It was a man up until the neck, with skin the colour of grave compost, through which shimmered royal blue veins, from which protruded, on broad shoulders, the furry, black head of a canine beast, a jackal, with intelligent, sentient eyes. He held himself with the air of a man aware of his influence, though it was modest and told of awareness of responsibility rather than arrogance, and stood in stark contrast to Horus'.

  When Anubis spoke he had no physical voice and his words pierced directly into their minds.

  The descendant of Ra, void of power and her throne, Anubis said, his voice quite pleasant for a god of the underworld, though it sounded a bit stiff, his shrewd gaze trailing from Nefertari to Horus. The god of the sky, on his journey to revenge his father's death and find himself within the lies spun by our ancestors. His gaze shifted onto Simon, who stood frozen. And the child of secrets, who dreads the truth most of all.

  Simon shivered, and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the cold. So much for deceiving Anubis. Had he really believed he could mislead a god?

  There was a short silence, and then Horus rose up off the ground and stepped forward.

  “Anubis,” he said, “enough with the pleasantries. I trust you know why we're here?” His glow lit the room like a large lantern, throwing Anubis' features into great relief. There was something like kindness in the gaze he bestowed upon them, though it was equally as aloof. Considering the beastly head sat upon his shoulders, however, it was surprising how human the god seemed.

  You have questions, said Anubis, but everything has a price.

  “Not this again,” groaned Simon before he could stop himself.

  You didn't expect my services to be free of charge? Anubis' eyes came to a halt on him, and he thought there was amusement in the telepathic voice, but the moment was gone as fast as it had come. Anubis held up a hand before Simon could speak again for silence, and Simon shut his mouth at once.

  Three souls seek, one of them will receive, Anubis ruled.

  Horus twitched as though he was going to protest, and Nefertari frowned irritably, but neither of them spoke. Simon considered the god's words: Anubis made it sound as though he, too, had a chance of getting his questions answered for once. But then he remembered he didn't have anything to give as payment. Or did he? He allowed himself a quick look at his chest, where the Infinity Key was still glowing dimly, and immediately banished the idea from his mind. He was not going to surrender his treasure, never mind that he would need it back in Giza to activate the portal.

  You might not have a choice, said a voice inside of him, which he ignored. He would rather die before he let anyone else have the key.

  Anubis stood from his throne, spreading his hands out in front of him, his palms filling with electrically blue light, and the room around them changed: The walls retreated to the sides, the ground gave way around them, leaving three small, circular platforms for them to stand on, revealing a lake of liquid flame underneath. Heat washed over them, and Simon and Nefertari shivered with pleasure as it began to thaw their frozen limbs.

  But Anubis wasn't done yet: He waved his hand at the iron shackles in the back. A moment later, something materialized from the fiery lake, rising higher and higher until it was level with the iron cuffs, then it forced itself inside. A beast that was part lion and part crocodile, with split-toed hooves and ugly, beady eyes set lowly over a long, fanged jaw.

  At long last, Anubis brought his hands together, his palms touching and crackling, and a set of ornate golden scales appeared in front of the throne, floating above the sarcophagus.

  The weighing of souls, explained Anubis. I will weigh your soul against the light of Ma'at, he held up a large, pure white feather, which will determine your fate. The most righteous one I will allow two questions. Yet if none passes, or one decides to refuse, all of them shall perish.

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  Simon, feeling hard pressed not to roll his eyes, couldn't believe it. Hadn't he just won his soul back from the sphinx? And now he was supposed to gamble it again with Anubis? And he wasn't the only one who thought along those lines, it seemed.

  “You can't be serious!” exclaimed Nefertari, who had risen too. “I am the rightful heir to the throne of Egypt! As a member of our pantheon, you are sworn to protect the throne and its ruler, and therefore aid my query!”

  You walked into the Duat, which is our domain, the ones who dwell in the shadows, selfishly thinking I would help you free of charge?

  “I don't think you understand, God of the Guide,” Nefertari said indignantly. “It has nothing to do with being selfish.”

  Doesn't it? Is not the reason you came your birthright and the crown of the land above? Anubis prompted, sounding merry again.

  Horus stepped forward.

  “Both Apep and Set have been causing mayhem –“

  Anubis held up a hand, and Horus fell silent with a scowl.

  I am aware of my father's plan, as I am of the serpent's, yet of little interest are the politics of the upper world for those of us who dwell within the eternal night beyond. There was something like impatience in his soundless voice. We gods of the Duat have long been abandoned by the father, and we have no inclination to help his descendant.

  Horus opened his mouth again, angrier than Simon had ever seen him, but at the same moment, Anubis voice boomed through their heads.

  Your arrogance is greater than even that of Set, God of the Sky, the disembodied voice said, and there was no mistaking the anger in it now. I have given you a choice, which is more than the others would have, and you would do well not to test my patience any longer.

  Talk about being stuck between a sphinx and a hard place, thought Simon. This wasn't a choice, it was a death sentence, and the only way out was a brittle drawbridge over a marsh full of hungry crocodiles. He wanted to explode with anger, but instead, realizing that such an endeavour would achieve nothing but a rawness of his already dry throat, he announced, before either of the others had made a decision, “Well I am going to take my chances with the weighing. There isn't much room for anything else.”

  All three, said Anubis curtly.

  “What?”

  All three of you must decide.

  “Brilliant.” Simon turned back to Nefertari and Horus with an expectant, rather impatient look. They weren't considering a surrender, were they? “What are you waiting for? You're not going to give up your souls without even trying, are you?”

  “Of course not,” said Nefertari, crossing her arms defiantly, and she turned to face Anubis as well.

  Horus relented last, looking mutinous and gloomy as always, and for a split second Simon wondered if Anubis really did have the power to kill the other god's soul. Perhaps for Horus, it was something more symbolic, or the need to protect Nefertari, why he gave in to this disadvantageous deal.

  “What happens when the questions have been answered?” asked Horus from between clenched teeth.

  When the questions have been answered, you will be able to leave, said Anubis.

  “And how, by Ra, can we trust you after this?” Horus shot back contemptuously.

  You don't have a choice, Anubis said simply.

  The scales of justice quivered as though touched by a sudden breeze. Anubis laid the light of Ma'at, the gleaming white feather, carefully onto one of the pans. Then he waved his hand once more, and out of the shadows behind him stepped three ghostly blue figures in his likeness. In unison, the phantasmal doppelg?ngers walked forward, drifted over the fire lake, and came to a halt in front of each member of the small group waiting upon their platforms.

  Simon, situated between the other two, couldn't help but wonder what would happen if the phantasm attempted to touch him. Would it shatter just like the first one had inside the chasm?

  Anubis replicas' hands began to wobble and mutate, a small, insubstantial dagger growing from their palms, which they held aloft with the weapon inside.

  Obliquely, out of the corners of his eyes, Simon could see Nefertari and Horus, unmoving as the replicas tilted their wrists upward, then brought the daggers close to their quarry's hearts. He watched as Horus, on his right, went rigid as the misty dagger came down in the region of his heart, gliding smoothly into through flesh and bone.

  At the same time, his earlier question was answer by the doppelg?nger in front of him, as it brought its weapon down and pierced Simon's chest as easily as the other had Horus'. It was in the split second between the impact of the blade and the stopping of his heart that he realized he had no chance to pass this trial. He hadn't exactly been a saint all his life: All the bickering and fighting with his cousin seemed much graver now in the face of his impending doom.

  His heart, bloody, dark red, and still pulsing appeared on the second pan of the scales of justice.