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rjalker · 6 months ago

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oh boy Ka the Appalling (by L. Sprague de Camp, originally published in August 1958, Fantastic Universe Science Fiction magazine.) has 8,530 words. Took up 18 pages in the original magazine. Which means around 500 words per page.

probably some typos still. I'll fix them later.

Public domain.

Official Blurb:

It is a dangerous thing to invoke a God, particularly when this God demands human sacrifices and offerings.

My summary:

Gezun, a visitor to a foreign city, is an asshole who decides to kill a cat that stole his lunch. He is then immediately set upon by a mob seeking revenge, and only escapes with the help of an old thief named Ugaph, who has a beautiful young daughter named Ro that Gezun immediately sets his eyes on. After a day of Ro teaching Gezun how to catch bats to feed their blood to Ugaph's demon familiar, Tety, who takes the form of a fennec fox, Ugaph is almost caught on his latest heist because his daughter wasn't there to cause a distraction for him, and bemoans his constant bad luck to his guest later that night. That's when Gezun comes up with the idea of how the two of them can get rich quick: Invent the most terrifying god they can imagine, to trick the city into paying them donations to keep his wrath at bay. They call this invented god Ka the Appalling, and quickly go about revealing him to the masses. But the two men are at odds with one another. Gezun wants to own Ro, and continually assaults her until she gives in, and wants his half of the money they've mad so far. But Ugaph wants his daughter to marry a rich man, and insists he needs all of the money so far to build a temple to complete the scam and secure them endless wealth. Both men are sceptics, and do not believe in the existance of gods. But that does not stop the city from believing in the truth of Ka the Appalling, and if the two would only be less sceptical, they would have remembered in time that belief is what makes a god a god.

8,500 words long. Casual misogyny and not-explicit sexual harassment and assault that's portrayed as romantic because we just can't have nice things and men really want to pretend that a woman saying no means she's actually saying yes. Racist caricatures that pretend all non-Christian religions do human sacrifice.

(Archived read-more link)

As he ran through the streets of Typhon, Gezun of Gadaira recalled the words of the Ausonian adept he had met in Maxia:

“Typhon rises in black and purple from the mystic margins of the Sea of Thesh, amid the towering tombs of kings who reigned in splendor over Setesh when mighty Torrutseish was but a village and golden Kerne[E with pointy hat] but an empty stretch of beach. No man knows the total tale of Typhon’s history, or the convolutions of its streets and secret passages, or the hoarded treasures of its kings, or the hidden powers of its wizards…”

Just now Gezun would gladly have given the hoarded treasure of the Seteshan kings to be carried far from this accursed place. For a youth of nineteenth, he had seen much since slavers had stolen him from his home in windy Lorsk in Pusad[A with pointy hat], or Poseidonis as the Hesperians called it. But he had never seen a city where people tried to tear a man to bits for killing a cat.

He rounded a corner as stones whizzed past him. If there had been only a few Typhonians he would not have fled. As it was, he had laid out two with his staff before the throng had become too many to handle, even though he was nearly twice their size.

For the Seteshans were a small people, dark, slender, hatched-faced and scant of beard, while Gezun was a typical Lorska: over six feet before he had reached his full growth, with the bold rugged features, the big sharp nose, beetling brow, and square jutting jaw of his folk. His skin was almost as dark as a Seteshan’s. His hair was thick, black, and curly, and he had a respectable beard despite his youth. A girl in Yavan had told him he looked like a god—not the grim sort of god who broods on people’s sins and dispenses doom by thunderbolts, but the kind who roams the earth teaching people to make wine and looking for likely mortal maids on whom to get demigods.

In the open, he could have outrun most Seteshans. But in these twisted streets he hesitated at turnings long enough to let the mob gain back what they had lost in the straight stretches. Furthermore, with such a large crowd, there were bound to be some swift runners. These pressed to the front. Their teeth gleamed, their eyes glared, and foam blew back from their chins. They bore knives, stones, bricks—whatever they had snatched up. Their panting breaths were like the hissing of a thousand snakes.

Gezun passed a tavern where a pair of King Zeremab’s archers lounged in the doorway. He slid to a stop and pointed back at the mob.

“They—look—help me—” he gasped.

The soldiers glanced. The mob shrieked: Slay the cat-killer! Burn the blasphemer! Flay the foul foreigner!”

The soldiers looked at one another. One cried: “Slay the foreign devil!” and drew his dagger.

Gezun hit him over the ear with his staff and knocked him sprawling. The other archer started forward but fell over his companion. Gezun ran on, a corner of his cloak flapping behind him like a flag.

Passing a potter’s stall, he jerked the rack of finished pots so that it fell forward with a crash, filling the street with bouncing, rolling, and smashing pots. The obstacle hardly checked the mob. The leaders cleared the pots in long leaps. The rest flowed over them like some natural force. A few fell, but the rest trampled on and scrambled over the fallen, heedless of what bones of their own folk they broke if they could only get at the hated alien.

Another corner. Gezun’s teeth showed too as he gasped. His staff got heavier with every stride. Should he throw it away or keep it for his last stand? He had a short bronze Tartessian sword under his cloak, but with the staff he might be able to hold the mob at arm’s length. The sword, though deadlier, would let them close enough to fasten on him like the giant leeches of the Tritonian Sea and pull him down.

With a burst of speed, Gezun gained enough so that he turned one corner before the mob rounded the last one. Coming out upon a street in which Gezun was not to be seen, the mob hesitated before dividing like a stream of ants, half going each way.

