Olivia Lorenz

The gods were in an uproar. Rumour ran the length of the Nile, from the Delta cities of Egypt to the Aswan Dam. Even those deities still dwelling in the remote regions beyond the Fourth Cataract heard of the calamity, and all hastened to Luxor to take part in the council.

Bes, the squat, ugly god of protection and childbirth, hitched a ride on Sobek's felucca. He knew even as he clambered aboard that it was unlikely that they'd make it to the Temple of Karnak in time to sit at the council. As usual, any decision would be made by the highest members of the pantheon, and the rest of them would just abide by their decision. But Bes still wanted to go to Luxor, even if he'd get there late. It had been centuries since the gods had convened like this, and he hoped to catch up with some old friends.

He settled himself on a cushion close to the helm, where he could keep a watchful eye on Sobek. Now there was a mean-looking devil! Tall and rangy, he had a long, saturnine face that could transform into a crocodile's head whenever worshippers were nearby. In the glory days of Egypt, he'd ruled over the annual inundation of the river, representing both its positive and negative aspects. In the modern world, the flooding of the Nile was controlled by dams and sluices. Bes had heard that these days, Sobek earned his living by organising river cruises for tourists.

It was a bit of a comedown for a god, but it had happened to them all. Ancient deities worshipped for millennia had been rejected in favour of monotheistic religions. Bes had seen it before, when the heretic pharaoh Akhenaten had tried to impose his crazy idea of a single solar cult upon his subjects. That hadn't lasted very long: the people had preferred the comfort of having many gods, from whom they could pick their favourites.

But then had come Christianity, and, after that, Islam, and over time, the old gods had been forgotten. Temples and shrines lay empty, the only offering being the gradual creep of sand. The descendants of high priests tore down the temples and carted away the stone to build their houses.

As the worshippers and rites dwindled and died, so too did the power of the old gods. Bes shuddered to remember those dark times. Gods could not die unless at Heaven's command, and so instead they'd withered, become shadows of their former selves. They'd watched the monotheistic religions flourish and divide, until finally, some people began to return to the old ways.

Archaeologists came to examine the temples and tombs. Nobles and even an emperor came from afar to pay their respects. And then had come the discovery of the tomb of Tutankhamun--heir to that fool Akhenaten, of all people--and the modern world had gone crazy about ancient Egypt.

Of course, worship these days wasn't so much from following the proper rites and making the correct sacrifices. It was more slapdash than that. Any attention, be it academic or New Age, counted as a kind of worship--but the gods had moved with the times and were slowly regaining their power. The major deities of the pantheon, such as Re, Osiris, Hathor, Isis, and Horus, still seemed to be the most popular gods, just as they were back in the New Kingdom.

It was the more minor deities like Sobek who missed out, Bes thought. It was hardly fair, but then, fate was a strange thing. He stopped thinking so much and stretched out his rotund body on the cushion. It was a pleasant day in early spring, and the sun was blissfully warm on his skin. Bes smiled.

"What's so funny?" growled Sobek from the helm of the boat.

"I was just remembering the good old days," Bes said. "What fun we had back then! That business with Horus and Seth and the lettuce ... It still makes me laugh to think of it."

Sobek snorted. "You shouldn't laugh. Seth was tricked."

"It was fair enough after what he did to Horus," Bes argued.

"It's in the past. Let's not talk about it." Sobek turned away and stared at the wash the felucca made as it cut through the water.

Bes rolled over on the cushion to look at the crocodile god. Sobek was a miserable devil, but if there was one thing guaranteed to get him talking, albeit in complaint, it was a discussion of the good old days. For him to be so silent was out of character. Bes watched Sobek pick at a splinter of wood on the helm and wondered what was wrong.

He was about to ask, when suddenly Sobek jerked on the helm and the felucca veered sideways. He squawked in protest as he tumbled from the cushion. "What are you doing?"

Sobek nodded towards the right bank. "There's Khnum. Thought he might want a ride, too."

"Khnum? I haven't seen him in twelve centuries!"

Bes jumped back onto the cushion and peered over the side of the boat as Sobek tacked it closer to the riverbank. He waved enthusiastically at Khnum, the ram-headed god of fertility and creation. In the old days, they'd worked closely together, with Bes passing on information about which couples had conceived so that Khnum could fashion in clay the forms of the babies. Only when he'd lovingly sculpted each child would he hand it over to the greater gods, who would breathe life into the clay figures.

For millennia, Khnum's potter's wheel had kept turning, populating Egypt with pharaohs, slaves, nobles, scribes and workers. Then, when the crisis of faith happened and the people turned to monotheism, Khnum and other creator gods had realised that mankind could reproduce without divine assistance--or, if divine assistance was needed, humans simply called on their single God.

Bes thought it was a shame. It was his opinion that humans created without Khnum's help were ordinary looking, without a spark of true beauty. There were exceptions, of course, but in general, he preferred the times when Khnum would painstakingly create each new individual, using all of his considerable talent.

