25
Still Second Class

Far out in the western desert, near the gaping hole into which the Night Barge normally descended to begin its journey, Lord Set waited to be summoned to the capital. The pier and its stairway planks that had floated above the hole the night before lay scattered across the sand. The waiting was a part of Set’s plan. Still, he was bored and grew impatient.

He scanned the dim horizon. Nothing. Not a thing moved in the whole great expanse.

He got up and did a few deep knee bends, though he stopped abruptly when he felt a twinge in his back.

He folded pieces of papyrus into paper birds and tossed them into the air. They never got far. They veered off in one direction or another. Or just nosedived.

He paced the perimeter of the pier, muttering bits and pieces of the speech he planned to give. Things like: “The vile serpent rose up from the depths…” and “…his eyes were two swirls of chaos…” and “I fought with all my godly strength…” and “Ra stumbled upon us, mumbling and incoherent…” and “…he must’ve been sleepwalking…” and “…nothing I could do to save him…”

He tried on different expressions of emotions: fear, bravery, grief, anger, guilt. At least, he thought he was trying on different expressions. In truth he felt none of those emotions. He looked pretty much the same no matter what he was pretending to feel.

Later, stretched out on his back atop the pier, he tilted his head up to the night sky and exhaled a long, snout-waggling breath. “Would you come on already?” he asked. “Summon me to the stupid council!”

As if in answer, his godly ears picked up the faintest thrum of noise in the distance.

He snapped to his feet. His long ears pivoted around to better hear the sounds. “Yes! About time.” He leaped from the pier and dashed to the edge of the chasm. He climbed down a little ways and, clinging to the stone wall, he waited.

The sputter of a messenger beetle’s wings grew louder. When they were close enough, Set climbed back up to the surface. He rose to his feet in the sand, swaying unsteadily. He trudged toward the pier as the newly arrived beetle landed on it.

“Messenger! Messenger!” he called. “I’ve need of you!” He reached the pier panting, patting his forehead with a handkerchief, and generally pretending to be exhausted.

The beetle had a face that would be distinctive to another beetle. Not so much to human or even godly eyes. He did, however, have one very crooked antenna, with a bandage wrapped around it. He tapped his heels crisply and said, “Babbel reporting, Messenger Beetle Second Class.”

Set frowned. “Oh, you again. Still Second Class?”

Babbel did his full-shell imitation of a shrug. “It’s only been a few days. I’m working on it.”

“Whatever,” Set said, remembering to look miserable. “I’ve just now climbed from the depths of the Duat. You wouldn’t believe the way I’ve labored! And the tragic things I’ve seen.”

Babbel’s eyes traced where the god’s footsteps had left the pier walking toward the chasm, and then where they returned from it. He bent down and picked up one of the papyrus birds, a crooked little thing that Set had stepped on when it didn’t fly straight. He said, “Sure.” He looked past Set. “Isn’t there supposed to be a ship here? The Night Barge?”

“I think you’re supposed to bring messages—not ask questions.”

Babbel studied him with one eyebrow raised. He sighed and said, “Okay, so there’s a new message. Lady Isis has pushed back the small council meeting to discuss your… um… You know, the shadow testing stuff.”

Set crossed his arms and looked menacing. He’d forgotten about pretending to be tired. “Get to the point.”

“That’s off until later, but an emergency meeting of all the gods has been called. High priority. Drop whatever you’re doing. Or whatever you’re…” He held up the papyrus bird he was still holding. “…not doing. Head immediately to the capital. That’s it. That’s all she wrote.”

This was exactly what Set had been waiting for. “And this is because?”

“Look around,” Babbel said. “Everything’s dark. All over Egypt. It’s chaos. Nobody knows what happened. Things have ground to a standstill. The gods are troubled. People are afraid. I mean, things are crazy.”

All this pleased Set so much that he closed his eyes and basked in the glow of his own devious brilliance for a long moment. When he remembered himself, he opened his eyes, cleared his throat, and said to Babbel, “You may go.”

Babbel turned to leave but paused. “Hey, where’s the girl who was here before?”

“Her? It’s tragic, but I suspect she’s quite dead at this point. Demon food.” He waved vaguely in the direction of the chasm. “It got rather ugly down there.”

“Oh, shame. I liked her. She was nice.”

“I’m sure the demon who devoured her thought so, too.”

Set strode toward his flying beetle. It had been awake and watching. It thrummed to life to avoid Set’s usual kick start. It didn’t help. Set kicked it anyway.