Gezun made another turn, into a mere alley, not wide enough to let two men pass unless they sidled past one another. It was so crooked he could only see along it a few paces. On either side rose high walls of stone or brick, without openings, save once in a while a stout wooden door. Gezun knew enough of Seteshan customs not to expect help there.

The alley ended. Gezun faced another wall across the path. He was in a cul-de-sac. The walls rose smoothly around him, save where to one side there was a gap a pace wide between two houses. The space was blocked up to the height of a man by a mass of rubble from some earlier edifice, which had been simply pushed into the place between the houses when they were built. A man could climb over the fall masonry, but beyond it rose the wall of still another house. So the space between the houses formed another cul-de-sac, branching off from the main one.

The sound of the mob, muted for the moment, rose again. Plainly, they were coming down the alley to see if he had taken refuge there. The crowd had put off an offshoot, like a tendril, to probe all nearby cavities for its prey. In such a narrow space they could come at him only one or two at a time. If they were mere soldiers he might hold them off, at least until he dropped from exhaustion or somebody fetched a bow to shoot him. But with a mob of fanatics, those behind would push those in front, willing or not, up against Gezun faster than he could knock or cut them down. So the end would be the same, with the swarm fastening on him, using teeth and nails if there was no room to wield a weapon. Teeth and nails would kill one just as dead as swords and spears, and rather more painfully.

Gezun pounded on the nearest door. The copper shutter that closed the peep-hole on the inside moved aside. A black Seteshan eye looked out.

“Let me in,” said Gezun. “I am beset.”

The shutter moved back into place. Gezun angrily thrust at it with his staff, but it held. He was not surprised. The noise of the mob grew louder.

The pile of rubble might make a better place for a last stand than the alley proper. Not only was the gap between the houses narrower, but also by mounting the pile one could make the pursuers climb up and whack them on the sconce as they came.

Gezun sprang into the gap and had begun to climb the pile when a voice said: “In here, foreign devil!”

Between the pile of rubble and the wall of the right-hand house, and opening had appeared. A face, obscured by deep shadow, looked up.

“Hasten!” said the face.

The crowd-noises sounded as if they were just around the next bend.

Gezun lowered his large feet into the hole and squeezed through. His feet found a dirt floor.

“Out of the way, fool!” said the face. The owner of the face pushed Gezun aside and thrust a piece of old rotten wood into the opening. It cut off most of the light, though since the fit was not tight, some light came into the tunnel around the wood. The tunnel itself was not utterly dark. A flickering light came around the first bend.

“Come,” said the man. He was a small brown Seteshan in a long dirty robe. He had sharp irregular features and crooked teeth. He was bald save for gray tufts that stood out over each ear.

The man led the way down the tunnel, muttering: “Hurry, barbarian clod! They may poke around and find my tunnel. And watch your head.”

The last advice was too late; Gezun had just hit his forehead on a cross-beam. The tunnel had been built for Seteshans, not towering Pusadians. The roof had been shored up by odd bits of timber, so that to walk through the tunnel one had to duck and dodge with every step. Gezun followed, bent over, his head ringing. He still gasped from the run; his tunic was sweat-soaked.

Around the corner, a Seteshan girl held a rushlight. She walked ahead of the two men, shielding the light with her hand. The tunnel bent this way and that but seemed to be going deeper. The soil, powder-dry near the surface, became moist as they went down. The blistering heat of the Seteshan summer gave way to delicious cool.

The tunnel branched and forked. Gezun tried to remember his turnings but soon gave up.

The tunnel became a regular structure of dressed stone, as if they had reached the crypt of some large building. They halted where the tunnel opened out into a series of rooms. The girl lit two more rushlights. Gezun saw that she was handsome in a slender birdlike way, though she looked a little like the man. Like him she had blue-black hair and olive-brown skin.

“Sit,” said the man.

Gezun sank down on a bench and threw off his cloak. He sat holding his head and drinking in the cool air. He sneezed, wiped the drying sweat from his face with a corner of his cloak, and said:

“How came you to save me?”

“I saw the start of the chase,” said the man. “I went into my tunnels and later heard the sounds of the mob near another of my entrances. You must have circled round and nearly returned to your starting-place.”

“I don’t know Typhon well.”

“So I see. Who are you?”

“Gezun of Gadaira.”

“Where is that?”

“Far to the west. I was born in Poseidonis.”

“Of that I have heard; a sinking land in the sea.”

“Who are you, sir?”

“Ugaph the son of Shepsaa. This is my daughter Ro. What do you so far from home?”

“I like to wander. I make a living as a wizard.”

“You a wizard? Ha!”

“I was a pupil of the great Sancheth Sar.”

“I never heard of him, and if he was not a Seteshan he cannot have amounted to much.”

Gezun shrugged. “I let my clients praise me.”

“When got you here?”

“Yesterday. I was strolling about, minding my own business—”

“Slowly, or I cannot understand. You speak our tongue barbarously.”

“I was minding my own business and enjoying the sights of the city when your people tried to kill me.”

“What led you to do so mad a thing as to slay a cat?”

“I bought a loaf and a fish in the agora for my dinner. Then I went to a tavern by the side of the agora. I bought a mug of barley-beer, and the tavener cooked my fish. I had my dinner laid out on the table outside the tavern and had just turned my head to look at a pretty girl, when this wretched cat leaped to the table and made off with my fish. I struck it with my staff and killed it, and was scraping the dirt off my fish when the mob began screaming and throwing things. By Lyr’s barnacles, why?”

