I wasn't sure if it was Ammit or me who made the small child cry when we entered the hotel lobby, but the kid's mother all but flew across the lobby to drag her away from us as she froze in horror - sobbing. In retrospect, an armor-plated, blood-covered specter with hair and eyes made from shadows shimmering in starlight walking next to a bipedal crocodile weren't exactly the clientele of an upscale hotel.

The crying child's mother violently yanked her kid from the front door, practically fleeing to the elevator.

"Yeah." I groaned, feeling the judging stares of the hotel guests. "That feels about right."

I haven't historically done well with upscale hotels. I've never been what anyone would consider rich, so the only reason I've really had to be inside of them is while I'm on the job. Generally speaking, this means that I'm heading somewhere a legitimate guest of that hotel really doesn't want me to be… and as a consequence hotel security doesn't want me to be either. Even when that isn't the case, I'm not used to being welcome.

Mortal and immortal alike, if you've got a lot you don't like having to spend a lot of time around someone who "doesn't belong." The huge guy covered in scars, wearing a leather duster and holding a wizard's staff? That fits comfortably in the category of "people who don't belong at the Drake for afternoon Tea." It was part of why I paid for an office back when I'd been starting out and barely able to afford it, it disinclined clients from asking me to meet them places even less agreeable to my wallet.

My experience at the Marriott was not the greeting to which I'd become accustomed. On entering the front door we were veritably assaulted by a small army of hotel employees that could have given Amun a run for his money when it came to infuriating degrees of helpfulness. There was an honest to goodness lineup of maids and bellhops there to greet us, standing at attention like an honor guard. The doormen actually saluted me as I walked into the lobby.

They had the same rigidity to them that the guard we'd left behind at the perimeter, doubtless more Svartalves cloaking themselves in the guise of human beings. I could tell that this was categorically not the standard greeting for important guests to this hotel, there were some baffled looking hotel employees discussing the matter of our arrival at the hotel bar - making no effort to hide how strange they found this to be. It was at about this time that I realized that this was a fully functioning hotel, full of entirely mortal and equally baffled tourists just here to see the wonders of Egypt.

And now, being greeted like Royalty by the hotel staff, were a number of obvious soldiers, space Egyptians, and a giant crocodile person. A baffling sight, to say the least, though I'm reasonably certain that it was Muminah who was attracting the most unwelcome attention at the moment. Stars and stones, I'd brought a nudist to a country populated by conservative Muslims. I could have brought an entire Battalion of Unas and I wasn't sure that I would get as much pearl clutching horror as the Priestess' barely covered bottom was likely to engender.

Not that anyone was saying anything about it. Well… not any more, I should say. I was reasonably certain that the dazed looking man with a red and white checkered head scarf had made the mistake of entering Mumina's personal space without her permission. The shade of red dripping down her fingers seemed to match the shade dripping from his broken nose as he hobbled back to the bar.

One did not touch a woman of the clergy of Nekheb without her permission, else they suffered her extreme displeasure. That, at least, I had insisted upon the clergy keeping in their training. Even Heka had a couple of ideas worth keeping.

Muminah, Kincaid, and Enlil were in the process of propping the Russians in a small enclave of chairs next to the check-in desk as Kincaid spoke with a short woman with skin that was incongruously pale for the desert climate. She moved a lock of shockingly blonde hair away from her face as she assessed me with piercing eyes the color of frozen raspberries.

Enlil moved up to her and took her hand in both of his, kneeling and kissing her knuckles as he bowed his head in deference. He did not move until she'd placed her other hand upon his head, shifting back in a still kneeling position of deference.

Ammit, by contrast, grabbed the woman into a bear hug - snarling with glee. She picked her up and twirled the blonde woman about, making the waif of a woman giggle with glee as she was tossed into the air. Ammit caught her and nuzzled the woman with her scaly chin, making a noise that almost sounded like purring.

"I have missed you too, old friend." The blond woman replied, caressing her jaw with a pale hand. "It has been too long."

"This world does not welcome me as once it did." Ammit purred, letting go of the woman. She did so slowly, her fingers lingering on the woman's arm as they parted. "And its charms have been lost on me since my time in Buyan."

"You, uh, know each other Ammit?" I inquired politely.

"Syn was one of the Jötunn who stood with their cousins when all else fell." Ammit grinned. "It was she, as she alone, who I trusted to protect the Gates to the Necropolis in my absence."

"I meant she seems like…. uh, more than a friend." I eyed the hand still lingering on Syn's arm.

"So help me Warden, if you make so much as one "Eater of Sin" joke I will disembowel you." Ammit's eyes flashed.

"I'm not judging." Open mouth, insert foot. "It jus, you know."

"Syn is a trusted friend." Ammit replied firmly. "Her world is good."

"Yes - it is." The woman's red eyes flicked to each of us in turn, assessing us with a razor like focus. Her gaze lingered upon Kincaid before she continued. "I presume that I have you to thank for the current Chaos?"

"Him mostly." Ammit slapped my shoulder. "The good Lord Warden seems happiest when things are on fire."

I staggered slightly at the weight of Ammit's meaty claw. She wasn't particularly good at gentle when she got conversational. "I don't like setting things on fire, I just seem to need to set things on fire often."

