Sekhemib did not deign to answer him. Instead he grabbed Hadji by the wrist and dragged him behind him as he walked amid the basement steps. He paused by the foot of the steps and looked down at the rotted, decayed corpse which seemed :o be hanging from a shackle on a seat against the wall. He looked at Hadji blankly. "Your tekenu, my lord," Hadji said.
Sekhemib returned his gaze to the remains of Will Foster end a slightly inhuman smile passed briefly across his lips. Then he mounted the steps and climbed to the main floor of the house, his hand still clasped tightly around Hadji's wrist. He stood for a moment in the doorway of the basement entrance, looking from the kitchen to the living room in utter incomprehension. He walked into the living room and hesitantly pulled the closed drape aside. Hadji thought he heard a gasp escape from Sekhemib. A few people were walking down the street. A car and then a truck drove by. The approaching dusk had been greeted by the streetlights being turned on. The distant roar of an airplane caught Sekhemib's attention, and he gazed up in wonder at the silver ship gliding through the cloudy sky. Sekhemib released Hadji's wrist and stood in open-mouthed wonder. Then he allowed the drape to fall closed and he dropped to his knees. Raising his hands upward and lowering his head, he cried out, "Homage to you, my father Anubis. Honor to you, gods of Egypt. You have brought me through the veil of darkness into life in this strange world. I have been your slave, my father Anubis, I serve you still. You have heard my prayer from the darkness of the grave. Homage to you, homage to you." Tears welled up in Sekhemib's eyes and began to run down his cheeks, dusty tears filled with particles of rotten linen. "Homage to you, Osiris, lord of life. Homage to you Isis, mistress of rebirth. Homage to you Ra, lord of the heavens. Homage to you Bast, mistress of the pleasures of the flesh. Homage to you Set, lord of the high places. Homage to you Thoth, master of all wisdom. Homage to you Nephthys, mistress of the dead . . ." Hadji knelt beside Sekhemib silently and bowed his head as the high priest of Anubis gave heartfelt thanks to forty-two gods of the Hall of Judgment.
Sekhemib raised his head and looked at Hadji. Hadji's heart seemed to stop beating as he awaited the words of the high priest. "Thou hast served the gods faithfully, Ahmed Hadji. Their blessings shall follow thee all the days of thy life, and beyond that unto the days beyond life, until the days wherein thou shalt drink the souls of the tekenues with the company of the children of the gods."
Hadji fell on his face before Sekhemib and placed his forehead on the ground. "I thank you, my lord. I thank the gods that I have been of service. Homage to Anubis. Homage to the gods."
Sekhemib rose to his feet, saying, "Get me a knife and a bowl of water, that I may strip from myself the linen of the grave and wash from my flesh the dust of the centuries. And get me fresh raiment."
"Immediately, my lord," Hadji said, springing to his feet, his heart overflowing with joy. I shall not die! he cried within himself, I shall not die! Millions of years, a life of millions of years! He ran into the kitchen and searched through a drawer beside the sink, finding at last an extremely sharp slicing knife. He ran back to Sekhemib and extended the knife to him, handle first, and then ran upstairs to the bathroom. He stopped up the bathtub and began to run water of moderate heat. He then went into the room which Mrs. March's son occupied when he was at home and chose some clothes from the bureau and the closet. He pulled out underwear, socks, a plain white shirt, and a pair of cotton slacks. He took a pair of beach sandals from the floor of the closet, knowing that shoes were not only unknown to Sekhemib—indeed, all of these clothes would be alien to him—but would doubtless make him extremely uncomfortable.
Hadji ran back down the stairs and came to a shocked halt at the sight which confronted him. Sekhemib was peeling the rotten linen from his body in large clumps. He drew the shroud from his face as if it were a clinging mask which conformed to his features but had not been affixed to them. The burial cloth had rotted onto his mummified body so long ago that he did not need the knife which he had requested, merely needing to tug on the crumbling cloth for it to come free and drop in dusty swatches onto the floor.