“Cats are sacred to Shekmet. Since nobody hinders them, they take what they like.”

“Why don’t you kill me, then?”

Ugaph chuckled. “I have no love for the official cults. Priests magnify the powers of their gods to awe their dupes. Often I doubt if gods exist.”

“Really? I knew a philosopher in Gadaira who said there were no gods or spirits, but I’ve known too many supernatural beings for such an extreme view.”

Ugaph waved a hand. “Oh, spirits exist. In fact I, who dabble in magic, have my own familiar. But as for gods—well, there are all sorts of theories. Some say they are created by people’s belief in them.”

“Then let’s be careful not to believe in them, lest they get power over us. But what of my fate?”

“I can use you, young man.”

“For what?”

“Have you ever hunted bats?”

“No. Why should anybody hunt bats?”

“I have use for them. My daughter has been getting them for me while I went about my business.”

“What business is that?”

“I am a collector. As I was saying, Ro has been getting my bats, but I need her help in my business. Moreover she is likelier to catch a rich husband in the city than prowling dusty tombs.”

“I see.”

“And furthermore, other members of my profession sometimes try to take from me the part of these tunnels I have marked out for my own, and I need a strong arm and a keen blade to drive them out. So if you will serve as my apprentice, I will hide you, disguise you, and protect you from the superstitious mob.”

“Will you also feed my and replace my garments when they wear out?”

“Surely, surely.”

“Then let’s begin. I was hungry when the mob drove me from my dinner, and now I’m ravenous.”

Ugaph wrinkled his nose. “You are not backward. Ro, get Gezun something to eat.”

The girl went to the adjoining chamber. Gezun said: “I know not how you can call collecting a business. I’ve heard of people who spent trade-metal that way, but never of anybody who made it.”

“”That is simple. I am a benefactor of the people of Typhon.”

“Oh?”

“You see, the temples are full of loot which the priests have fleeced the folk by playing on their fears. I recover this stolen wealth and put it back into circulation. Like this.” Ugaph showed a handful of gold, silver, and gems. The pieces of metal seemed to have been broken or cut from larger structures.

Gezun looked at the man with more respect. Of all thieves, the temple-thief needed the most nerve, because of what the priests did if they caught him. The priests of Typhon, especially, were known for the ingenuity of their human sacrifices. Ro came in with a plate of food.

“Thank you, beautiful.” said Gezun.

Ugaph said: “Cast no lustful eyes thither, Master Gezun. A daughter of Setesh mates not with foreign devils. It were both immoral and unlawful. Nor think to flout me behind my back, for I have magical powers. I shall watch your everymove from afar.”

“So?” said Gezun, stuffing his mouth.

___

Next morning Gezun went to the public stables, where he had left his ass, to get his belongings. Ugaph had fitted him out to look like a Seteshan. Like other commoners of Typhon, he wore only sandals and a linen kilt. His whole head and face had been shaved, save for a short braided scalp-lock behind and a narrow little goatee on his chin. He had left his sword and staff in the tunnels, the former because commoners were not allowed to carry them, the latter because it might help some member of yesterday’s mob to recognize him.

When he had gotten back his gear and paid for fodder for his ass, Gezun rejoined Ugaph and his daughter. Ugaph said: “I will take your bags to our quarters while Ro shows you how to catch bats.”

Gezun hesitated about giving up his bags, but Ro would serve as hostage for them. Ro carried two bags herself, one empty and the other containing food and rushlights.

“Let me bear that for you,” Gezun said.

“I see your tribe of barbarians spoils its women,” said Ugaph. “Farewell.”

Ro led Gezun west, away from the waterfront, picking her way through the maze of crooked streets. Typhon, Gezun thought, stank even worse than Torrutseish. After an hour’s walk they passed through a gate in the wall. Beyond the wall, the city thinned out to suburbs. Beyond the suburbs lay fields criss-crossed by irrigation-ditches. Beyond the fields, on the skyline, lines of squat, bulky structures rose from the desert sands. Gezun had seen these on his way to Typhon.

“What are those?” he asked.

“The tombs of our kings,” said Ro.

Some of the structures were true pyramids, some truncated pyramids, some stepped pyramids. The tallest of the true pyramids towered hundreds of feet high. Some were new, surrounded by complexes of walls, courts, and temples; others were old, with the complexes robbed of their stones and the pyramids themselves crumbling at the edges.

As they neared the tombs, Gezun noticed the newer ones seemed manned. Soldiers walked the walls of the complexes, and he glimpsed priests in the courtyards.

“Who are those people?” he asked.

“The attendants of the kings of his dynasty, the ancestors of King Zeremab, on whom be life, health, and strength.”

“What about the older tombs, those that seem to be falling down?”

“King Zeremab cares nought for the ghosts of kings of former dynasties. So their tombs have all been plundered and lie open to us.”

“Is that where we’re going?”

“Aye. I thought we should try to the tomb of King Khephru. It has many passages where bats seek refuge during the day.”

“Now what in the seven hells does your father want bats for?”

Ro smiled. “His familiar has a taste for bats’ blood.”

“You mean a familiar demon?”

“Aye, Tety. Here is Khepru’s tomb.”

She led him into the ruined courtyard, where the sand covered most of the pavement and half buried such statues as remained. The original entrance to the pyramids had been blocked by blocks of granite, but spoilers had bored through the softer limestone around the granite.

“What your step,” said Ro, leaping up the first few tiers of stone. “Are you good at making fire?”