"I would prefer that you curtailed such behavior within the confines of these premises. While we are holding them in trust as part of the Terms, they are considered accorded neutral territory and we are inclined to enforce that neutrality." She waved vaguely in the direction of the man bleeding into his scotch. "With some reasonable degree of latitude for non-signatories and the chattel of Senior Management… of course."

Kincaid snorted. "Lady, we both know the only reason your security didn't break the Prince's nose was that I didn't get to the prince first."

"When I need to hear barking I will address you, hound." The woman's voice was pure venom. "Do not think that I have forgotten what you are, or who you've killed."

"Pleasure as always Lady Syn." Kincaid sighed, looking at the mortals on all sides of us. "But I feel like you've got bigger problems than our old spats. What happens when all these people start talking about what they've seen and what we've done."

Syn looked at the Mercenary in momentary incredulity. "Hellhound… tomorrow the only thing they will remember is that armed guards were brought in to protect the guests from the riots in town that happened after the Nuclear event in Russia. This place is protected by the collective enchantments of Svartalfheim, Asgard, and the Ogdoad, if it even takes that long."

She waved at the Saudi Prince as his expression went from one of anger to one of confusion. He looked down at the bloody rag in his hand, utterly baffled as to how he'd been harmed. Mind altering magic. My heart stopped, "You're hurting those people. Mind magic on that scale can't be done without serious consequences."

"Not by mortal magic or the Goa'uld, but the Asgard have long ago mastered the arts of the mind." The woman replied firmly. "We can excise memories, add them, or move memories into new flesh without particular difficulty. It was instrumental in imposing the terms, if you'll recall."

She paused, as though realizing what she'd said. "Though I suppose you wouldn't, what with that being the entire point of removing them."

That was new. I'd met the Asgard before. Thor had allowed me to surrender to the SGC after my il-fated run through the realm of Dragons. But when I'd met him he'd been something straight out of an episode of the X-Files. Syn was inhuman, but no more so than any of the Sidhe. A skin mask then - it had to be.

Inhuman creatures often adopted human masks to help them blend into the mortal societies they lived in. I suppose it shouldn't have come as a surprise. In legends the Svartalves were closely connected to the Asgard, it stood to reason that they were distant cousins or something. I'd have to ask Bob about it when I got back.

"Lady Syn." I kneeled as Enlil had, doing my best to turn on the charm. "I apologize for our presumption of dropping by unannounced and for questioning your courtesy. We have had a long day and are tired. Thank you for taking us as guests in this place."

Syn crooked her brow, holding out her hand to me as she had done to Enlil. I kissed it in imitation of how he had done. She looked at Ammit, "You've been working on these two, I see."

"They're learning." Ammit replied. "They might even be worth a damn if they live through the assault on Buyan."

"Not well enough to save themselves from their own mortal enemies, it would seem." She pointed to my brother. "Not when they bring one of the Godsbane with them."

"Hey, I'm not here to cause any problems." Thomas held up his hands in an effort to seem harmless. Not a very effective one judging by the Asgardian's expression.

"The blood of an Incubus cannot be trusted. Not here - not knowing what I know it can be used to accomplish." Syn glared daggers at Kincaid. "And what others might use its mortal sacrifice to accomplish."

"Kincaid." I spoke the name like a vile oath. "The potion you used in me, the sedative. How did you make it?"

Kincaid said nothing, his face an impassive mask as my mind filled in the worst case possible scenario. "Because it's sounding a hell of a lot like she's saying that you killed a White Court vampire in a blood ritual to make that potion."

Kincaid still said nothing, though his hand twitched - not quite reaching for a weapon.

"It sounds a hell of a lot like you were planning on doing the same to Thomas if you ran out of the potion." Even disregarding the whole "he planned to kill my brother" aspect to this, I didn't dare to think what a potion capable of doing that do me might manage when they had actual blood-of-my-blood mixed into it.

"No - the Incubus was not intended for that purpose. Not as a primary course of action, but the Archive never does anything without five different back-up plans in place. I would be surprised if that hadn't worked its way at least partially into her thinking." Kincaid replied as Thomas glared daggers at him. "But the White Court are too useful to do that to the more productive members of their order. Skavis and Mavora generally don't draw as much attention when they go missing. A living White Court Vampire is… as a rule, potent in their ability to bend and break the ancient Pantheon."

He sighed in apparent disappointment. "Not that it seems Thomas to have accomplished anything resembling that since he's been here."

"Don't blame me." Thomas groused. "You're the one who chose to try to use an incubus against someone who is protected by true love. I didn't even know that the old gods could be in love."

I could have killed my brother for saying that in front of Muminnah. Her eyes were bulging with an impossible myriad of questions that I was dreading. She remained silent, but I knew all too well that if I didn't figure out some way of explaining Susan to the priestesses they'd create their own version of "who" I loved.

"Kill each other once the Archive is safe." Ammit cut in, waylaying the fight she could see incoming. " I don't have time for children to squabble. Syn, we need to get to the ship I left behind."

