Ka
Dan Efran
afterlife cover art dead protagonist Egypt Mythology on Jay Is Games poetry riddle walkthrough
For an Egyptian mummy's soul - or "Ka" - death is but the first step on a puzzling and perilous journey. The second step? Getting out of all those coffins....
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Suddenly...gradually...the sleep of death is pierced by a strange awakening...

...the priest opening your mouth...

...senses rushing back: taste, smell, sight, hearing, touch...

...but not pain, not heat or cold, not quick emotion...

...not breath...

(Players new to interactive fiction may wish to type "about".)

It is pitch dark, and you can't see a thing.
You can feel that you are surrounded by cold metal.
About yourself
You feel...dead.
You look at your surroundings
It is pitch dark, and you can't see a thing.
You can feel that you are surrounded by cold metal.
Inventory
You are carrying:
a papyrus scroll
You touch the metal
The darkness is complete, but nothing else feels quite like solid gold. It fits the shape of your body like...well, like a coffin.
You read the scroll
Though it is dark, somehow you can read - or perhaps you merely recall reading in life - the first spell-song in the Book of the Dead: Cat Eyes.

The words of that song fill your mind, and now you sense the power behind them:

Twin moons
Light the way.
Black cat's eyes
Reveal runes;
Turn night to day.

Those lyrics call to mind a half-remembered melody.
Sing Cat Eyes
Voicelessly you voice Cat Eyes.

It is still pitch dark, but the darkness no longer hinders your vision.

Your innermost coffin is fashioned of solid gold. Not bad!

In the Solid Gold Coffin you can see your body.
About yourself
A shadow of your former self, more or less literally.
You examine the body
Bound tight, protected with amulets, anointed with arcane oils: your body can rest safely here for eternity, though your own labors and dangers are not yet done.

Or so you have always been told.
Open Coffin
It is beyond your strength to open that.
You search the body
Hundreds of protective amulets are still in place. Good.
You look at Coffin
Nothing else feels quite like solid gold.
Look around
Your innermost coffin is fashioned of solid gold. Not bad!

In the Solid Gold Coffin you can see your body.
You examine scroll
It is a Book of the Dead, a richly illustrated grimoire, teaching spell-songs reputed to be of aid to the newly deceased in their eldritch travels. This one is dedicated to you and titled The Book of Songs of Getting Through The Day.

What could that mean?
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a Book of Songs of Getting Through the Day
You read the scroll
The Book of Songs of Getting Through the Day is a richly illustrated scroll on virgin papyrus; its chapters are spell-songs prepared to help you survive this most unusual day. As you read, you sense the power behind these ancient verses...

Twin moons
Light the way.
Black cat's eyes
Reveal runes;
Turn night to day.

West of west
From every tomb,
Each soul marches
To its rest
Or to its doom!

Of a holy shrine
Requires respect.
He who just ate
And drank much wine
The doors reject.

Star-gems flow
In your brazier;
What a grand
Skill you know,
Master Glazier!

slips through a wood
bathed in golden light
Up or down a slope
any way is good
feet as fleet as flight

I closed myself
Out of my own.
Before myself
I beg myself:
Leave myself alone.

Sand of the Nile
Hardens to stone;
Time the betrayer
Held in denial:
Hardness is gone

Days of your youth,
Times you regret,
Don't like to face
Unpleasant truth,
So you forget.

Deep underground
Mining for gold
Dig ore with bare hands
Speak without sound
Ten thousand years old
You sing gold digger
Voicelessly you voice Gold Digger.

Gold seems like such a yielding material....
Open Coffin
Your hands pass through the Solid Gold Coffin, meeting no resistance.

The mood of Gold Digger fades.
You go outside
You get out of the Solid Gold Coffin.

A dazzling inlaid mosaic of glass and gems covers the middle coffin.

In the Glass Mosaic Coffin you can see a Solid Gold Coffin.

The mood of Gold Digger fades.
You examine Glass
A dazzling inlaid mosaic of glass and gems covers the middle coffin.
You sing master glazier
Voicelessly you voice Master Glazier.

You sense how glass can flow like water.
Go outside
You get out of the Glass Mosaic Coffin.

The outer coffin is gold leaf over wood, richly embossed.

In the Gilt Cypress Coffin you can see a Glass Mosaic Coffin.

The mood of Master Glazier fades.
You examine the cypress
The outer coffin is gold leaf over wood, richly embossed.
You sing the golden forest runner
Voicelessly you voice Golden Forest Runner.

You feel nimble, like an antelope slipping through a wood bathed in golden light.
Go outside
You get out of the Gilt Cypress Coffin.

A heavy block of quartzite carved into a burial vessel. The heavy, close-fitting lid seals out time.

In the Quartzite Sarcophagus you can see a Gilt Cypress Coffin.

The mood of Golden Forest Runner fades.
You sing letting myself come through
Voicelessly you voice Letting Myself Come Through.

You feel a strange sympathetic awareness from somewhere nearby.
You sing the sandstone sifter
Voicelessly you voice Sandstone Sifter.

Sandstone - even quartzite - feels just like loose sand to you.

The mood of Letting Myself Come Through fades.
Go outside
You get out of the Quartzite Sarcophagus.

A sturdy vault to guard your body and its royal adornments from thieves and drafts.

In the First Burial Shrine you can see a Quartzite Sarcophagus.

The mood of Sandstone Sifter fades.
Examine vault
A sturdy vault to guard your body and its royal adornments from thieves and drafts.
You sing silent supplicant
Voicelessly you voice Silent Supplicant.

You feel fit to pass the threshold of a shrine.
Go outside
You get out of the First Burial Shrine.

A sturdy vault to guard your body and its royal adornments from thieves and drafts.

In the Second Burial Shrine you can see a First Burial Shrine.

The haunting melody of Silent Supplicant lingers in your mind.
Leave
You get out of the Second Burial Shrine.

A sturdy vault to guard your body and its royal adornments from thieves and drafts.

In the Third Burial Shrine you can see a Second Burial Shrine.

The haunting melody of Silent Supplicant lingers in your mind.
Go outside
You get out of the Third Burial Shrine.

A sturdy vault to guard your body and its royal adornments from thieves and drafts.

In the Fourth Burial Shrine you can see a Third Burial Shrine.

The haunting melody of Silent Supplicant lingers in your mind.
You exit
You get out of the Fourth Burial Shrine.

This small stone chamber is nearly filled by your nested Burial Shrines. The walls are richly (if hastily) painted with scenes of your recent funeral. A wide gap in the stone leads east; a passage to the south is narrow and guarded by two stern stone statues of yourself. The west wall is carved with a false door: a shallow bas-relief simulation of an inviting archway leading to the perils and rewards of the afterlife.

The mood of Silent Supplicant fades.
You look at the paintings
The scenes are all too familiar: the body anointed and wrapped; the priest opening the mouth; the Ka rising, walking, taking up its true regalia, and departing the tomb at last: through the False Door that leads past challenges undreamed toward a promise of eternal rest.

