Marduk led them halfway back down the corridor, coming to a halt before another door. Another box, another grind of metal against metal. The door swung open. He swept his arm toward the opening.

"In you go," he said. "You will be well provided for while we wait for Horus, you have my word."

Past the door, an enormous suite spread away, vast, filled with luxurious furniture, their details drowning in opulence. Even from her limited view, Istara could see at least four doors leading to other rooms. The confines of their prison resembled the vast sprawl of the queen's residence in Tarhuntassa. Movement came from one of the divans. A woman, slight, rose, her skin pale and fragile in the white light. Her eyes widened. The embroidery in her hand fluttered to the floor. 

"Teshub," she whispered.

"Arinna!" Teshub cried. Disbelief, raw and jagged, radiated from him, softening the hard edges of his profile. He thrust himself through the doorway, shoving chairs and cushions out of his way to reach the woman hurrying to him, her golden hair tumbling free of its pins.

"How is it even possible you are here?" he breathed, catching her, his hands going to her face, drawing her toward him, his mouth colliding with hers, possessive, brutal.

Urhi-Teshub's hand slid against the small of Istara's back, protective, guiding her toward the door. She slipped inside, away from his touch, past a row of painted pillars to the opposite side of the suite, where a cluster of divans encircled a low table. From behind, the shear of metal against metal. A dense thud, final, as the door locked, sealing them inside. Istara didn't look back, she couldn't. Not yet. The warmth of her husband's body came up behind her, followed by the creak of leather as he rested his hands on his daggers' hilts. Baalat moved past them to a side table and poured herself wine, her hand trembling as she raised the cup to her lips.

A door near Baalat opened. A thin man peered out, a sheaf of papyri in one hand. He stepped into the room, blinking, incredulous. "By the light," he said, his gaze going to Baalat, his hands lowering to his sides. "Sister?"

Baalat lowered her cup. "Thoth," she breathed. "So it is true. You are his prisoner after all."

The sheaf of papyri fluttered to the rug. He rushed through the flurry toward Baalat. Taking her hand in his, he led her to the nearest divan, his eyes moving over her, drinking in the sight of her. "Even now," he whispered, "reduced to mortality, you are still beautiful beyond words. Ah, it is good to see you again."

"Who is Thoth?" Urhi-Teshub asked, low.

"He's the Egyptian god of wisdom, knowledge, and magic," Istara answered, watching the pair as they switched to their own language, fast, melodic. From the opposite end of the room: soft sighs of pleasure, broken by Arinna's occasional sobs and Teshub's moans, deep, primal, hungry.

Istara felt the heat of Urhi-Teshub's eyes on her, his breathing turning shallow, his longing for her, visceral. She stepped away, seeking distance. He caught her hand and turned her toward him.

"Will you ever return to me?" he asked, taut, pulling her back to him. With his other hand he cupped her face, cradling it in his callused palm. He brushed his thumb against her cheek, tender.

"I still love him," Istara whispered, holding herself still, keeping her eyes on his cracked leather tunic.

"Istara," Urhi-Teshub said, "look at me."

She tilted her head up, his turmoil, jealousy, and longing no longer hidden, but plain. They clawed their way into her heart, imprisoning her.

"Let me kiss you, just once," he murmured, brushing his lips against her forehead. "Let me taste you again." He tilted her face up, his lips touching hers, soft as a butterfly's wing. His arm came around her, possessive, and he pulled her against him, into the unforgiving, hardened leather of his tunic. His kiss deepened, the depth of his love, and of his sacrifices slamming into her. Istara closed her eyes, the heat of her tears coalescing.

"Sethi," she sobbed, catching her breath as Urhi-Teshub pulled back. One, then another tear slipped free. She pushed them aside with the heel of her palm, turning away, miserable. "I know he is dead," she whispered, "but I love him as though he still lives." She sank onto a divan and closed her eyes, prepared for her husband's anger.

