In the evening of Simon's second day in ancient Egypt, Horus was suspicious only by his absence, but that suited Simon's furiously working brain just fine. He had spent the better part of the afternoon outside despite the heat and potentially lethal animals, and had formed a plan of escape by nightfall, for what better time was there for his flight but when he was alone with Nefertari? Not that she was any less dangerous than her divine companion, but his, Simon's, chances to become a successful escapee were about fifty percent higher with only one of them present. At least, that was the theory.

  He had a rather good idea of their whereabouts now too. It turned out that, despite the slander he received for it back home, studying the map of Egypt so thoroughly he only needed to close his eyes to see it had been anything but a waste of time. Over the course of the day, he had eliminated these areas which weren't possible at all, judging by the distance they had travelled that first night and the position of the stars; then he had included the temple's proximity to the Nile river; and finally narrowed it down enough to know approximately where they were.

  In spite of his excited plan-forging, however, Simon must have dozed off, for he was roused by agitated voices in the middle of the night.

  “Pharaoh,” said a hoarse, urgent voice he recognized.

  Simon held his breath, irate at having succumbed to sleep after all his careful planning. The odds of him making it out and away from the temple with Horus there were lower than zero. What was more, he really didn't like the jittery tone of the boy's voice.

  The answer to Horus' query came as a frustrated groan and a shuffling of wispy cloth and reeds from the direction of Nefertari's corner, though her words weren't discernible.

  “It's important,” insisted Horus, and Simon could hear a noise that suggested the boy was tearing away a layer of makeshift bedclothes.

  Finally, after a few more minutes of growling and rustling, in which Simon held his breath and squinted through his eyelashes, two indistinct black shapes detached themselves from the corner and headed for the entrance of the temple on light, bare feet. Simon caught a flash of moonlight reflected on jewellery as his quarry left the temple. A moment later, hushed voices became audible just outside the entrance.

  “Set has shown his true face at last,” Horus was saying, his tone somewhat different, less angry and more...

  “He's come out of hiding then?” asked Nefertari, yawning. “Declared his allegiance?”

  “You know what that means, Pharaoh,” said Horus keenly. This time, Simon was sure he sounded less grumpy than usual, almost elated...

  “That we have to act now,” said Nefertari at that moment. “That we can't keep dawdling any longer.“

  As quietly as he could, Simon edged out of his corner on his elbows, creeping closer to the doorway. He couldn't have told why, but the sudden cheerfulness in Horus' voice had made him slightly apprehensive. It seemed vital he knew what they were discussing, for he was certain it would concern him just as much as it did them.

  Once he was close enough to hear his captors' voices and see their shadows clearly, Simon lay back down on the ground and closed his eyes, feigning sleep. If one of them came to check on him, they could simply assume he had rolled off his mattress, and they needn't know he was listening in on their exchange on purpose.

  “What about Set?” asked Horus now, sounding somewhat dejected.

  “Not yet,” said Nefertari thoughtfully. “We can't attack him without the key.”

  “We don't need the key for my uncle,” said Horus dismissively, and there was no doubt about the suppressed excitement in his voice any more.

  Uncle? Simon thought, flabbergasted and holding his breath. Of course, he remembered from his studies, Horus was the child of the siblings Osiris and Isis, the two deities reigning the Egyptian underworld, the Duat, and, according to the same myth, the evil god Set was their brother... which would, of course, make him Horus' uncle … Was this some sort of mad family that named all their offspring to match the Egyptian pantheon? But even so, something told him that wasn't it... Somehow he knew, but did not want to accept, that there was more to Horus... That the boy really was...

  “You are blinded by hatred,“ hissed Nefertari, dissolving his chaotic thoughts. “As long as we don't know about the strength of their alliance, we can't attack Set – No, listen to me! – I know you want it done, I know you want your revenge, but launching an assault now would be suicide! Our best – our only option is to seek out Anubis!”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  A moment's silence followed, in which Simon's brain reeled again, for another god's name had just been thrown into the equation. The quiet was interrupted by a deep intake of breath. Simon, who couldn't resist peering out through half-closed eyes again, saw Horus' shoulders deflate.

  “You realize what you are sacrificing,” the boy – the god said flatly.

  “One life is nothing compared to the havoc they'll cause...“

  “It's not your life,” Horus said crossly, and with the air of someone following a routine, “but your soul the jackal will take in return for information.”

