by Stephan Loy
That seemed odd to Qebera, even after his experience with the beasts. He had lived for months with camels, which were less than particular about who they served, and preferred not to serve at all. His greatest concern with camels was preventing their escape.
“Well,” Abadi said, “tell them how ridiculous they are for waiting on the dead, and let’s get out of here.”
“Are there harnesses in that stall?”
Abadi’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because you’re right. No living thing should tarry here.”
The delta was a sprawling hive of humanity, a haphazard jumble of abutting farms and communities. Isis and Hordedev drifted for days from town to provincial town, but found no answers to their questions. Then, one evening before sunset, in her boat tied near the lone shaduf of another anonymous village, Isis felt a presence she had not expected to know again. Hordedev was away, bartering for his evening meal, so Isis pulled back her oversized hood enough to look around.
“Ah! I thought it might be you,” Hapi boomed from the starboard rail of the boat. “Brilliant disguise. Not a speck of that wonderful flesh in view. Brilliant, and a pity.”
“And a necessary secret, which you are giving away.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Hapi poured onto the deck enough to make a puddle as wide as Isis’s hand. The waterspout on which he had stood collapsed into the river; at the same time, his face formed in the puddle. “Now, we are clandestine,” the water god said with childlike glee.
Isis covered her face again and watched her visitor through a narrow tunnel of cloth. “What have you come to tell us, Hapi? We had given up on seeing you again.”
“Oh, I’ve been watching,” the face in the puddle said. “Watching and searching, searching and listening. I’ve been doing very much the same as you, but I’ve watched, listened, and searched in a thousand places at once, a thousand times a thousand, along every bank, every irrigation ditch, at every pool and about every boat. I’ve been busy!”
“And, what have you found in your search?”
“Why, exactly what you need, of course! I’ve found the humans who witnessed the passing of Osiris!”
Isis grasped the boat’s side rails. “Where are they?”
“Miles from here, my lovely goddess. I will take you there!” The boat tugged at its line.
“No! Not just yet. We must wait for Hordedev.”
Hapi blew bubbles. “Oh, please. He’s just a human. We can do without him.”
Isis straightened. “That human has proven more trustworthy than many a god I know.”
Hapi, stung, almost retreated through the boat’s reed deck.
“You will take me to these humans, Hapi. You owe me as much. You will do that one thing, then your penance is paid to me. But first we wait for Hordedev.”
She sat a long moment in silence, preparing a question she feared to ask. “Hapi, what news of Nephthys? We’ve heard rumors...”
“Oh, and what rumors they must be!” Hapi rolled his watery eyes. “Abydos is destroyed, all the humans dead. Dead or fled. And I struggle like a temple builder to clear the dunes flung in my path. I--”
“Destroyed?”
The river god sobered. “Weeks ago, my goddess. The night you escaped. Set was incensed with Nephthys.”
“How--” Isis grasped her frozen throat. “How is--”
“I cannot say, I’m sorry. I was distracted enough keeping myself intact.”
Isis felt her composure crumble. Nephthys, Merferet, all their aid and comfort...
Was a broken goddess of life so important?
“I wish I brought more cheering news,” Hapi muttered. “But Set rarely leaves joy in his wake.“ His expression brightened, the change sudden and inexplicable. “I noticed that Abydan soldier, Osiris’s captain. He was alive and wandering in the ruins. He had a Bedouin with him.”
Well, that’s something, Isis thought. If Qebera survived, then Set still lacked the Wadjit Eye. He lacked the creator’s power, could not add it to his own.
And Hordedev would know that his father yet lived.
“If this news troubles you, let me speed your quest. I could take you there now...”
“No.” Her tone was adamant. “We wait for Hordedev.”
A fleet of six barges closed on the citadel at Abu Simbel. Long poles steered them to the quays, and oars furnished power against the current.
“I wouldn’t expect too much,” Thoth called across to the barge nearest his. He wore a human face, so his words carried clearly. “Set was never one for company, and is likely not to have changed.”