"You know that the White Council won't allow entry." Syn shook her head. "Their interpretation of the Terms differs drastically from our own. I will not help you violate their sovereignty."

"But you can allow entry into the Grand Necropolis Anubi." Enlil insisted. "To pay our respects of course."

"And that you might exit the Necropolis through one of the other exits is just coincidence, I assume?" The Goddess replied acerbically.

"I hadn't considered that far in advance, and the great necropolis is quite difficult to traverse." The Akkadian god replied demurely, though a wolfish glint shone in his eye. "That Mortals failed to understand the Terms of the gods is hardly the fault of the gods. Wouldn't you agree?"

"If your warriors had been half so dangerous as your tongue you might have survived the fury of your wife, Enlil." The pale goddess smiled at him. "But, yes, I can not deny you access to the burial place of your people."

She held up a finger, "Nor, however, can I allow you access to the Necropolis without a chaperone. There are still echoes of the past within it, and we dare not allow them to escape in your flesh."

"I presided over the Necropolis Anubi until the bitter end." Ammit's teeth gnashed as she pointed an angry talon into the tiny goddess chest, pressing it into the silk fabric of her shirt. "Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do in my domain or to demand chaperones in a place that you may not walk without our permission."

"Actually, the Jötunn are - when last I looked - entirely welcome within the Necropolis, be they invited or not." I jumped in surprise as a narrow man of average height appeared from a pillar of blue and white light, stroking a calico mess of hair on his chin that could only have been called a "beard" in the loosest possible interpretation of the world. The man was built all wrong, he looked less like a person and more like what would happen if a child's drawing of a man came to life. His eyes were mismatched and his fingers longer than I would ever have expected on a mortal man. He was wearing something that looked like a military uniform, only made out of haphazard swatches of different types of fabric.

Ammit sniffed the air cautiously before asking, "Loki?"

I whistled, long and low. I'd heard of Loki - who hadn't? He was a god of pranks and mischief who'd, at least according to the legends, gone too far and been tortured by Odin for eternity as a consequence of that. He was substantially less "captive" than the legends would suggest.

"In a manner of speaking." The man shrugged. "I am not what once I was, and am not what I will one day be. But yes, I am he who spawned the Jörmungandr."

"But - but you died at the battle of Djer." Ammit spoke in a voice of horrified quiet. "How - Odin?"

"He doesn't like to let go, I'm afraid." The man sighed. "Even as a shade of what once I was, I am still me."

"I missed you." The goddess hugged the tiny man, giggling as he shimmered out of her grip, appearing next to Muminah to whisper into the priestess' ear. The priestess giggled at what he'd said, slapping his arm playfully.

"She is at least ten millennia too young for you, Loki." Enlil laughed, sincere warmth in his voice. "Not that a difference in age or even species has ever stopped you before."

"Charmed though I am to reminisce over times lost, I would suggest that we move with purpose." The trickster god waved to the elevators. "Time is the weapon of your enemy, best not to arm him more than he already is."

As he waved his hand a red gem above the elevator sprung to life. A wide beam of red scanned across the room from left to right, disapparating my entire cadre of companions into thin air. It was bizarre, as the light swiped over us I could see reality shifting us to a different geography entirely. We'd gone from an upscale hotel to a subterranean city of pyramids and ancient buildings, illuminated by the glow of an artificial sun.

"Much better" Loki sighed, basking in the light of the artificial sun briefly before turning to me. "Now, I believe that you are the one who has managed to replicate the stupidity that nearly ended reality? Or is are there two of you insane enough to conduct the ritual of Necromantic Ascension?"

"Yeah, he's the moron." Ammit chuckled.

"I was asking him." Loki cut her off. "Are you he?"

"I am." There didn't seem any point in lying.

"Then it is good that we have this opportunity to talk. I am in a unique position to help you, Lord Warden." The man smiled, flashing evenly spaced teeth that were a bit too even to feel natural.

"And what is the price of this help?" I scoffed, I wasn't about to make a deal with a famous Trickster - regardless of his prior relationship with Ammit and Enlil.

"I'm rather hoping you'll avoid dooming the universe. It is in my best interest, given that I'm a current resident." Loki replied dryly, gesturing to Ammit and Enlil. "And given that neither of them is actually able to explain why or how that came to be due to the Terms, assuming they even remember a tenth of what is relevant, they're useless for preventing that."

"But you can just tell me?" I inquired.

"Not everything." Loki replied. "I wasn't present for everything you need to know. I'd imagine that only the Ogdoad could answer that. But I do know the true folly of Thoth, not just the prelude to the Folly."

"We dare not speak the words!" Enlil hissed. "Or they might be heard."

"Not within the Necropolis." Loki dismissed the suggestion. "Within the Necropolis not even the servants of the White God can see what is done by our kind, much less the Enemy."

He looked at me. "So, Warden. Do you want to know? Do you want to know the secret that felled the Endless Pantheon?"

I swallowed nervously, this was the sort of information that Mab might well kill me for having. It was the sort of information that could destroy me. Still - It was always better to know than not to know. An uninformed choice was no choice at all.

I looked at the Trickster god, avoiding direct contact with his eyes as I said. "Tell me about the Folly of Thoth."