''No problem.''
''You've got some criticism, though. I know it. I can tell. Something's niggling. Out with it.''
''It's just...'' David groped for the right words. ''You've plenty of materiel here to fight a localised war. But from what I've gathered, your plans are more ambitious than that.''
''You're saying I'm underprepared.''
''Not exactly, no. Well, sort of. I think maybe you've underestimated just how much weaponry you're going to need - by quite a large margin. You're taking on the whole world, Steven, that's what it comes down to. And however much you've got in the way of resources, it's just not going to be adequate.''
''Oh, Dave. Dave, Dave, Dave. This is bloody typical of you, isn't it?'' The irritation had flared into a flame of anger. ''Typical patronising older brother. To you I'm still little Steven, still Westwynter Minor who could never do anything right and was never as smart or as sporty or generally as good as you. You assume I haven't thought this through properly because that's how the old Steven was, the Steven you once knew. He never thought things through. He just did whatever came into his head and hang the consequences.''
''That wasn't what I-''
''Well, newsflash,'' Steven said, steamrollering on. ''I'm not him any more. It's been five years, and I've seen and done a lot during that time. A lot's happened to me. I'm not the same creature I used to be. And I resent you treating me like that, like nothing's changed and you still know best.''
''But I-''
Steven jabbed a finger in David's chest. ''You have no idea what my plans are. No idea! You just think it's going to be some half-arsed, cockeyed scheme that's never going to work. It's doomed to fail, and I'm going to wind up dead.''
''Yes!'' David exclaimed. ''That's precisely it. That's what I'm worried about.''
''But how can you-''
Now it was David's turn to interrupt. ''If you'll just let me get a word in edgewise,'' he said, ''if you'll shut up and listen for a second, you fuckwit...''
His brother leaned back, cocking his head. ''Come on then. Tell me where I'm going wrong. Give me the benefit of your great wisdom.''
''I only want to know if you're sure, really sure, this is what you want to do.''
''You're trying to get me to back out?'' Steven shook his head. ''No way.''
''Steven, up until a couple of hours ago I believed you were dead,'' said David. ''No, not believed. You were dead. Now, suddenly, here you are, alive, and it's great. I'm thrilled. Couldn't be more delighted. Only, it turns out you're hell-bent on throwing you life away on this, this campaign of yours. So try and see it from my point of view. I've only just been given my brother back and already I'm facing the prospect of losing him again. I'm trying hard to take it all in, all this, what's happened today, it's a lot to deal with, but right now my honest reaction is I don't want you to go to war against the Pantheon. Not because they're gods and you oughtn't defy them. Simply because, selfishly, you're my brother and I don't want you to die. Again.''
The Lightbringer's mask was impassive, frozen for a moment, blanker than ever. Then the material shifted in a way that indicated a broad smile had broken out underneath.
''That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a long time,'' Steven said. ''You actually care about me.''
''Of course I do.''
''Never mind me changing. You've changed, Dave.''
''Have I? I always cared about you.''
''Maybe, but you never showed it. Not as obviously as you've just done.''
David shrugged, a little embarrassed, even though he knew he had nothing to be embarrassed about.
''Thing is,'' his brother went on, ''I couldn't back out even if I wanted to. People are counting on me. They've invested in me. I can't let them down.''
''You could disappear tomorrow,'' David replied matter-of-factly. ''Up and leave. Your followers would be disappointed, perhaps, but they'd get over it. There'd be no comebacks. No one knows who you really are. You could take off that mask and go anywhere, and that would be an end of it.''
''Do a moonlight flit? And what about everything I've established here? You think I can just walk away and leave it?''
''Someone else could take over.''
''No one else could.''
''Then without you in charge it might all simply fade away and be forgotten.''
''You're missing the point. You've seen how people react to the Lightbringer. This isn't some flash in the pan political movement, here today, gone the next. This is a bona fide revolution, the beginning of something big, seismically big. It's begun, it's grown, it's still growing, and it's about to explode across the world stage. I created it. I'm spearheading it. I'm not going to abandon it, not for any reason.''
