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sole. Sebek's glare seemed to ask, who is this devil woman, as he wheezed, trying to get some air into his lungs. A difficult feat, given his bruised stomach muscles, Hathor knew. She could read his dilemma clearly. One call, and the room would be full of warriors. But what effect would it have on his faction if he needed warriors to protect him from a lone, naked woman? Hathor feinted a low kick with her left foot. When Sebek committed himself to trying to grab her ankle, she shifted to a roundhouse kick Coming from the right. The weighted sole caught Sebek in the temple, toppling him to crash halfconscious on the stone floor. He lay there for a moment, unmoving.
    Then he tried to prop himself up on hands and knees. A kick to his left elbow nearly wrecked that joint, collapsing Sebek on his side. Hathor followed up with a kick to his kidneys, then hooked a toe under Sebek's ribs, turning him over to expose his more vulnerable underbelly. The crocodile god tried to huddle into himself and protect his already bruised stomach, only to have one of Hathor's heavy soles come crushing down on his testicles. In a moan of agony, his breath went whooshing out again. Sebek tried to turn turtle, but Hathor kicked him out flat on his back again. At this point Sebek wanted to scream for help, but didn't have enough air in his lungs to do it. Hathor didn't help the situation. With a cold smile she moved her right foot toward Sebek's throat. The only response the helpless, gasping man could make was to scrunch his jaw down, trying to protect the soft tissue now at risk. One more kick from the warrior woman twisted Sebek's head back while tearing the wound on his cheek even wider. Blood gushed down onto the crocodile god's throat as Hathor's foot descended relentlessly. A strangled croak whispered out of his mouth. "Who-" That was all he could manage.
    Hathor's smile became twisted. The question might have been "Who sent you?" Sebek probably suspected one of his rivals in the succession.
    Thoth, he was sure, didn't have the resources-human or testicular-to set an assassin on him, much less a trained female killer. But if Sebek's lieutenant had checked with Thoth, as Hathor had fully expected, he'd have gotten wholehearted confirmation of the "gift." Because Thoth wasn't a free agent anymore. He was acting in support of-indeed, at the orders of-the champion who was going to save and restore Ra's empire. So Hathor took Sebek's unfinished question as "Who are you?" She thought it was only fair to let him know. So Hathor stepped away for a moment, removing a package from under the divan. Apparently, these warrior types had yet to realize that Tuat's housekeeping staff were part of the administrative staff-and owed fealty to Thoth. Hathor removed one of the pectoral necklaces that converted into god heads. As she resumed her position, one foot on Sebek's throat, she settled the necklace around her neck and activated the smart metal mask. The faintly glowing goldflecked material formed itself into the semblance of a cat's head-the ancient sign of Hathor. Sebek's eyes bulged in shocked recognition as he stared up at her. The mask was the last thing he saw.
    Hathor bore down with her foot, crushing his trachea. As Sebek writhed in his death throes, Hathor returned to the package she'd arranged to be preset, removing a warrior's kilt and donning it. She waited until the crocodile god was truly and irretrievably dead before she headed to the chamber entrance. Hathor had never doubted her ability to murder Sebek.
    That had been the easy part of this incursion. Now she faced the real challenge-stepping back into the room where the men-at-arms were taking their recreation, and uniting all there in fealty to her. Her breath sounded very loud in her helmet as she pressed the tab to unmask. She wanted the warriors to see her face-to recognize the face of the woman Sebek had taken off for his pleasure returning as the warrior who had killed him. There