Dream Boat

Chapter Twenty-eight

Few cult members were affected by the sweltering heat of the afternoon. Today was the first day of Ibis, a holiday, a day of celebration. Singing, dancing, poetry and games occupied their thoughts today, and when their bodies needed sustenance, there were limitless supplies of palm wine and fig cakes, honey bread and beer. The best beer, too. Black beer. Thick and potent, it went straight to their heads and made them happy. The musicians played on.

Amongst the frenzied jubilations, it was easy for the man who believed himself to be the incarnation of the Dark Destroyer to slip away unseen. This time of year, high summer, the grass was lush, the vegetation thick. From his eerie on the hill Seth could see and not be seen. As he would for all eternity, once he had worked his special magic.

'Tonight,' he reminded the girl from the laundry, 'we celebrate the Festival of Lamps.'

Would it be too risky to make his move during the actual ceremony? The danger stirred his loins, but he, being Seth, Controller of Man's Destiny, must repress his own desires. He must take no chances. Seven now, and only three to go. Too close, now, to his goal to gamble. He was the Measurer of Time, he must gauge his programme with care.

Studiously, he bandaged his favoured consort, Berenice, wrapping every finger individually, making sure the linen strips were taut and overlapped. The little laundress made no sound.

'It's not going to be easy,' he said, heaving Berenice on to the table, 'luring away that delightful creature who arrived with Zer from Rome.'

He paused for breath. He'd forgotten how plump his consort was. He wiped his brow, then proceeded to bandage up her thigh.

'That girl is smarter than the others, but she's worth persevering with.'

Seth liked a bit of spunk.

'All the same, the strategy requires careful planning, and it doesn't help that that Flavia-Magas bitch has gone to ground.'

One fucking burn — an accident, at that — and she's scuttled into hiding like a rabbit.

TT1 find her, of course.'

Seth can go anywhere he pleases.

'Oh, I'll find the timid cow.' No one can escape the Dark One when he is in pursuit. 'My magic, little laundry girl, is written in the heavens and the writing is the stars.'

He planted a parting peck on Berenice's cheek before applying the final bandage and then, with sturdy ropes, tied the mummy upright to its seat of woven rushes. By the time he'd finished, Seth was lathered like a racehorse.

With both hands flat on the table top, he waited for the wheezing to subside and as he did so, a daring plan occurred to him. What if he moved now? This afternoon, while the revels were in progress? Not such a gamble, really. Most of the common rabble were half-cut down there, it was only the other supervisors that need concern him — and that was where he could use his position to advantage.

'Why not!'

That's what he'd do. He needed to act fast, the stench was overwhelming and the herbs he'd hung had made precious little difference. There was, as his mother used to say, no time like the present.

She was wrong, of course.

The present is meaningless, it is the future which counts, and the future was in Seth's power and the future belonged to him. Why not bring the future forward? Advance the holy schedule?

He moved to the mouth of the cave, gazing down upon the bewigged heads of the drunken, swaying proselytes. They did not know the Dark One moved among them, seeking vengeance, wreaking his destruction. Therefore, in his mortal guise, he should easily be able to winkle out the little rabbit from her hole or, failing that, there was no reason why he couldn't reverse the order and get that spunky bitch from Rome up here instead. The quickness of the hand deceives the eye, and — oh, sweet Ra! — suppose he got the two at once! Flavia and whatshername. His loins jumped into action. The two together.

His breathing was harsh and ragged. After that, I only need one other.

And by then it wouldn't matter who he'd seized, or how, because by the time the hue and cry was raised, Seth would have worked his spells and turned these women into gods, real gods, not fakes like those who assembled in the temple and conned the people out of money.

'I,' he said, positioning the striking cobra mask on Berenice, 'am The Master of Darkness, the Sorcerer, the Measurer of Time. Only I have the power to transform my disciples into divinities and rule over you for all eternity.'

It occurred to him that the girl from the laundry was keeping very quiet while all this was going on. He hoped she wasn't jealous.

Shit! The bitch had gone and died on him! He kicked her hard on the shins, and slapped her face.

'Bitch!' He kicked her in the stomach. 'I haven't finished with you, yet.'

Laying into her with fists did not dampen his arousal, and he looked sadly at his magnificent erection. For a moment he considered taking the bitch anyway, but Seth was no barbarian.

He was the Commander of the Dark, Controller of Man's Destiny, Master of Restraint.

He did not shag dead whores for his satisfaction. Even when they cheated him.

He'd make her pay, that one. In the Afterlife, he'd bloody make her pay, you wait. Meanwhile, four masks remained unclaimed upon the table. He ran loving hands over them all. The vulture he'd allocated to that ugly duckling, Flavia and the gold mask of Osiris he would save till last. Oh, but how Osiris would be last! He thought of Mentu, with his wives and gold and cushions, and felt a prick of happiness at how the bastard would react when he finally realised that Seth the Dark One had prevailed.

Seth, who he had ignored and who had taken the ultimate revenge!

In resurrection he would rule the gods for all eternity. And when he died, that bastard Mentu would know who he would face the day his heart was weighed. Seth! To whom he for ever must bend the knee.

But he was doing something, what was it? Oh, yes, the masks. He had two choices, didn't he? The black jackal or the crocodile.

'There you go.' The man who had convinced himself that he was Seth set the heavy mask upon the shoulders of the little laundress. 'You worked with water, you treacherous bitch, you might as well spend eternity in it.'

The crocodile grinned inanely back.