A creak of leather. The weight of Urhi-Teshub settling beside her. The warmth of his hand covering hers, his calluses rough against her knuckles.

"I understand," he said, resigned, though bitterness tainted his words. "I should not have forced things. Forgive me, I have made you cry." He tightened his hold on her hand and met her grateful look. "Not quite the effect I was hoping for."

"Thoth," Teshub called out, coming toward them, Arinna's hand in his. "Tell my consort what you told me about the split."

Thoth turned from his conversation with Baalat. "The split?" he repeated as Teshub and Arinna joined them. "I never--"

Teshub lifted his hand, palm upward, as though cupping a ball. "The globe you showed me. You said it was our universe. You split it in two." When Thoth looked at him, blank. Teshub let out a sound of exasperation. "How can you not remember?" He let go of Arinna's hand and moved closer, lowering his voice. "You said the other globe was where Arinna went. But obviously you were wrong, since she is here."

Istara eyed Arinna, curious. The once-goddess of the sun stood quiet, her lips swollen as though stung by bees, savaged by Teshub's passion. She glanced at Istara, blinking back the haze of tears clinging to her lashes, her eyes a startling shade of pale green, and offered a tremulous smile in greeting. Istara dipped her head, suddenly shy. Arinna was nothing like the other gods. She exuded fragility, her fair skin and golden hair as ephemeral as the sunlight she represented.

"Teshub," Baalat said, placing a hand on Thoth's arm, stopping him from answering, "this isn't our Thoth. He never had that conversation with you. He and Arinna have come from the other 'globe' as you call it."

Teshub blinked, and took a step back. "But how?" he asked. "Thoth said that would require a portal, and he wouldn't make one since two of me in your world would have caused its destruction. He said--" He stopped, abrupt, his eyes narrowing. "Wait. If you are from the other world, that means there are two Thoths here." He stepped back, his voice rising, accusing. "You caused that earthquake, didn't you?"

A pained look sliced across Thoth's thin, bony face. "Among many other things, I would imagine."

Teshub glared at Thoth, his hands curling into fists. "So you can come here, but I couldn't go there?"

"It was an unforeseen outcome," Thoth answered, "I didn't even know your world existed until I arrived."

Teshub blinked, taken aback. "Impossible," he snapped, "you are Thoth, the only one among us who never makes mistakes."

"Well, there is a first time for everything," Thoth said, dry.

A dense, heavy silence fell. Urhi-Teshub cleared his throat. "If someone might indulge me, I would like to know what a portal is."

"Ah," Thoth said, rousing, "it's a doorway of sorts, which leads from one far-distant place to another." He went to one of the closed doors and stood before it. "How did you come here?"

"We walked across Thamud Desert," Urhi-Teshub answered.

"And how long did that take?"

"Seventy-five long, miserable days," Teshub muttered, resentful. "My ship could have crossed it in an hour."

Thoth opened the door. "Your departure point, seventy-five days ago," he stepped though the door and called over his shoulder, "your arrival, today."

Urhi-Teshub blinked. "Are you saying if there had been a door--what you call a portal--in Egypt and another one here, we could have crossed the desert's distance in the space of a heartbeat?"

"I am," Thoth said, returning to the group, "although my portals do not cross deserts--that would be child's play--my portals cross the heavens." He gestured over his head, at an imaginary canopy of stars. "Some of those stars have worlds just like this one, once inhabited by sentient races. During the Golden Age, I created portals to all of the other worlds so I could explore the universe. I even made a portal to Marduk's world--although it had already long lain in ruins by the time I arrived."

"Marduk's?" Istara repeated, confused. "But he is a god. I thought he was one of you."

"Marduk was never one of us," Baalat said, bitter, "and he is no god. He pretends to possess a god's power through those weapons and devices of his, but he can die, just like a mortal. During what you call the Golden Age, he arrived here seeking a new home for his people." She set aside her empty wine cup. "In the end, he repaid our welcome with death."

"Then," Urhi-Teshub leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "if he did not come here through your portal, just how did he arrive?"

