"They are not?" Shade said.

Sesostris shook his head, and the cobra on his crown hissed.

"You are Sesostris," Name said. "What is the serpent's name?"

Sesostris smiled. "In a thousand years I have not been asked that question. His name is Uraeus."

We walked, and he taught again. "I was king," he said. "Dying, I was judged worthy and became a god. So you will become at last, if you too are judged worthy. You will dwell in the Field of Reeds until you are needed or invoked. Then you will return to this world of the living, unseen save by those you would have see you."

"All of us?" we asked. "Do we all become gods, who die?"

"Only those deemed worthy. The rest are devoured by Ammut."

As soon as he spoke her name Ammut waddled beside us, huge and stinking. Her head is like a crocodile's, though it is not a crocodile's. Her body is that of a fat woman with misshapen feet, though it is not a fat woman's. "Did you ask whether I would eat you all?" She simpered. "Yes. All of you, if the heart is heavy."

"Better to be devoured by you than to fare in the Deadland," said the small and shining I.

"Here is the Deadland," Ammut told him, and smote her great belly.

We passed through the temple. The figure in the holy of holies was old, the man who walked with me young.

"It is too dark here," the I called Shade said; but his voice was weak and far.

Inside the mountain-tomb it was darker still until Sesostris kindled his light. Then we saw everything, stairs that led only to other stairs, chapels in the rock where no priest sacrificed. The riches of his burial chamber would take more men to tell of than man this ship. From it a stair led down and down through stone until it reached the chamber where the court sat. Sesostris walked before us to show the way, Ammut after us, slow and laboring, panting and slavering.

"You stand before your judges," the bleeding man said. He was the chief judge of that court, a handsome man sorely wounded. He wore a white crown with two plumes. "We shall question you, and you will answer us honestly. You cannot do otherwise."

We nodded. "We cannot." We knew as we spoke that it was true.

"I am Strider of Annu," said a god. "Have you done iniquity?"

"I have not!" We all said this.

"I am Burning of Kher-aba," announced another. "Have you robbed by violence?"

"I have not!" we said.

"I am Fenti of Khemennu," declared a third. "Have you broken the nose?"

"Yes, as a boxer," we said.

"I am Am-khaibitu of Qereret," said a fourth. "Have you stolen?"

"Yes," we said, "we took the Horses of the Sun, doing the bidding of the Lady of the Beasts." This theft has left my mind now, yet I must have known it then.

"I am Neha-hra of Restau," murmured a fifth. "Have you slain man or woman?"

"Many men," we said, "for I was a soldier."

"I am the Double Lion-God," roared a sixth. "Have you given short measure?"

"To none!" we said.

"I am Burning Eye of Sekhem." This seventh god spoke in stately tones. "Have you sworn falsely?"

"Never!" we said.

"I am Flame," hissed an eighth. "Have you stolen from Ptah?"

"Never!" we said.

"I am Set-qesu of Suten-henen," whispered a ninth. "Surely-surely you have lied."

"Never to you, Set-qesu," we said.

"I am Khemi of the Hidden Place," a tenth god told us. "Have you carried off goods by force?"

"We have looted the goods of some we slew," we said.

"I am Brightflame of Mennufer," crowed an eleventh. "Have you uttered words of evil?"

"Never have I cursed anyone!" we said.

"I am Hra-f-ha-f of the Caverns of the Deep," said a god who had no face. "Have you carried off food by force?"

"I have," we said.

"I am Qerti of the Underworld," intoned the sepulchral voice of a thirteenth god. "Have you acted to deceive?"

"Often," we said. At this Ammut edged nearer us.

"I am Firefoot of the Night," shouted a fourteenth god. "Have you raged?"

"Yes," we said.

"I am Shining-teeth of Ta-she." The fifteenth god grinned as he addressed us. "Have you invaded a foreign land?"

"I have," we said.

"I am the Eater of Blood…" So sighed a sixteenth, whose voice was like the wind. "I am he who comes forth from the tomb. Tell me, have you slain the Beasts of Ptah?"

"Yes," we said, "I have slain them."

"I am the Eater of Entrails." The seventeenth licked his lips. "Have you laid waste to plowed land?"

"That also I have done," we said.

"I am Lord of Maat," trumpeted an eighteenth god. "Answer me! Have you pried into the affairs of others to do them hurt?"

"Never!" we said.

"I am Themeni of Bast," mewed the nineteenth. "Have you slandered man or woman?"

"Never!" we said.

"I am Anti of Annu," growled the twentieth. "You have raged, and I know it. Was it without cause?"

"Never!" we said.

"Tututef of Ati am I." The voice of the twenty-first god was an insinuating whisper. "Have you sodomized a child?"

"Never!" we said.

"I am Uamemti of the slaughterhouse." The twenty-second studied us coldly. "Have you poisoned waters?"

"Never!" we said.

"I am the Seer of the House of Amsu. How often have you lain with the wife of another?"

"Never!" we said.

"I am H-her-seru of Nehatu," quavered the twenty-fourth. "Have you made men afraid?"

"Often," we confessed.

"Have you been hot of mouth?" asked Neb-Sekhem, who comest forth from Lake Kaui.

"I have," we said.

"I am Seshet-kheru of Urit," affirmed the twenty-sixth. "Have you been deaf to words of right and truth?"

"More than once," we admitted.

"I am he of Lake Heqat," squalled an infant god. "Have you made others weep?"

"I have," we said.

"I am Kenemti of Kenemet," boasted the twenty-eighth. "Have you blasphemed Ptah?"

"Never!" we said.

"I am An-hetep of Sau," whimpered the twenty-ninth god. "Have you acted with violence?"

"Often," we confessed.

"He was a soldier," said the bleeding man. "We might forgive him that."

"I am Ser-kheru of Unsi." The thirtieth god shrugged. "Have you acted without thought?"

"Too often," we said.

"I am Neb-hrau of Netchefet," cackled the thirty-first god. "Have you taken vengeance on any god?"

"I have willed it," we said, "upon a goddess."

"I am Serekhi of Uthent," lisped the thirty-second god. "Have you multiplied speech?"

"No," we said.

"I am Neb-abui of Sauti," said the thirty-third god levelly. "How many men have you defrauded?"

"None," we said.

"I am Nefer-Tem of Mennufer," thundered the thirty-fourth god. "Have you cursed Pharaoh?"

"I have not," we said.

"I am Tem-sep of Tattu," said the thirty-fifth god, and his voice might have been the chuckling of a brook. "Have you fouled running water?"

"I have slain men whose bodies the river took," we said.

"Beyond that?" inquired Tem-sep.

"Or the sea," we said.

"I am Ari-em-ab of Tebi," the thirty-sixth god told us severely. "Have you boasted?"

"Only in boyhood," we said.

"I am Ahi of Nu," mumbled the thirty-seventh god. "Have you defamed Ptah?"

"Never!" we said.

"I am Uatch-rekhit of the Shrine of Uatch-rekhit," sneered the thirty-eighth god. "Have you acted with insolence?"

"Seldom," we said.

"I am Neheb-nefert, he of the Temple of Neheb-nefert." So saying, the thirty-ninth god stared blindly at a place where we were not. "Have you judged unfairly?"

"No," we said. "Never."

"I am Neheb-kau who comest forth from the Cavern," rumbled the hollow voice of the fortieth god. "Have you augmented your wealth through the property of another?"

"With that other's permission," we said.

"I am Teheser-tep of the Shrine of Teheser-tep," breathed the forty-first god. "Have you cursed that which is Ptah's while you held it?"