“That’s all right,” a female voice sang across the sun-drenched distance. “I’ve been here before.” Thoth’s breath caught whenever he heard that voice or watched its stunning owner. She gleamed from jewelry and dazzling white linens, and from a blazing smile replete with promise. She was Hathor, after all, that other goddess of life and love. She was desire incarnate.
Thoth watched her across from him as their flagships steered to the citadel quay and their outrunners maneuvered for lesser moorings. Yes, Hathor honored her godly role; she was every bit as beautiful as Isis, every bit the radiant force. She dressed in the richest, most splendid of gowns, was coifed and made up by artists. She held just as much power over gods and humans as her younger great niece from Abydos. But Hathor’s power differed from that of Isis. Her light burned brighter, but gaudily. Her desires filled the otherwise empty places in her soul, and were quenched with gods and humans alike. Isis inspired love in men; Hathor inspired lust. Desirable as she was, she had not the depth of Isis.
The barges put out ramps, and the Judge of the Gods disembarked. He waited on the quay for Hathor, awaited her army of attendants, priestesses, cooks, maids, and load bearers. He waited for her palanquin to be assembled on the bank, to be outfitted with her plush throne and manned by four strong men. He waited for fan bearers to assemble about the palanquin, their woven rush devices held high on poles that let them cool their mistress at a distance.
It was all very silly to Thoth, who traveled in simpler style. All he needed for a trip beyond his palace were his herald, his honor guard, his executive assistant, wardrobe assistant, manicurist, dancing girls, bard, and comedian. But he admired the precision of Hathor’s mortal attendants, particularly the eunuchs. They executed their myriad tasks without one glance at the object of their toil. Unless Hathor was at their back, they trained their eyes on the ground. A necessary talent, Thoth knew. Unlike Isis, Hathor flaunted her mind-bending beauty. And, as with Isis, even eunuchs had to be cautious.
While he shook his head at the hullabaloo, Thoth’s honor guard deployed before him and the herald ran through voice exercises. Thoth, to pass the time, took in the grim sight of Abu Simbel, the infamous home of Set.
It rose like a mountain from a sand-blanketed wasteland, a pyramidal structure almost devoid of windows or adornment. Dunes climbed its walls in untended mountainous drifts. An unshaded causeway ran stark and straight from the brooding front gate to the quay. It was an ill-kept road through the intervening desert, without honor guard, priest, or even a homeless vagrant. In fact, Thoth saw nothing but dead land. Nothing grew there, not at the citadel, not even at the river. Abu Simbel was a grave, the citadel its marker.
Finally, Hathor strolled onto the quay. She boarded her palanquin and lounged upon its throne as the bearers brought her next to Thoth. “Want a ride?” she asked. “Recline at my feet, if you wish.”
Thoth huffed, then waved the processional on toward the fortress. Servants followed in a rag-tag herd.
“He’ll not care for the company or its purpose,” Thoth told the goddess.
“I believe that’s why you brought me,” Hathor said. “He’s always glad to see me.”
“Please, Hathor, be serious. We need to discover what happened in Abydos.”
“I think that’s more than obvious. Abydos blew apart.”
“Yes, but what role did Set play in its death?”
“What difference does it make?” The goddess sounded bored. “Is it now a crime to blow up cities? If so, watch out. The deed was as much your fault as his.”
Thoth threw her an indignant glare.
“Why, of course, O Judge of Gods. You gave Nephthys leave to take his prize. She did so, and humiliated him. What did you think he’d do?”
Thoth didn’t answer, for Hathor was correct despite her flippancy. Everyone had known how Set would respond. He was ever given to violent tantrums. But the scale if not the form of his wrath had shocked Thoth to the marrow. It was far beyond the boundaries of reason, even for a beast as devoid of reason as the loathsome lord of storms. Just as worrisome, no one seemed to care beyond noting the crudity of Set’s fit of temper. Hathor, herself representative of Ra's ancient godhead, saw no wrong in the destruction of cities and the murder of humans. The family of Ra saw man as animals. Few beyond Osiris had seen their potential. Few beyond Thoth knew Ra's plan for his fallen, mortal tears.
