"Give me your bow," Set shrieked, out of his mind, at the brutes accompanying them. Next moment, he had torn a weapon and quiver from one of the men's back, uncaring of the cut the arrowhead inflicted on the man's neck, and aimed it upward.
Bewildered, Simon followed the projectile's angle high into the air and saw, soaring gracefully in the current above them, the outline of an enormous bird, a majestic falcon... And then, something buzzed loudly past his ear, and he caught a flash of silver in the corner of his eyes and felt a shot of bristling air, as the arrow tore past him and into the sky. Simon's breath caught momentarily as he watched it fly, relaxing against when the falcon dodged it easily, staring again when the bird went into a steep drive, swooping down on them with its sharp talons extended …
Close up, Simon recognized the dark markings around the creature's eyes, an intricate pattern of dark swirls and flourishes. He had seen this particular falcon, an enormous peregrine, twice now: Once on his first day, a few hours away from Giza in the desert, and the second time in Zawte, just before he had had the vision.
The falcon came down far enough for them to touch, its sharp eyes fixed upon Set, who looked livid, screaming something incomprehensible, sounding quite unhinged, provoking the god, then it rose vertically back into the air with a mighty swipe of its wings, spiralling higher and higher, cackling in what was unmistakably a gloating laugh as it went.
Simon chuckled too, but one look from Set silenced him quickly. Set's features were distorted with murder, his scarlet eyes bulging madly, as he aimed another arrow, intent on shooting the bird down... Simon's brain reeled with fear: What was going on? Never before had Set lost control like this, completely possessed and emitting a sort of violent and sinister aura, as though there was nothing more important than the murder of the innocent creature sailing over their heads...
But Simon didn't want the falcon, which he had begun to think of as some kind of benevolent spirit, to get hurt and was, at the same time, suddenly afraid the frenzied deity might just kill everyone in sight …
The animal seemed to sense the danger, however, because it was letting itself be carried further up by the winds now, far out of the reach of Set's arrows, until it was a barely visible fleck against the bright, midday sun, and then it disappeared into the sky, still crowing.
A loud clatter, accompanied by a selection of swear words, brought Simon back to the present. Set had thrown away the bow, yelling furiously, his whole body shaking with something beyond anger, something more like insanity.
For half an hour they went in silence, Set still heaving, panting and glowering with rage, his knuckles pale as death where they stuck out from the back of his hand, his fingers clenched around the edge of the chariot; Simon, quite relieved that the falcon had gotten away unharmed, trying to puzzle out what had just happened: The only explanation he could think of was the animal's connection to Horus, whom Set loathed, though that seemed rather far-fetched … Then again, Set was as volatile as a box of TNT...
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The chariot began to slow down gradually, coming to a leisurely trot as they neared the center of the township. They had almost reached the temple of Khmun, which was nearly as magnificent as a palace and dedicated (as Simon knew) to Thoth, deity of wisdom and balance. A long line of inscribed columns, alternating with ibis-headed statues, rose in front of its entrance, and behind it, they could see the Nile river, its surface sparkling with sunlight.
Before Simon could so much as think whether they were going to stop at the sanctuary, a series of events happened that made his brain reel again:
A man, dressed in dirty rags, stepped in front of the chariot with his arms spread wide, holding in one hand a large, red and silver banner, in the other a lit torch, and wearing an expression of grim determination. Though he didn't seem perturbed by the monstrous mares advancing on him, a few of his companions obviously were, for they were trying to pull him back into the anonymity of the crowd as the beasts, and behind them the god and his human associate on their ride, grew closer. And then the chariot was nearly upon them, and they abandoned their futile endeavour, yielding back into the sidelines themselves.
The man, however, stood quite still in the middle of the road. He waited until the chariot was close enough to see the painting of Set and Apep on the banner, then set it on fire with his torch.
“DEATH FOR THE FALSE GODS!” he shouted as the flames roared upward.
More people around the man were backing away now, hurriedly turning their faces in an attempt to disguise themselves, to distance themselves from this one, lost soul, their expressions, of which only flickers were visible before they were obscured by shadow, masks of horror.
Who was this madman, daring to challenge Set's divine authority?
Simon stood frozen on the chariot, his eyes darting back and forth from Set to the man in their path: Set's waxen features had slipped for the tiniest moment, his eyes flashing, as the scene unfolded before his eyes, but now they were, once again, twisted by that silky, sinister smile, and there was much more danger in the curling of the god's lip than in his earlier outburst of fury. At a nod of his head, the apophi guarding the chariot rushed forward, cutting off escape routes, circling their quarry, while the other two thugs moved forward to detain the man.
Simon experienced a lurch in his stomach. He wanted to scream at the challenger to flee, but the man barely squared his shoulders, not even trying to escape, looking at them with an expression of defiance, as though he knew exactly where this was going to end and had long since come to terms with it.
For the fragment of a second, their eyes met, and Simon thought he could see something like accusation in the other's stern gaze.
The man turned toward Set, still holding the banner aloft, muttering something that might have been prayer underneath his breath, then roared, “KILL ME THEN! I DO NOT FEAR DEATH, FOR IT IS BETTER TO BE DEAD THAN SERVE A FALSE GOD!”
