Simon cowered lower as the two apophi rode past their hideout. He could imagine their split tongues flicking under the disguise, their unblinking, lidless eyes sifting through the crowd. Somewhere nearby, a voice had started to cry in the front row, no doubt a child mortified by the beast's smell. When he dared to look up again, the apophi had passed. A chariot with a single, dark shape in front of it was rolling into view behind them, though its rider, set several feet above the heads of the crowd, was unrecognisable from the distance.

  “General's what?” Simon took this opportunity to ask, rising on the tips of his toes for a better look.

  “Sssh,” said Nefertari, pulling him back down. “That's what those chimaeras are. They're General Set's guard... Apep must have put the apophi at Set's disposal, now that Set's made his choice...”

  “Not like he has his own chimaeras,” Horus growled at that moment, incandescent blood still trickling down his knuckles. “Though that might change once he gets to Memphis … No telling what Apep's promised him … He'd do anything for a bit of power, my uncle.”

  “Your uncle?” Simon tried to clarify. “That's your uncle in that chariot?” Horus gave a stiff jerk of his head that might have been a nod.

  Simon paid closer attention to the chariot from then on. He watched it approach, growing more distinct all the while, trying to see past the multitude of cheering fists punching into the air and the hands waving little flags like banners. There was another set of apophi before it, their hideous faces hidden away, too, their flat heads swivelling this way and that...

  A shudder went through Simon, at the same time another jolt went through his body from the center of his chest, where he knew the Infinity Key, the hourglass hung. Reflexively, he reached into his shirt to extract it, at the same time as one of the apophi looked around –

  Simon dropped, heart pounding violently, flat onto the ground, the pendant slipping from his fingers. Had the apophis seen him? It must have, he had seen its pupils … He could still feel the hourglass tick against his chest, too, and wondered, for a moment, what had made him reach for it in plain sight of his companions. He would have to be more careful … He couldn't risk either of them seeing the accessory …

  “What?” Nefertari nudged his ribs.

  “I think it saw me,” Simon pressed out breathlessly.

  They waited, holding their breaths, but the apophis did not move, point a finger, shout “There!”, or otherwise betray any sign of recognition. Simon thought that maybe he was being paranoid. Why would anyone want him any way? It was those two Apep and Set wanted. There was a chance, even, that he would be rewarded if he turned them in...

  He turned his head to look at Nefertari and Horus, only to find Horus' eyes already fixed on him, as though the god knew exactly what had just gone through his head. Simon dropped his gaze, his cheeks flushing with a mixture of shame and anger. And yet, he couldn't help think it was true, that he could be rich...

  The two apophi, hissing and spitting, had moved smoothly past the alleyway during their silent exchange. Behind them followed the chariot, drawn by the two largest horses Simon had ever seen. The mares were black as ebony, their nostrils flaring, their gleaming red eyes rolling, their hooves thudding over the ground with enough force to cause minor earthquakes in their wake. Simon craned his neck and caught another glimpse of the dark figure standing on the chariot before Nefertari pulled him back down behind the boxes with a noise of impatience.

  “Be careful,” she hissed, her fingers tangled in his collar, nearly strangling him, “will you!”

  The chariot rolled into view directly in front of them. The figure on top of it was a man: Tall, pale, and very thin, with charcoal hair and a sinister smile curving his lips. He was covered from head to toe in vermilion red armour with silvery highlights, carrying on his belt a black sword thick as his arm and shot with burning streaks of ruby.

  Simon recognized the man immediately, for he had seen him once before not long ago, standing in a dimly lit alleyway just off the main square. At the same time he realized, with a jolt, why the man now riding past them had looked so strikingly familiar to him. It was remarkable how he hadn't seen it before. Although Horus, with his dark skin, bright eyes and fair hair, was everything his uncle was not, Simon could see their resemblance in the way they held themselves, above all others, looking down upon them, as though the whole universe belonged to them.

  Set rode through the township of Zawte like a dictator, heat radiating off him like flame, his dark eyes skimming the crowd condescendingly, but never directly touching anybody. He looked through the people gathered in his honour, merely tolerating their cheering presence. It was clear that they were beyond him, a coagulation of dirt, human vermin.

  Simon could make out the township's chant now, “Hail Set, Hail Set!”