“None better.” Gezun got out his tinder-box and fire-stones and in a quarter-hour had a rushlight lit. Ro led him into the passage, which sloped down and forked. By the light of the rushcandle Gezun saw more forks.

“By the beard of Roi! This place is like a rabbit-warren,” he said.

“Not so loud; you will frighten the bats.”

___

They crept along, talking in whispers. Presently Ro pointed to a little black blob on the roof of the passage. She stole up and snatched it. The bat fluttered and squeaked in her grasp, but she popped it into the bag.

“Now you try,” she said.

Gezun missed his first snatch; the awakened bat whirled off into the darkness. There was a chorus of squeaks and a sense of fluttering.

“Clumsy oaf!” whispered Ro. “Now we must wait for them to quiet down again.”

“A creepy place! One would expect it to be haunted.”

“Some are. King Amentik’s tomb has a deadly demon with wings, beak, and claws. Three men who invaded it were torn to bits.”

Gezun tried for another bat and caught it. The bat bit his fingers, but the tiny teeth failed to draw blood.

In exploring one passage they came to a place where a large block had fallen from the ceiling. Gezun trod on something hard and looked down. There were human bones on the floor, some half under the block.

“The kings put such in their tombs to foil robbers,” said Ro. “When you step on a particular stone—boom! The ceiling falls on your head, or you fall through a trapdoor. I know many such traps, some not yet sprung.”

“Hm. I see your father cares not what befalls me when I go to hunt bats by myself.”

“Oh, no! We do not wish you slain while you are still useful to us!”

“How kind of you!”

“Fear not; I shall tell you where to hunt each day.”

After several hours’ hunting, the bat-bag was comfortably full of squeaking, fluttering captives. It moved with a life of its own.

“That will do for today,” said Ro. “Let us go back to the entrance and eat.”

“I hope you know your wave through this maze. Why did the kings put all these tunnels in their tombs? To mislead tespassers?”

“Partly, but also to serve as meeting-places for their cults and to store their treasure, their archives, and the mummies of their kin. You’ll find little treasure now, though.”

At the entrance they opened the food-bag. When Gezun had eaten and drunk he looked more closely at Ro. She was a pretty little thing. Like most women of Typhon she wore a tight short dress that covered her from knee to midriff. A strip rose from the front of the dress, between her bare beasts, and encircled her neck.

Gezun ran a hand up and down her body. She slapped the hand away. “My father warned you! Tety might be watching.”

Gezun let it go. There would be more opportunities.

___

Back in Ugaph’s quarters, Ro cut the throats of the bats and bled them into a bowl, while Ugaph burned incense and chanted an incantation. When Ro had finished, there was hardly more than a big spoonful of blood in the bowl. Something appeared in the magic circle Ugaph had drawn.

At first Gezun thought it was a cat, but it was a kind of small fox with a snub nose and enormous ears. It frisked about the circle and whined. Ugaph picked up the bowl, saying:

“What news, Tety?”

The familiar spoke in a shrill bark: “The ruby in the left eye of the statue of Ip, in the temple of Ip, is loose.”

“Not very helpful, as the statue is higher than a man and set back from a railing. What else?”

“The front rung in the chair of the high-priest in the temple of Neb is also loose. I think not that you can get the rung out without tools, but the golden sheathing is cracked and easily torn off…”

After several such responses, Tety said: “I told you all. Now my blood!”

Ugaph put the bowl inside the circle. The beast lapped up the blood and vanished.

“What’s that?” asked Gezun.

“A fennec,” said Ugaph. “Now that you are an initiate bat-hunter, I shall take Ro tomorrow. I will try that ruby in the temple of Ip. If she can make a disturbance—say by fainting—I’ll knock the gem from its socket with that staff of yours and push it into a recess in the base of the statue. It is an ornate thing, full of hiding-places. Then after a few days I’ll slip back in and take the ruby.”

“Ho!” said Gezun. “You’ll not send me hunting bats by myself yet. Think you I wish to be gobbled by some demon or fall through a trapdoor?”

“Ro can tell you want to do.”

“I won’t do it alone.”

“You shall!”

“I shall not.”

“I’ll set the mob on you.”

“Try it. They’d be interested in your little hoard of stolen sacred things.”

“Well t hen, when will you be able to hunt by yourself?”

“It will take many days of Ro’s guidance.”

“He’s right, father,” said Ro. “If we ask too great risks from him, he’ll flee.”

“Oh, very well, very well. Though so far you’ve been of no use to me, and you eat enough for three.”

___

Next day Ugaph, still grumbling, departed on his business while Gezun and Ro went back to the tombs. Again Gezun made exploratory passes and was rebuffed. When he pulled her into his arms she burst into tears, babbling of her father and his demons. Gezun let her go, not because he feared Ugaph and Tety, but because he was of too kindly a nature to make the girl suffer.

So it went for a quarter-moon. Gezun made advances and accepted repulses until one day Ro began to weep almost before he started.

“What now?” he asked.

“Oh, Gezun, see you not? I am truly fond of you; it is all I can do to hold you off. When you look at me with those great brown eyes my sinews turn to water. Yet if you got me with child, my father would slay me.”

“I’ll take care of him.”

“You talk folly. He could cut our throats any night while you like snoring like a cataract.”

“Then lets not go back to your catacombs but flee to Kham.”

“Father would charge you with felicide before the magistrate, and King Zeremab’s chariots would overtake us on the road.”

“Shall I cut your father’s throat, then?”