Now Bes looked forwards to a good gossip with his former colleague. He grinned as Khnum waded out into the river and hauled himself onto the deck.

"Thanks," Khnum said with a nod to Sobek, who just grunted in reply.

Bes eyed his old friend. When he wasn't sporting the curly-horned ram's head, Khnum was rather a handsome fellow, with straight, regular features, a full mouth and wide dark eyes that occasionally held a faraway expression. Today, they were wary and resigned, his state of mind emphasised by the way he hunched his body as he sat on the deck between Bes and Sobek.

"So," Bes asked, "what have you been doing with yourself all these years?"

Khnum shrugged. "You know. This and that."

"No, I don't know. Tell me what you found to do in these modern times. I hear Hathor is making a lot of money--and more importantly, she's collecting worship--with her beauty products and sex toys business. And, of course, Re went into the whole solar energy thing--predictable, but gaining in popularity. And Bastet, what a clever girl she was..."

Sobek gave an exaggerated sigh, interrupting Bes' monologue. "Didn't you ask Khnum a question?"

Bes sat up straight. "I did. And he didn't answer it." He clapped his hands at Khnum. "Come, come, lad! Let's hear it. What have you been up to? I imagine you're a famous potter or craftsman now. Our sacred Nile clay hasn't changed in two millennia, so you must still be making wonderful ceramics, even if you can't fashion mankind from clay any more."

Khnum shook his head, lifting his powerful shoulders in a shrug. "I haven't done anything."

Bes stared at him, puzzled. "Nothing at all?"

"Nothing." Khnum smiled at him, but he looked dispirited. "I spent a lot of time out in the Western Desert, and then this past half-millennia, I've been beyond the cataracts in the kingdom of Nubia."

"Not much to do out there," Sobek remarked.

"No," Khnum agreed. "I was repairing some of the old pyramids and tombs out there. The ones the archaeologists will never find because of the sand cover. But we know where they are."

"Not much point in fixing something that no one will see."

Bes glanced at Sobek in irritation. "You know as well as I do that the ba-birds of those who rest in those tombs see them. More than that, they need them." He turned and gave Khnum a beaming smile. "I think it's admirable that you should spend your time rebuilding tombs. After all, if you can help birth mankind then you can help them to maintain their status in the afterlife, too..."

Sobek snorted, but Khnum smiled gratefully.

"So you both heard the summons, then?" he asked.

Bes raised his eyebrows. "Summons? No, I just heard a rumour that Osiris' soul-jar had been destroyed, and that Banebdjedet was loose with nowhere to take shelter. No idea how it happened. You'd think that Osiris would be careful with his soul. It's confusing enough that he split himself into two separate entities, but to keep part of himself in a jar ... why, it's almost like being human, isn't it? The spirit contained within a clay form."

Khnum laughed. "You make it sound so poetic. What about you, Sobek?"

The crocodile god corrected their course and squinted up at the sails. "I heard a rumour, too: that Seth caused the jar to break. Then I heard that the gods would convene at Karnak, and so I set sail at once to see if it was true."

"We still won't get there in time to hear the final decision," Bes said with a disappointed sigh. "Not at the speed we're travelling."

"We're sailing against the current," Sobek reminded him. "If you wanted to get there faster, you should have taken the chariot with Sekhmet."

Bes shuddered. "No, thank you! A lovely lady, but she's in with those war-mongers, and let me tell you, it's difficult enough being the god of protection as it is these days without inviting trouble by hanging around with a crowd like that."

Sobek grimaced, indicating Khnum.

Bes frowned, and then his brow cleared and he hurried to apologise. "I'm so sorry, Khnum. I completely forgot about that business with your wife."

He felt guilty as he saw a shadow pass over Khnum's face. Obviously, the creator god was still sensitive about the messy divorce that had taken place back in the Ptolemaic period of Egypt's history. Bes could have told his friend that it would all end in tears: the marriage of Menhit, a stunning, savage Nubian war goddess, and the thoughtful, artistic Khnum had little chance of working. None of the gods had been surprised when Menhit ran off with Onuris, a war god who hung out with Sekhmet and the other dangerous deities who liked causing trouble. Khnum had been left with a young son, Hike, whom he'd fashioned himself on his potter's wheel.

Thinking of the lad prompted Bes to ask, "And how's Hike?"

Khnum smiled, his expression alive for the first time that day. "He's great. You remember he was promoted to a minor magic and medicine deity? He decided to continue in that field. He's a surgeon."

"How delightful! And the gratitude of his patients is worship enough for him, I imagine. It must be the same amount that I get, although Hike is earning it in the modern way, and I'm just lucky."

Khnum looked at him. "Where childbirth and babies are concerned, I guess all women remain superstitious."

"Not just women, but men, too," Bes said fondly. "Did I tell you I had fifteen offerings from men last month? Mostly locals, of course, but these days, there are plenty of foreigners who come here to ask for a child or to ask my blessing on their newborns..."

