“There is fire, master, and-I cannot look upon the emptiness which occurs-”

“Skagganauk Abyss!”

“Yes,” says Set. “Typhon is Skagganauk Abyss. He evicts the Nameless from the universe.”

“What was the Nameless?”

“A god,” says Set, “an old god, I’m sure, with nothing left to be divine about any more.”

“I do not understand…” says Madrak.

“He jests. But what of Typhon? How shall we deal with him?”

“You may not have to,” says Set. “What he has done has probably resulted in his own exile from the universe.”

“Then we have won, Anubis! We have won! Typhon was the only thing you feared, was he not?”

“Yes. Now the Midworlds lie forever within my hands.”

“And mine, don't forget!”

“Of course not. So tell me, Set-You see the ways the stars are drifting- Will you join with us? You will become the right hand of Anubis. Your son can be a Regent. He may name his own job, for I do not undervalue his wisdom. What say you?”

“I must think of this thing, Anubis.”

“To be sure. Take your time. Realize, however, that I am now invincible.”

“And you realize that I have defeated God in battle.”

“It could not have been God,” says Madrak, “or He would not have been defeated!”

“No,” says Set. “You saw Him at the end. You witnessed His power. And even now, He is not dead, only in exile.”

Madrak lowers his head, covers his face with his hands. “I do not believe you! I cannot…”

“But it is true, and you have been party to this thing, oh recreant priest, blasphemer, apostate!”

“Silence, Set!” cries Anubis. “Don’t listen to him, Madrak. He sees your weakness, as he sees the weaknesses of all things he encounters. He seeks to draw you onto a battlefield of another sort, one where you struggle against yourself, to be beaten by the guilt he has contrived for you. Ignore him!”

“But what if he speaks the truth? I stood by and did nothing-even profited by-”

“Indeed you did,” says Set. “The guilt is mainly mine, but I bear it with pride. You were party to the action, however. You stood by and watched, thinking of the profit that would come to you, while He whom you served was beaten to His knees-”

Anubis strikes him a terrible blow that rips the flesh of his cheek.

“I take it that you have made up your mind, and this is your answer: to try to turn Madrak against me. It will not work. He is not so gullible as you think-are you, Dad?”

Madrak does not answer, but continues to stare out the port.

Set struggles against his bonds but cannot loose them.

“Anubis! We are pursued!”

Anubis departs Set’s side, vanishing into darkness. The lights continue to stab downward.

“It is the Chariot of Ten,” Anubis says.

“Of the Lady Isis?” Madrak inquires. “Why should she follow us?”

“Because Set was once her beloved. Perhaps he still is. Eh, Set? What’s the story?”

But Set does not reply.

“Whatever,” says Madrak, “it draws near. How strong is the Red Witch? Will she give us trouble?”

"She was not so strong but that she feared her old Lord, Osiris, avoiding him for many centuries-and I am certainly as strong as Osiris. We will not be beaten by a woman-not when we have come this far.”

Madrak bows his head, mumbling, and begins to beat upon his breast.

“Stop that! You're being ridiculous!”

But Set laughs, and Anubis turns upon him with a snarl.

“I’ll tear your heart out for that!”

But Set raises his bleeding left hand which he has just torn free and holds it before his body.

“Try it, dog! Your one hand against mine! Your staff and any other weapon you have against the left hand of Set! Come closer!” and his eyes glow like twin suns and Anubis falls back beyond his grasp.

The lights continue to dazzle and spin.

“Kill him, Madrak!” cries Anubis. “He is of no further use to us! You wear the gauntlet of power! He cannot stand against it!”

But Madrak does not reply; instead, “Forgive me, Whatever You Are or Were, wherever You May or May Not Be, for omissions and commissions in which I indulged or did not indulge, as the case may be, in this matter which has just come to pass,” he says, still beating his breast. “And in the event that-”

“Then give me the glove!” cries Anubis. “Quickly!”

But Madrak continues, unhearing.

A shudder runs through the cockleshell, and magicians and poets being very good at that sort of thing, a doorway which had been doubly sealed springs open and Vramin enters.

He waves his cane and smiles.

“How do? How do?”

“Take him, Madrak!” cries Anubis.

But Vramin advances and Madrak stares out the window, mumbling.

Then Anubis raises his staff before him.

“Angel of the Seventh Station, and fallen, depart!” says Anubis.

“You use my old title,” says Vramin. “I am now Angel of the House of the Dead.”

“You lie.”

“No. By appointment of the Prince do I now occupy your former position.”

With a great wrenching movement, Set frees his right hand.

Vramin dangles Isis’ pendant before him, and Anubis backs away.

“Madrak, I bid you destroy this one!” he cries out.

“Vramin?” says Madrak. “Oh no, not Vramin. He is good. He is my friend.”

Set frees his right ankle.

“Madrak, if you will not destroy Vramin, then hold Set!”

“ ‘Thou Who might be our Father Who perhaps may be in Heaven…’ ” Madrak intones.

Then Anubis snarls and points his staff like a bazooka at Vramin.

“Come no farther,” he announces.

But Vramin advances another step.

A blaze of light falls upon him, but the red beams from the pendant cancel it out.

“Too late, dog,” he says.

Anubis circles, draws near the port where Madrak stands.

Set frees his left ankle, rubs it, stands.

“You are dead,” says Set, and moves forward.

But at this moment, Anubis falls to the knife of Madrak, which enters his neck above the collarbone.

“I meant no harm,” says Madrak, “and this is to pay in part for my guilt. The dog led me astray. I repent. I make you a gift of his life.”

“Thou fool!” says Vramin. “I wanted him prisoner.”

Madrak begins to weep.

Anubis bleeds in red spurts upon the deck of the cockleshell.

Set lowers his head slowly and rubs his eyes.

“What shall we do now?” asks Vramin.

“ ‘… Hallowed by Thy name, if a name Thou hast and any desire to see it hallowed…’ ” says Madrak.

Set does not answer, having closed his eyes and fallen into a sleep that will last for many days.

FEMINA EX MACHINA

And she lies there big with child within the chassis of the machine. A wall of the cubicle has drawn back. The wires have fallen away from her head and her spine, disconnecting the icy logic, the frigid memory banks, the sex-comp compulsions, the nutrient tubes. She is deprogramed.

“Prince Horus…”

“Megra. Rest easy.”

“… You have broken the enchantment.”

“Who did this terrible thing to you?”

“The Witch of the Loggia.”

“Mother! Her ways have always been wild, Megra. I am sorry.” He places his hand upon her. “Why did she do this thing?”

“She told me that a thing of which I was unaware- that I am to bear Set’s child-is the reason-”

“Set!” and Horus’ fingerprints are imbedded in the metal table. “Set -Did he take you by force?”

“Not exactly.”

“Set… What are your feelings toward him now?”

“I hate him.”

“That will be sufficient.”

“He cares nothing for life…”

“I know. I shall not ask you of him again. You will come away with me to the House of Life, Megra of Kalgan, and dwell with me there forever.”

“But, Horus, I fear that I must be delivered here. I am too weak to go far, and my time is near.”

“Then so be it. We shall abide for a time within this place.”