  At the other end of the square, where the temple rose into the burning evening sky, a cluster of people in bright red robes stood waiting for their master. The priests' hair were combed beautifully and adorned with jewellery, their skin untanned and clean of filth and dirt, their fingernails polished in way that no common person could afford. They chanted with the crowd, though their powerful singing voices boomed much louder than any of the others.

  Nefertari, clearly irate by their devotion to the gods who were hogging her throne, growled, “I've seen enough, let's get going.”

  They waited until the chariot had left their hideout behind, then, crouching lowly, their knees bent, made their way to the other end of the alley, away from the square.

  The hourglass was still thumping against Simon's chest as they went. He could feel it vibrating, a soft hum that seemed to resonate with his own pulse, almost like a living thing. There was no time, however, to investigate into the accessory's strange behaviour. Nefertari was moving again in front of him, and he had no desire to get lost in the township or reveal his secret.

  Reluctantly he withdrew his hand from where it had sneaked to the collar of his shirt and followed her toward the Nile river, leaving the divine procession farther behind.

  “Remind me again, why did we just do that?” asked Simon as soon as they were out of earshot.

  “I had to see it with my own eyes,” said Nefertari. “Set has avoided choosing a side for a long time.” She looked suddenly sober. “Well, he's done it now, so there's no point sticking around any longer.”

  “And you're not going to – I don't know – stop him or anything?” asked Simon. “Stop him joining Apep?”

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  “I'm not,” said Nefertari, throwing a rather anxious glance at Horus, who Simon had nearly forgotten was there. Horus' face was a mask of stone, still, his lips pressed together so tightly they were ghostly white. When Nefertari spoke again, her tone was casual, but there was warning in it. “Attacking Set now wouldn't get us anywhere, not when he's an arm's length away from Apep. Their alliance might not be complete yet, technically speaking, but Set's influence is strong at the moment, and still growing.”

  Horus still looked mutinous as he inclined his head in something like agreement. “We better move. The left eye activates soon, and you will need rest before we descend into the Duat,” he said in a tone that suggested he was above such human things as sleep.

  They were almost safely out of the settlement when it happened. Without so much as a warning, the air around them seized up, closing and restricting their lungs, making it impossible to breathe, as though all the oxygen around them had suddenly evaporated-

  “What's … what's happening?” Simon wheezed, straining breathe.

  “He's coming,” panted Nefertari, her face pale and her eyes widening in alarm. “Set is coming! RUN!” she shrieked.

  A moment later, however, everything went pitch black. Simon yelped, stumbling over his own feet in disorientation, certain that this wasn't a natural kind of darkness. He couldn't see anything left, right, or center, not the tiniest sliver of light penetrated the opaqueness of his surroundings. A short distance away, panicked voices were screaming, squealing, and somewhere close by, someone was wailing in terror.

  And then someone bumped into him from the right, and though he could feel the person's warmth, he couldn't determine where his body ended and the other began.

  “Who's that?” Simon yelped, ready to run in the opposite direction if he heard the faintest trace of a hiss.

  “It's me,” said Nefertari's voice, and a warm hand wrapped around his biceps.

  “I – I've gone blind!” exclaimed Simon, feeling that this was the only explanation for the sudden lack of visibility. To his great annoyance, his voice was an octave higher than was normal.

  “No you haven't,” said Nefertari impatiently, tugging on his arm. “Of course you haven't. It's him.”

  “Him who?” Simon whispered back sharply, not ready to take her word for it.

  “Set! That's his magic, the darkness and the chaos. He knows I'm here. That we're here, and he's coming for us!” Her fingers slid down his arm, seizing his hand tightly. “We have to go now!” she persisted, then turned on the spot, pulling Simon with her.

  “Horus?” Nefertari called into the gloom, her voice somewhat muffled in an effort not to give away their position. Simon felt that she needn't have bothered. The blackness had become so absolute and impenetrable that, although he could sense her skin on his, he couldn't see her or, indeed, his own fingers. “Horus?” she called again, louder this time, her voice tinged with something like fear for the first time.

  When there was no answer from the god, Nefertari's fingers momentarily contracted, in what he thought was fear, around his own. He tried to give her a reassuring squeeze back, though he couldn't imagine why he would do such a kind thing for his kidnapper. He figured that it made him seem at ease rather than mortified, which was good enough a reason. In reality, however, he was just as terrified by the sudden fall of night as her, if not more.

