I SHOULD MENTION THAT Carter was wearing a skirt.
[Ha! You are not grabbing the microphone. It's my turn.]
He neglected to tell you that, but as soon as we entered the Duat, our appearances changed, and we found ourselves wearing Ancient Egyptian clothes.
They looked quite good on me. My white silk gown shimmered. My arms were bedecked with gold rings and bracelets. True, the jeweled neck collar was a bit heavy, like one of those lead aprons you might wear for an X ray at the dentist's, and my hair was plaited with enough hairspray to petrify a major god. But otherwise I'm sure I looked rather alluring.
Carter, on the other hand, was dressed in a man-skirt-a simple linen wrap, with his crook and flail hanging from a utility-belt sort of thing around his waist. His chest was bare except for a golden neck collar, like mine. His eyes were lined with kohl, and he wore no shoes.
To Ancient Egyptians, I'm sure he would've looked regal and warlike, a fine specimen of manhood. [You see? I managed to say that without laughing.] And I suppose Carter wasn't the worst-looking guy with his shirt off, but that didn't mean I wanted to adventure through the underworld with a brother who was wearing nothing but jewelry and a beach towel.
As we stepped onto the sun god's boat, Carter immediately got a splinter in his foot.
"Why are you barefooted?" I demanded.
"It wasn't my idea!" He winced as he plucked a toothpick-size piece of deck from between his toes. "I guess because ancient warriors fought barefoot. Sandals got too slippery from sweat and blood, and all."
"And the skirt?"
"Let's just go, all right?"
That proved easier said than done.
The boat drifted away from the docks, then got stuck in a backwater a few meters downstream. We began turning in circles.
"Tiny question," I said. "Do you know anything about boats?"
"Nothing," Carter admitted.
Our tattered sail was about as useful as a ripped tissue. The oars were either broken or trailing uselessly in the water, and they looked quite heavy. I didn't see how the two of us could row a boat meant for a crew of twenty, even if the river stayed calm. On our last trip through the Duat, the ride had been more like a roller coaster.
"What about those glowing balls of light?" I asked. "Like the crew we had on the Egyptian Queen?"
"Can you summon some?"
"Right," I grumbled. "Throw the hard questions back to me."
I looked around the boat, hoping to spot a button that read: PUSH HERE FOR GLOWING SAILORS! I saw nothing so helpful. I knew the sun god's barque once had had a crew of lights. I'd seen them in my vision. But how to summon them?
The tent pavilion was empty. The throne of fire was gone. The boat was silent except for water gurgling through the cracks in the hull. The spinning of the ship was starting to make me sick.
Then a horrible feeling crept over me. A dozen tiny voices whispered at the base of my skull: Isis. Schemer. Poisoner. Traitor.
I realized my nausea wasn't just from the spiraling current. The entire ship was sending malicious thoughts my way. The boards under my feet, the railing, the oars and rigging-every part of the sun god's barque hated my presence.
"Carter, the boat doesn't like me," I announced.
"You're saying the boat has good taste?"
"Ha-ha. I mean, it senses Isis. She poisoned Ra and forced him into exile, after all. This boat remembers."