''Even if it might - no, will - kill you?''
''I'm not afraid of dying. If I die defeating the gods, it won't have been in vain.''
David detected no hint of bravado in the statement. Steven meant it. He believed it.
''All right then,'' he said. ''That leaves me with only one option.''
''What?'' said Steven with a wary laugh. ''You're going to clonk me on the head, knock me out and carry me off over your shoulder? Spirit me out of the country?''
The thought had crossed David's mind, if only flickeringly briefly.
''No,'' he said. ''I'm going to join you.''
''Come again?''
''I said-''
''I heard. I just... Really? Join me?''
''Someone needs to keep an eye out for you. Someone has to watch your back. Someone to make sure you don't do something really, truly stupid. Might as well be me.''
Steven was momentarily dumbfounded. ''Dave, I hoped... Well, that's why I brought you here. I thought I might be able to convince you to... And now you... Fuck. This is great. You're on board? Seriously?''
''Seriously.''
Steven cheered, grabbed his brother in a fierce embrace, punched him manfully on the shoulder, did a little dance on the dusty earth.
David let him celebrate, feeling pleased that he had given Steven what he wanted. Pleased, too, that he had put himself in a good position to try and steer his brother away from the suicidal course he was on.
But not happy.
Far from happy.
14. Relations
The First Family are a confusing lot, especially when at home, in their Palace of Unity. There, in a building that appears to have an infinite number of floors but actually has only one, they dwell together, inseparable - father, mother, son, daughter, all seemingly alike, hard to tell apart despite their many differences. Shu, of the air, is married to his sister Tefnut, of the rain, and their son Geb, of the earth, is married to his sister Nut, of the sky. But Geb is effeminate, so much so that he and Nut could almost be twins. And Geb is also a mummy's boy, so enamoured of Tefnut that he once even raped her. For this crime he was never punished, and it has been speculated that the rape was not perhaps a one-sided affair, that Tefnut was at least a half-willing participant. So they are a close family in many ways. Too many, perhaps.
All this passes through Ra's mind as he manifests in the First Family's living quarters and eyes the bed which dominates the room. It is a bed of enormous dimensions, a world unto itself, and it is festooned with mountainous cushions and oceanic counterpanes of damasked silk, upon which the four members of the Family recline, naked, entwined, semi-asleep. It takes him a moment to distinguish one from the other, to identify this leg as Shu's and that breast as Tefnut's, this hip as Geb's and that shoulder as Nut's. They are a mass of disrobed divinity, like some protean, many-limbed organism. Even their glowing headdresses, though varied, seem similar.
Roused by Ra's arrival the Family members separate, out of politeness. They sit apart on the bed, at each of its corners, and Shu shows himself to be a wizened, weak-eyed old man, crowned with a feather, and Tefnut a flowing-haired old woman with a cobra shimmering above her. Geb, meanwhile, takes the form of a young man who, though girlishly handsome, has a goose-like
cast to his features, and Nut becomes a beautiful young woman in a night-blue, star-spangled dress, her head haloed with the outline of a water pitcher.
As one, they formally greet their visitor, who responds no less formally even though he is impatient to get down to business.
''First Family,'' Ra says, ''upholders of all there is, I come in supplication, craving a boon.''
''From us?'' says Shu in his thin, wispy voice. ''The almighty Ra, seeking our help?''
Geb cackles gleefully and chants, ''Ra, Ra, he's come far, he wants our help, he's asked our pa.''
Both his sister-wife and his sometime-lover mother hiss at him to be quiet.
''Forgive my son, O Sun God whose secret name is known only to Isis,'' said Tefnut. ''You know how lacking in self-restraint Geb is,'' she adds with an indulgent smile.
Ra bows in a manner that implies understanding, if not absolution.
Nut yawns and stretches languorously, arching her back, and briefly she is a firmament, the glittering heavens, spreading vast and forever. Then, a woman once more, she says, ''Whatever is in our power to do, Ra, we shall.''
''I'm grateful,'' says Ra. ''I should warn you, though, that the favour I require of you is one that, simple as it sounds, may well prove impossible.''
