casualties. It is necessary for us to monitor one another. After all, how could we guide mankind when our own houses were not in order?”
“But if you had laws, then why was Seth able to kill your husband? Is it because there weren’t any directives telling him otherwise at the time?” I questioned.
“Most of our laws have to do with interfering in the mortal world. Seth’s actions represented the first time a god attacked another of his own kind. Seth was…reprimanded after killing my husband, but the council of the gods ultimately decided that because I had defied the natural order by re-creating Osiris, a mild punishment for Seth was sufficient. However, after his attempted murder of my son, Horus, coupled with his attempt to enslave humankind during the Sons of Egypt’s mortal lifetime, all of the gods agreed to his banishment and entered into a pact to follow a set of guidelines we call the Celestial Laws.”
Ebullient energy spilling out of him, Dr. Hassan queried, “Might there be a record of this list of Celestial Laws?”
“Not one you can access. The laws are written in the stars themselves, and as they always shine down upon us, they tend to tattle when one of the gods attempts anything considered inappropriate. Only a few of us are able to hear their whispers. No mortal has ever developed the talent for it.”
Dr. Hassan’s face fell. He’d looked like a child headed to an ice cream store, his eyes sparkling with possibilities, only to find that the store had closed. Still, the determined gleam soon returned and I was certain that if there was a way for a mortal to discern the language of the stars and learn the laws of the cosmos, then he would find it.
As for me, I wasn’t sure what to make of stars that spied on gods and mortals alike. It didn’t make sense. Then again, gods and monsters, and pretty much everything else I’d seen since I met Amon, didn’t make sense either.
Curious, I asked, “So. You defied the order. How?”
Isis gave me a sly smile. “I bent the rules.” She paused, as if waiting for me to show appreciation for her cleverness. “I enlisted Anubis to help remake my husband, an act that was forbidden by the council, but because I merged his form with that of the crocodile that devoured him, he was not wholly Osiris. He was altogether new. Osiris was still mine, as much himself as ever, and yet even they couldn’t deny the evidence that his form was changed. And so they allowed it.”
More than ready to end our conversation, I asked, “Will you tell me how to do it? How to get into the afterlife, I mean?”
Isis narrowed her eyes and shook out her wing before tucking it back behind her again. “Even should I be inclined to help you, Amun-Ra would likely cause you more grief if he knew I was on your side. Better we should concentrate on one thing at a time, don’t you agree?”
“I…I suppose.”
“You must understand that to even be able to approach Amun-Ra, you’ll have to pass through the trial first.”
“Trial? I thought we’d passed all the riddles.”
“The riddles aren’t the trial. They’re merely the first of several auditions. You have now earned the opportunity to attempt the rite. Survive that, and then you can worry about Amun-Ra.”
“Fine. So what exactly do I have to do next?”
“Patience. To understand the Rite of Wasret, you’ll need to understand why I created it.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You created it?”
“Yes. It’s a spell I’m very proud of, despite its original outcome. It was one the gods hadn’t anticipated. Thus all the rules and riddles that are now associated with it.”
“All right. Then tell me.”
As she shifted a bit on her throne, I got the impression that the goddess was uncomfortable. She smoothed her skirt and let out a sigh before continuing. “I created it to change a mortal—a handmaiden of mine—who I could not bear to part with when she was terminally injured. I conspired with my sister Sekhmet”—she gestured to the cat statue soldiers lining the room—“to gift her with immortality. Once the spell was done, the others discovered our use of magic.
“To prevent inexpert attempts at imitation and to control any future ideas of repeating the act that I might entertain, the Room of Riddles was created. Its purpose was to ascertain the worthiness of those who sought the same gift. Of course, no other human