ancient gods is totally different. You're joking, right?"
But as I said it, I thought about the fiery guy in the museum, the way his face had shifted between human and animal. And the statue of Thoth--how its eyes had followed me.
"Carter," Amos said, "the Egyptians would not have been stupid enough to believe in imaginary gods. The beings they described in their myths are very, very real. In the old days, the priests of Egypt would call upon these gods to channel their power and perform great feats. That is the origin of what we now call magic. Like many things, magic was first invented by the Egyptians.
Each temple had a branch of magicians called the House of Life. Their magicians were famed throughout the ancient world."
"And you're an Egyptian magician."
Amos nodded. "So was your father. You saw it for yourself last night."
I hesitated. It was hard to deny my dad had done some weird stuff at the museum--some stuff that looked like magic.
"But he's an archaeologist," I said stubbornly.
"That's his cover story. You'll remember that he specialized in translating ancient spells, which are very difficult to understand unless you work magic yourself. Our family, the Kane family, has been part of the House of Life almost since the beginning. And your mother's family is almost as ancient."
"The Fausts?" I tried to imagine Grandma and Grandpa Faust doing magic, but unless watching rugby on TV and burning cookies was magical, I couldn't see it.
"They had not practiced magic for many generations," Amos admitted. "Not until your mother came along. But yes, a very ancient bloodline."
Sadie shook her head in disbelief. "So now Mum was magic, too. Are you joking?"
"No jokes," Amos promised. "The two of you...you combine the blood of two ancient families, both of which have a long, complicated history with the gods. You are the most powerful Kane children to be born in many centuries."
I tried to let that sink in. At the moment, I didn't feel powerful. I felt queasy. "You're telling me our parents secretly worshipped animal-headed gods?" I asked.
"Not worshipped," Amos corrected. "By the end of the ancient times, Egyptians had learned that their gods were not to be worshipped. They are powerful beings, primeval forces, but they are not divine in the sense one might think of God. They are created entities, like mortals, only much more powerful. We can respect them, fear them, use their power, or even fight them to keep them under control--"
"Fight gods?" Sadie interrupted.
"Constantly," Amos assured her. "But we don't worship them. Thoth taught us that."
I looked at Sadie for help. The old guy had to be crazy. But Sadie was looking like she believed every word.
"So..." I said. "Why did Dad break the Rosetta Stone?"
"Oh, I'm sure he didn't mean to break it," Amos said. "That would've horrified him. In fact, I imagine my brethren in London have repaired the damage by now. The curators will soon check their vaults and discover that the Rosetta Stone miraculously survived the explosion."
"But it was blown into a million pieces!" I said. "How could they repair it?"
Amos picked up a saucer and threw it onto the stone floor. The saucer shattered instantly.
"That was to destroy," Amos said. "I could've done it by magic--ha-di--but it's simpler just to smash it. And now..." Amos held out his hand. "Join. Hi-nehm."
A blue hieroglyphic symbol burned in the air above his palm.
The pieces of the saucer flew into his hand and reassembled like a puzzle, even the smallest bits of dust gluing themselves into place. Amos put the perfect saucer back on the table.
"Some trick," I managed. I tried to sound calm about it, but I was thinking of all the odd things that had happened to my dad and me over the years, like those gunmen in the Cairo hotel who'd ended up hanging by their feet from a chandelier. Was it possible my dad had made that happen with some kind of spell?
Amos poured milk in the saucer, and put