Seeing it in rich earth tones and bright gold brings back, somehow, corpse-memories of your embalming: The Grand Vizier wearing the Jackal-head himself to preside over your immortalization...then taking up the crook and flail, and declaring himself your heir and immediate successor to the throne! Typical! You feel a slow wave of anger...no, of envy: an itch to wield those royal implements again yourself.
You examine the statue
Two stone statues, in your own image, guard the narrow passage that separates your private chambers from the more public spaces of your tomb.
You examine false Door
An inviting arch leading to the lands west of life...but it is merely carved stone.
Go south
The twin statues stoically bar your way.
You sing letting myself come through
Voicelessly you voice Letting Myself Come Through.

The statues guarding the door to the south turn their expressionless faces toward you.
You go south
The statues gravely let you pass.

This chamber is smooth bare stone. Two stone statues guard the narrow passage to the north; rough rectangular holes in the stone lead east and west.

Your Coronation Crook lies abandoned in the dust.

The mood of Letting Myself Come Through fades.
The statues no longer seem aware of you.
You take Crook
Taken.
You examine it
This is the royal crook you used at your coronation.

Why was it taken from its case? Why was it cast aside in the outer tomb? Such disrespect for a god-king's symbol of authority seems unthinkable.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
your Coronation Crook
a Book of Songs of Getting Through the Day
You go east
This crude corridor leads west into your tomb - which already feels like home. To the east, the stairs that led here from the world of the living are sealed off above by thick stone.
Go west
This chamber is smooth bare stone. Two stone statues guard the narrow passage to the north; rough rectangular holes in the stone lead east and west.
You go west
This crude hollow holds more of your worldly goods. None seems to matter much now. The only break in the walls leads east.
You examine the goods
These things seem to have been disturbed, then hastily straightened. You sense that items are missing that ought to be here. Rage takes you for a moment, but it flows slowly, like cold mud, not the familiar hot fire of living anger. Has my grave, then, been robbed by the very men hand-picked to seal it? What use are amulets? what use are tombs? a cat may look at us, but where is safety in the world, when an undertaker may rob a king?
You examine the stone
Yesterday those stairs led here from the living world. Now they lead nowhere.
Sing Sandstone
Voicelessly you voice Sandstone Sifter.

Sandstone - even quartzite - feels just like loose sand to you.
You go upwards
You can't go that way.

The mood of Sandstone Sifter fades.
You sing the lost Memories
Voicelessly you voice Lost Memories.

The song evokes a mood of long ago, but nothing you see here sparks a particular memory.
Go west
This chamber is smooth bare stone. Two stone statues guard the narrow passage to the north; rough rectangular holes in the stone lead east and west.
You go west
This crude hollow holds more of your worldly goods. None seems to matter much now. The only break in the walls leads east.
You sing letting myself
Voicelessly you voice Letting Myself Come Through.

The statues guarding the door to the north turn their expressionless faces toward you.
Go north
The statues gravely let you pass.

This small stone chamber is nearly filled by your nested Burial Shrines. The walls are richly (if hastily) painted with scenes of your recent funeral. A wide gap in the stone leads east; a passage to the south is narrow and guarded by two stern stone statues of yourself. The west wall is carved with a false door: a shallow bas-relief simulation of an inviting archway leading to the perils and rewards of the afterlife.

The mood of Letting Myself Come Through fades.
The statues no longer seem aware of you.
You sing the lost Memories
Voicelessly you voice Lost Memories.

The song evokes a mood of long ago. But you find yourself staring at the painted walls, reminded of something more recent....

The scenes are all too familiar: the body anointed and wrapped; the priest opening the mouth; the Ka rising, walking, taking up its true regalia, and departing the tomb at last: through the False Door that leads past challenges undreamed toward a promise of eternal rest.

Seeing it in rich earth tones and bright gold brings back, somehow, corpse-memories of your embalming: The Grand Vizier wearing the Jackal-head himself to preside over your immortalization...then taking up the crook and flail, and declaring himself your heir and immediate successor to the throne! Typical! You feel a slow wave of anger...no, of envy: an itch to wield those royal implements again yourself.
You go to the east
This chamber is dominated by a grim statue of Anubis, judge of the newly dead, in jackal form. Around it are arrayed a decade's worth of kingly gifts. Little of it seems to matter much now. On the other hand, your Canopic Shrine and Sceptre Case are here, too. A wide gap in the west wall is the only exit.
Open Case
You open your Sceptre Case, revealing your replacement Coronation Flail, an Impolitic Spare Crook, a Large Paternal Crook, and a Large Paternal Flail.
You examine Anubis
The statue's grim visage seems to reserve judgment.
You examine Shrine
A sturdy vault for your most fragile internal organs. External, now.
You examine the coronation flail
This royal Flail looks just like the one you were given for your coronation...almost. But no: it lacks your cartouche. It is a replica, a fake! Now - now that you're dead - somehow you can't remember what that could mean, but it makes you uneasy.
You look at paternal
Which do you mean, the Large Paternal Crook, or the Large Paternal Flail?
Flail
This is your father's best ceremonial flail: now your prized heirloom.
You examine paternal Crook
This is your father's best ceremonial crook: now your cherished heirloom.
You examine impolitic Crook
This is a spare ceremonial crook you have never used. It was a gift from an unpopular functionary whose favor you dared not acknowledge.
You take all
your replacement Coronation Flail: Taken.
Impolitic Spare Crook: Taken.
Large Paternal Crook: Taken.
Large Paternal Flail: Taken.
kingly gifts: None of these things interests you anymore.
You open the jar
Your viscera are probably safest where they are.
You sing the lost Memories
Voicelessly you voice Lost Memories.

The song evokes a mood of long ago. Your glance catches on that subtly, naggingly inauthentic Coronation Flail, and suddenly a clear memory rushes back...

...Your coronation. You were only nine...of course you were nervous. But god-kings are infallible, your father-friend warned you, and then had to explain his words: admit no mistakes today!

You prayed you would simply make no mistakes, but of course disaster struck almost immediately. During your solemn investiture ceremony, the Royal Flail, in your young, infallible hand, brushed against a nearby man, a faithful attendant.

A trivial accident, caused by the slight shaking of your own nervous hand. But tradition says it is an offense against the gods for an attendant to touch a royal sceptre during such a ceremony, and the penalty is death....

The throne room where you've spent so much of your life this past decade...but as it looked to you the first time you saw it, as a child: rich and strange and big.

The blameless attendant is watching you, wide-eyed with fear.

Everyone else is watching you both with concern, wondering if you will indeed condemn this faithful servant to death as your first official act.

I must save this blameless man from my mistake, you remember thinking then, without taking the blame myself. But how?
You condemn yourself
My fault, you want to say, an accident! But a god-king can say no such thing.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
your Royal Crook
your Royal Flail
You look at the man
The man watches you in terror; he was not at fault, but his brief contact with your sceptre is a death sentence only you can rescind.
You examine Flail
The Royal Flail represents your responsibility to separate the wheat from the chaff among your subjects. Too literally, today.
You look at Crook
The royal Crook represents your responsibility to keep your flock from straying.
You touch the man with Crook
He shies back in horror.
Condemn man
You feel a sudden pridefulness, and your fist grips the flail's handle. Let him die, then, and thereby prove my power! But you sense that this is not kingly wisdom, and suppress the confirming gesture.
You forgive man
Nervously, you favor the blameless attendant with the only gesture of royal forgiveness you can recall, though it is intended for less serious matters.