"He flew here in one of his great ships," Thoth replied, "similar to the way you crossed the desert, he flew across the heavens, the slowest way. It would have taken him hundreds of thousands of years."

"He flew here from a star?" Urhi-Teshub asked, incredulous.

"What you would call a star, yes," Thoth said. He picked up a scroll lying on the divan and unrolled it, gazing at its contents, unseeing. "When Marduk arrived," he continued, "he was charming, eloquent. So intelligent. We welcomed him, fascinated by the wonder of his devices and ships. Only Horus did not trust him. Soon after, Marduk discovered one of my portals and tried to use it. But he could not because I had made them prohibitive to mortals. He asked why. I explained in the use of them, the power within them would bestow immortality upon a mortal, therefore only the gods could use them, but--and to this day I regret it--I let slip a mortal could indeed pass through if accompanied by a god, and immortality would follow.

"Not long after, Marduk arrived at one of our feasts, and went to his knee before Horus, to ask permission for a god to accompany him and Zarpanitu through a portal--an elegant, poetic request as I recall. Horus said no, and though I know many of the gods supported Marduk, none dared gainsay Horus." Thoth rolled the scroll shut again. It came to with a sharp snap.

"That one refusal was the spark that began the fires of the wars between gods and men," Thoth muttered. "Marduk first tried to win the gods' favor by showering us with gifts and entertaining us with lavish banquets. We pleaded with Horus on his behalf but Horus held firm. In time, Marduk lost patience and turned against us. He sent his people to the cities of men, claiming his people were gods, too. They used their devices to impress the kings, offering them 'eternal life' through their regeneration devices, telling them they cared for them more than we. They planted the seeds of doubt in their minds, and like the steady erosion of mountains, men stopped worshiping us and began to build temples to Marduk's people instead. Eventually he raised up armies of men, and along with them wielded his weapons and devices against us, determined to break us into submitting to his will."

"He tore the world apart to gain his immortality?" Istara breathed, trying to reconcile such ruthlessness with the one who had saved Meresamun and healed Teshub's and Urhi-Teshub's broken bones.

"He did," Baalat said, meeting Istara's eyes, hers dark with bitterness. "Millions died. I lost my entire city in one heartbeat. It is the reason Horus killed Zarpanitu. To avenge my people."

"Soon after Zarpanitu's death," Arinna broke in, soft, tentative, "I went to the mountains, to see to my eagles. Too late I realized Marduk was there, waiting for me." She hesitated, and looked at Thoth. He tilted his head, encouraging her to continue.

"I turned myself into light," she said, "thinking he could not capture an immaterial being." Her lips turned downward, and she shivered. "I was wrong. He caught me in one of his devices. The energy within it was so strong it prevented me from transforming back to myself. I felt as if I was being torn apart, the pain was unbearable, excruciating. Then, nothing. The pain ended and there was only darkness. In the distance, I could see an opening, a corridor of golden light, lined with a vast array of doors. I sped toward it, and just as I reached its threshold--" she stopped and looked down at her hands clenched together in her lap, her knuckles whitening as she tightened her grip.

Teshub covered her hands with one of his. "Go on," he said, low.

"I snapped back into the device, but at the same time I was also able to see into the corridor where a being bathed in starlight gestured for me to follow. As soon as I crossed the threshold, the corridor faded and I was in the device once more." She shook her head. "It is difficult to explain how I was both in the device and at the threshold of the corridor, but for the briefest space of time, I was in two places at once. Then I felt Marduk pick up the device and carry me away." Her gaze flicked to Teshub's, uncertain. "I was so afraid. I knew what Horus had done to Zarpanitu . . ." She glanced at Baalat, then back down at her hands. "But Marduk was not interested in retribution--at least not at first. He finally had a god in his possession. I felt the ship take off and speed away. Soon we were within the nebulous space of a portal." She shook her head. "I felt it," she whispered, "the moment he became immortal. The moment he won."