The Magic and the Mummy by Terry Deary

Chapter 1
    The House of Death
    Neria couldn’t sleep.
    She lay on the cool floor of her room and wriggled with excitement.

    “The House of Death!” she whispered in the dark. “The House of Death!” And she remembered over and over again what her father had told her the night before.
    “Neria,” he said. “You are a clever girl.”
    “Thank you father,” she muttered and blushed. He hardly ever seemed to notice her. He was a grand priest at the royal temple. He certainly hadn’t told her she was clever before. How did he know?

    He dusted crumbs of bread off his hands and wiped his thin mouth. His scary, dark eyes looked into her. “I can trust you,” he went on.
    “Oh, yes, father,” she said quietly.
    “I have a very special task for you,” he said. Her brothers and sisters fell silent and looked at her.

    She was the oldest and they always knew she was a special girl. She was like a mother to them since their own mother had died a year ago. Their faces were still but their ears were twitching like hippos on the banks of the Nile.

    Neria nodded.
    “Tomorrow I am taking you to the House of Death with me,” the man said. His shaved head glowed in the golden light of the oil lamps and he looked like a god.
    “Oooh!” her youngest brother, Karu, cried. “House of Death! Neria is going to die.”
    The priest turned his head slowly and looked at his little son. The boy gave a hiccup of fear. “The House of Death is not the pace you go to die, my son. It is the place you go after you are dead … at least the place the great people of Egypt go when they are dead.”

    The little boy’s mouth fell open. “Oooh!”
    “The House of Death is where we preserve the bodies of people …”
    “What’s ‘preserve’?” Karu whispered.
    Father nodded. “If you have a piece of meat, and you leave it in the sun, what happens to it?”
    “The cat would pinch it!” the little boy said.

    “Or the jackals would come in from the desert and gobble it up.”

    Father closed his eyes for a moment and took a slow breath. “If you put it on the roof, where the cats and the jackals couldn’t get it …”
    Karu wriggled. “The birds would eat it.”
    The priest held the table so tightly his knuckles turned white. Neria tried to shake her head – to tell her little brother to close his mouth before their father lost his temper.

    At last their father said. “If we put the meat in a cage, and close the door, so the animals and birds could not eat it, what would happen to it?”
    Karu smiled. “Then I would open the door of the cage and I would eat it!”
    “No you would NOT!” their father shouted. The children jumped as if a Nile crocodile had snapped its jaws suddenly shut. “I will TELL you what would happen to the meat. It would become slimy and very smelly. It would be covered in flies and the flies would lay their eggs. The eggs would hatch out into maggots and the maggots would eat the meat.”

    “Do they like slimy, smelly meat?” the boy gasped.
    “They love it,” Father said. “Love it.” He turned back to Neria. “People like us would be like pieces of meat when we died. We’d rot and smell and be eaten by maggots. That is why we have to turn people into mummies.”

    “I know, Father,” Neria said.
    “That’s what we do in the House of Death. We make mummies.” He lowered his voice. “We are going to get very busy in the House of Death some day soon. I need some extra help. Someone who can learn quickly. Someone I can trust. I have chosen you, Neria.”

    The girl felt a warm tingle in her cheeks. “Thank you Father,” she said and lowered her dark eyes.
    In the quiet of the room little Karu’s voice sounded like a reed pipe. “Will I be made into a mummy, Father, or will I be eaten by maggots?”
    Father turned on him with an angry glare. “If you do not close your monkey mouth you will be chopped up and fed to the crocodiles.”

    “Ooooh!” Karu cried. He jumped to his feet