  With no sense of direction whatsoever, they stumbled through the gloom together, Nefertari cursing under her breath and Simon trying to ignore the way her voice carried. Against his chest, the hourglass was pulsating again, and though he couldn't see it, he was sure it had lit up too.

  Trusting the darkness to cover his movements, Simon plunged his free hand into his shirt and retrieved the pendant. It lay innocently on his palm, but he could tell it was somehow reacting to the environment, glowing blue-hot as he watched, as though it could detect the dark magic in the air.

  Simon sighed with relief at the sight. At least he hadn't gone blind. He slipped the pendant back into his shirt just as Nefertari exclaimed, “This way!” next to him, and a thrill of panic that had nothing to do with the darkness and the eerie noises now emerging from it surged across his spine. Had she seen the hourglass? He couldn't afford to lose it, his only valuable possession … Nefertari must have thought his suddenly sweaty palms were a symptom of fear, because now it was her turn to squeeze his hand.

  One time, they ran into something solid, but not even close up could Simon determine if it was human, divine, beastly, or simply inanimate. He had lost all sense of direction, too, but at least Nefertari seemed to know where she was going. Minutes later, they broke out of the gloom and into the day's last rays of sunlight.

  Simon's pupils contracted so fast at the unexpected onslaught of brightness that his eyes watered, making him think that if he hadn't been blind yet, he certainly was now. He gasped, blinking rapidly until the black and red stars had vanished from his vision. They were standing just outside Zawte's gate behind whose boundaries they could see nothing. The darkness was as unyielding from the outside as it was on the inside, though now they could see what had caused it. A black bubble like a storm cloud had formed around the settlement, blocking and absorbing all light.

  “Yikes,” said Simon, wiping icy sweat from his forehead and staring into the sinister cloud ahead. When there was no response for a minute or so, he asked tentatively, “Shouldn't we move on?”

  “Horus,” Nefertari said, her eyebrows drawn together anxiously. “We can't just leave him in there!”

  Simon, who wanted nothing more than to get as far away from Zawte as possible, couldn't have cared less about the god's whereabouts. Indeed, he hadn't even been aware of Horus' absence until Nefertari had mentioned it.

  “But,” spluttered Simon, “he will be fine on his own. He's a god, for God's sake!”

  Nefertari wasn't moving, just staring at him angrily, as though he was being thick. Simon's fingers clenched into fists, his brain working furiously. Nefertari wouldn't leave until she was reunited with her divine friend. The dread in her eyes, which he now realized wasn't for herself, told him as much …

  But Simon wasn't a person prone to suicidal heroics or noble deeds of self-sacrifice in the least, and he couldn't even pretend to care about what happened to the god … And yet, he couldn't quite ignore the subtle nervous twinge of his stomach either. And he could see Nefertari's face too, her usual cheerfulness had been replaced by an expression as close to panic as she would allow it to become. And if she went back inside, which he thought she was close to doing, he would be completely alone out here, stuck …

  Simon exhaled deeply through his nose. He was so going to regret this.

  “All right,” he said slowly, keeping his voice levelled with effort. “Set wants you, right? So – so if you leave, the darkness, Set, they will go too, yes?”

  “I expect so, but –“ Nefertari hesitated, and he could tell she was about to argue again.

  “You're going to hide, somewhere. You said something about a tomb, yes? You'll go there and –“

  “I am not leaving Horus!” Nefertari yelled stubbornly. “He's going to do something stupi –“

  “Listen to me, just for once!” Simon bellowed, his voice having risen without his intention. His nerves were straining, about to tear. They were losing precious time the longer they stood here and argued. And who knew what was coming for them from out of Zawte?

  “You get out of here while I look for him, and then we'll find you –“ Nefertari opened her mouth, undoubtedly to contradict his plan, but Simon had finally had enough.

  “THIS ISN'T UP FOR DEBATE! WE'RE WASTING TIME HERE! NO – LISTEN TO ME! YOU'RE JEOPARDISING US ALL! YOU'RE GOING! NOW! YOU'VE ALREADY DONE ENOUGH DAMAGE!” he bellowed, immediately regretting the outburst a moment later, though not only because his dry throat now felt as though he had swallowed a hairbrush. Panting, Simon watched several angry, red blotches appear on Nefertari's face. For a moment it looked as though she would like nothing better than to lunge for him and scratch his eyes out, but then she turned on her heel and ran out into the desert.