Sethi sensed the fist coming. He ducked, avoiding the blow, and slipped sideways between two divans. This time he would fight back, and to the Under Realm with the consequences. Urhi-Teshub pushed his way through the divans, hatred sliding off him, viscous, tangible.

"I heard you," he spat, his fists clenching, fresh blood oozing from his knuckles. "Istara stifled a cry. You hurt her." He jerked his head at the man coming to stand beside him, a dark-haired warrior wearing a faded leather kilt and tunic, who watched Sethi, wary. "If not for Teshub I would have smashed your skull into pulp, but now--" He broke off with a roar and rushed forward, his eyes black, promising death.

Teshub barreled into Urhi-Teshub, his weight slamming into him, driving him back, sending Hatti's king staggering against one of the divans, its cushions tumbling onto the floor.

"Enough," Teshub shouted, shoving Urhi-Teshub back, restraining him, fighting against Urhi-Teshub's struggles, the muscles of his arms bulging, rigid. "Horus and I have no desire to suffer for your mortal pride. We have more important battles to fight."

Across the room, a door opened. Horus emerged, bearing the evidence of the beating Sethi had taken from Urhi-Teshub. "Teshub," he said, his gaze moving from the pair to Sethi. He eyed Sethi's injuries, impassive. "You have my thanks." Baalat joined Horus. He took her hand in his, protective. "I did wonder why Marduk would allow us to see our women," he continued, rubbing his other hand over his bloodied face, wincing when he touched his split eyebrow. "Now I know. He knew his dirty work would be done for him."

Urhi-Teshub jerked free of Teshub's grip, his tunic askew. He fell back, panting, fury vibrating from him. "Istara is my queen," he said, glaring at Sethi. "Mine. Not yours."

He went to her door and shouldered it open, a heartbeat later he returned, Istara following after him, stricken, her hand caught in his grip. He pulled her against him, possessive, hatred searing his eyes. "Where were you when Istara's mother was butchered?" he demanded, harsh. "When Nefertari's guard held a dagger to Istara's throat? When the earthquake struck Babylon?" He glanced down at Istara, anguished, continuing, softer. "Who consoled the child on the march from Kadesh, when she cried for her mother and grieved for her home and her pony? Who petitioned for her to live under the protection of the queen and granted her the opportunity to learn to read and write?" He eyed Sethi, hard, cold. "To become a healer?"

Sethi said nothing. He glanced at Istara. She looked at him, heartbroken. A tear slipped down her cheek.

"Commander of Egypt," Urhi-Teshub said, low, "you live because of me."

"And Istara lives because of me," Sethi snapped, stepping forward, his fists clenching. "She would have died at Amka had I not done what I did."

Urhi-Teshub glowered at Sethi, his chest rising and falling, frustration bleeding from him, raw, visceral. He looked away, the muscles of his jaw clenching. "I know what you gave up," he admitted, low, taut. "For saving her, you have my thanks."

Sethi dipped his head, terse, longing to go to Istara, who wept, quiet, her body caught in her husband's grip, pressed against his leather tunic.

"Urhi-Teshub," Baalat said, soft, going to the King of Hatti, "no one doubts the love you possess for Istara, but if her heart belongs to another--" She took hold of Istara's hand, and eased her out from Urhi-Teshub's hold.

"But she is my wife," he repeated, stubborn, as Istara went with Baalat to a divan and sat facing Sethi, stricken. "She was bound to me, in blood, before Arinna." He turned, a look of hope shearing across his face as another woman emerged from the room beside Istara's, her build small, fine, and fragile, her hair cascading to her waist like spun gold. She slipped past Sethi and joined Istara and Baalat on the divan.

"Lady Arinna," Urhi-Teshub said, taut, "I beg you, confirm the truth of it. Istara is mine, our blood bound before you."

"The bond you cling to is a mortal bond," Arinna said, quiet. Her gaze moved to Teshub, the sadness in the pale green of her eyes speaking volumes. "You know what has passed for me. I have not been here for an eon."

