop me from doing what I need to. One way or another, I'm going to help you beat Apophis."

"How?" I said. "You just told me-"

"Anubis has an idea," Walt said. "He's been helping me make sense of my powers."

"You mean..." I glanced at Walt's hands. Several times I'd seen him turn objects to ashes simply by touching them, the way he'd done to that criosphinx in Dallas. The power didn't come from any of his magic items. None of us understood it, and as Walt's disease progressed, he seemed less and less able to control it, which made me think twice about giving the guy a high five.

Walt flexed his fingers. "Anubis thinks he understands why I have that ability. And there's more. He thinks there might be a way to extend my life."

That was such good news that I let out a shaky laugh. "Why didn't you say so? He can cure you?"

"No," Walt said. "Not a cure. And it's risky. It's never been done before."

"That's what you were talking to Thoth about."

Walt nodded. "Even if Anubis's plan works, there could be...side effects. You might not like it." He lowered his voice. "Sadie might not like it."

Unfortunately, I had a vivid imagination. I envisioned Walt turning into some sort of undead creature-a withered mummy, a ghostly ba, or a disfigured demon. In Egyptian magic, side effects could be pretty extreme.

I tried not to let my emotions show. "We want you to live. Don't worry about Sadie."

I could tell from Walt's eyes that he worried about Sadie a lot. Seriously, what did he see in my sister?

[Stop hitting me, Sadie. I'm just being honest.]

Walt flexed his fingers. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I detected wisps of gray steam curling from his hands, as if just talking about his strange power had made it turn active.

"I won't make the decision yet," Walt said. "Not until I'm on my last breath. I want to talk to Sadie first, explain to her..."

He rested his hand on the side of the boat. That was a mistake. The woven reeds turned gray under his touch.

"Walt, stop!" I yelped.

He jerked his hand away, but it was too late. The boat crumbled to ashes.

We lunged for the ropes. Thankfully they did not crumble-maybe because Walt was paying more attention now. Freak squawked as the boat disappeared, and suddenly Walt and I were dangling under the griffin's belly, holding on to the ropes for dear life and bonking into each other as we flew above the skysc.r.a.pers of Manhattan.

"Walt!" I yelled over the wind. "You really need to get a handle on that power!"

"Sorry!" he shouted back.

My arms were aching, but somehow we made it to Brooklyn House without plummeting to our deaths. Freak set us down on the roof, where Bast was waiting, her mouth agape.

"Why are you swinging from ropes?" she demanded.

"Because it's so fun," I growled. "What's the news?"

Behind the chimneys, a frail voice warbled: "Ha-lllooooo!"

The ancient sun G.o.d Ra popped out. He gave us a toothless grin and hobbled around the roof, muttering, "Weasels, weasels. Cookie, cookie, cookie!" He reached into the folds of his loincloth and tossed cookie crumbs in the air like confetti-and yes, it was just as disgusting as it sounds.

Bast tensed her arms, and her knives shot into her hands. Probably just an involuntary reflex; but she looked tempted to use those blades on someone-anyone. She reluctantly slipped the blades back into her sleeves.

"The news?" she said. "I'm on babysitting duty, thanks to your Uncle Amos, who asked me for a favor. And Sadie's shabti is waiting for you downstairs. Shall we?"

Explaining Sadie and her shabti would take a whole separate recording.

My sister had no talent for crafting magical statues. That didn't stop her from trying. She'd gotten this harebrained idea that she could create the perfect shabti to be her avatar, speak with her voice, and do all her ch.o.r.es like a remote-controlled robot. All her previous attempts had exploded or gone haywire, terrorizing Khufu and the initiates. Last week she'd created a magical Thermos with googly eyes that levitated around the room, yelling, "Exterminate! Exterminate!" until it smacked me in the head.

Sadie's latest shabti was Sadie Junior-a gardener's nightmare.

Not being much of an artist, Sadie had fashioned a vaguely human figure out of red ceramic flowerpots, held together by magic, string, and duct tape. The face was an upside-down pot with a smiley face drawn in black marker.

"About time." The pot creature was waiting in my room when Walt and I came in. Its mouth didn't move, but Sadie's voice echoed from inside the face pot as if she were trapped within the shabti. That thought made me happy.

"Stop smiling!" she ordered. "I can see you, Carter. Oh...and, uh, hullo, Walt."

The pot monster made squeaky grinding noises as it stood up straight. One clunky arm rose and tried to fix Sadie's nonexistent hair. Leave it to Sadie to be self-conscious around boys, even when she's made out of pots and duct tape.

We traded stories. Sadie told us about the impending attack on the First Nome that was supposed to go down at sunrise on the equinox, and the alliance between Sarah Jacobi's forces and Apophis. Wonderful news. Just great.

In return, I told Sadie about our visit with Thoth. I shared the visions Apophis had shown me about our mother's precarious situation in the Duat (which made the pot monster shudder) and the end of the world (which didn't seem to surprise her at all). I didn't tell Sadie about Apophis's offer to spare me if I gave up Ra. I didn't feel comfortable announcing that with Ra just outside the door, singing songs about cookies. But I told her about the evil ghost Setne, whose trial would start at sunset in the Hall of Judgment.

"Uncle Vinnie," Sadie said.

"Pardon?" I asked.

"The face that spoke to me at the Dallas Museum," she said. "It was obviously Setne himself. He warned me that we would need his help to understand the shadow execration spell. He said we'd have to 'pull some strings' and free him before sunset tonight. He meant the trial. We'll have to convince Dad to free him."

"I did mention that Thoth said he's a murderous psychopath, right?"

The pot monster made a clucking sound. "Carter, it'll be fine. Befriending psychopaths is one of our specialties."