“Nay, not that! I should be accursed forever!”

“Oh, come, you don’t believe that. Your father’s a sceptic.”

“I know not what to believe. He cares nought for me. All he wants is for me to keep my virginity until he has sold me to a rich husband. As though one of Typhon’s lords wold wed the daughter of a temple-thief. But I would not have him slain, especially as Tety might warn him and give him a chance to strike first.”

___

Back in the hideaway they found Ugaph pale and trembly.

“It was a near thing today,” he said. “A very near thing. I tried for that ruby in Ip’s eye and came a hair’s breadth from being caught.”

“What happened?” said Gezun.

“I started to thrust with the staff at the eye when a priest came around the corner. He called me a blaspheming robber. He would have given me up to the soldiers had I not pacified him with a large offering and a tale of wishing to draw magical power from the statue. Now I must hide for a time. This priest will have warned his colleagues to watch for me.”

“Let me get you supper,” said Ro. “Then you’ll feel better.”

“It is all your fault for not having come with me. I am a poor old benefactor of humanity, but nobody gives me a chance. If there were gods, they would not let the universe run so unjustly.”

All through supper, Ugaph whined about the way the world treated him. After supper, over a game of checkers with Gezun, he said:

“For once I think you foreigners are right about Setesh.”

“How so?”

“They are a peevish, ungrateful lot, blindly groveling before the most cruel and gloomy gods their priests can imagine, while spurning enlighteners like me.”

“Agile fellows!”

Ugaph, who seldom laughed and never saw the point of joke, went on: “Curse of the green hippopotamus, that one of my virtue should be so put upon! And this is no life for my daughter. How shall she catch a rich husband while lurking in these crypts?”

“Why not change your ways?”

“What can I do? There is no reward for the lifter of superstition. Whoever thinks up some new and bloodthirstier divinity makes his fortune, whilst I starve in squalor—”

“Why not make our fortunes the same way?”

Ugaph stopped in mid-move, holding a draftsman. “My boy, forgive me occasional harsh words. That was a proposal of genius.”

“We’ll make our god the ghastliest of all. He shall hate everybody and pursue his victims into the third and fourth generation unless propitiated by huge offerings.”

“Just so! He shall demand human sacrifices, to be slain with hideous tortures.”

“Why human sacrifices?”

“The Typhonians love the spectacle.”

“Well,” said Gezun doubtfully, “I don’t mind fleecing Typhonians, but that’s going too far.”

“It is a common custom here.”

“So? How do you go about it?”

“One gets a license.”

“But whom do you sacrifice?”

“One buys slaves or kidnaps a foreigner off the street. Nobody minds if he is not of a nation with whom the king has a treaty.”

“You mean I could have been seized by some gang all the time I’ve been here and hauled off to a temple for carving?”

“Surely, surely. Who cares for foreign devils?”

“Well, I care for this foreign devil and will not encourage a practice that might bring my own doom. Besides, it’s not a Pusadian custom. If you want me help there shall be no more talk of that.”

___

Ugaph argued, sulked, and gave in. Thus it came to pass that, a quater-moon later, a peasant on the outskirts of Typhon, hoeing his plot, struck a bronzen tablet.

“Praise be to Neb!” he cried as he dug it up and brushed the dirt off. The tablet was inscribed, though he could not read. It weighed about a pound.

Two men had been sauntering down the nearby road and came over: a snaffle-toothed middle-aged Seteshan and a gigantic young foreigner.

“What is that?” asked the middle-aged one.

“I have done nought wrong, my lord,” said the peasant. “I found this just now. It was on this plot, which I own in freehold, and so belongs to me.”

“What will you do with it?”

“Sell it to a dealer in metals, my lord.”

“Hm. Let’s have a look at it.”

The peasant put the tablet behind him. He could not hide it in his clothes, because he wore none. “No you don’t, sir. You will snatch it and run, and then where shall I be?”

“All right, you hold it and let me look at it.”

Some peasants in the neighboring fields came over to see what was going on. Some travelers on the road stopped too, so presently there were a score of people around Ugaph, Gezun, and the farmer. Ugaph tilted the plaque andread loudly:

“I, Ka the Appalling, eldest and father of the gods, creator and master of the seven universes, shall soon come to dwell in Typhon in the land of Setesh. Woe to the sinners of Typhon! Now you shall be under my very eye. For, I am a great, fierce, and jealous god, at whose very name the other gods tremble. Where they beat you with switches, I shall beat you with cudgels; where they smote the sinner, I shall smite all his kin, neighbors, and friends. Repent ere it I too late! I, Ka the Omnipotent, have spoken.”

Ugaph said: “This is surely a portentous matter. Fellow, I will give you half the weight of this tablet in silver, which is more trade-metal than you would normally see in a lifetime. Then I shall take it into the city to see what the wise priests of Typhon make of it.”

“Are, take it!” said the peasant.

___

A few days later, when the rumor of the finding of the tablet had gone around, Ugaph appeared in the agora. He was naked, with red stripes on his face and ashes on his body. He foamed at the mouth (by chewing sapwort) and altogether was the holiest-looking thing the Typhonians had seen in a long time. He waved the tablet, cried its message in a loud voice, and called on the people to repent. Gezun went about with a basket to catch the wedges and rings and bars of trade-metal they tossed into it.