''Name it anyway, Uncle,'' says Shu.
''I wish you to bring peace among your offspring.''
No sooner have the words left Ra's lips than the First Family burst out laughing.
''You could more easily bid the wind to stop blowing,'' says Shu.
''Or the rain not to fall,'' says Tefnut.
''Or the stars not to shine,'' says Nut.
''Or the ground not to tremble when there's a great big rumbling earthquake!'' cries Geb.
''I understand,'' says Ra, ''and I agree. The enmities that exist between them, between Osiris and Set particularly, seem implacable and irreconcilable. However, if anyone were able to find a way of resolving the matter, it would surely be you four, who are the very essence of oneness. You have set an example by overcoming your own disagreements. That places you well to persuade your descendants to follow suit.''
''Undoubtedly,'' says Shu. ''But the truth is, we are unable to help.''
''We would like to,'' says Tefnut, ''but cannot.''
''Too tired,'' says Nut.
''Too bored,'' says Geb.
''We are old, like you, Ra,'' says Shu. ''Old and very weary. Our battles with the other pantheons have left us worn out and drained.''
''We continue to exist,'' says Tefnut, ''but zest for life, for anything, is beyond us.''
''That's why we bequeathed the earth to our descendants,'' says Nut.
''Too much like hard work, running that place,'' says Geb.
''It seemed wise to let them inherit it,'' says Shu. ''It seemed no less wise to divide it up between them in more or less equal portions, for the sake of fairness.''
''In hindsight,'' says Tefnut, ''a mistake.''
''Their old animosities and rivalries would not stay buried,'' says Nut.
''Like Osiris himself!'' says Geb. ''Can't keep him underground for long!''
''We hoped that they would learn to work together,'' says Shu, ''instead of which their arguments only grew more vehement.''
''It wasn't our intention that the world should suffer the consequences, either,'' says Tefnut.
''But events on earth mirror events in the heavens,'' says Nut. ''That's how it's always been.''
''As above, so below,'' says Geb.
''It's a misfortune of our own making,'' admits Shu.
''We feel responsible,'' adds Tefnut. ''But not guilty.''
''And we cannot become involved,'' says Nut. ''We've done what we have done. Our struggles are over. Our lives are now rest and repose, and we wish them to stay that way.''
''So take your boon and stick it where you don't shine!'' chortles Geb.
His mother reaches across and clouts him.
''Owww!''
Shu glares at his son, eyes as icy as an arctic breeze. ''Apologise to the Light Over All That Is,'' he says. ''At once.''
''Sorry,'' Geb mumbles to Ra.
Ra feels the heat of indignation building inside him. Geb's rudeness is bad enough, but it is the First Family's general apathy that really grates.
''I suppose it was too much to hope for,'' he says, ''that you would show a scintilla of interest in the affairs of your fractious progeny. I realise now that it is much better to laze about here in perfumed splendour, caring little about what goes on around you, than feel in any way troubled by the mess you have created. The mortal realm lies in disarray, humans in their millions suffer, war and wanton destruction rule the day. But'' - he sighs theatrically - ''as long as it doesn't affect you, that's fine.''
''We care about the mortals,'' Shu retorts. ''Of course we do. Their worship sustains us, just as it sustains you.''
''It may not be formal worship,'' Tefnut adds, ''but we value it nonetheless.''
''As long as there is someone thankful for a cooling wind or a breath of fresh air...'' says Shu.
''... or a fall of rain that fills a reservoir or brings life to crops...'' says Tefnut.
''... or the fertility of the soil that the crops grow in...'' says Geb.
''... or the sight of a clear blue sky or the stars...'' says Nut.
''... then we four will have strength in our hearts and live,'' concludes Shu. ''In the same way that you, Ra, live because mortals cherish your brightness and warmth. Their joy in you is a prayer. They turn their faces up to you and bask, and your ba is replenished by their appreciation.''
''So do not presume,'' says Tefnut, ''to tell us how much or how little mortals matter to us. It insults us and demeans you.''