Urhi-Teshub's hands curled into fists. He shot a dark look at Sethi, soaked with hatred and jealousy. Sethi held his gaze, steady, calm, pitying him--even Hatti's gods stood against its king. After several beats, Urhi-Teshub looked away, resentment radiating from him, Arinna's rebuke lingering, heavy in the air.

"Arinna," Horus said into the thickening silence, "it is good to see you again, even if it must be here, like this. If we have time I would like to know where you have been. But first--" he turned to Ahmen and Imhotep, who stood with another man, his thin, bony body clad in a long kilt. He examined Sethi from over the rim of his wine cup, impassive.

"Thoth," Horus continued, terse, addressing the bony man, "we don't have much time before Marduk returns. Thirty-three days ago," he nodded at Imhotep, "Imhotep received a message from you in the Immortal Realm. It showed you here, imprisoned, and the world ending because there are two of you. Does any of this mean anything to you?"

Sethi eyed Thoth, one of the most venerated gods of Egypt. He wasn't much to look at: thin, his chest sunken and bony, his build fine--weak even--his legs so scrawny under his kilt, they reminded Sethi of an ibis. Thoth's face bore little flesh, and his nose protruded too far, reinforcing his birdlike appearance. Under his narrow lips, a weak chin, and a jaw as smooth as a boy's.

Thoth set aside his wine. "It does. I don't belong here, which means my presence is tearing the world apart." He glanced at Imhotep. "During the vision, were you given any accounting of time? Perhaps how many days we have left until the end?"

"I might have," Imhotep answered, evasive.

"And?" Thoth pressed.

"Thirty-five," Imhotep replied, low, looking down at his bracelets. He turned one of them until it lined up with the others. "That was how many times Re-Atum's barque rose from the sky."

"Which leaves us two days," Thoth said, bleak.

"So that's what you meant about being destined to die," Sethi said, glancing at Urhi-Teshub. Hatti's king met his look, cold, hostile, defiant.

Thoth let out a heavy breath. "But that is not the only problem we face." He looked at Teshub. "Brother, I'd rather you told it, since it was you who brought the vision pool's message to us."

Sethi caught Istara watching him, her eyes still wet with tears. Sorrow bled from her. His heart clenched. Two days--and that wasn't the worst of it.

"Tell me," Horus said, tight.

"Before I left the Immortal Realm," Teshub said, meeting Horus's piercing gaze, "the vision pool showed me the future: Marduk used Surru portal and became immortal."

"How?" Horus demanded. "He needs a god, and there are none in this world."

"He had one," Teshub said, glancing at Baalat. She looked up at Horus, hollow.

Horus lifted his bloodied eyebrow. "Me?"

Teshub nodded.

"Well, I am no longer a god," Horus muttered. "The vision pool must be wrong. Marduk cannot cross the portal."

"Or," Baalat said, low, "he has found a way to overcome that. You said he is coming back for you and Sethi--that he was preparing for a journey, one from which you would not return."

Silence fell. Sethi looked at Istara. She bit her lip and met his eyes. A tear slid down her cheek. He had heard of portals from one of the sorcerers at Iunu, but it had been nothing more than a fantastical legend of magical doorways created by Thoth to traverse great distances. To realize the story was not only true, but a portal still existed after all this time--

"Perhaps he has found a way, though how, I cannot imagine," Horus said, grim. His gaze moved to Baalat. "My love, has the vision pool ever been wrong?"

Baalat shook her head, slow. "Never." She rose and went to him, blinking hard, tears staining her lashes.

He took her in his arms, cradling her against him, his mouth on hers, soft, tender. "I will find you," he said, low. "This is not over. We are not over."

She wept, quiet, against his shoulder. His arms tightened around her, protective, his murmured words too low to hear.

Dread washed over Sethi, bleak waves against his heart. He knelt before Istara, the scorching heat of Urhi-Teshub's glare on his back. The King of Hatti's footsteps neared.

"Let them say goodbye," Teshub said, taut. A heartbeat of silence. Urhi-Teshub let out a heavy breath and moved to the other side of the divan. He leaned against a pillar, his arms folded over his chest, and watched Sethi, his gaze baleful, dark, dangerous.