“A temple for Ka the Appalling!” shrieked Ugaph. “What will he think if he comes to Typhon and finds no god-house. What will he do? What will he do to us? It is our last chance…”

Gezun checked a smile. He composed Ugaph’s speeches, since Ugaph’s talents did not run that way. On the other hand, provided somebody put words in his mouth, the temple-thief made a fine prophet, being of naturally solemn and pompous mein.

After another half-moon they were counting their wealth in the hideout. Ro sorted the different metals while Ugaph and Gezun weighed them, Ugaph, who had some small education, added up the totals on the wall of the chamber with a burnt stick. He said:

“We have more here than I have made in my whole career as a collector. Why thought I not of this before?”

“Because I wasn’t here to suggest it,” grinned Gezun. “Now, know you what I’d suggest further?”

“What?”

“That we put this stuff in stout bags and get out of Typhon. We could go to Kham. Your share will keep you in comfort the rest of your life, and mine will take me to all the places I have not yet seen.”

“Are you mad, stripling?”

“What mean you?”

“This is nothing to what we shall collect once we get our temple built.”

“You mean you would go through with that scheme and not merely talk about it?”

“Surely, surely. I have already seen Sentiu the building-contractor and visited the artist Heqatari. He shall design our temple and the statue of the god.”

“Then give me my half, and stay here with yours.”

“No! We shall need it. And think not to take your share by stealth. Remember it was not I who slew the sacred cat.”

Gezun glared but subsided. Ugaph might be right at that: he had had more experience at this sort of thing.

___

Soon the site of the temple sounded with hammering. Walls rose, floors were laid, and in the midst of it all the great Heqatari worked with his apprentices on the statue. It was to be an imposing affair of gilded bronze, showing a vulture-headed Ka with multiple wings and arms, hurling thunderbolts and brandishing weapons.

When the workmen stopped for their noon meal, Gezun went around to where Heqatari and his apprentices gnawed bread and cheese in the shade of a wall.

“Greetings, great artist,” said Gezun. “Can you explain something?”

“What?”

“What’s that walled section in the rear, with the deep embayment? It was not in the original plan.” Gezun pointed.

“You must mean the stable.”

“Stable?”

“Aye. Ugaph has bought a chariot and pair and wishes room to store them on the temple grounds.”

“Why, the foul—” began Gezun, when the clopping of hooves made him turn. There came Ugaph, standing in a gold-trimmed chariot drawn by a pair of whites. He reined up, cursing as the horses skittered and bucked and the workmen grinned at his lack of skill. Gezun strode over and began:

“What’s this folly? And what mean you by commanding an enlargement of the temple without my knowledge?”

Ugaph’s face darkened. “Keep your voice down, stripling, or I shall raise mine too. I might even speak of cats.”

Gezun almost sprang upon Ugaph, but mastered his rage and said: “We shall speak of this again.” He walked off.

___

They had a furious quarrel in the underground chambers that night, Gezun pounding the table and shouting, “You profligate old fool! We’re in debt far enough now to put us into debt-slavery for our lives.”

“And who told you how to run a cult? You think a baby like you, a third my age and a barbarian to boot, can teach me the art?”

“I can tell when an enterprise is being run to death. Instead of getting out with your paint and ashes and digging more gold out of the Typhonians, you swank around in embroidered robes and drive your gaudy toy.”

“That shows your ignorance. By showing the mob how successful we are, we prove our god is truly mighty.”

“Said the drunken yokel who fell down the well, how clever I am, for I shall never be thirsty. I want my share of our property, now!”

“You cannot have it. It is tied up in the temple.”

“Sell my interest in it, or borrow it. But I want that trade-metal.”

“Impossible, you dog. When we have made our fortunes you may ask.”

“I’ll go to law to force a division.”

“See how far you get when the magistrate hears you are a felicide!”

Gezun started to rise, murder in his eyes, when Ro seized his arm, crying: “Gezun! Calm yourself! He has powers!”

A squeak from the corner made them turn. There sat Tety the demon in fennec-form.

“O master!” whined the fox. “It is long since you have fed me. Can I do nought for you?”

“No,” said Ugaph. “Begone and bother me not.”

“Pray, master! I must have the bats’ blood. I perish for want of the mystic ingredients.”

“Begone!” yelled Ugaph, and ripped out an exorcism. The familiar vanished.

Gezun’s temper had cooled, so the quarrel was dropped. For several days Ugaph worked at his evangelism, crying doom about the agora while Gezun collected. Gezun noted that the collections were dwindling.

“By Neb’s toenails, it will soon not be worth while,” grumbled Ugaph one evening. “All the Typhonians have heard our message and await something new. We must hurry the temple.”

“How long will it take?” said Gezun. “Be Sentiu’s original promises it should be done, but the roof is not up yet.”

“That is the way with builders. I see where we made several mistakes, but when we build our big temple those shall be corrected.”

“What big temple?”

“Oh, this is only a small affair. As our cult grows, this building will not hold our congregation. We shall build a magnificent structure like the temple of Shekhemet.”

“Hmp. You mean after you’ve paid off my share.”

“Why so eager to withdraw?”

“I tire of Typhon. They hate foreigners as one would expect of some backward Atlantean village, but not of a great city. Besides it is too hot, and the fleas and flies give one no peace.”

Ugaph shrugged. “Each to his taste. Tomorrow I will oversee the putting up of the roof.”

___

Next morning, after Ugaph left, Gezun was loafing and watching Ro clean up their breakfast, when Tety appeared, whining: “Good foreign devil, my master neglects and spurns me. I starve for bats’ blood.”

“That’s sad, little one,” said Gezun.