What shocked Hadji was the man was being revealed to him. The skin was smooth and pink as a baby's, unwrinkled, unlined, almost tender looking, as if the entire surface of flesh had just been drawn from the womb. Sekhemib's eyes were deep and piercing, but his face was that of a young man, not more than twenty-five years of age. His hair was pitch black without a trace of gray or white, and it cascaded in flowing waves down around his face and neck. His hawklike nose rested beneath an unfurrowed brow, and his face, which had been shrunken and wizened such a short time before, was full, fleshy, radiating youth and health. Hadji had dreamed for years of the rebirth of life, but he had never dared to imagine what it would be like. He had assumed that the avoidance of death did not include the avoidance of the appearance of age, but the sight of the young, robust man standing before him filled him with even more wonder than he had felt when he saw the life drain from Will Foster and animate the dead body of Sekhemib a short while ago. A day of wonders, Hadji thought. Wonder after wonder. Praise the gods!
Sekhemib looked at Hadji as the last bits of linen fell from his naked body. "Where is the water?"
"Please follow me, my lord," Hadji said, bowing slightly.
"It awaits you in another room, at the end of these steps." He motioned Sekhemib up the stairs with a manner of obsequious deference, and Sekhemib proceeded to mount the stairs. Hadji followed behind him, and gestured toward the bath room. "A large vessel is in this room, and I am filling it with warm water. In it you may immerse yourself. Allow me." Hadji preceded him into the bathroom and reached down to turn off the tap. "My lord?" he invited.
Sekhemib stepped carefully into the tub, gazing at it and the dripping tap with undisguised amazement. The water was hot, but not unpleasantly so, and he lowered himself slowly into it. Sekhemib smiled and sank up to his neck in the soothing warmth, very softly voicing a contented sigh. Dust which had been embedded in his leathery flesh for centuries now drifted easily upward from his smooth, pink skin and floated upon the surface of the water. He looked at Hadji and said, "Tell me of Egypt."
Hadji thought for a moment, trying to formulate a comprehensible summary of thousands of years of history. "My lord, I have said that our land has known foreign rule and great change. We were brought under the rule of the Persians and the Medes some one thousand years after your death"—after your death! he thought with amazement!—"and then the Greeks, whom you knew as the Achaeans, conquered us, led by their great king Alexander. After the Achaeans came the Romans, who claimed descent from the people of the city of Troy, and ruled our land." Sekhemib nodded. He knew of Achaea and Troy. Barbarians, all of them. "While the Romans ruled us, a new religion displaced the worship of the gods, a religion borne to us by the Jews, whom you knew as the Habiru—"
"Habiru!" Sekhemib exclaimed. "Allies of the Hyksos! They overthrew the temples of the gods?!"
"I weep to say the words, my lord, but it is true. A teacher from the Habiru named Yeshua was killed by the Romans, and his followers claimed that he rose from the dead. The people of Egypt knew not of the tekenu or the power of the gods, for you had been dead for one thousand five hundred years, and they turned to the followers of Yeshua in the hope of defeating death."
Sekhemib laughed. "The fools. Anubis is the master of life and death, not a Habiru barbarian."
"Yes, my lord. After a few centuries, another wave of conquest swept over our land. The Arabs, whom you knew as the Aamu, brought with them another form of the Habiru worship, and they displaced both the followers of Yeshua and our ancient tongue. My name is strange to thee because it is an Aamu name. All of Egypt today speaks the Aamu tongue."
"And yet thou speakest the language of Egypt," Sekhemib observed. "How is this?"
"A small community of old believers has persisted through out the millennia, my lord, adopting new members to replace the old when death overtakes them. We have preserved the knowledge of the o
ld ways and we study the old tongue, though we speak the language of the Aamu as our native language. It is difficult to speak to you in the old tongue, for we use it only in ritual and worship."
"Yet thou speakest it well, though thine accent is peculiar. Continue. The Aamu rule now in Egypt?"
"Yes, Egypt is an Aamu nation. Our people even think of themselves as Aamu. But there have been other conquerors, peoples unheard of in the days before your death: Turks, Frenchmen, Englishmen. Our land no longer fills the hearts of Foreigners with dread of our power. Other nations, so large that Egypt would be less than a province within them, guide the Destinies of the world."
Sekhemib shook his head as he rubbed his arms languidly. "The destinies of the world are guided by the gods. Their power is undiminished. My presence testifies to their strength."