The procession to the fortress washed over Thoth like a dismal tide. Hathor, however, seemed to anticipate the lurking unpleasantness. Such was Hathor’s way, for her soul crouched in perversion. Though he had begged her company as a distraction for Set, Thoth could not say he trusted her. When they reached the heavy doors to the citadel’s front gate, the goddess was laughing her bell-like laugh with almost nervous spontaneity. She had left her palanquin and now stood with Thoth. They waited before the gates a very long time.
“Oh, this is intolerable!” Thoth roared, and stomped ahead to pound on the doors.
“He’s very aloof,” Hathor said. “I like that in a storm god.”
“Hathor, please!”
“Oh, very well. You’re no fun at all. I must tell you, I’m insulted that all you want from me is to beguile that poor, brooding scorpion and to locate your little accomplice. You’d think--”
“Hathor...”
Hathor sighed, and closed her eyes. In the few heartbeats that followed, she released herself to the citadel. She attempted, as agreed, to touch the fortress's troubled master, to coax him to her as only she could.
The gate groaned. It moved, opening outward, a massive slab of cut sandstone that vibrated the earth and plowed up a drift of sand before it.
“It’s about time,” Thoth grumbled.
“Someone should learn to say thank-you,” Hathor teased.
The citadel hall stood as bare as the causeway, the ceiling hidden beyond black, unknowable heights. Featureless granite pylons climbed into the dark and skulked toward the shadowed walls, a geometric grid of dusty giants. No guards waited to escort the visitors. Sand greeted them instead, rattling over the stone floor like the dry feet of swarming insects. Sighing, Thoth took his party’s lead. He knew the way to the throne room.
Thoth hadn’t the empathic heart of Hathor. For all he knew, the fortress hung deserted about them. They met no guards or servants on that forbidding march to that grim throne room. Not even the gatekeepers had been visible. Abu Simbel was more dismal inside than out.
At the throne room, they suffered another wait in the greasy light of guttering torches. The room stood empty, not even a low-level serving man to make excuses or offer refreshments. In fact, the room seemed unsuited as a place of royal business. Its shadows glowered from beyond the meager torchlight. No furniture suggested rest, not even the mean, granite throne on its unadorned dais. Thoth hated the place, and hated Set for forcing him there. Hathor seemed to enjoy herself, amused by her escort’s restlessness.
A racket sounded from the entrance behind the throne. Two Setim soldier-priests appeared and took up stations flanking the chair. Set followed a moment later. He led something on a leash, a human perhaps, or one of those strange humanoid beasts sometimes found in the deep desert. The figure hunched close to him, stumbling almost on all fours and clothed in ragged sackcloth. Thoth almost dismissed the thing, then caught its features by the light of a torch.
Nephthys.
“In the name of Ra, you go too far!” the judge shouted. “You would lead a goddess about like a dog?”
Set settled onto his chair. He jerked the lead, tumbling Nephthys at his feet. “A dog has greater loyalty,” he said. “I will teach her as much as any bitch knows.”
“This is outrageous! I demand--”
“You are in my home. You will demand nothing.” Set compounded the threat with a dark, murderous glare.
Nephthys cringed at her husband’s feet. She watched Thoth, one eye wide from terror and shame, the other swelled shut. Where rags failed to cover her, bruises did.
Into this tension, Hathor laughed, like music. She stepped onto the dais as if it were her own, then leaned over her scowling host and kissed him on the neck. Her eyes took in Nephthys while she aroused the lesser goddess's husband. Hathor seemed curious, then her eyes widened and her smile expanded to show gleaming teeth. Nephthys cringed deeper within her rags.
“Set, you haven’t changed a bit,” Hathor said. “So deliciously ... wicked. I find this very exciting.”
“If you’d stay a while, you could show me how exciting,” Set said. “Perhaps my pet could watch, pick up a lesson on how to treat her god.”
“Oh, stop. You’re teasing me.”
“Enough!” Thoth bellowed. His head transformed. The ibis screeched belligerence. “As Ra’s own chancellor, guardian and judge among gods, I command you to release her!”
Hathor frowned at the loss of her fun. Set returned his eyes to Thoth, staring red hate at his challenger. The sand about the chamber started dancing where it lay.
