Tombquest: Book of the Dead

The Weighing of the Heart

Breathe.

Ren could tell something was wrong.

"What?" she asked. "What is it?"

Alex got his breath back. He pushed down the fear and pain.

"It's the Book of the Dead," he told her in a low voice.

"Doesn't look like a book to me," said Ren.

She could joke, because she didn't feel the same fear that he did. He'd spent his life standing on the brink of death, and these ancient words seemed to be calling to him from the other side, pulling him forward.

"That's the modern name for it," said Alex. "Because 'Bunch of Scrolls and Scraps of the Dead' doesn't sound as good.

It's like a cross between prayers and spells."

"For the dead?" said Ren.

Alex nodded. "To help them cross over into the afterlife."

Ancient Egypt was his mom's specialty, and Alex had picked up a pyramid-load about it over the years. When you think that you might die at any moment, you start to pay attention to what's written about death. And the ancient Egyptians were obsessed with the afterlife.

Steadying himself, Alex walked up to get a better look. Hieroglyphic writing in neatly printed rows covered the first third of the longest stretch of linen before giving way to a small painting.

It depicted a large set of scales surrounded by figures with animal heads — Alex immediately recognized Anubis, the jackal-headed guardian of the underworld. Everyone in the picture was looking at the scales. Alex looked at them, too. On one side was a feather, on the other ...

He leaned in closer.

"A heart," he whispered.

There was an information plaque on the floor, waiting to be hung, and Ren knelt down to read it. "That shows the weighing of the heart," she reported. She pointed to the sole figure in the scene with a human head. "That dude just died, and he's waiting to see if his heart passes the test. If it's not weighed down by bad deeds, it will be as light as the feather, and he can enter the afterlife."

"What if it's too heavy?" Alex asked.

"Then they feed it to that thing," she said, standing up and pointing to a large, crocodile-headed creature at the bottom of the picture.

"They feed it to him?" said Alex.

Ren leaned back over and double-checked the plaque. "Her," she said. "Her name is Ammit. Nickname: the Devourer."

Alex didn't have to check to know Ren was right, and not just because back in school her nickname was "Plus Ten Ren" for all the extra credit she did. He could almost feel Ammit's hot, hungry breath on his neck.

Ren peered into the case. "Look, the cloth is covered in little stains."

This time, Alex knew why. He tried to keep his tone light, but the words still chilled him.

"It's from the dead guy," he explained. "The one in the painting. A lot of times they printed the Book of the Dead right on the mummy's wrappings."

They both looked at a stain near the edge of the text: a red so dark it was almost black.

Blood.

Alex slowly backed away from the Book of the Dead toward an empty case in the middle of the room. That seemed safer. The only description was on a small tile inside the case:

EXHIBIT 7A6

"Huh," said Ren, turning and sizing up the empty case.

Alex leaned in for a closer look.

"Watch out," said Ren. She grabbed his arm with her right hand and pointed to the ceiling with her left.

Alex looked up and saw a black metal disk directly above the case, ringed with small lenses. A laser security system.

"Is it on?" he asked. This was more Ren's area of expertise, because of her dad.

She squinted up at it. "Not sure. The beams are invisible."

They looked down at the case. The high-grade acrylic glass was unusually thick. Ren's dad had told them that half an inch of the stuff was bulletproof. This was at least three times that: bombproof.

"Well, we still don't know what they're so worked up about," Alex said. "But whatever's going to go in there is getting the star treatment."

They heard voices again — coming closer.

"It's here too soon," Alex heard his mom say. "We've never dealt with something like this before — and we're not prepared to protect it."

A man answered in a low and guarded voice.

"They're in the next room," Ren whispered.

"Okay, let's go," said Alex, more than ready to leave.

He usually felt at home in the museum, but there was something different about this new exhibition. There was too much death in these rooms now. Even if Ren couldn't feel it, he could.

The master spies slipped back through the curtain, leaving the room exactly as they'd found it — with one small exception.

On the Book of the Dead, something was changing.

The drop of blood they'd been looking at was 3,300 years old — but it began to glisten now.

Alive.

Again.