“I heard him mention Skagganauk Abyss.”
“There is no such place.”
“I’ve never heard the name before. You have?”
“Legend, fancy, fiction.”
“And what do these things tell of it?”
“We waste time discussing nonsense.”
“If you wish my assistance, you will answer me. See, the gauntlet now reaches to my knees.”
“Skagganauk Abyss, sometimes called the chasm in the sky,” says Anubis, “is the place where it is said that all things stop and nothing exits.”
“There are many very empty spaces in the universe.”
“But the Abyss is said to be empty of space, also. It is a bottomless hole that is not a hole. It is a gap in the fabric of space itself. It is nothing. It is the theoretical hub of the universe. It is the big exit leading nowhere, under, over, beyond, out of it all. That’s Skagganauk Abyss.”
“Typhon does seem to possess these qualities himself, does he not?”
“Yes, he does; I’ll admit that. But it answers nothing. Curse the mating of Set and Isis! They have begotten a brute and a monster!”
“You can hardly talk, Anubis. Was Typhon always as he is now? How could the Witch be delivered of such a one?”
“I do not know. He is older than I. That whole family is shrouded in mystery and paradox. -Let us be off to the House of Life!”
Madrak nods his head.
“Show me the way, Anubis.”
NIGHT BECOMES HORUS
He walks in the places of power and none know his name. But if each among the creatures that pass were to be asked, they would say that they had heard something of him. For he is a god. His power is almost beyond measure. He has been defeated, however. The Prince Who Was A Thousand, his brother, worked his undoing to preserve his own life and the order of life which he represents.
Now, Horus turns up an avenue, well lighted, where the various species cavort. Power and the night are around him.
He has come to this particular street on this particular world for a reason: He is invariably undecided. He needs opinions. He loves oracles. He seeks advice.
Darkness in the sky, bright lights along the thoroughfare. He passes places and people of entertainment.
A man moves to bar his way. He seeks to pass around him, stepping into the street. The man follows and seizes his arm.
Horus blows his breath upon him and it comes down with the force of a hurricane. The man is swept away and Horus moves on.
After a time, he comes to a place of oracles. The Tarot readers and the astrologers and the numerologists and the casters of the Yi Ching beckon to the god in the red loincloth. But he passes them by.
Finally, he comes to a place where there are no people. It is the place of the machines which predict.
At random, he selects a booth, enters.
“Yes?” inquires the booth.
“Queries,” Horus replies.
“A moment.”
There comes a metallic click and an inner door opens.
“Enter the cubicle.”
Horus moves to enter a small room. It contains a bed, of sorts. A heavy female torso lies upon it, joined with a gleaming console. A speaker is set within the wall.
“Mount the inquiry unit,” he is instructed.
Discarding his loincloth, Horus does this thing.
“The rule is that your questions will be answered for so long as you give satisfaction,” he is informed. “What is it that you wish to know?”
“I have a problem: I find myself in conflict with my brother. I tried to defeat him. I failed. I cannot make up my mind as to whether I should seek him out again and renew the battle…”
“Insufficient information to reply,” comes the answer. “What sort of conflict? What sort of brother? What sort of man are you?”
Gruesome grow the lilacs and the rose-rows be hedges of thorn. The garden of memory is filled with frantic bouquets.
“Perhaps I have come to the wrong place…”
“This may be, and it may not. Obviously, though, you do not know the rules.”
“Rules?” and Horus stares up at the dull mesh of the speaker.
Dry monotone, the voice is sifted through:
“I am not a seer, nor am I a foreseen. I am on electrical-mechanical-biological votary of the god Logic. Pleasure is my price, and for it I will invoke the god for any man. To do so, however, I need a more complete question. I do not possess sufficient data to answer you at this point. So love me, and tell me more.”
“I do not know where to begin,” Horus begins. “My brother once ruled all things-”
“Stop! Your statement is illogical, unquantifiable-”
”… and quite correct. My brother is Thoth, sometimes called the Prince Who Was A Thousand. One time, all of the Midworlds were his kingdom.”
“My records indicate the existence of a myth concerning a Lord of Life and Death. According to the myth, he had no brothers.”
“Correction. These matters are generally kept within the family. Isis had three sons, one of them by her lawful Lord, Osiris; two of them by Set the Destroyer. Unto Set she begat Typhon and Thoth. Unto Osiris she begat Horus the Avenger, myself.”
“Thou art Horus?”
“You have named me.”
“You wish to destroy Thoth?”
“That was my assigned task.”
“You cannot do it.”
“Oh.”
“Please do not depart. There may be more questions you wish to ask.”
“I can’t think of any.”
But Horus cannot depart at this moment, for the fires are upon him.
“What are you?” he finally inquires.
“I have already told you.”
“Yet how have you become what you are: half woman, half machine?”
“This is the one question I may not answer, unless I am properly cued. I shall, however, attempt to comfort thee, seeing that thou art distraught.”
“Thank you. You are kind.”
“It is my pleasure.”
“I’d say that once you were human.”
“That is correct.”
“Why did you cease being so?”
“I may not say, as I have said.”
“May I help you in any way to effect anything which you may desire?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I may not say.”
“Do you know for a fact that Horus may not destroy Thoth?”
“This is the most valid probability, based on the knowledge of the myths which I possess.”
“If you were a mortal woman, I’d be inclined to be kind to you.”
“What does that mean?”
“I might love you for your terrible honesty.”
“My god, my god! Thou hast saved me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have been doomed to this existence till one who is greater than men shall look upon me with love.”
“I might look upon you in such a manner. Would you deem that probable?”
“No, for I am too used.”
“Then you know not the god Horus.”
“It is the utmost improbability.”
“But I’ve no one else to love. So I love you.”
“The god Horus loves me?”
“Yes.”
“Then thou art my Prince, and thou hast come.”
“I do not-”
“Bide thou a moment and other things shall occur.”
“I shall abide,” says Horus, standing.
THE THING THAT IS THE HEART
Vramin walks through the House of the Dead. Had you eyes in that place, you couldn’t see a thing. It is far too dark for eyes to be of value. But Vramin can see.
He walks through an enormous room, and when he reaches a certain point within it there comes a light that is dim and orange and crowded into corners.
Then they come up out of the transparent rectangles which now appear in the floor, come up unbreathing, unblinking and horizontal, and they rest upon invisible catafalques at a height of two feet, and their garments and skins are of all colors and their bodies of all ages. Now some have wings and some have tails, and some have horns and some long talons. Some have all of these things, and some have pieces of machinery built into them and some do not.
There comes a moaning and a creaking of brittle bones, then movement.
Rustling, clicking, chafing, they sit up, they stand up.
Then all bow down before him, and one word fills the air:
“Master.”