The tension in the room diminishes slightly. Your gesture helped, but it seems not to be enough.
Hug man
The tension in the room diminishes slightly. Your gesture helped, but it seems not to be enough.
You look around
The throne room where you've spent so much of your life this past decade...but as it looked to you the first time you saw it, as a child: rich and strange and big.

The blameless attendant is watching you, wide-eyed with fear.

Everyone else is watching you both with concern, wondering if you will indeed condemn this faithful servant to death as your first official act.
About yourself
Young, alive, king: only in memory, alas.
Wave crook
You look ridiculous waving your Royal Crook.
Wave flail
You look ridiculous waving your Royal Flail.
You jump
You jump on the spot, fruitlessly.
You hit the man
You feel a sudden pridefulness, and your fist grips the flail's handle. Let him die, then, and thereby prove my power! But you sense that this is not kingly wisdom, and suppress the confirming gesture.
You look at the man
The man watches you in terror; he was not at fault, but his brief contact with your sceptre is a death sentence only you can rescind.
You look at Sceptre
Which do you mean, the better flail, your Royal Crook, or your Royal Flail?
You sing the lost Memories
Nervously you hum a half-remembered mnemonic chant, hoping to recall some forgotten ritual from your hasty training...

...but all that comes to mind is your father in a rage, smashing his razor when it cut him...

...the day he died.
You look around
The throne room where you've spent so much of your life this past decade...but as it looked to you the first time you saw it, as a child: rich and strange and big.

The blameless attendant is watching you, wide-eyed with fear.

Everyone else is watching you both with concern, wondering if you will indeed condemn this faithful servant to death as your first official act.
You bow to the man
Which do you mean, the better flail, your Royal Crook, or your Royal Flail?

I only understood you as far as wanting to bow.
You smash better flail
Stupid flail! If a royal sceptre got broken, they'd have to bring another one, right?
Go west
This small stone chamber is nearly filled by your nested Burial Shrines. The walls are richly (if hastily) painted with scenes of your recent funeral. A wide gap in the stone leads east; a passage to the south is narrow and guarded by two stern stone statues of yourself. The west wall is carved with a false door: a shallow bas-relief simulation of an inviting archway leading to the perils and rewards of the afterlife.
You sing down under
Voicelessly you voice Down Under.

The false door opens, revealing a seemingly infinite series of arches leading west.
You go to the east
This chamber is dominated by a grim statue of Anubis, judge of the newly dead, in jackal form. Around it are arrayed a decade's worth of kingly gifts. Little of it seems to matter much now. On the other hand, your Canopic Shrine and Sceptre Case are here, too. A wide gap in the west wall is the only exit.
Inventory
You are carrying:
your Coronation Crook
a Large Paternal Flail
a Large Paternal Crook
an Impolitic Spare Crook
your replacement Coronation Flail
a Book of Songs of Getting Through the Day
You put large paternal Flail in Case
You put the Large Paternal Flail into your Sceptre Case.
You put all but the replacement flail into Case
your Coronation Crook: Done.
Large Paternal Crook: Done.
Impolitic Spare Crook: Done.
Book of Songs of Getting Through the Day: You are reluctant to risk damaging the Book: it seems both useful and beautiful.
You go to the west
This small stone chamber is nearly filled by your nested Burial Shrines. The walls are richly (if hastily) painted with scenes of your recent funeral. A wide gap in the stone leads east; a passage to the south is narrow and guarded by two stern stone statues of yourself.

The false door carved into the west wall has become a real archway, leading west into absolute darkness.
You go west
You approach the arch that leads to the unknown lands west of life itself; but you hesitate. Looking around again at the somber paintings of this very moment on the burial chamber walls, you are suddenly homesick for mortality and kingship. You feel reluctant to leave your old life without some token, some remembrance...some talisman against the unknown challenges that lurk perhaps only a step beyond the arch.
You go west
With your best sceptres crossed protectively before you, you step out through the westward arch.

...for an instant you percieve the universe as an infinity of arches. Each step in any direction is a step through another arch, into another world...

...but even as the possibilities expand around you, the paths you have already walked fade away...

...you feel, more than see, a distant glimpse of paradise; but an instant later it is wrapped...no, you are surrounded in layers of obscuring mist that solidify one by one around you: huge confusing shapes, each smaller and simpler than the one surrounding it, until you find yourself inside the simplest shape of all, still enormous, and dark....

You are in a large spherical vault of polished stone, black as night, though your feline vision reveals all. In the exact center a magnificent amulet of tremendous size hangs in the darkness: a spherical mosaic of emerald and lapis lazuli and brown jasper, perhaps thrice your height, and as far above you.

Surely those gems lack their full glory in such darkness.

A man-sized clockwork scarab is pushing a lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber. As the scarab chugs past you, crossing the low arc and heading up toward the east side of the spherical chamber, you catch a flickering glimpse of some strange mechanism inside the golden cage.
About yourself
Here beyond the false door, you feel much more yourself than you did in your tomb. Still dead, though.

The sound of gears gets louder: now the clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber.
You examine the cage
The scarab is pushing a man-high, lacy ball through the darkness: a spherical cage woven of fine gold wire. A strange mechanism is barely visible inside.

Now the clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber.
You examine the mechanism
From outside the wire ball, you can only tell that some small objects are woven into the wire near the center.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber. (In a moment it will pass you again as it crosses the bottom of the chamber.)
You look at the amulet
The mosaic is a map: you perceive that the jewelled globe is a map of the entire world, although the part you recognize as your own kingdom - marked by a small white obelisk - seems impossibly tiny.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber.
You examine the obelisk
A pyramid-capped square column, about the size of your thumb, carved from some fine-grained white stone. Fine inscriptions describe your nation's worth, but in no language you have ever seen.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber.
You examine ball
The scarab is pushing a man-high, lacy ball through the darkness: a spherical cage woven of fine gold wire. A strange mechanism is barely visible inside.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber.
You look at the ball
The scarab is pushing a man-high, lacy ball through the darkness: a spherical cage woven of fine gold wire. A strange mechanism is barely visible inside.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber. (In a moment it will come within your reach again as it crosses the bottom of the chamber.)
You look at the scarab
The giant scarab beetle, finely crafted of copper and bronze, works its six leg-cams tirelessly along two thin grooves that circle this chamber. Between the polished plates of its carapace you can see gears turning inside.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber.
Inventory
You are carrying:
your Coronation Crook
your replacement Coronation Flail
a Book of Songs of Getting Through the Day

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber.
You touch ball
The cage-ball is out of reach: the mechanical scarab is pushing it up the east arc of the chamber....

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber.
You put Crook in scarab
That can't contain things.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber. (In a moment it will come within your reach again as it crosses the bottom of the chamber.)
You take the ball
The cage-ball is out of reach: the mechanical scarab is pushing it down the west arc of the chamber....

