The Age of Ra

must not be allowed to spread.'' The Setics guaranteed to give the Nephthysians their full backing, diplomatically and, if necessary, militarily.

The Osirisiac Hegemony was more cautious in its condemnation. Pharaoh Benedikt II of Germany, the country to which the revolving control of the Hegemonic Ecclesiastical Polyarchy had fallen this year, released a joint statement with his sister Queen Dagmar. ''Terrorism is ugly in any form,'' the statement ran, ''and terrorism against religion is the ugliest of all. Freegypt's political leadership must be held to account for the actions of its people. At the same time, the Hegemony would counsel the Nephthysians to take a measured view on this incursion. We recommend a programme of political sanctions and trade embargos. Any more forceful response runs the risk of adding new converts to the cause of this so-called Lightbringer, whoever he is. For terrorists to prosper, we need only greet their violence with more violence.''

The Horusites broadly supported the Osirisiac stance, although Pastor-President Wilkins was heard to comment that if this Lightbringer guy had trashed a few Neph-related temples, so what? In a way he was doing America and Europe a favour, and what the heck, maybe he could give some of those Setics a damn good butt- kicking while he was about it.

The Anubians, for their part, said very little, officially at least, although where death and destruction were concerned the mood of that introverted Pacific Rim empire was never hard to gauge. War had waxed and waned across the planet for the past hundred years, and recently the levels of fighting had been relatively subdued. The Lightbringer's actions seemed likely to trigger a fresh rise in the tide of conflict, and for the thanatophiliac Anubians that could only be good news. Slaughter suited the Jackal-Headed One, their dark deity. It brought more souls to his realm and boosted his status. The suicide rate in Japan went up significantly, a reliable indicator of Anubian cheerfulness.

The intensity of the Nephthysian sabre-rattling grew and grew. The Setics egged them on from the sidelines. The other religious power blocs looked on with interest and perhaps an element of smug glee. It did appear that Freegypt, godless Freegypt, the Unholy Land, for this first time in its heathen history, was about to take a hammering. Arguably, it was long overdue.

Even as he watched the bombs rain down on the northern outskirts of Luxor, David could not shake off the last lingering traces of his dream. It wasn't at all uncommon for Europeans to dream of Osiris and Isis and, moreover, dream of them in the role of parents. Supposedly such sleep visions were a visitation from the two gods themselves and that any message they imparted should be taken seriously and paid attention to.

So the priests said, anyway. David himself was minded to think that in this instance it had been just a dream, his subconscious working through the anxieties of his present situation and urging a return to the safety and security of the life he used to know.

He just wished the content of the dream hadn't been quite so explicit. It would take days for the image of his parents doing it to fade from memory.

The bombs burst in crimson hemispheres of light tinged with shimmering coronas of purple. The Libyan planes were striking at Luxor's commercial district. Steven had predicted this, saying the Nephthysians were likely to try and keep casualties to a minimum, at least to begin with. Property damage, yes. Human damage, no. All the same David feared that the blasts were straying near residential areas, and even hitting them.

The airstrike went on for another twenty minutes, a rippling, overlapping cascade of incandescent eruptions, each accompanied by a rolling rumble of impact that rattled the hotel windows. It was darkly, devastatingly, coruscatingly beautiful.

The Lightbringer toured the bombsites the next morning. He sighed over the flattened buildings, the factories and business premises turned to rubble, the great smoking holes that had once been shops and livelihoods. He lamented the deaths, of which there had been ten in total. Night watchmen mostly. A taxi driver. A family whose house had stood just a fraction too close to the target zone.

He comforted the bereaved in person. Then he addressed the crowds that were following him. He reassured them that none of the deaths would be in vain. This appalling attack demonstrated the enemy's absolute callousness, their and their goddess's lack of regard for human life. He stated his belief that the airstrike was only the beginning. The Nephthysians would mount further assaults, perhaps even a land invasion. It was time to put the next phase of his plan into action.

The citizens of Luxor were in full, vociferous agreement. They chanted the Lightbringer's name — ''Al Ashraqa! Al Ashraqa!'' They hoisted him up on their shoulders and paraded through the streets, declaring undying loyalty to him and death to all who opposed him.

Reporting the episode to David later, in private, he said, ''They were passing me around and shaking me up and down like a football trophy. I nearly got dropped on my arse several times.''

''Ah, the perils of being a beloved leader.''

''They do love me, though, don't they? It's true.''

''Just don't let them down,'' David said. ''Let them down, and being dropped on your arse will be the least of your worries. Today's adoring crowd can be tomorrow's baying-for-blood mob if you're not careful.''

''Oh, it's nag, nag, nag with you all the time, isn't it?''

''Only sounding a note of caution.''

''Why would I let them down, Dave?'' Steven asked brusquely. ''Why would you even think of saying that? Trust me, the Lightbringer is no false messiah. I've vowed to lead the world out of a Dark Age, into enlightenment, and that's what I'm going to do. Anyway, enough of that. We've a busy couple of days ahead of us. Pack your belongings.''

''I've no belongings to pack.''

''Good. Neither have I. We can start all the more quickly. Let's get to work.''

A little over seventy-two hours after the airstrike, Nephthysian forces moved in on Freegypt from three sides. Libyan armoured divisions rolled across the border and into the Western Desert, kicking up a towering plume of dust behind them, while Sudanese troops pushed up from the south along the course of the Nile, past Aswan, and Arabian warships took up position along the Red Sea coast, blockading ports and harbours from Hurghada to Foul Bay.

The Libyans arrived at Luxor the following day, halting at the river. Their Scarab tanks blasted ba across the water, not with a view to hitting anything in particular, more as a way of announcing that they were there.

The lack of answering fire from the town was disappointing to say the least. Unsettling, too. Not even the crackle of a machine gun. Nothing.

By arrangement, it was left to the Sudanese to make the first forays into Luxor on foot. Troops darted along the streets, going from house to house, kicking down doors and entering. At any moment they anticipated being ambushed and shot at with conventional weapons. They held their baboon-head ba lances at the ready.

Silence hung over everything. In the streets stray dogs sniffed and roamed with unusual boldness. In the houses the Sudanese discovered grandparents and children cowering in corners or behind furniture. All morning and afternoon the soldiers encountered only the town's infirm, the very elderly, and the young with their mothers. There appeared to be nobody else left in Luxor. Virtually everyone of sound body and arms-bearing age was gone.

18. Anubis

The palace of the god of the dead is built of bones, high on a snowy mountain peak. Its gateway is formed from the ribcage of a whale. Its floors are tiled with human teeth, toe joints, and knuckles. Femurs and shins make up its walls, interleaved like brickwork. Its windows are framed with skulls and elephant tusks. Its towers are, literally, ivory towers.

Anubis dwells here, alone. Alone, he sits and broods, a dark presence at the heart of this white place.