The First Family have risen from their shared bed. They are affronted, but also galvanized. Ra sees that he might use this to his advantage. If he can annoy them further, perhaps they just might stir themselves to comply with his wishes, to spite him if nothing else.
''You know, looking at you now, it's hard to imagine that you managed to vanquish all those other pantheons,'' he says. ''How can four such listless and self-obsessed individuals ever have managed such a feat? It's a wonder you can even get out of bed in the morning. Oh wait, you seldom do, do you? You just loll around here, writhing in one another's embraces.''
''What hypocrisy, coming from the former King of the Earth who retired to his Solar Barque when he'd had enough of ruling the mortal plane!'' This snarled riposte from Shu comes like the blast of a hurricane.
''How dare you, Ra!'' Tefnut chimes in, monsoon-fierce. ''To denigrate our achievement like that! We gave every ounce of ourselves in that conflict. It was long, hard-fought, hard-won.''
''We strained, we heaved,'' says Geb.
''We shone!'' declares Nut.
And now they are all speaking at once, their voices overlapping, their words colliding, unified by rage. It is a litany of their victories, a roll call of the defeated:
''All those gods of war... the many-armed destroyers... the ones with dragon bodies... the warrior deities... the laughing gods who just wouldn't stand still... the solo gods perched in their lofty cloudtop citadels, defended by archangels, djinns, serpents, sword-bearing armies... the thunder gods... the luck gods who kept on escaping us, against all the odds... the fire gods... the archer gods... the demons... the ineffable gods who were near impossible to find... the mischief gods who tried to trick their way out of trouble... the mad-eyed protective mother goddesses... you think it was easy?... Furies... Valkyries... frost giants... Oni... fairies... demigods too... it was gruelling... punishing... relentless... centuries... all our energies... we deserve our relaxation... we've earned it!''
As one, shouting, the four reach a climax. Silence follows, as in the wake of a storm that has battered the land and torn the sky to shreds.
Ra finds himself reeling in the aftermath. He knows he has had a glimpse, the merest glimpse, of the full power that is these four's to comm
and, and it is awesome indeed. They are all of Creation. They are Everything. Those other gods, even the mightiest among them, never stood a chance against the Family's theocidal onslaught.
As the echoes of their tirade fade away, Ra says softly, ''Well, you can certainly muster up some vigour when you want to. Would that you could apply that same vigour to the matter at hand...''
But the First Family draw together in a sullen huddle, and he senses he has miscalculated. He has peeved rather than piqued them.
''No,'' says Shu, adamant. ''It's out of the question.''
''You have asked too much,'' says Tefnut. ''Presumed too much.''
''You should leave,'' suggests Nut, her dress sparkling so dazzlingly it makes Ra's eyes ache.
''Yeah,'' says Geb. ''Sod off.''
This time, no one chastises him. Geb has spoken for all four of them.
''I apologise,'' says Ra, bending low from the waist. ''This has been a regrettable episode. Let us forget it ever happened. Next time we meet, it shall be on cordial terms, as in the light of a new dawn after a troubled night.''
Courteous, ever the diplomat, Ra knows how to mollify when he has to. The First Family's umbrage is lessened somewhat. Their backs grow a little less stiff, their eyes a little less narrow.
''Yes, well,'' says Shu. ''Bygones.''
''Bygones,'' repeats Ra.
The Family retreat to their bed, merging back into one atop that great silk-swathed mound. Soon all four of them are fast asleep, breathing deeply, their chests rising and falling in unison. Ra, meanwhile, is back aboard the Solar Barque, where Thoth greets him.
''How went it?'' he enquires.
''Not well,'' replies Ra. ''I made little progress. None, to be honest - unless you count invoking the First Family's wrath.''
''Not a sensible thing to do.''
''Tell me about it. Old friend, I'm stymied. What should be my next move?''
''Continue as you are, for now,'' counsels Thoth. ''That is all I can suggest. Keep on with your quest to bring peace. Only good can come of that.''
Ra rubs his brow. ''I am a god, Thoth. How come I cannot simply snap my fingers and have anything that I desire?''
The Age of Ra Page 13