Lamont nodded weakly.
“Well, he’s responding to us anyway,” said Liz with relief. “Come on, tug at my knots.”
Medea cursed. “Damn them. I wish I could use my magic.”
Liz took a deep breath. “Well. Let me try. If we had Henri here, he could tell us what the fiber was, perhaps. But I don’t know. So I’ll have to use animals . . .
“By the Hathors I command thee,
“By the scarab,
“By the pincers of Selket.
“By the secret name Arachnida.
“I summon thee to devour and destroy this rope.
“By Horus of horizon, I command make it writhe away
“Like the holy uraeus . . . ”
“EEEK!”
The only reason that Lamont didn’t join in Medea’s shriek was that he still had the gag in his mouth. He did a pretty good shriek despite of it.
Scorpions came crawling by the hundreds out of the smallest cracks . . .
Belatedly, Liz remembered Jerry telling her that Selket was a scorpion goddess, particularly charged with the preservation of the entrails of the dead. Probably, as Lamont said later, because they’d been emptied out so nicely.
“Just lie still!” snapped Liz. “I thought we’d just get one or two. Not thousands.” Liz spoke as calmly as she could, as more and more tiny clawed feet made their way down her arms to the ropes.
Which were writhing . . .
Lamont leapt to his feet kicking frantically, his fear of the scorpions totally submerged by his very urgent need to get rid of the rope that had become a uraeus. The knotted cobra that had been a rope hit the wall with an angry hiss. Nobody knows their own strength and sheer determination until they find their ropes turning to cobras. Ten seconds later they were all on their feet in a corner, stamping scorpions and frantically shaking them off their clothes, while three very large, angry Egyptian cobras hissed like about-to-explode kettles in the far corner. Liz untied Lamont’s gag. It was bloody. He’d lost a tooth.
“For god’s sake, Liz! I am really, really, really scared of snakes. And I ain’t too fond of scorpions, neither.” Lamont’s voice was slightly shaky and definitely high-pitched. “We’re just lucky we didn’t get bitten!”
Liz looked a bit crestfallen. “I’m sorry. I don’t really understand this magic stuff too well.”
Lamont raised his eyes to heaven. “Well, why don’t you leave it to somebody who does understand it? Like Medea.”
Medea’s reaction was quite different. She was staring at the cobras and scorpions with admiration. “You must teach me that spell, darling Liz.”
Liz glared at Lamont. “Quit grousing! You’re the Cushite sorceress. You’re the one who’s supposed to be doing the spells.”
Lamont felt his jaw. “And I’ve got the lumps and bruises to prove it. Damn Jerry and his crazy ideas!” he said thickly. “I’ve got a hangover on top of it all.”
“Shhh. Somebody’s at the door,” whispered Liz.
Indeed, outside the cell they could hear a heavy bar being raised. The stone slab door on the far side of the cell swung open to reveal three soldiers, with spears at the ready.
Ready for three prisoners. Less than ready for an equal number of angry Egyptian cobras. The door had just missed one. The three snakes swayed in unison, hoods flared. Which might still have been okay if a scorpion hadn’t marched up the one fellow’s sandal and set off further upward, exploring cheerfully. The guard’s eyes, already the size of golf balls, got wider.
“Kill it, Bedety! Kill it!” The guard’s teeth were clenched. He stood as if flash-frozen.
His companion was about to calmly flick it off with a spear point . . . when a scorpion walked onto his foot. The spear point jabbed as he stamped and danced clear.
“Yeow!” yelled the stab victim, as the spear point jabbed him on the inner thigh. Of course the stab missed the scorpion. The alarmed creature scuttled higher, aiming for the safety of the kilt.
“Horus’ Eye! The floor is alive with these scorpions!” The third soldier was backing off, his voice shaky.
The scorpion, for which the stab victim was frantically searching under his kilt, must have reacted as frightened scorpions do. The poor man shrieked and flung his spear away. He missed a cobra by a hairsbreadth and nearly took out Liz’s toes. The angry cobras struck at the guards. . . .
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