The Magic and the Mummy by Terry Deary Page A

in fear, took a step backwards and fell over the cat. The cat squawked, the boy squeaked and the children tried to hide their laughter.
    “Get to bed NOW!” Father roared. “Or I will feed you to the Pharaoh’s own pet crocodile.”
    Karu fled, his little legs pattering faster than his thumping heart. He clutched his favourite rag ball to his mouth.

    Neria was sure Father’s tight mouth was trying not to laugh. At last he looked around the table. “In fact you can all go to bed,” he said. “Sleep well, Neria, you have a busy day ahead tomorrow.”
    But Neria didn’t sleep well. She hardly slept at all. Her cat crept onto her blanket and purred like a mountain lion.

    She stroked it and whispered, “The House of Death! I’m going to the House of Death, Katkins.”
    The cat purred.
    At last the black night turned to the darkest grey and she knew Horus the Hawk God was opening his eye. The eye that was the sun.
    It was time to go.

Chapter 2
    Fate of the Pharaoh
    Neria’s father was dressed in his finest robes today. He marched down the middle of the road and everyone scurried to get out of his way. It was as if he was too bright to look at; bright as the eye of Horus. Even the dogs tucked in their tails and ran.

    Neria walked a little way behind him. Suddenly a woman ran out from a dark doorway. She threw her arms up to the sky and shrieked. Then she bent down to the ground, grabbed a fistful of dust and let it trickle over her grey-black hair.

    Neria’s father nodded. “So, it has started. We must hurry.” He strode out and the girl trotted to his side.

    “What has started, Father?”
    “The woman must have heard some news. Last night the Pharaoh was sick. This morning he must be dead.” He marched on. “We have work to do.”
    They headed east towards the rising sun, passed through the poorer streets of shambling houses and then through the city gates. Guards raised their spears to salute them.

    Neria copied her father; she raised her chin and ignored them.
    This gate led into the desert and ahead of them stood the House of Death. Not a house at all. A fine white tent that had no walls. All the smells could be blown away on the desert breeze. Perfumes of cedar and rose took away the smell of death but still the jackals on the hills caught the scent. They watched and waited.

    Inside the House of Death dozens of men and women hurried about their tasks. When Neria’s father came near they stopped and bowed.

    There were twenty tables under the rippling white roof and every one had a body on it. The priest walked up to a man in a black robe and said, “Has it started, Thekel?”
    Thekel was a large man with a small, round head. It was shaved and his ears stuck out like handles on a water jug. He smiled happily.
    “It has started, Lord. The old Pharaoh became a god last night at moonrise. They’re dumping his body here later on today.”

    Neria’s father pulled a face as if cheerful Thekel’s words had hurt. He turned and said, “This is my daughter, Neria. She’ll deal with Bastet.”

    Neria was puzzled. She knew that Bastet was the cat-god who looked after their corn.
    Thekel grinned his simple grin. “We need all the hands we can get.”
    “Teach her what to do,” her father ordered.
    “Leave it to me. Let’s start with the brain-pulling, shall we?” he asked.

    Before Neria could answer, her father said, “No! Wait. If the Pharaoh’s body is arriving this afternoon we need to get Nesumontu out of the way. Let’s do it now.”

    Thekel winked at Neria. “Won’t be long, mistress. I’ll have him gutted in no time.”
    He clapped his hands and the priests gathered round. “Right, my Lords. We need to get Nesumontu ripped open. Let’s make it snappy … as the crocodile said to the fish.”
    The priests shuffled around one table where the body of a withered old man lay. They began to chant a prayer and their voices filled the tent.

    They looked to the east where light from the eye