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber.
You jump
You jump, but the jewelled globe remains out of your reach.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber.
You take the ball
That's too heavy to move.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber.
You look around
You are in a large spherical vault of polished stone, black as night, though your feline vision reveals all. In the exact center a magnificent amulet of tremendous size hangs in the darkness: a spherical mosaic of emerald and lapis lazuli and brown jasper, perhaps thrice your height, and as far above you.

Surely those gems lack their full glory in such darkness.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber.
You examine the gems
The mosaic is a map: you perceive that the jewelled globe is a map of the entire world, although the part you recognize as your own kingdom - marked by a small white obelisk - seems impossibly tiny.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber. (In a moment it will come within your reach again as it crosses the bottom of the chamber.)
Sing cats eyes
Voicelessly you voice Cat Eyes.

It is still pitch dark, but the darkness no longer hinders your vision.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber.
Inventory
You are carrying:
your Coronation Crook
your replacement Coronation Flail
a Book of Songs of Getting Through the Day

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber.
You sing the lost Memories
Voicelessly you voice Lost Memories.

The song evokes a mood of long ago. You glance at your royal sceptres in doubt. These served me well for a decade, among men. But here amidst the machinery of the gods?

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber.
Wait
Time passes.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber. (In a moment it will come within your reach again as it crosses the bottom of the chamber.)
You sing gold digger
Voicelessly you voice Gold Digger.

Gold seems like such a yielding material....

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber.
You take the mechanism
That is out of reach inside the cage-ball.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber.

The mood of Gold Digger fades.
You examine the mechanism
From outside the wire ball, you can only tell that some small objects are woven into the wire near the center.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber.
You touch ball
The scarab is pushing a man-high, lacy ball through the darkness: a spherical cage woven of fine gold wire. A strange mechanism is barely visible inside.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber.

The mood of Gold Digger fades.
You take the ball
That's too heavy to move.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber.

The mood of Gold Digger fades.
You examine the scarab
The giant scarab beetle, finely crafted of copper and bronze, works its six leg-cams tirelessly along two thin grooves that circle this chamber. Between the polished plates of its carapace you can see gears turning inside.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber.
Wait
Time passes.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber.
You kick the scarab
Violence isn't the answer to this one.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber.
You enter the ball
The cage-ball is out of reach: the mechanical scarab is pushing it up the east arc of the chamber....

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber.
You sing Gold
(Gold Digger)
Voicelessly you voice Gold Digger.

Gold seems like such a yielding material....

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber.
You enter the ball
You slip through the yielding gold wire.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber with you inside.

The mood of Gold Digger fades.
You look at your surroundings
Solar Sphere (in the golden cage)
You are in a large spherical vault of polished stone, black as night, though your feline vision reveals all. In the exact center a magnificent amulet of tremendous size hangs in the darkness: a spherical mosaic of emerald and lapis lazuli and brown jasper, perhaps thrice your height, and as far above you.

Surely those gems lack their full glory in such darkness.

The scarab is pushing a man-high, lacy ball through the darkness: a spherical cage woven of fine gold wire. Near the center a strange mechanism is woven into the wire.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber with you inside.
You look at the mechanism
Simple, yet enigmatic. A metal framework - an outgrowth of the cage's wire lacework - suspends a few mechanical parts close together near the ball's center:

A little spool, hanging from a pivot of twisted wire, with a leather strap wound several times around it and a square hole in the bottom.

A hand's width below the hole in the spool, a cone of some unknown gray material, singed yellow-brown in the center.

Beside the cone, a tiny bellows, like a smith's child's toy.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber with you inside.
You look at the spool
A little spool is woven into the mechanism such that it can spin. It is wrapped with a leather strap, and there is a small square hole in the spool's bottom face.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber with you inside.
Press bellows
A fine mist sprays from the tiny bellows, blowing across the singed cone. A sharp, unfamiliar aroma fills the cage.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber with you inside.
Smell
The golden cage isn't open.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber with you inside.
Smell cone
The cone smells singed.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber with you inside.
Sing lost
Voicelessly you voice Lost Memories.

The song evokes a mood of long ago. You glance at your royal sceptres in doubt. These served me well for a decade, among men. But here amidst the machinery of the gods?

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber with you inside.
You describe your surroundings
Solar Sphere (in the golden cage)
You are in a large spherical vault of polished stone, black as night, though your feline vision reveals all. In the exact center a magnificent amulet of tremendous size hangs in the darkness: a spherical mosaic of emerald and lapis lazuli and brown jasper, perhaps thrice your height, and as far above you.

Surely those gems lack their full glory in such darkness.

The scarab is pushing a man-high, lacy ball through the darkness: a spherical cage woven of fine gold wire. Near the center a strange mechanism is woven into the wire.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber with you inside.
You examine the mechanism
Simple, yet enigmatic. A metal framework - an outgrowth of the cage's wire lacework - suspends a few mechanical parts close together near the ball's center:

A little spool, hanging from a pivot of twisted wire, with a leather strap wound several times around it and a square hole in the bottom.

A hand's width below the hole in the spool, a cone of some unknown gray material, singed yellow-brown in the center.

Beside the cone, a tiny bellows, like a smith's child's toy.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber with you inside.
You get all
Miniature Obelisk: You can't reach that from here.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber with you inside.
You look at the spool
A little spool is woven into the mechanism such that it can spin. It is wrapped with a leather strap, and there is a small square hole in the spool's bottom face.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber with you inside.
You look at the cone
A rounded block of some hard gray substance, with a conical pit in the top. The cone is unevenly discolored.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber with you inside.
You get the spool
That seems to be a part of the strange mechanism.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber with you inside.
You look at the leather
The strap is wrapped several times around the spool. Its free end is clearly a handle.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber with you inside.
You pull the strap
Pulling the strap spins the spool, fast. The strap pulls out of your hand and wraps itself around the spool again.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber with you inside.
Smell cone
The cone smells singed.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber with you inside.
You examine the bellows
It appears that pushing on the little bellows will puff its contents at the singed cone.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber with you inside.
You squeeze bellows
A fine mist sprays from the tiny bellows, blowing across the singed cone. A sharp, unfamiliar aroma fills the cage.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber with you inside.
Smell cone
The cone smells singed.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber with you inside.
You look at the hole
A little spool is woven into the mechanism such that it can spin. It is wrapped with a leather strap, and there is a small square hole in the spool's bottom face.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber with you inside.
Inventory
You are carrying:
your Coronation Crook
your replacement Coronation Flail
a Book of Songs of Getting Through the Day

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber with you inside.
You put Flail in the hole
That doesn't fit the hole in the spool.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber with you inside.
You put Crook in the hole
That doesn't fit the hole in the spool.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber with you inside.
You put the scroll in the hole
That doesn't fit the hole in the spool.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber with you inside.
You get the cone
That seems to be a part of the strange mechanism.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber with you inside.
You get the bellows
That seems to be a part of the strange mechanism.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber with you inside.
You get the mechanism
That's too heavy to move.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber with you inside.
You sing Gold
(Gold Digger)
Voicelessly you voice Gold Digger.

Gold seems like such a yielding material....