Unshaken, Thoth returned that vindictive stare. The ground trembled, and all present knew that the moon drifted near.
For a moment, the gods faced each other, two sculptures of seething resolve. Set threatened with sand while Thoth countered with earthquakes. The humans gawked in wild-eyed terror as the fortress trembled around them. Hathor frowned, miffed or bored, it was hard to say. Then Set broke the standoff by looking away from his enemy. “Take her,” he growled. “Take her, if you like. She’s your baggage now, not mine.” He released the lead holding his wife, and with one sandaled foot kicked her tumbling off the dais.
The clattering sand fell silent. The earth regained its stability.
Thoth leaped to Nephthys’s aid. He cradled her in his arms as his face reverted to human. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Nephthys shuddered. Her face was bruised and scraped. Her upper lip bled. She nodded, two mechanical ducks of her head, and did not resist when Thoth scooped her into his arms.
“We will continue this another time,” the Judge of Gods said to his scowling host.
Set sat straighter upon his throne. “What? Leaving so soon? But I’d so hoped to have you for dinner.”
“You presume to murder gods, to debase and shame goddesses. You kill thousands of mortals, presuming yourself sovereign over lands wrongfully taken. You presume too much, Set. You will regret your arrogance. I swear this to be true!”
“Of course.” Set yawned. He slid an arm around Hathor’s waist and pulled her onto his lap. “But, first, O Great Arbiter of Truth, I’ll enjoy the pleasures of a true goddess of love.”
Thoth fumed. He stood there a moment with Nephthys in his arms. Then he pivoted and stalked from the room.
Nephthys didn’t speak until the sun struck her face. Even so, her first sounds were little more than whimpers.
“It’s all right,” Thoth said as he marched ahead of his people along the arid causeway. “You’re in my care now. That monster wouldn’t dare--”
“No. Hathor...”
“Hathor, regardless of appearances, has thrown her allegiance to us. She found you for us, and allowed us to save you by distracting Set.”
No, that isn’t it, Nephthys fretted. She saw me, looked inside me. She knows. And Hathor can’t keep a secret.
Nephthys wanted to warn them, but couldn’t find her voice until they boarded Thoth’s barge. The great
judge placed her upon his throne, taking care with her brutalized body. As he leaned away after making her comfortable, Nephthys reached out and grabbed his arm.
“We must escape,” she said, her voice breaking. “Set will attack us almost at once.”
“Set is a coward,” Thoth said. “He would never attack a major god. He isn’t that stupid.”
“His rage will unbalance him. Hathor knows. She can’t resist telling him.”
“Telling him what? That she‘s betrayed him? That he’s been duped? He won’t care; he’ll be too busy--”
“That I carry Osiris’s child!”
Thoth staggered as if punched. He stared at Nephthys, then at the brooding fortress just a few minutes’ walk away. He looked back to Nephthys. “What’s this? Are you sure--?”
“Please, we have to escape.”
The point was undeniable. Set couldn’t defeat the Chancellor-Judge of Ra, but he could kill a lot of humans in the attempt, and force Thoth to respond with force. The land for miles around would be rent and blasted.
Thoth called to his captain and ordered the boats downstream. But they’d rush under the shadow of Set for days, all through Abu Simbel and then through the Abydan ruins. When the crews were in motion casting off lines, the Judge went to the rail and held out his arms to the river. “Hapi!” he called. “Now is your moment! Now is your redemption! Come forth and protect this host of ships, and reconcile yourself to Ra! Hapi, we need you now!”
As Thoth’s three barges angled into the current, the river flowed faster around them. Hathor’s crews stared after, confused and afraid.
“What is it?” Isis demanded, alarmed by Hapi’s sudden agitation. They met in the boat, him puddled upon the deck, Hordedev just returned from his foray into another nameless village. With Hapi’s guidance, Hordedev had found the witnesses they sought: a group of four children who played at the river’s mouth and had watched the box pass them by all those months ago. After questioning the children, Hordedev thought he could project where the box had gone. Hapi had listened to Hordedev’s report, had even seemed smug in the aid he had rendered. Now he fidgeted as if a crying child tugged at his elbow.