The soldier nodded slowly. “Fair enough.”
Gideon carefully lifted Wren, and they set out down the long, dark highways of the necropolis, and all the way Gideon recounted the events that had transpired with Lilith and Omar.
Asha watched Wren’s face and saw the sadness in the girl’s eyes upon learning that Omar was dead, but it was a momentary grief. The girl accepted the loss calmly and thoughtfully, and she was quiet for many long moments. But their conversation moved on to other things, to helping the fifty lost men and women waiting by the bonfire, and Wren soon joined in, smiling and saying silly things to make Taziri laugh.
They found the refugees huddled around the dying embers of the bonfire that glittered red and gold with cinders and hot coals. They all appeared calm and ready to leave, and most could walk unaided, so together they moved on down the dark road through the city of the dead, guided by the gleam of Gideon’s sword. It was a slow procession, but a calm one, and even those who were afraid of the dark, who flinched at every sound and clung to their fellows, learned to smile nervously. Some of them even sang.
Eventually they reached the tunnel and began to ascend, and then they reached the surface and began to climb out. Night had fallen, and the black sky shone with stars and moonlight. And there by the fountain stood Isis, Horus, and Bastet. The immortals led the strange and weary procession a short distance down the road to a large hotel, which they had rented out in its entirety for the night.
For hours, Asha sat by the fire and cleaned cuts and stitched wounds and washed away blood, until everyone was whole, and everyone was fed, and everyone found someplace warm and safe to sleep. She fashioned a splint for Wren and made her some tea to ease the pain and help the girl sleep.
And then, whenever one else had been taken care of, Asha slept.
When morning came, Asha’s patients began to leave one by one. Most of them had only been missing for a few days, or weeks at most, and they were eager to hurry home to their families. By noon, every last one of them had come down from their beds, eaten breakfast, thanked Asha and Gideon profusely, and left.
Gideon sat down across from Asha. He turned his chair around and rested his chin on the back of it. “It feels strange, knowing that they’re gone. Bashir and Lilith, and Set and Nethys. The world feels different. Smaller, somehow.”
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Do you think you’ll miss them? Mourn them?”
“Probably not. I wasn’t close to any of them,” he said. “Still, it is strange.”
A door opened at the back of the room and Taziri helped Wren hobble out on her cane to sit by the fire and rest her leg on a pillow. And a moment later, Isis and her son came out and sat with them. Bastet appeared as well, stepping lightly through a thin cloud of mist, and sat down on the floor facing the fire.
“So,” Taziri said.
Asha smiled. “So.”
“What’s next?” the Mazigh woman asked with a warm light in her eyes. “Angels? Demons? Armies of the dead?”
“Already did that,” Wren said. She smiled, but the smile faded. “I’m sorry to say it, but with Omar gone, I think the world will be a much quieter and safer place. It’s a pity he had to die now, of all times. His one regret still lingering, his last desire in life left unfulfilled.”
“And what was that?” Asha asked.
“To atone for his mistakes,” the girl in black said. “To undo what he had done.” She glanced nervously at the three Aegyptians. “To unmake his creations.”
Isis nodded, her eyes stern and sad. “I understand. And I agree. It was a bold vision he had once. And it was a great effort, even a noble undertaking. But the grand experiment has long outlived its purpose, and so have we.” She reached up and removed the slender chain from around her neck and placed a pair of sun-steel hearts on the table in the center of the group. “Mine, and my husband’s. I’ve had it for centuries. I didn’t trust him not to lose it,” she said. She sighed and looked at her son.
Horus said nothing as he took off his own pendant and placed it beside his mother’s and father’s. The youth’s face remained etched with grief and pain, and he kept his lips tightly sealed as though not willing to trust himself to speak.
Bastet smiled shyly up at Taziri and then at Gideon as she took off her necklace and set it with the others. “I get to grow up now?” She looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time, marveling at the wonders of furniture and firelight.
One by one, all eyes turned to Gideon. The soldier pouted a bit as he ran his thumb down the edge of his jaw and studied the bits of gold on the table. “Well, who wants to live forever anyway?” And he tossed his in with the others.
“And mine.” Wren slipped the eight silver bracelets from her wrists and leaned over to set them on the table. The sun-steel wires on each of them shone with dark gold. Then the northern girl with the strange ears pulled off her right glove to reveal a ring on her finger, a ring so small and thin that it was barely more than a circle of wire itself. “Can I keep this one? It’s not Omar’s. It belongs to my people. It houses the souls of my teachers. And frankly, I don’t know if they could handle being set free.”
Asha gently folded the girl’s hand closed. “I think you can keep that.”
Wren nodded and slipped her glove back on.
Gideon looked at the pile of necklaces and bracelets. “So, how do we…?”
“I can.” Asha collected the little hearts and rings in her palm, and then watched as her skin turned golden and her bright red claws curled around the sun-steel. The metal grew soft and dripped off her hand onto the table top in dull gray drops as thin wisps of aether and smoke rose into the air. “There. Done.”
“I don’t feel any different,” Bastet said, rubbing her hands together. “I thought I would feel different.”
Wren grinned. “Trust me, you’ll feel different enough when the cramping and the bleeding start. Welcome to the wonderful world of growing older.”
The women laughed. Gideon and Horus exchanged pained looks across the table.
“What about this?” Gideon tapped the armored gauntlet on his right arm. “It’s probably the most dangerous weapon in the entire world. And it’s hotter than any other seireiken. I don’t think it would be safe for you, even with your dragon trick there.”
“I’ll take it,” Taziri said, hold out her hand. “I can dispose of it safely.”
“Are you sure?” Gideon asked. “I’m not sure you realize how hot this blade really is. I doubt there’s anything in the world that can destroy it.”
“Trust me.” Taziri took the gauntlet and set it down carefully beside her chair. “No matter how hot your magic sword is, my plasma torch is hotter. I can take care of it, and dispose of it safely. And actually, I suppose that’s everything, isn’t it? Well then.” Taziri pushed herself up to her feet and picked up Gideon’s gauntlet from the floor. “I have an anxious husband, a talkative daughter, and a hundred ungraded engineering exams waiting for me back home.” She shook Asha’s hand, and then Gideon’s. “I’ll go by Jiro’s place and say goodbye to him, too. He has a few of my tools.”
“I’ll go with you,” Bastet said.
“We’ll all go together,” Isis said, patting her son on the knee. “We’re not immortal anymore. We’re going to have to get used to the idea of being more careful, and taking better care of each other.”
Horus nodded and they stood. The Aegyptians said their goodbyes, and then escorted the Mazigh engineer out into the bright daylight beyond the inn’s doors.
For a long moment the remaining threesome sat and looked at each other in silence.
“You know, when Omar asked me to help him undo all his old mistakes, I thought it would take us years and take us all over the world together,” Wren said as she petted Jagdish in her lap. “I certainly though it would take more than a few days in one city.”