  “Semantics,” Nefertari said airily. “You know we don't have a choice any more”

  “And what if he will not tell, the god of secrets and lies?” Horus shot back mutinously.

  Simon could see the god's shadow cross its arms in a defiant sort of way, and though he couldn't see Horus' face, he was certain that the god was scowling again. A pair of footsteps began to pace in front of the temple, and Simon's eyelids fluttered shut again, for he didn't want a reflection of moonlight to give him away.

  Nefertari said, “He's bound by honour to speak the truth.”

  “What is honour to a creature of the shadows? Who's to say he won't follow his father's lead? You know who his father is, I believe?”

  “Anubis is nothing like Set. Anubis has always been fair and honest,” said Nefertari reproachfully. “If the price was right...”

  “The price,” exclaimed Horus agitatedly, and Simon thought he heard the god's arms unravel for a gesture of emphasis, “the price is your soul!”

  “Then by all means, stay here, Horus. We've discussed this, and I'm going – with or without you,” replied Nefertari hotly.

  Judging by the defiance in her voice, she would make good on that promise, though there was also an uneasy edge to her voice, which told Simon that she was rather reluctant to leave her divine companion's side.

  It sounded as though Horus was chewing his tongue again, teetering on the verge of continuing their argument from a few days back; a dispute in which he had stubbornly maintained he would follow Nefertari whereever she went. Then he huffed, “I don't like it.”

  Simon couldn't resist opening his eyes the tiniest slit as silence fell once more, just enough so that he could see the fuzzy silhouette of two people close to the doorway, facing each other mutely, as though they were communicating without words. Simon thought they probably were.

  “You win,” Horus finally broke the silence, grimacing. “What about the human?”

  Simon nearly jumped at that, pressing his eyes shut at once, his heart hammering in his ears. They wouldn't possibly finish him off now, would they? Not when they (or rather, Nefertari) had spent the better part of two days trying to include him somehow, feeding him not only what preciously little food they could procure but also information...

  “We'll carry him if we have to,” ruled Nefertari. Simon felt his spirits sink, thinking he would rather be left here than making the journey through the desert again...

  Another short silence, then Horus spoke again. Although the god hadn't raised his voice, it seemed to have grown colder inside the temple momentarily, as though an icy breeze was travelling through their hideout.

  “I've seen his thoughts, Pharaoh. He is not to be trusted. Even now he is planning,” Horus began, but was interrupted virtually at once by Nefertari.

  “We've been over this,” the supposed-Pharaoh said sharply. “Whatever Simon's thoughts may be, they cannot harm us. We will not leave him behind, nor will we let him go freely. There is something strange about him, and as long as I don't know what that is, he will stay with us. Besides, would you prefer leaving him to the chimaeras?”

  Horus didn't respond, or maybe Simon didn't hear it, for panic had begun to mount in his head, blocking out all sound. The conversation was coming to an end, and, unless he had dreamt all this, they were going on the move once more, soon. He couldn't wait until they did, however, because any further movement would (most likely) put him further away from Giza and the time portal, and therefore decrease his chances of ever returning to the twenty-first century.

  Cursing under his breath, Simon jumped upward and away from the entrance, making a split second decision: He would have to try and escape now, for who knew when another opportunity for such an endeavour would arise.

  He sped across the room to Nefertari's sleeping niche, where grabbed his bag and feverishly began scooping up things from the ground, all the while chiding himself for dawdling. Dried fruit, a piece of sturdy cloth that may have been the hat Morgan had given him, and a bottle that sloshed confidently like it was full of water, were all thrown pell-mell into his bag, chiding himself as he worked: He should not have stopped to eavesdrop. There was no telling if he would even make it out of the temple in time before one of his captors came back. He hastily tied his ruined bag, slipped it over his shoulders, and held his breath to listen, but the voices outside had gone silent. And then, as he straightened up with a horrible sense of foreboding, a gloomy voice spoke from the entrance, “Good, you're already awake.”

  Horus was standing there with his customary scowl, arms crossed and eyebrows drawn together in fierce disapproval, his expression telling Simon the god knew exactly what he had been about to do. Mind, it wasn't that difficult to guess.

  With a sigh, Simon let go off his bag, realising that he had waited too long, and wondering whether his hesitance had perhaps been intentional, as though he actually wanted to stay and learn more about this crazy, out-of-control world.