"I've never understood why those foreigners should want to come here," Sobek said abruptly. "Egypt is only a narrow strip of black earth surrounded by red desert. This is a place of death, not life."

"You're such a misery!"

"Look at it," Sobek continued, gesturing at either side of the riverbanks. "Cliffs to the left and collapsing temples to the right. Scorching sun overhead. There's nothing to recommend it."

"Apart from a fascinating history and a vast pantheon of gods," Bes said, sitting up and jabbing a finger at Sobek. "And you're one of those gods. Hathor's tits, you ferry tourists up and down our sacred Nile practically every day!"

"Maybe I'm bored with it." Sobek's expression was dark with disappointment. "This is my river. I know I share it with Hapi, but it was mine first."

Bes rolled his eyes. "I thought it was Khnum's first."

The creator god raised his hands. "Don't look at me. I can barely keep track of the different spheres of our influence. I started out as the god of the inundation a long time ago, but I prefer getting my hands dirty in a more creative way. I'm happy with my potter's wheel and a lump of Nile clay."

"You might be happy, but I'm not," Sobek snapped. "The Nile is supposed to flood on my command. The people are supposed to bring me gifts to encourage good harvest. It's all right for you, Bes. Your sphere of influence is on something mysterious and divinely important. No man would ever dismiss childbirth to a planning committee the way they did the Nile, especially if it was his child growing in the belly of his woman."

"The modern world does have ways of ensuring conception," Bes told him. "Men like to think they can control many things in nature, but they cannot. Just because they build dams to control the Nile flood, or they make babies in test-tubes, it doesn't mean we're not wanted or needed any more."

"Wait." Sobek stilled the helm and stood with his head cocked to one side. "Do you hear that?"

Bes listened, hearing the chatter of dozens of divine voices.

"They're annoyed that I didn't reach Karnak in time for the council," Khnum said quietly. "Re will make an announcement in a moment."

"You were summoned?" Bes asked, frowning.

Khnum nodded. "Yes, I told you..."

"Shh!" Sobek held up a hand for silence, and they all looked up towards the face of the sun high above them.

Re was the head of the gods for the sole reason that his rays saw everything that happened on the earth, at least during daylight hours. Bes had always found him to be rather pompous and unapproachable, but he tried to look attentive as the sun god made his announcement.

Gods of Egypt, boomed Re in his dry tones, hear the decree of the High Council of the Upper Pantheon! Know this, o denizens of Kemet: that on this day, Osiris, the Lord of the Underworld, did have broken his most precious possession--the soul-jar of his spirit Banebdjedet, who now does roam without substance or home through the ruins of Karnak...

Bes yawned. "By Min's balls, I wish he'd get on with it."

Khnum put a hand over his mouth to stop from laughing out loud.

Also on this day, continued Re, we did summon the High Council and also several amongst our number whom we thought could help in this matter. May it be noted that Seth, Lord of Darkness, did not respond to our summons...

Sobek turned the helm, and the rudder made a small splash.

A decision was reached without some of our council being present, Re droned, and this is what was decided. That Banebdjedet should remain in Karnak for his own safety, and for the safety of Osiris, for the soul and the god should not be separated. I myself will safeguard Banebdjedet during the day; at night, the ba-birds of our most noble pharaohs shall keep watch alongside Khonsu.

"Stuck in Karnak!" Bes exclaimed. "Well, at least he won't get bored there. All those tourists, and, of course, the son et lumiere. That'll drive any self-respecting ba mad within a few days."

These measures are temporary. Re's stentorian voice drowned out the rest of Bes' comment. We are commissioning a new soul-jar, the finest and most beautiful that can be made; and even though our potter did not deign to show himself, we are certain that Khnum can create a worthy home for Banebdjedet within a few days.

Bes glanced at Khnum. "You okay? You don't look too happy. This is the commission of the millennia. You won't have had a project like this since you made Osiris' original soul-jar."

"I know," he said, dejection rather than excitement in every line of his body.

Sobek leaned on the helm. "So what's the problem?"

Khnum sighed and raked his hands through his hair. "You want to know why I went into the desert for so long and rebuilt tombs rather than do anything creative? It wasn't because of Menhit and the divorce. It's not because I'm lacking inspiration, either. I simply don't have the motivation. That's my problem--no motivation."

Sobek raised his eyebrows. "The most senior members of the pantheon told you to make a new soul-jar in a few days. Isn't that motivation enough?"

"It doesn't work like that." Khnum gazed at them both, his fists bunched in frustration. "I can't create something without a spark. Even for the simplest jar, there needs to be something divine. Inspiration is one thing; the act of creation needs to be nurtured if the finished piece is to be a thing of beauty. It can't be forced. It just ... happens."

"Like falling in love," Bes said softly.

Khnum nodded. "Yes. Like falling in love."

Sobek shook his head and returned his attention to their course. "Heaven save me from you artistic types," he muttered. "I don't understand you at all."