“Can you do nought for e?”

Gezun started to say no, then grinned and said to Ro: “Beautiful, those bat-hunts were fun. Let’s make another.”

“But that long walk? In this heat?”

“We’ll use the chariot. It’s half mine. And the tombs are cool.”

“Oh, bless you, dear mortal!” said Tety.

Hours later they were deep in the bowels of King Khephru’s pyramid. When their game-bag was full they went to the entrance and ate. Then Gezun pulled Ro to him and kissed her. She resisted, but not enough, so that what started as a youthful game turned into a real love-tussel. A little later Gezun slept in the tunnel entrance, snoring thunderously, while Ro wept for her lost maidenhood and covered his face with damp kisses.

___

Ugaph hung around the temple until Heqatari flew into a tantrum. He cursed Ugaph and all his ancestors because, he said, Ugaph got in his way, distracted him by his idiotic suggestions, and did not understand that the artistic soul was purer and finer than the souls of common men. Ugaph, disgruntled, went to the stable where he kept his chariot. He was even more vexed to learn that his partner had taken the vehicle. Scowling, he walked to the palace and gained admittance to the office of the Registrar of Licenses. He asked for a license for human sacrifice.

“You know the rules?” said the Registrar.

“Surely, surely, my lord. Pusadians are not among the protected groups of foreigners, are there?”

“What are Pusadians?”

“Far-western barbarians. Is everything in order then?”

“The priests of Neb and Shekhemet and the others are up in arms over your competition, but we cannot afford to offend any god. So here is your license.”

“I abase myself in humble gratitude, my lord. Come to one of our services.”

Ugaph backed out, bowing. Next he went to the thieves’ quarter, a tumbledown part of the city where people were either too poor to escape or sought refuge there from King Zeremab’s soldiers and officials. He sought out a brawny cutthroat named Eha, whom he had known in his thieving days. He said:

“Are you looking for work, old comrade?”

Eha grinned and flexed a muscle. “I might, if it meant enough metal and not too much work.”

“I need a couple of stout fellows to help me with the temple: to sweep the floor, guard the loot, and the like. Have you a friend I could trust?”

“What about that foreign devil, your partner?”

“I think we shall not long be troubled with him. Are you up to desperate deeds?”

“You know me, Ugaph.”

Eha got his friend, a silent hulk named Maatab. Ugaph took them to the temple and put them to work on small tasks, such as moving the gear from the hideaway to the temple when the dwelling-rooms were finished. Gezun made only a mild objection to hiring this pair, as Ugaph explained that three could not do all the work of the cult. Gezun was going about starry-eyed, as he had decided he was in love again. Ugaph, who might have been expected to notice the signs that Gezun and Ro gave of their attachment, seemed to pay no attention.

___

The day came when the last bit of plaster had dried, the last mural had been painted, and the last patch of gold-leaf had been hammered into place. Ugaph called Gezun, Ro, Maatab, and Eha into conference. He sat at the head of the table in a gold-embroidered robe of shiny eastern stuff and a tall pointed hat. He said:

“Tomorrow night is our dedication. The temple will be filled. I have bought an ox for sacrifice to get things started. But our future depends on this ceremony’s going smoothly, to get our pious fools worked up to a big donation. Let us be sure we all know our parts perfectly…”

When they rehearsed again, Ugaph said: “Gezun, Maatab and Eha and I are going to fetch our ox. I leave you here to guard the temple. We shall be gone an hour.”

He led the two thieves out. Gezun looked at Ro. He had not been alone with her for any length of time since that day in Khephru’s tomb. All that made him hesitate was that Ugaph’s parting words sounded like an invitation. But for one of Gezun’s age and vigor, the contest between lust and suspicion was too once-sided to last long.

Ugaph led Maatab and Eha to the main chamber of the temple. In front of statue of Ka, Ugaph said: “How is your courage?”

Maatab laughed and Eha made muscles.

“Good,” murmured Ugaph. “The plan I have discussed is the one that young dog thinks we shall follow. But what we shall really do is this: He will be in his room at the beginning of the service, primping. He will come out thinking he is to enter the main chamber and slay the ox with the sanctified ax. But you two—”

Eha broke in: “Is it wise to talk of this so near the god?” he jerked his head towards the brooding idol.

“Ha! That is but a thing of bronze and wood. I planned it and Heqatari made it, just as I invented Ka and his whole cult. Unless we believe in a god he cannot exist.” Ugaph spat at the statue. “If you fear…?”

“I? Fear?” protested both thieves at once.

“Well then, listen. As Gezun steps from his room, you two shall seize him. Slay him not, nor even stun him deeply. I wish him awake during the sacrifice; the throng loves the screams of the victim. Bind his wrists and ankles firmly and bear him to the main chamber. Lay him on the altar, and I shall do the rest…”

___

In his chamber, Gezun could hear the voices of the congregation as Ugaph led them in a hymn, for which Ro played a lyre. He put the last touches on his costume: A knee-length kilt embroidered with gold thread, gilded sandals, and an ornate conical cap like Ugaph’s, but not so tall. He listened for his cue. When it came, he stepped to the leathern curtain in the doorway. His hand was out to thrust the curtain aside when he heard a squeak. It was Tety.

“Gezun!” said the familiar.

“What is it?”

“There is something you must know—”

“No time! Tell me after the service.” Gezun reached for the curtain again.

“It is a matter of life and death.”

“By the holy crocodile of Haides! Eha and Maatab will be leading in the ox. Save it till later.”