"As you say, my lord."
"Where are the others?"
"My lord?"
"My companions, Yuya, Herihor, the others?"
"Oh, they are nearby, my lord, still sleeping in death as you were until I brought the tekenu unto you."
"They are embalmed, as I was? They are whole and intact?"
"To the best of my knowledge, my lord, yes. There is a building here which is dedicated to the remnants of the past. They, and you, my lord, were to be placed on display for the people of this age to gaze upon." He saw Sekhemib's face flush with anger. "I have saved you from this disgrace, my lord, and shall save the others as well. I speak the truth."
"I know thou speakest truth, Ahmed Hadji. We must bear their bodies hence, to Egypt."
"Yes, my lord, but we must prepare carefully. Movement from land to land is not as simple as it once was. I myself am a foreigner in this land."
"Thou art alone here? Thou hast no servants or confederates?"
"No, my lord. Only enemies."
Sekhemib cupped his hands and brought water to his face. He poured it slowly onto his forehead and gently rubbed his cheeks and eyes. "Thou knowest this world, Ahmed Hadji. Thou must decide what we shall do. Would a slave from this land help us to escape back to our land?"
Hadji did not quite know how to respond. "There are no slaves in this land, my lord."
"Would a slave be of use to us?"
He shrugged. "Yes, of course. But—"
"Then we shall have one. The practices of the people of this land are of no importance. Is there anyone here who knows the ancient tongue as thou dost?"
Hadji thought for a moment. "Yes, my lord, I believe so. A woman who planned to display your body to the eyes of the curious. She is a student of our land. I know that she can read the ancient writing. She may therefore know the ancient tongue." He paused, choosing his words delicately. "But she is an enemy, my lord. She will not help us escape from this land."
"Thou must learn the ancient ways, Ahmed Hadji. Thou must learn to think the ancient thoughts. We enslave our enemies, we do not run from them."
"But she will oppose us, my lord. She will—" He stopped as Sekhemib turned and stared at him. Hadji felt sensation drain from his limbs as Sekhemib's eyes bore into him. He felt his mind being disconnected from his body, and he heard the voice of Sekhemib speak to him, but his ears did not hear the words. The voice was in his thoughts. Sekhemib's lips did not move, and yet in his mind he heard the high priest say, "Come forward and kneel." Hadji's legs moved without his own effort. He walked to the edge of the bathtub and sank slowly to his knees. "Raise thy hands as if in supplication." Hadji felt his arms rise above his head, his palms facing away from him, his fingertips pointing upward. "Bow thy head," the voice in his mind commanded, and Hadji felt his head moving downward.
Then, in an instant, his body was his own again and there was no voice in his mind. He panted for breath. "My lord!"
Sekhemib laughed gently. "I am the beloved of Anubis, Ahmed Hadji. I can make the limbs to move, I can make the tongue to speak. I enslave whom I will, I possess the mind by the power of Anubis, even as I drink the soul by the power of Anubis. This woman of whom thou speakest will not oppose us. She will do our bidding. She will be our slave."
Hadji was dumbfounded. He had read and studied and discussed with his teachers all the knowledge which had survived, all that was known about the seven lords, but he had never heard of this power. "My lord is more powerful than any of us had dreamed!" He was still on his knees, and he bowed his head once again, voluntarily. "I am weak with awe in your presence, my lord. My heart leaps with joy at the presence of the beloved of the gods."
Sekhemib smiled and nodded slightly, accepting the homage. "Now, thou must act quickly for my safety."
"Command me, my lord." He remained bowed on his knees.
"Take the remains of the tekenu. Burn them. As long as the remains exist, they threaten me."
"May I ask how, my lord? So much knowledge has been lost over the centuries that I fear my ignorance will endanger my mission."
Sekhemib nodded again. "Thy devotion and concern please me greatly, Ahmed Hadji. Tell me what thou knowest of the tekenu, and I shall tell thee those things thou knowest not."
Hadji lifted his head. "Yes, my lord. We have been taught that the tekenu, when chosen, must touch the body of the beloved of the gods. As soon as their flesh touches, the soul of the tekenu is linked to the body of the beloved of the gods."
"He who drinks the soul is called the axem. The word means 'holy image."'