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber with you inside.
You leave
You slip through the yielding gold lace. As the ball is just rolling across the top of the chamber, you fall out and tumble down onto the jewelled globe.

Solar Sphere (on the Jewelled Globe)
You are in a large spherical vault of polished stone, black as night, though your feline vision reveals all. In the exact center a magnificent amulet of tremendous size hangs in the darkness: a spherical mosaic of emerald and lapis lazuli and brown jasper.

Surely those gems lack their full glory in such darkness.

A miniature obelisk about the size of your thumb rests on the jewelled globe, marking your own capital city.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber.

The mood of Gold Digger fades.
You get the obelisk
Taken.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber.
You examine it
A pyramid-capped square column, about the size of your thumb, carved from some fine-grained white stone. Fine inscriptions describe your nation's worth, but in no language you have ever seen.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a Miniature Obelisk
your Coronation Crook
your replacement Coronation Flail
a Book of Songs of Getting Through the Day

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber.
You describe your surroundings
Solar Sphere (on the Jewelled Globe)
You are in a large spherical vault of polished stone, black as night, though your feline vision reveals all. In the exact center a magnificent amulet of tremendous size hangs in the darkness: a spherical mosaic of emerald and lapis lazuli and brown jasper.

Surely those gems lack their full glory in such darkness.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber.
You climb the ball
The cage-ball is out of reach: the mechanical scarab is pushing it down the west arc of the chamber....

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber.
Examine
What do you want to examine?
You wait awhile
Time passes.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber.
You wait
Time passes.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber.
You sing Gold
(Gold Digger)
Voicelessly you voice Gold Digger.

Gold seems like such a yielding material....

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber.
You enter the ball
The cage-ball is out of reach: the mechanical scarab is pushing it down the west arc of the chamber....

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber.

The mood of Gold Digger fades.
You sing Gold
(Gold Digger)
Voicelessly you voice Gold Digger.

Gold seems like such a yielding material....

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber.
You wait a while
Time passes.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber.
Wait
Time passes.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber.
You enter ball
(getting off the Jewelled Globe)
You slip through the yielding gold wire.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball up the east arc of the chamber with you inside.

The mood of Gold Digger fades.
You put the Obelisk in the spool
The little obelisk fits firmly into the square hole in the spool.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber with you inside.
You pull leather
Pulling the strap spins the spool, fast. The obelisk spins with it; its point whines against the singed cone, which begins to glow dull red.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its lacy metal ball down the west arc of the chamber with you inside.
Press bellows
A fine mist sprays from the tiny bellows, blowing across the glowing cone. The mist becomes a spray of fire, and in an instant the wire of the cage is all aflame. The ball burns bright as the sun; its light scintillates among the lands of the jewelled globe.

Dawn has come.

Near the west pole of this spherical chamber, the dawn-light reveals an arched doorway that was not there before this moment.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its fiery metal ball east along the bottom arc of the chamber with you inside.
You sing Gold
(Gold Digger)
Voicelessly you voice Gold Digger.

Gold seems like such a yielding material....

The clockwork scarab is pushing its fiery metal ball up the east arc of the chamber with you inside.
Exit
You slip through the yielding gold lace. As the ball is rolling up the side of the chamber, you fall out and tumble back down to the low point.

The clockwork scarab is pushing its fiery metal ball west across the top arc of the chamber.

The mood of Gold Digger fades.
You go to the west
Confidently crossing your sceptres before you, you step out through the westward arch.

This chamber is a cube almost too big to see. A hole in the apex admits a single, broad beam of sunlight which stabs down to the floor, sparkling dust and making a bright circle on the floor, in the exact center of the dim space.

In the circle of light, a life-sized doll, finely crafted to resemble a learned old man, sits on a three-legged stool before a game board. Beneath his robes you can hear gears and flywheels whirring and ticking. His gaze follows you with uncanny smoothness.
You look at the game board
The game is Hounds and Jackals, but this is some complex variant you've never seen before. You have played on a small hand-held board, with two short trails of peg-holes mirrored side by side. But this is a large, elaborately carved oval table on a thin pedestal. It has separate, identical trails of peg-holes at each end of the oval; between them is a bowl shape holding two very large knucklebone dice. Each side's trail is criss-crossed with dozens of the short-cut paths that can so rapidly change a player's fortunes.

Seven Jackal pegs wait in the starting holes beneath the clockwork sage's hand; seven Hound pegs wait in the starting holes at your side of the game board.
You play the game
You pick up the dice and throw...

...the doll plays its side of the board with steely concentration, humming mechanically as it weighs its tactics...

...you find you can adapt to the wildly complex board, but before long you are losing. The clockwork sage's silver fingers throw the knucklebones with musical precision; he knows the peg-paths like the back of his hand...

...in fact, you see that the board's layout is indeed engraved upon the back of the doll's hand...

...he exploits every opportunity and pulls ahead rapidly; at length your position seems completely hopeless. You study the board once more: the sage needs but one more indifferently lucky throw to bring home his last Jackal, while your Hounds would need at least a dozen turns to catch up...

...it is your move, but it seems futile even to pick up the dice.
Sing lost
Voicelessly you voice Lost Memories.

The song evokes a mood of long ago. You glance at your sceptres again in growing doubt. These served me well among men. But against a blind genius automaton?
You get the dice
Dreading the result, you pick up the dice again...

...sure enough, the mechanical master handily defeats you...

...silently (but for a faint ticking) he begins to reset his pegs for a fresh game. Silently, you do the same.
You look around
This chamber is a cube almost too big to see. A hole in the apex admits a single, broad beam of sunlight which stabs down to the floor, sparkling dust and making a bright circle on the floor, in the exact center of the dim space.

In the circle of light, a life-sized doll, finely crafted to resemble a learned old man, sits on a three-legged stool before a game board. Beneath his robes you can hear gears and flywheels whirring and ticking. His gaze follows you with uncanny smoothness.
You look at the man
A clockwork sage sits rigidly upon a three-legged stool, facing you across a game table. His skin is silver; his eyes sparkling jewels; his clothes dyed silk; even his sandals are solid gold. Within him you can hear fine machinery working; his gemstone gaze never leaves your face.

The clockwork sage's silver hand waits above the Jackal pegs.
You get the hand
That seems to be a part of the Clockwork Sage.
You sing master glazier
Voicelessly you voice Master Glazier.

You sense how glass can flow like water.
You examine Hounds
The game is Hounds and Jackals, but this is some complex variant you've never seen before. You have played on a small hand-held board, with two short trails of peg-holes mirrored side by side. But this is a large, elaborately carved oval table on a thin pedestal. It has separate, identical trails of peg-holes at each end of the oval; between them is a bowl shape holding two very large knucklebone dice. Each side's trail is criss-crossed with dozens of the short-cut paths that can so rapidly change a player's fortunes.

Seven Jackal pegs wait in the starting holes beneath the clockwork sage's hand; seven Hound pegs wait in the starting holes at your side of the game board.

The mood of Master Glazier fades.
You look at the hand
The clockwork sage's silver hand waits above the Jackal pegs. The paths of the game board are engraved on the back of his hand. You try to imagine the sage becoming forgetful, stealing a quick glance at the diagram...

