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the waste of good warriors. Instead, Hathor had invited all those interested in becoming the crocodile god to meet her in single combat. Her practical response to the problem had had several useful results. Considerably fewer candidates had come forward to battle for the Sebek position. And her success in handling them-in a non-lethal way-had greatly increased her standing among her own warriors. Besides, when the stories of the single combats got out-men being the gossips they are-her skill at the martial arts would spread among the other factions as well. Having consolidated her factional position and arranged a fresh influx of propaganda for her legend, Hathor prepared to reach out to another group that could help her establish supremacy over Ra's empire. Thoth had brought her the administrative mass of Ra's empire. While the present military men might deride Thoth's people as mere bean counters, they had no experience at large-scale operations. Hathor knew the value of good logistics from her time on Ombos. But there was another non-military component to Ra's power-the masters of technology led by Ptah, engineer of the gods. These were the ones who tuned the spacecraft engines, built the udajeet gliders, who fashioned raw quartz-crystal into Ra's instruments of wonder-including the blastlances the guards were so fond of using. To gain control of the empire's technicians, Hathor was going to meet Ptah. The engineer tended to wander the empire, constructing and repairing whatever was needed. The scribe spy system, however, had reported that Ptah had arrived on Tuatthe-world and would visit the palace on Tuatthe-moon. As Thoth stood with averted eyes, Hathor arrayed herself in the regalia of a warrior. "I am ready," she finally pronounced. "Have your people succeeded in locating him?" Thoth nodded.
    "He's in the maintenance section of one of the older pyramids." "Lead the way." The two moved off with a small cadre of Horus guards. Thoth led them on a circuitous route, both to avoid strongholds of other factions and to disguise their final destination. Ra would never have been expected in the maintenance levels of his pyramid palace, as was shown by the spartan decor. Instead of polished marble and wide spaces with columns, Hathor's party marched through dark, narrow corridors of raw stone. The air grew warm and stuffier, with a faint ozone smell, as if the very stuff they breathed had been subtly charged, ionized by great energies at work. Hathor knew this atmosphere only too well. Long ago the first triumph of her career had been to marry the Ptah of the First Time. The move had elevated her status and brought her under the eye of Ra. She and the head god had consorted together, and there was nothing that Ptah could say. He had suffered his divine cuckolding in cold silence, not even commenting on the brilliant military career Hathor had carved out on the basis of her own competence. When she left for Ombos, Ra had been present ... but Ptah had not. Following her guards down the Stygian passageway, Hathor banished her thoughts.
    Ancient history, she told herself. The Ptah of the First Time must have perished thousands of years ago, as had Thoth, Sebek, and all the others
    ... except for Ra. And, of course, herself, suspended somewhere between life and death. Ahead, Hathor discerned light at the end of the tunnel, not the murky, directionless luminescence that Ra favored but a harsh actinic glare. "His workshop," Thoth whispered. They entered to find technicians frantically shifting around some mysterious machinery while a masked man wielded an arc welder. The mask was made of smoked glass, unlike the animal heads surmounting most of the gods. The first Ptah had disdained the practice, and had gone into history depicted as a bearded human. This Ptah had apparently encountered physical disaster of cataclysmic proportions. The arm holding the welding device was mechanical, composed of golden-glistening quartz. In fact, more