“With a mind that won’t get tired,” Urruah said, “and a body that won’t wear out, too fast and tough for even Death to claw at… so you can go on to hunting your great desire, right past the boundaries of physical reality, they say, past world’s end and in toward the heart of things…”
“If you ever see a Living One, you’ll know it,” Rhiow said. “They pass through, sometimes, on Iau’s business.…”
“Have you ever seen one?” Arhu said, skeptical again.
“As it happens, yes.”
“What did it look like?”
Rhiow threw an amused glance at the sphinx. “Not like that,” she said, remembering the glimpse she had once caught, very early in the morning, of a feline shape walking casually by the East River in the upper Seventies. To the superficial glance, ehhif’s or People’s, it would have appeared to be just another cat, a dowdy tabby. But the second glance showed how insubstantial, almost paltry, mere concretely physical things looked when seen with it, at the same time. Shortly thereafter the cat shape had paused, then jumped down onto the East River, and walked off across it, with a slightly distracted air, straight along the glittering path laid along the water by the rising sun and out of sight.
“Well, I sure hope not,” Arhu said, somewhat scornfully. “Half the stuff in here is just lion-bodies with ehhif-heads on them.”
“The ehhif did that because they were trying to say that they knew these beings the People were describing to them were intelligent… but essentially feline in nature. Ehhif can’t help being anthropomorphic—as far as they’re concerned, they’re the only intelligent species on the planet.”
“Oh please!” Arhu said, laughing.
“Yes, well, it does have its humorous aspects…” Saash said. “We enjoy them the best we can. Meanwhile, here’s their picture of someone who is one of our Gods.”
They walked on a little to where a long papyrus was spread out upright in a case against the wall. “It all starts with her,” Saash said, first indicating the nearest statue. In more of the polished black basalt, a regal figure stood: ehhif-bodied, with the nobly sculpted head of one of the People— a long straight nose, wide, slightly slanted eyes, large graceful ears set very straight and alert. Various other carvings here wore one kind or another of the odd Egyptian headwear, but this figure, looking thoughtfully ahead of her, was crowned with the Sun: and on her breast, the single, open Eye.
“Iau,” Urruah said. “The Queen, the Creatress and Dam. ‘… In the first evening of the worlds, Iau Hauhai’h walked in the Silences, hearing and seeing, so that what She heard became real, and what She saw was so. She was the Fire at the Heart; and of that Fire She grew quick, and from it She kittened. Those children were four, and grew swiftly to stand with their queen.’ ”
“It’s the oldest song our people know,” Saash said to Arhu. “Any of us can hear it: the Whisperer taught it to us first, and the wizards who heard it taught it to everybody else. And everybody else taught it to the ehhif… though they got mixed up about some of the details—”
“You’re good at this, Saash,” Rhiow said, “you do the honors… I need to check those palimpsests that Ehef mentioned. Or Herself, rather.” Rhiow glanced over at a third statue, farther down the hall.
“You go ahead,” Saash said. Rhiow strolled off toward the papyrus cases in the back of the hall as the others went on to pause before another statue, nearly nine feet tall, standing by itself. Rhiow glanced at her in passing, too: she was not easy to go by without taking some kind of notice. Lioness-headed, holding the lightning in her hands, this tall straight figure was crowned again with the Sun, but a homed Sun that looked somehow more aggressive and dangerous; and the Eye she wore glared. Her face was not as kindly as the Queen’s. The lips were wrinkled, fierce; teeth showed. But the eyes were relentlessly intelligent: this Power’s rages would not be blind ones.
“ ‘Aaurh the Mighty,’ ” Saash said, “the Destroyer by Flame, who came first, burning like a star, and armed with the First Fire. She was Her Dam’s messenger and warrior, and went where she was sent swift as light, making and ending as Iau taught her…”
Rhiow went back to the glass cases ranked against the wall, jumped up on the first one she came to, and started walking along the line of them. She visited here as often as she could, liking the reminder of the People/ehhif joint heritage, of this time when they had been a little closer, before their languages became so widely parted. As a result of all the visiting, there was little of this material with which Rhiow was not familiar, but every now and then something new came out of storage and was put out for public view.
The palimpsests were such material. They were not true palimpsests—recycled parchment used for writing, the old writing having been scraped off with knives—but an equivalent Paper made from the papyrus reed was mounted on long linen rolls to make books, and the paper scraped clean of the old soot-based inks when the book was wanted for something else.
Rhiow peered down at the first palimpsest she found in the case she was standing on, turning her head from side to side to get the best angle on it. The ehhif of that period had had two different ways of writing: the hieratic writing, all pictograms, and the demotic, a graceful curled and swirled language, as often written vertically as horizontally, which shared some structural attributes with the present written form of the Speech. True to their names, these palimpsests had no visible writing left and were here mostly as examples of how papyrus was recycled (so Rhiow read from the museum’s explanatory notes inside the case). But for one of the People, and a wizard, used to seeing the invisible, such paperwork was more revealing. Rhiow squinted a little at the first palimpsest, doing her best to make out the dim remnants of the characters there. Of barley, eight measures, she read, and of water, twenty measures, and of the day’s bread-make, a lump of a fist’s size: let all be set in the sun for nine days, and when the mixture smelleth fair and the life in it hath quietened, let all be strained and poured into larger vessels so that twenty measures more of water may be added—
Rhiow snickered. A beer recipe… The ehhif of that time liked their beer, having invented it, and were constantly leaving jars of it out for the gods. That it always vanished afterward struck the ehhif of that time as proof of deity’s existence; it was evidence of their youth and innocence as a species that they rarely noticed how drunk the neighbors were the next morning.
Rhiow glanced up, looked over her shoulder at the others. They were in front of yet another statue, in a light gray stone mis time. This figure was seated, with a roll of papyrus in her lap; again her head was that of one of the People, but wearing a more reflective look than that of Iau the Queen, and a much milder one than her sister. “ ‘Then came Hrau’f the Tamer,’ ” said Urruah, “who calmed the fires Aaurh set, and put things in order: the Lady of the Hearth, who burns low, and learns wisdom, and teaches it. In every still warm place she may be found, in every heart that seeks. She speaks the Silent Knowledge to the ears of those who can hear…’ ”
Rhiow twitched her tail meditatively and stepped along the top of the glass case to look at the next palimpsest, puzzling over the faintly visible characters. This one had been more thoroughly scraped off than the last, but she could still read the earlier writings. A long column of the demotic script ran down the side of the ordered page full of hieratic characters, stick-figures of birds and upheld hands and feathers and snakes, eyes and chairs and wiggly lines. At the top of the scripture, the hieratic writing was easier to read, though Rhiow still had to squint. —he performeth this by means of the mighty words of power that proceed from his mouth, and in this region of the Underworld he inflicteth with the knife wounds upon Aapep, whose place is in heaven—