...but the doll's gemstone gaze never leave your face.
You go to the west
You look for an arch to the west, but it seems plain that you must first beat this automaton at his own game.
You look at the dice
Knucklebones...big ones.
Inventory
You are carrying:
your Coronation Crook
your replacement Coronation Flail
a Book of Songs of Getting Through the Day
Play
You begin another game, briskly throwing the dice into the pit between the paths...

...again you improve as you play...

...but again the clockwork sage outpaces your best efforts, bringing you rapidly to the brink of defeat, his Jackal pegs all brought home but one, while your Hounds have barely left the foothills of their twisting path...

...it is your move, but you seem to have little chance to win.
Play
Gamely you roll again, but it is no use. Soon the Jackal pegs have their victory over your Hounds, and the doll sets them up for another game.
You take the Jackals
The table rotates easily; now the sage's hand waits above the Hound pegs. He doesn't seem to care.
Play
Yet again you pick up the dice...

...your Jackal pegs set out on their journey...

...you play more skillfully than ever, using every shortcut along the path...

...but the machine sees no distractions, hears nothing, feels nothing...

...his sense of the pegs is instinctual, ingrained. Engraved. You can gain no purchase against the doll's tactics...

...and once again you find your Jackal pegs impossibly far behind the Hounds.
You look around
This chamber is a cube almost too big to see. A hole in the apex admits a single, broad beam of sunlight which stabs down to the floor, sparkling dust and making a bright circle on the floor, in the exact center of the dim space.

In the circle of light, a life-sized doll, finely crafted to resemble a learned old man, sits on a three-legged stool before a game board. Beneath his robes you can hear gears and flywheels whirring and ticking. His gaze follows you with uncanny smoothness.
You look at the Eyes
Twin moons
Light the way.
Black cat's eyes
Reveal runes;
Turn night to day.
You examine man
A clockwork sage sits rigidly upon a three-legged stool, facing you across a game table. His skin is silver; his eyes sparkling jewels; his clothes dyed silk; even his sandals are solid gold. Within him you can hear fine machinery working; his gemstone gaze never leaves your face.

The clockwork sage's silver hand waits above the Hound pegs.
You take Hounds
You turn the table; now the sage's hand waits above the Jackal pegs. He doesn't seem to notice the difference; he is still waiting patiently for you to pick up the dice again.
You look at the sandals
A clockwork sage sits rigidly upon a three-legged stool, facing you across a game table. His skin is silver; his eyes sparkling jewels; his clothes dyed silk; even his sandals are solid gold. Within him you can hear fine machinery working; his gemstone gaze never leaves your face.

The clockwork sage's silver hand waits above the Jackal pegs.
Play
You roll the bones again and easily bring "your" last peg home.

The doll sits back heavily on his three-legged stool, defeated.

Beyond him, you notice an arch leading west; you are certain that it was not there until this moment.
You go west
You raise your crook and flail as you approach the westward arch, but you hesitate. Is that really necessary?

You lower the sceptres and step out through the arch.

This chamber's walls, ceiling, and floor are a dozen identical copper tiles, pentagonal, huge, that meet at insane angles yet somehow fit seamlessly together into an angular ball shape. High above you, red flames blaze inside something crystalline; their flickering reflections redouble at every wall.

A marvelously detailed miniature landscape in carved ivory covers most of the floor. A quicksilver river flows through the middle of it; every few moments the landscape floods, becoming a perfect mirror just for an instant.

The liquid metal collects somewhere beneath the landscape at the northern corner, then recirculates by means of some pumping equipment near the southern edge.
You examine the mercury
The familiar life-giving river is represented by fast-flowing quicksilver, fed by some pumping equipment at the southern edge of the landscape.

Every few moments, the liquid metal river overflows its banks, filling the flood plain. For a breath, most of the landscape is a perfect mirror.
You examine the pump
The miniature river is supplied by a waist-high water wheel at the southern edge. Hundreds of tiny cups are mounted all around the rim of this wheel. As it turns - motivated by a force you can't discern - the cups pour a continuous flow of liquid metal into the miniature river.

Next to the water wheel is a shadouf: a lever arm with a scoop attached at one end, opposed by a counterweight at the other end. The arm rocks slowly up and down - motivated by no force you can discern - pouring an extra scoopful of quicksilver into the miniature river every few moments.
You look at the shadouf
Next to the water wheel is a shadouf: a lever arm with a scoop attached at one end, opposed by a counterweight at the other end. The arm rocks slowly up and down - motivated by no force you can discern - pouring an extra scoopful of quicksilver into the miniature river every few moments.
You take the counterweight
The shadouf stops moving when you take hold of it: it is easy to resist the gentle, mysterious impetus that drives it. The periodic flooding abates, of course.
You describe your surroundings
This chamber's walls, ceiling, and floor are a dozen identical copper tiles, pentagonal, huge, that meet at insane angles yet somehow fit seamlessly together into an angular ball shape. High above you, red flames blaze inside something crystalline; their flickering reflections redouble at every wall.

A marvelously detailed miniature landscape in carved ivory covers most of the floor. A quicksilver river flows through the middle of it, fed by the slowly turning water wheel; while you hold the scoop-lever, the flow is steady and even.
You check your inventory
You are carrying:
a shadouf
your Coronation Crook
your replacement Coronation Flail
a Book of Songs of Getting Through the Day
Sing Sandstone
Voicelessly you voice Sandstone Sifter.

Sandstone - even quartz - feels just like loose sand to you.
You drop the counterweight
You release the shadouf. It slowly resumes moving.

The mood of Sandstone Sifter fades.
You wait
Time passes.
Look around
This chamber's walls, ceiling, and floor are a dozen identical copper tiles, pentagonal, huge, that meet at insane angles yet somehow fit seamlessly together into an angular ball shape. High above you, red flames blaze inside something crystalline; their flickering reflections redouble at every wall.

A marvelously detailed miniature landscape in carved ivory covers most of the floor. A quicksilver river flows through the middle of it; every few moments the landscape floods, becoming a perfect mirror just for an instant.

The liquid metal collects somewhere beneath the landscape at the northern corner, then recirculates by means of some pumping equipment near the southern edge.
You examine the flames
Far above you, at the center of the ceiling, a red fire blazes inside something crystalline.
You get the crystal
That is high above you, far out of reach.
You drop it
You release the shadouf. It slowly resumes moving.
Sing lost
Voicelessly you voice Lost Memories.

The song evokes a mood of long ago. Your royal sceptres catch your eye once more, now seeming like something from a half-forgotten dream. A long-ignored memory rushes back...

Your father's funeral. A stranger in an anubis mask, so frightening to you as a child. Endless attendants and functionaries. The old king's sceptres retired: their symbolic power extinguished like spent candles before they passed to you as mere heirlooms. And I took up my own soon after. His body shown, honored, then wrapped, anointed, sealed away...

The mood of Lost Memories fades.

