"Never!" we said.

"I am An-a-f of Aukert," said the final god. "Have you scorned the god of your own city?"

"Never!" we said again.

"You are not without sin." The bleeding man rose. "But not without merit. Go to the scales."

We did, and he came after us. Sesostris was waiting there with the monster-woman Ammut. A baboon crouched beside them, holding a reed pen and a tablet.

"Will you bless him?" the bleeding man asked Sesostris.

"I will," said Sesostris, and gave us his blessing. It filled us, and we knew then that we had been empty.

"He has been blessed by Sesostris," the bleeding man told the gods who sat in judgment. "Shall he be subjected to the ordeal? Stand."

Five rose. They were the faceless god, the god of the Underworld, the Eater of Blood, the Eater of Entrails, and Neb-hrau.

"Osiris will take your heart for the weighing," Sesostris explained. "Do you see the feather in the other pan?" His hand directed our eyes to the scale.

We did, and said that we did.

"It is Maat, the Law of Ptah," Sesostris told us. "If Maat rises above your heart-"

Ammut said, "I get it and you," and licked her lips.

"But if your heart rises above Maat," Sesostris continued, "it will be returned to you, and I will conduct you to the Field of Reeds."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the man called Osiris motioned for Shade, Name, and Ka to stand aside and thrust his bleeding hand into my chest. For a moment I felt my heart fluttering in his hand like a captured bird.

When it was gone, I was empty of life. I had not known that a man might be emptied like a wine skin, but it is so; I longed to be full once more, and feared I would be cast aside.

Laid upon the scale pan, my heart sank. It had no sooner done so than it rose, higher than the feather by the width of my hand. At once it sank as before, only to rise once more.

"He still lives," the bleeding man declared to all the gods, "and should not be here." Picking up my heart, he returned it to me and spoke further, but so overcome with joy was I that I did not hear him. Only my delight remained.

We were alone in the Hall of Judgment when Sesostris said, "Do you hear me now, Ba?" His voice was kind.

"Yes, Great Sesostris," I replied. "How may I serve you?"

"By doing what you must. But first I tell you this, as Osiris did. His blood has touched your heart. Touching it, it has mingled with your own. It cannot have been more than a drop, but even a drop will have great power. What effect it may have, I cannot say, but you should be aware of it."

I said I would try to remember.

"You will forget. Therefore, I am going to send my servant with you to recall it for you." Sesostris took the cobra from his crown. It was, or seemed, a piece of carved and gilded wood. He held it out, and I took it.

"Hold Uraeus carefully. You must fly far without dropping him."

As Sesostris spoke, Uraeus writhed in my hand like a living serpent. I started to say that I could not fly at all; my wings twitched at the thought of flight, and I knew myself winged.

"Go now," Sesostris told me, "for the rest are on the road."

MY SLAVE COMES when I come, and goes when I go. That is what Neht-nefret says. I said that it was Myt-ser'eu who comes with me, and I know that it is true. This is true also: wherever I go, I find Uraeus there.

We spoke to him about it. He said it was his duty to wait upon me; but that when I did not wish him present, I had only to tell him to leave.

"Leave then," I said. "Leave now." And he was gone.

He has not come back. Myt-ser'eu and I talked about it, sitting by ourselves in the shade of the afterdeck. "You were there," I said. "Surely you saw him go."

She shook her head. "He was with us and we spoke to him. You sent him away, and he was not there-but I didn't see him go."

"Men cannot vanish like smoke," I told her, pretending to be angry.

"Smoke cannot vanish like Uraeus."

I admitted that he did not seem like other men.

"Neither do you, my darling." She added that my slave did not look at her as other men do. She thinks his manhood may have been cut away.

I will forget him, if what Muslak says is true. Here I write of him, so that I may know him again if he returns. He is smaller than many women, and stooped. There is no hair on him. None. The healer's head is shaved; but there would be hair there, and on his face as well, if he did not shave it. He has hair beneath his arms just as I do, and eyebrows. Uraeus has none, and is smoother and more supple than any woman. He is humble and never raises his voice, but Muslak and his sailors are afraid of him. So are my soldiers, though they seem bold men. He came to our ship when we were at the tomb of an ancient king of Kemet, the seer says. This seer's name is Qanju. He could not tell me how I came to die, as Myt-ser'eu did, but told me how I was restored to life. I will write now of those things, though only briefly-what the seer said, and what Myt-ser'eu says.

She and I were sitting beneath a tree. We had drunk wine, and I lay down to sleep. She slept too. When she woke, she tried to awaken me and found that I was dead, although I had not been stabbed or strangled.

She ran back to this ship, where two priests were driving out demons. My soldiers carried my body back to the ship, where the healer labored over it, chanting, burning incense, and doing many other things. His name is Sahuset. At last I returned to life and began to write of what had befallen me in death. I know that is here, but I do not want to read it. Not now, and perhaps never. I know that I must die again, and that is more than enough. WE HAVE SEEN a river-horse, I think the first I have ever seen, for it seemed a new animal to me. It was black. It thrust its huge head from the water and regarded us through tiny eyes. Its mouth was immense, its teeth as long as my hand. I asked Muslak and Neht-nefret about these creatures, but neither knew much, only that river-horses are large and dangerous, and are sometimes hunted. That they are large I knew already, having seen that one; and would it not be a strange and wonderful thing if a beast so large were not dangerous? As for hunting them, I wished to hunt them myself. Any hunter would wish to hunt such an animal. Myt-ser'eu told me that earrings, combs, and the like are made from the teeth, also that a certain goddess takes the form of a river-horse and succors women in labor. One of my soldiers has a shield of river-horse hide, which he showed me. He said it makes the best shields of all, and makes fine whips. His name is Aahmes of Mennufer.

It was not until I asked the healer that I learned more. He seems a most learned man. The river-horses leave the river by night, invade men's fields, and devour their crops, trampling much and eating much. Thus they are hated. They destroy crocodiles, and so are loved and greatly respected. They overturn boats, and so are hated again. Kings and other great men hunt them in fleets of boats with fifty or a hundred hunters. No one ever rides these horses. On this point he warned me. When a man sees them on shore, he thinks they cannot run; but in truth they run very swiftly. That is good to know.

They are seldom seen as far north as this, he said, but as we go farther south, we will see more. I asked him and others to call me whenever they see one. WE HAVE BEEN wrestling-my men and I. It was good sport, something we should do often. Uro told me I had hurt his arm a few days ago, but it was well again. He said he did not resist me because I am his officer. I said, of course, that if he had resisted I would have killed him, and pretended to recall the incident. He said that though I may be a better swordsman he is a fine wrestler. Aahmes declared that he was a better wrestler than Uro. The Men of Parsa boasted that they were all much better wrestlers than any Men of Kemet. We had matches, wrestling as friends. Baginu beat his first opponent, but Aahmes beat Baginu. I offered to wrestle Aahmes. His friends objected, saying justly that he was tired from his earlier match with Baginu. I said I would wrestle Aahmes and Baginu together, knowing that if they wrestled as one their animosity could not endure. Myt-ser'eu objected and so did they, saying that would be unfair to me. I insisted they do it, and said they might throw me in the water if they could. Myt-ser'eu cried that the crocodiles would devour me. Uraeus whispered to her that no crocodile would harm me. She told me and I agreed, saying I was too tough for jaws like theirs.