The Red Pyramid (Kane Chronicles, #1)

by Rick Riordan

I remembered what Amos had told us about the nomes. “Egypt is the First Nome. New York is the Twenty-first. What’s the last one, the Three-hundred-and-sixtieth?” “That would be Antarctica,” Zia said. “A punishment assignment. Nothing there but a couple of cold magicians and some magic penguins.” “Magic penguins?” “Don’t ask.”

Where the burial chamber should’ve been in a regular pyramid, Set had designed a throne room for himself. It was about the size of a tennis court, but around the edges, the floor dropped off into a deep trench like a moat. Far, far below, red liquid bubbled. Blood? Lava? Evil ketchup? None of the possibilities were good.

“Swear by your own name and the throne of Ra,” I said. “You will leave now and not reappear until you are called.” “Oh, I swear,” he said, much too quickly. “By my name and Ra’s throne and our mother’s starry elbows.”