Apprentice Of The Dead: The Apprentice Of Anubis, #1

Chapter 1

The primary London Temple of Anubis stands in front of me, with the grand statues of the god flanking the entrance, and stone columns covered in intricate carvings depicting the great journey of gods and mortals alike to the afterlife. Something about it calls to me, just like it does every other time I've passed it, though I've never understood why. Anubis' temple doesn't accept many priestesses, the chance of me ever becoming one of them is small.

Ani, are you coming? Nefertiti calls.

I tear my gaze away and turn to my best friend. Sorry.

We're going to be late, that's not going to get us a good placement.

More likely it wouldn't get us any. The gods aren't big fans of tardiness as our teachers have been fond of telling us our entire lives. I'm not sure how they'd know when the gods don't walk among us, they can't tell us what they want. Though I suppose they can influence the world around us. Maybe they'll send one of their legendary plagues down on London just because Neffie and I are late for the Day of Choosing.

She reaches out and grabs my hand, dragging me behind her and down the avenue of temples. Most of the major gods and goddesses have one on this street as it backs onto the Thames and they can move things back and forth using the river.

I knew we should have gotten the bus, Neffie mutters.

You hate the bus, I counter.

But I don't want to be late. You know I want to serve Bastet. How am I going to do that if I'm too late to get a position there?

You know they've already chosen who they're going to take, right? I ask. They use our school reports...

Yes, but not if you're going to be Blessed.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Only some people become Blessed. And not that often by Bastet.

Or Anubis.

Though Neffie has more of a chance of getting what she wants than I do, at least Bastet has chosen a Blessed from the British Isles in the past twenty years. Anubis' jackals are an even rarer sight here than they are everywhere else.

I ignore the thought. There's no point dwelling on whether or not a god is going to choose me to be their priestess. It'll either happen, or it won't. And it's not the end of the world if it doesn't, not all of the current High Priests or Priestesses are Blessed, they rose through the ranks like those before them and now they're some of the most important people in the Egyptian Empire.

Neffie doesn't relax until we've joined a queue of other eighteen-year-olds attending the Day of Choosing. All of us are dressed in our formal wear, which is unfortunate given the light drizzle I can sense in the air. The thin linen shift dresses we're expected to wear aren't particularly practical when it comes to the weather here. But this is what the Pharaoh and his ministers insist we wear for important occasions. They're all warm and cosy in Cairo while those of us in the far reaches of the Empire freeze on days like this.

We shuffle forward, bouncing up and down to stop ourselves from getting too cold. The line is moving painfully slowly and I just want to get inside.

Nerves flutter in my stomach, though I'm not sure why. This is all decided well in advance. Sometimes, I wish they'd just send us a message rather than making us all line up. But this is the way it's been done for centuries, I doubt they're going to change it now.

Next, a scribe calls.

The boy in front of us approaches the desk.

Do you want to go first? Neffie asks, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

At least I'm not alone, though that isn't surprising. This has been all she can talk about for weeks.

Next.

Good luck, Neffie says, pushing me forward.

I want to protest and say she should go first, but it's too late. The scribe is already there waiting for me to tell him my name. His stylus is poised over the screen of his tablet and I doubt he'll be happy with anyone wasting his time.

Ankhesenamun, from Seshat Secondary School, London. To my surprise, my voice doesn't even shake.

He taps on the screen, but I can't see what he's writing. He holds the tablet up and glances between me and the information on the screen.

He nods and gestures for me to continue inside.

I walk slowly to give Neffie a chance to catch up. The jangle of her bracelets is a welcome sound, and she's soon linking her arm through mine.

Blissfully, the main courtyard has a roof covering it. No doubt they tried to have it be open-air, but decided against it when they realised how much it rains here.

Hundreds of eighteen-year-olds mill around and a low murmur fills the room from their chatter. Unsurprisingly, most people are standing with their friends and not using the opportunity to get to know some of the other attendees. Throughout the Empire, there will be gatherings like this of eighteen-year-olds hoping to gain employment in one of the various temples. We're just two of them.

What if I don't get to serve Bastet? Neffie whispers.

You will, I promise, though I have no idea if that's actually true. It seems unlikely they won't take her when she's been at the top of the class for three years running.

She grimaces, clearly not so sure about that.

I reach out and pat her arm. I wish I could do more, but honestly, I'm terrified myself. I've never felt a strong connection to any of the gods other than Anubis. I don't know what's going to happen at the end of the day when I'm assigned to serve one.

At least it's not a life sentence. I can drop out of the apprentice program at any point, but even that comes with complications. Not from the temples, obviously, but my parents are another matter. Mum has wanted nothing other than for me to enter priestesshood since I was old enough to walk.

A gong sounds, reverberating around the room and causing everyone to fall silent.

Without anyone saying a word, we all file into neat lines, standing too far away from one another to touch.

I hold my head up high and bunch my hands into fists, trying not to let my concerns show on my face. This is an official function, it won't be a good thing if I show how uncomfortable I am by it all.

Grand doors at the front of the room creak as they open up onto the raised dais at the front. They're flanked by ornate pillars carved and painted with all of the major gods, and several of the smaller ones too, a demonstration that this place is shared by all of them. The High Priests and Priestesses of London file onto the raised stage, draped in the finest linen and dripping with the best gold and jewels money can buy. Prestige isn't the only advantage of being the leader of a priesthood.

Despite the sheer number of people in the room, it's almost silent. Unnervingly so. But we're all waiting for the High Priest of Amun to step forward and officially open the ceremony. It's rare for him to be away from the Canterbury temple, but this is definitely classed as a special occasion.

I scan the line of officials on the stage, trying to pinpoint which of the group he is. I've only ever seen him from a distance, and when everyone is dressed up the way they currently are, it's hard to tell them apart. If I was closer, I was sure I'd be able to see the various different animals and symbols decorating their jewels that would let me know.

A man close to the middle steps forward and opens his arms wide. Good morning, all. Welcome to the Day of Choosing. May the gods in their infinite wisdom choose those who will serve them honourably and well.

Several of the priests on stage nod along with him.

Let us commence the ceremony for the Blessed. He gestures to the side.

A smaller door opens, and through it comes a small black cat. She winds her way through the students, sniffing and trying to decide which of them she likes the most. Naysayers like to say the