The vision recedes, leaving you holding the sceptres up to the light. Perhaps it is time to be free of these mortal tools. You wonder how you might retire them respectfully in this alien place.
You drop the sceptres in the river
Which do you mean, your Coronation Crook, or your replacement Coronation Flail?
Crook
You dip your Coronation Crook into the quicksilver, but the liquid metal flows off again instantly.
Inventory
You are carrying:
your Coronation Crook
your replacement Coronation Flail
a Book of Songs of Getting Through the Day
You examine wheel
The miniature river is supplied by a waist-high water wheel at the southern edge. Hundreds of tiny cups are mounted all around the rim of this wheel. As it turns - motivated by a force you can't discern - the cups pour a continuous flow of liquid metal into the miniature river.
You stop wheel
The water wheel stops moving when you take hold of it: it is easy to resist the gentle, mysterious impetus that drives it. Its supply interrupted, the river drains in an instant. Quicksilver lingers only in a complex series of grooves along the river-bed: schematic animals that you recognize after a moment: writing.
You read the landscape
Might is rarely right:
Temper law with love,
Reaping what you sow.
Day becomes the night:
As it is above,
So it is below.
Sing inversions
Voicelessly you voice Inversions.

You lose your grip on the wheel as the floor and ceiling seem to change places....

The Dodecahedron (on the ceiling)
This chamber's walls, ceiling, and floor are a dozen identical copper tiles, pentagonal, huge, that meet at insane angles yet somehow fit seamlessly together into an angular ball shape. Beside you on the ceiling, red flames blaze inside a glittering crystalline shell.

A marvelously detailed miniature landscape in carved ivory covers most of the floor, high above your head. Every few moments you can see yourself, walking on the ceiling, reflected in a flood of quicksilver.
You get the crystal
That's fixed in place.

The haunting melody of Inversions lingers in your mind.
You touch the crystal
The shell around the fire is an angular box, clear as distilled water. It seems to be made of smooth-grown slabs of pure quartz crystal, grown together at the edges.

The haunting melody of Inversions lingers in your mind.
You sing glazier
Voicelessly you voice Master Glazier.

You sense how glass can flow like water.

The mood of Inversions fades.
The ceiling and floor seem to change places....

This chamber's walls, ceiling, and floor are a dozen identical copper tiles, pentagonal, huge, that meet at insane angles yet somehow fit seamlessly together into an angular ball shape. High above you, red flames blaze inside something crystalline; their flickering reflections redouble at every wall.

A marvelously detailed miniature landscape in carved ivory covers most of the floor. A quicksilver river flows through the middle of it; every few moments the landscape floods, becoming a perfect mirror just for an instant.

The liquid metal collects somewhere beneath the landscape at the northern corner, then recirculates by means of some pumping equipment near the southern edge.
Sing inversions
Voicelessly you voice Inversions.

The floor and ceiling seem to change places....

The Dodecahedron (on the ceiling)
This chamber's walls, ceiling, and floor are a dozen identical copper tiles, pentagonal, huge, that meet at insane angles yet somehow fit seamlessly together into an angular ball shape. Beside you on the ceiling, red flames blaze inside a glittering crystalline shell.

A marvelously detailed miniature landscape in carved ivory covers most of the floor, high above your head. Every few moments you can see yourself, walking on the ceiling, reflected in a flood of quicksilver.

The mood of Master Glazier fades.
You sing glazier
Voicelessly you voice Master Glazier.

You sense how glass can flow like water.

The haunting melody of Inversions lingers in your mind.
You take fire
The crystalline shell isn't open.

The mood of Master Glazier fades.
The haunting melody of Inversions lingers in your mind.
You look at the crystal
The shell around the fire is an angular box, clear as distilled water. It seems to be made of smooth-grown slabs of pure quartz crystal, grown together at the edges.

The mood of Master Glazier fades.
The haunting melody of Inversions lingers in your mind.
You hit the shell
Your strength is insufficient to damage it.
You open crystal
The mood of Master Glazier fades.
The haunting melody of Inversions lingers in your mind.

It is beyond your strength to open that.

The mood of Inversions fades.
The ceiling and floor seem to change places....

This chamber's walls, ceiling, and floor are a dozen identical copper tiles, pentagonal, huge, that meet at insane angles yet somehow fit seamlessly together into an angular ball shape. High above you, red flames blaze inside something crystalline; their flickering reflections redouble at every wall.

A marvelously detailed miniature landscape in carved ivory covers most of the floor. A quicksilver river flows through the middle of it; every few moments the landscape floods, becoming a perfect mirror just for an instant.

The liquid metal collects somewhere beneath the landscape at the northern corner, then recirculates by means of some pumping equipment near the southern edge.
Sing inversions
Voicelessly you voice Inversions.

The floor and ceiling seem to change places....

The Dodecahedron (on the ceiling)
This chamber's walls, ceiling, and floor are a dozen identical copper tiles, pentagonal, huge, that meet at insane angles yet somehow fit seamlessly together into an angular ball shape. Beside you on the ceiling, red flames blaze inside a glittering crystalline shell.

A marvelously detailed miniature landscape in carved ivory covers most of the floor, high above your head. Every few moments you can see yourself, walking on the ceiling, reflected in a flood of quicksilver.
Sing Sandstone
Voicelessly you voice Sandstone Sifter.

Sandstone - even quartz - feels just like loose sand to you.

The haunting melody of Inversions lingers in your mind.
You hit the shell
Your hands pass through the crystalline shell, meeting no resistance.

The mood of Sandstone Sifter fades.
The haunting melody of Inversions lingers in your mind.
You take fire
The crystalline shell isn't open.

The mood of Inversions fades.
The ceiling and floor seem to change places....

This chamber's walls, ceiling, and floor are a dozen identical copper tiles, pentagonal, huge, that meet at insane angles yet somehow fit seamlessly together into an angular ball shape. High above you, red flames blaze inside something crystalline; their flickering reflections redouble at every wall.

A marvelously detailed miniature landscape in carved ivory covers most of the floor. A quicksilver river flows through the middle of it; every few moments the landscape floods, becoming a perfect mirror just for an instant.

The liquid metal collects somewhere beneath the landscape at the northern corner, then recirculates by means of some pumping equipment near the southern edge.
You take the fire
The crystalline shell isn't open.

The mood of Sandstone Sifter fades.
The haunting melody of Inversions lingers in your mind.
You open the shell
It is beyond your strength to open that.

The mood of Inversions fades.
The ceiling and floor seem to change places....

This chamber's walls, ceiling, and floor are a dozen identical copper tiles, pentagonal, huge, that meet at insane angles yet somehow fit seamlessly together into an angular ball shape. High above you, red flames blaze inside something crystalline; their flickering reflections redouble at every wall.

A marvelously detailed miniature landscape in carved ivory covers most of the floor. A quicksilver river flows through the middle of it; every few moments the landscape floods, becoming a perfect mirror just for an instant.

The liquid metal collects somewhere beneath the landscape at the northern corner, then recirculates by means of some pumping equipment near the southern edge.
Inventory
You are carrying:
your Coronation Crook
your replacement Coronation Flail
a Book of Songs of Getting Through the Day
You touch the fire
In the center of a shell of solid quartz crystal, red fire blazes out in all directions from something like a tangle of gold wire.

