“Use me?” repeated Simon, but even as he did, the meaning of Set's words became clear. “You're going to attack Horus.”

  “Very good,” drawled Set, “I knew you were listening in on my little conversation... Not that it matters...” Another expression flit over his sallow face, a trace of an almost genuine smile. “You're mine now. You came to me, spilling all your secrets about my foolish nephew and the girl...”

  “Don't even talk about her,” snapped Simon, surprising himself. Why was he defending Nefertari again?

  “Or what?” Set chortled humourlessly. “I have no interest in the descendant of Ra, only my nephew, the little falcon...”

  “Well tough,” said Simon, crossing his arms and glaring at the god. “He's already tried to sacrifice me once, he won't be rushing to my rescue just because I'm your prisoner now.”

  He had hoped to unhinge Set, somehow convince him to abandon his plan, but the god's smirk merely grew wider, his eyes alight with a malevolent glint.

  “Won't he? He has already tried once, and I have reason to believe he will try again – on the orders of his beloved descendant.”

  What? Simon's mind reeled again. Horus had tried to rescue him? But Horus hated him, had done his utmost to be rid of him, offering his soul as payment … Would Horus really risk his life for him? Certainly he wouldn't, unless Nefertari had asked him to as Set had suggested … And if Set wasn't lying this time, which Simon didn't think he was, for to what avail would a lie at this point really be seeing how Simon didn't have any option left but to play his game anyway... He mightn't feel exceptionally partial to either Nefertari or Horus, but if it was true and they were trying to rescue him...

  But what could he do? Clearly, distracting Set from his plans didn't work, so he had to change his tactic … And then it came to him in a flash of the Infinity Key on his chest.

  “Not a bad plan, I applaud you,” Simon said curtly. As he had predicted, his sudden change of course startled the god, but there was no time to relish in the small victory. “You've got me cornered, and possibly Nefertari and Horus as well.” He picked his words carefully now, a surge of some sort of anxious excitement trickled through him. If this worked... “Do you want to know how it ends? I'm from the future, as you surely remember. I could tell you.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Set's face turned into a waxen grimace.

  “I know how it'll end. I don't need you to tell me,” the god snapped, though his voice betrayed a certain uncertainty. Simon could guess what the god was thinking: This was a once in a life opportunity, even for a god, holding a time traveller hostage … Could there be a chance that his, Simon's, futuristic knowledge could be used to an advantage?

  “You're going to lose, you know,” said Simon smugly, not letting the god come to a conclusion lest it put him out of favour somehow, feeling pleased when Set's scarlet eyes widened disconcertedly. “You're going to lose the battle with your nephew. Horus is going to beat you.”

  “Liar,” snapped Set, sounding alert as much as angry.

  “Try me,” Simon shot back, suppressing a complacent smirk. “In a few years from now, it will be written on all the scriptures of every temple and every single scroll and tablet. Your little nephew will be your downfall, Set. He will stop this insanity.”

  Set stared at him unmovingly, his expression unreadable.

  “But there is still a way to change things,” Simon continued, keeping his voice measured though his insides were screaming and straining with fearful anticipation, knowing that everything depended on the outcome of this conversation... “You could still change sides. If you turn your back on the false god now, you could redeem yourself aiding the rightful Pharaoh. Horus might still forgive you for killing his father – your brother, Osiris. Don't make the same mistake twice.”

  He might forgive you. He might still love you. Even after all that's happened. The words restlessly spiralled around inside of him.

  Set responded with rage, seething and yelling, but his fit of temper couldn't quite prevent emotions quite remote from fury from showing on his features: For the fraction of a second, there was definitely pain, merged with disbelief, and mingled with a hint of desperate longing and grief.

  “Forgive me?” Set roared, spit flying from his lips, “Why would I want forgiveness?”

  “Because he's still your family,” said Simon, playing his trump, knowing at once his words were true, “your own flesh and blood.”

  Set stared at him, breathing heavily through his nose, and then, after what felt like an eternity, the god asked, “Do you really think there could be redemption for me?”

  Simon could hear that Set was attempting to keep the anger in his voice, but there was something in his tone that betrayed a sort of anguished, aching hope that there could still be a reunion with his brother's son, that his nephew might still forgive him for killing his father and allying himself with the Pharaoh's greatest enemy.

  Now the honest answer would have been no, but Simon wasn't on a suicide mission.

  “Yes,” he said firmly.

  “Then you are a fool,” replied Set quite calmly, his features unreadable again, “and I will take my chances.”