“But it is your death! They will slay you instead of the ox.”

Gezun stopped. “What’s this?”

Tety told of Ugaph’s orders. “I was hovering in my spirit form in the temple and came to warn you because of that bats’ blood.”

“But why should Ugaph slay me?”

“To get sole ownership, to give the Typhonians a gory show, and to see that you shall not object to such sacrifices in the future.”

Gezun saw he had been a fool. With a smothered curse he leaped for his belongings and got out the double-curved Tartessian sword. “We shall see who sacrifices whom!”

“Go not into the main chamber!”

“Why not?”

“I know not, but there are portentous stirrings on the spiritual plane. Something dreadful will happen.”

“Hm. Anyway, my thanks, little devil.”

Gezun went to the doorway on tiptoe. He stood to one side of the door and jerked the curtain aside. Seeing movement in the dark corridor, he snatched. He caught a muscular arm. With a mighty heave he pulled Eha into the room. Eha struck at him with a short leaden bludgeon. As Eha was off-balance at the time, the blow did not hit squarely. It knocked off Gezun’s wizard hat and grazed his shaven scalp, filling his eyes with stars. He thrust the sword into Eha’s neck.

Eha stumbled to hands and knees with a gurgle, dropping the club. Maatab bounded into the room. Gezun tried to withdraw the sword from Eha, but it stuck fast. Then Maatab was upon him.

They staggered back into the middle of the room, kicking, punching, gouging, and grabbing for holds. Maatab hooked a thumb into Gezun’s nostrils, but Gezun kicked Maatab in the crotch and sent the Seteshan back groaning. They clinched, fell, and rolled. Gezun felt the bludgeon under his hand. He picked it up and struck at Maatab. The blow struck Maatab’s shoulder. Maatab broke away and tore the sword out of Eha.

Then they were up again, fainting, dodging, and striking. Each leaped at the other for a finishing blow, but each caught the other’s wrist. They staggered about, each trying to wrench his right arm out of the other’s grasp. Gezun felt a grip on his ankle. It was Eha, not yet dead. Gezun fell heavily. Maatab leaped for him, but Gezun flung both legs and drove his heels into Maatab’s belly. The Seteshan was flung back against the wall. He dropped the sword and half fell, coughing and gasping.

Gezun rose and lunged for the sword. There was an instant of floundering as each tried to pick up the weapon at the same time to kick or stamp on the other’s groping hand. Then Gezun kicked the sword out into the middle of the room. He scooped it up and straightened to slash at Maatab, who turned and half fell out the doorway.

___

To kill time, Ugaph had stretched his sermon, reiterating the awfulness, ferocity, and vindictiveness of Ka the Appalling. Then, instead of a bound Gezun being carried out by Eha and Maatab, Maatab appeared running with Gezun after him. Maatab stumbled around to the front of the statue, trying to cry out a warning but too winded to speak. Both were disheveled, their kilts torn, their faces and bodies covered by bruises and scratches. Sweat and blood ran down their limbs. Ro dropped her lyre with a twang.

“He—he—” gasped Maatab, dodging behind Ugaph.

“I’ll—” panted Gezun.

Ugaph retreated toward the crowd, shrieking, “Seize the felicide! He is the foreign devil who slew the cat in the Month of the Camel! Tear him to pieces!”

A murmur in the congregation rose to a roar. Much as Gezun wanted to see the blood of Ugaph and Maatab spurt, he did not with to be torn to bits afterwards. The crowd fell silent. He stepped back towards the statue and glanced at Ro.

Ro was staring at a point behind him and some feet over his head. He looked up. An arm of gilded bronze, ending in a clawed hand like the foot of a bird of prey, was coming down upon him.

Gezun made a tremendous leap. The wind of the snatch fanned his back.

With a loud creaking, the statue stepped heavily down from its dais. Ugaph and Maatab stared in unbelieving terror, while behind them the audience began to scream and stampede. Ugaph and Maatab turned to run, but two long arms shot out. One arm seized each man, the claws sinking deeply. Ka raised the two kicking, screaming men towards his vulture’s beak.

Gezun caught Ro’s wrist and dragged her through the other door. Back in the corridor he started for the door to the stable. Then he said: “Wait! Hold this!”

“But Gezun—”

He pressed his sword into her hands and darted into Ugaph’s chamber. On the floor lay the chest containing their liquid funds. It was locked and chained to a ring in the wall. Gezun picked up the chest and gave it a mighty heave as if to throw it. On the first try the chain held, but on the second the staple pulled out of the wall. Gezun ran out with the chest under one arm.

The screams from the main chamber of the temple came higher and higher. They faded behind Gezun as he pulled Ro out to the stable, hitched up the whites, whirled the chariot around, and set out for the north gate at a gallop. They skidded around turns.

“What—what happened?” said Ro.

“Your father didn’t believe in Ka, but he convinced so many others that their belief called the god to life.”

“But why did Ka animate the statue and attack father?”

“Well, he was described as fierce and vindictive, so he’d be angry when I wasn’t sacrificed as promised. Or perhaps he resented Ugaph’s atheism.” He slowed the team to a trot. “Let’s stop at the fountain to make ourselves look respectable, or the guards won’t let us out the gate.

___

A few minutes later, Gezun whipped up the whites and galloped out on the long level desert rod to Kham in the land of Kheru. Behind him, a somber shadow seemed to brood over Typhon.

“Anyway,” he said. “I’m through with experiments having to do with gods. Men are hard enough to deal with.”

End.

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