The mood of Sandstone Sifter fades.
The haunting melody of Inversions lingers in your mind.
You put Crook in the fire
(first entering the crystalline shell)
Fire engulfs your Coronation Crook. It has served you well, but you feel rightly free of it now.

The fire darkens strangely as it consumes your Coronation Crook, the bright red flames turning to dark purple with fringes of black.

The mood of Sandstone Sifter fades.
The haunting melody of Inversions lingers in your mind.
You wait a while
Time passes.

The mood of Inversions fades.
The ceiling and floor seem to change places....

This chamber's walls, ceiling, and floor are a dozen identical copper tiles, pentagonal, huge, that meet at insane angles yet somehow fit seamlessly together into an angular ball shape. High above you, purple flames blaze inside something crystalline; their flickering reflections redouble at every wall.

A marvelously detailed miniature landscape in carved ivory covers most of the floor. A quicksilver river flows through the middle of it; every few moments the landscape floods, becoming a perfect mirror just for an instant.

The liquid metal collects somewhere beneath the landscape at the northern corner, then recirculates by means of some pumping equipment near the southern edge.
Sing inversions
Voicelessly you voice Inversions.

The floor and ceiling seem to change places....

The Dodecahedron (on the ceiling)
This chamber's walls, ceiling, and floor are a dozen identical copper tiles, pentagonal, huge, that meet at insane angles yet somehow fit seamlessly together into an angular ball shape. Beside you on the ceiling, purple flames blaze inside a glittering crystalline shell.

A marvelously detailed miniature landscape in carved ivory covers most of the floor, high above your head. Every few moments you can see yourself, walking on the ceiling, reflected in a flood of quicksilver.
You put Flail in the fire
(first entering the crystalline shell)
Fire encloses your replacement Coronation Flail and darkens, darkens until the flames are black as night. Sparks like stars fly from the flame-tips, swirl within the shell, strike the crystal walls and fade. Darkness spreads throughout the chamber, reflected in polished copper and flowing quicksilver.

You feel the ending of a day of mysteries; a decade of rule; a lifetime of joys and pains. Now the sun has set on my reign. Let my successor have his day in the sun....

This time you almost see the westward arch flick into existence.

The mood of Sandstone Sifter fades.
The haunting melody of Inversions lingers in your mind.
You wait
Time passes.

The mood of Inversions fades.
The ceiling and floor seem to change places....

This chamber's walls, ceiling, and floor are a dozen identical copper tiles, pentagonal, huge, that meet at insane angles yet somehow fit seamlessly together into an angular ball shape. High above you, black flames blaze inside something crystalline; their flickering reflections redouble at every wall.

A marvelously detailed miniature landscape in carved ivory covers most of the floor, details shrouded by the black firelight.

A serene arch leads west.
You go west
In a sudden whirr of metal sliding on metal, a clockwork lioness leaps from some unseen perch and blocks your way!
You examine the lioness
A lioness crafted of jointed plates of bronze, accented with precious stones. (The eyes are polished cat's-eye, of course.) You can hear gears purring inside its muscular chest.

The clockwork lioness returns your attention, redoubled. Something inside it spins faster and suddenly it speaks, in a voice like wet fingers stroking a dozen glass bowls:

A king may look at a cat, but none may pass without answering my riddle:

What is supported by six legs in the morning, five legs at midday, and four legs in the evening?

The feline device paces impatiently, waiting for your answer.
You examine the lioness
A lioness crafted of jointed plates of bronze, accented with precious stones. (The eyes are polished cat's-eye, of course.) You can hear gears purring inside its muscular chest.

The feline device paces impatiently, waiting for your answer.
You go to the west
The clockwork lioness steps firmly into your path with a growl of grinding gears. In musical tones it repeats its question: What is supported by six legs in the morning, five legs at midday, and four legs in the evening?

The feline device paces impatiently, waiting for your answer.
You sing Gold
(Gold Digger)
Voicelessly you voice Gold Digger.

Gold seems like such a yielding material....

The feline device paces impatiently, waiting for your answer.
You enter the lioness
You can't ride that.

The feline device paces impatiently, waiting for your answer.

The mood of Gold Digger fades.
You check what you're carrying
You are carrying:
a Book of Songs of Getting Through the Day

The feline device paces impatiently, waiting for your answer.
You ask the lioness about the riddle
There is no reply.

The feline device paces impatiently, waiting for your answer.
You say yourself
(to the Clockwork Lioness)
The clockwork cat looks up abruptly, whirring. It bares its polished fangs, and shakes its head slightly before beginning to pace again.

The feline device paces impatiently, waiting for your answer.
You eat lioness
(first taking the Clockwork Lioness)
I don't suppose the Clockwork Lioness would care for that.

The feline device paces impatiently, waiting for your answer.
You describe your surroundings
This chamber's walls, ceiling, and floor are a dozen identical copper tiles, pentagonal, huge, that meet at insane angles yet somehow fit seamlessly together into an angular ball shape. High above you, black flames blaze inside something crystalline; their flickering reflections redouble at every wall.

The lioness watches you impatiently.

A marvelously detailed miniature landscape in carved ivory covers most of the floor, details shrouded by the black firelight.

A serene arch leads west.

The feline device paces impatiently, waiting for your answer.
Sing lost
Voicelessly you voice Lost Memories.

The song evokes a mood of long ago.

...This feline construct surely reminds you of nothing else in your experience.
But something in her words seems familiar.
The feline device paces impatiently, waiting for your answer.
You say you
(to the Clockwork Lioness)
The cat stops pacing for a moment and stares at you. You hear gears spinning faster inside the bronze breastplate for a moment. It tilts its head back and forth, examining you from several angles. Confused? But after a moment it resumes pacing.

The feline device paces impatiently, waiting for your answer.
You say Clockwork
(to the Clockwork Lioness)
The cat looks up at you abruptly, then nods, satisfied, gears softly purring.
Go west
The bronze cat steps aside, and you step through the arch.

You feel your journey drawing to a close at last....

This grand hall is long and tall and white. Translucent marble columns march west, two by two, as far as you can see, seemingly lit from every side, and from within as well.

Here your heart is to be weighed against the feather of truth and justice. (You knew it would come to this, sooner or later.)

Far more glorious than the finest mask or statue, a living god stands before you: Anubis.

Ammit, a legendary demon, menaces you from behind a large balance-scale.
You examine Anubis
Not a jackal or a jackal-headed man, after all, but something new, combining and transcending the two forms. A god.
You look at the ammit
A horrid mix of three vicious beasts, the bone devourer watches you impatiently. She is slavering.
You examine scale
Two large balance pans balance each other: one for the feather, one for your heart.
You examine the feather
The little white feather looks...very light.
Inventory
You have mastered the inanimate playthings of the gods...but here among the living gods you are helpless. Before you can move, Anubis reaches into you, reaches through you...back into your tomb, your shrines, your coffins, your body!

He grips your heart! You cannot move!

Now he steps back, holding your heart, red and vital, in his hand. You see it miss a beat in fear.

Now he is placing it on a balance pan, opposite a diminutive feather.

The balance is tilting...rocking...settling...

Your heart just balances the feather!