Hadji bowed thankfully for the correction. "The axem begins to drink the soul of the tekenu as soon as their bodies touch. Left thus it takes days for the soul to be consumed. Even though great distance is involved, the axem will still be able to drink the soul of the tekenu. If the sacred medallion is placed upon the tekenu and he is brought close to the axem, the soul will be drunk quickly. It is in this manner that I brought the tekenu to you, my lord." Sekhemib nodded, swishing the palms of his hands through the water and sending small waves against his legs. Hadji waited for a comment, but none was forthcoming. He continued. "We have been taught that once the axem has drunk the soul of the tekenu, he lives out the life of the tekenu, immune from all weapons and disease. This we have been taught."
"There is more," Sekhemib said after a moment. "Once the axem has consumed the soul, he lives again, but he is not invulnerable as long as the bones of the tekenu remain intact. That is why thou must burn them, reduce them to dust. At this moment if a sword pierced my flesh, I would die, and the tekenu would reclaim his soul. Only when the soul has no home to which to return is my life free from common dangers, free from injury and disease."
Hadji absorbed this. "My lord is saying that if you were injured now—"
"If I were injured to the point of death, I would be unable to contain the soul of the tekenu. His soul would return to him and he would live again. A connection remains between the tekenu and his soul. It can be severed only if the tekenu is burned."
"I understand my lord, and I obey. I shall remove the remains from this place and consign them to the flames." He rose to his feet.
"Anubis protect thee," Sekhemib muttered. "Where is the raiment for my limbs?""
"Beside you, my lord, on the—" He paused. There was no word for toilet bowl. "On the seat. I shall go with haste and return with haste."
"Ahmed Hadji. One question before thou goest to thy task."
"Yes, my lord?"
"The Hyksos god Xepheraxepher. Is his worship still known in this world?"
"I think not, my lord. I have heard of no such god, and only we of the old ways worship the gods. No other people of this age worship old gods, in any land. The Hyksos are but dust and memory, and there is no worship of this god of whom you speak. May I ask why this is of interest to you?"
Sekhemib stretched his arms out and seemed about to yawn, but did not. 'The Hyksos had a powerful god. They defeated the armies of Egypt by virtue of his power. A man named Ousha knew the name of Xepheraxepher, and resisted my will by his power. I am pleased that he is forgotten, for even a god dies when no one calls upon his
name. Xepheraxepher is a dead god, and thus no danger to me." He smiled. "I am pleased."
"Your pleasure gives me great joy, my lord." Hadji bowed. "I shall go now and dispose of the remains." Sekhemib dismissed him with a wave of his hand and closed his eyes, settling back contentedly into the warm water.
Hadji ran down to the basement and picked up the corpse of Will Foster. It was very light and delicate, yet seemed somehow cohesive, belying the appearance of a dusty bundle which a slight breeze could dissipate. Hadji smiled contentedly at the ghastly death's-head which grinned sardonically at him. He had been so excited by the resurrection of the lord Sekhemib that he had almost forgotten to gloat over the horrible death of the man who had assaulted him. Ignorant fool, he thought as he gazed at the leathery skull. I told you that you would pay. He walked back up the stairs.
Tossing the body casually onto the sofa in the living room, he searched through the closets for something in which to wrap the remains of Will Foster. Hadji found a large laundry bag in the pantry, and he found that by bending the body into a fetal position he could fit it into the bag. He tightened the cord at the mouth of the bag, and then went to the window.
The streets were largely deserted. The sun was nearing the horizon, and Hadji reasoned that most of the small-minded idiots who dwelt in this pesthole of a town were at home for their evening meal. There was a risk in leaving the house with the body before dark, but what did he have to fear? The lord Sekhemib wielded a power which would protect them both.
Hadji moved stealthily out the door of the house and quickly opened the door of his rented car. He tossed the body into the front seat and then ran into the garage, looking for some sort of combustible material. He had hoped that the old woman or her son would have kept a can of gasoline for emergencies, but to his chagrin he found none. He saw a small portable barbecue grill in the corner of the garage, and upon lifting its lid he smiled at the can of lighter fluid which rested upon the grates. He thrust the can into his pocket and ran back out to the car.
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