He walked up to the fallen rock. It was worn almost shapeless, but surely once it had been an obelisk.

Edwin caught up, his papers flapping in the wind as he pulled them from an inner pocket. "The Brits said there was a stele," he said, turning the pages with gloved fingers. "They translated the inscription. You want to see?"

"Sure." Rob leaned to look.

The picture was a precise hand-drawn copy of rows of wedgy characters. The English was noted underneath:

The [city] of eagles, fed by [a large number, a thousand?] rivers and beloved of Ishtar, builded this temple and [consecrated] it to myself, the great [one], who knows all his subjects may do, powerful to sway the [hearts of] men, king who is mighty [like?

as?] a god.

Rob didn't think the old inscription was especially informative. "When I saw it," he said, "the stone was new, standing up."

"You know, weird is a good word for this whole thing." Edwin knelt and dusted the surface off. "No writing here now. Maybe the inscription's on the underside."

"No." Rob pulled off his mitten. Touch was the trigger, his own skin to the stone. He squatted and put his bare hand gingerly on the cold gritty surface. The shock made him jerk back.

"Wow! Did you see that? Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Rob sat down, deliberately relaxing himself. If he didn't calm down he'd be sick, just like on the first day of kindergarten. "I know where to go. This thing told me. Another little e-mail. Let's get back to the car."

Edwin pulled off his glove and touched the stone himself. "Hmm. Either it doesn't work for anyone but you, or you've already emptied the box and there's no more mail left inside. Darn it, I wish I'd tried it first! All right, let's go."

When they got back to the dusty Rover Edwin said, "Shall I drive?"

"Better let me." Rob took the offered keys. He felt certain of the route now, but it was not the sort of certainty that he could direct someone else to follow. He steered the Land Rover slowly north and east, deeper into the hills.

Edwin shaded his eyes to peer ahead. "Is it my imagination, or is it beginning to be a road again?"

If it was a road, it was not much more than a footpath, winding uphill around the shoulder of a steep barren slope. There was no doubt an hour later when it ended, though, on a natural balcony of dust-colored rock.

There was just room to carefully turn the Rover around, ready to descend again. From this height they could see for miles north and west. All the way to the horizon the country was lifeless, a desolation of pink rock and wind-driven sand. The indifferent emptiness was crushing, awesome.

"And look! It ;s going to be an underground city!" Edwin pointed at a dark cleft in the rock and bounded joyfully out of his seat.

Rob went around to dig the big camping lantern out of the back. "Wait up, Ed."

Edwin stopped and looked back. "Rob. Do you know what's inside?"

Once more Rob extended himself, feeling all around, bringing the full power of his unnamed weirdness to bear. "No." Perhaps they were all dead years ago. You could set up quite elaborate automatic answering systems-look at Edwin's voice-mail at NIH.

"But you're nervous about it. Very natural."

Rob forced himself to smile. "Not nervous, exactly."

"Fine, don't admit it. Do the raw courage thing instead." He came and took the flashlight out of Rob's grasp. "The two of us together can cope with anything. Let's go in, shall we?"

CHAPTER 9.

Out of the wind the cave seemed almost warm. They paused to pull off hats and gloves, and let their eyes adjust to the dark. The sound of the wind had been a constant presence for so long that the quiet now rang in their ears. The narrow gap in the hill was obviously a natural formation, like the rock platform outside. "But look," Edwin said. He bent and tilted the lantern so that it shone at a low angle across the gritty floor. In th-e glow the imprint in the sand could be clearly seen: an ordinary human footprint. "Not aliens," Edwin sighed in disappointment. "Let's see where it went."

The passageway went deep into the hill, twisting and turning. The roof was so low Rob could easily touch it. Around a final corner, and it ended abruptly in a small cavern scarcely bigger than Edwin's NIH office. Edwin flicked the beam around the dark little space. "Empty," he said. "Is this all? What a bummer."

"No," Rob gasped. The tarnhelm trick, how stupid of him not to think of it!

"There's someone-sitting right there!"

And there was. Rob couldn't tell how he was seeing it in the dark, but a towering figure sat enthroned on a ledge of the unhewn rock only ten feet away, a living man in the dress of men five thousand years gone. A robe fringed with gold wrapped his legs. His splendid brown chest was bare except for a massive pectoral necklace set with rubies. He had a black and elaborately curled beard, but no mustache. Long black hair hung in gleaming corkscrew curls down his back, and his eyes were huge in his face, black and brilliant. He was a statue from the ancient Mesopotamia museum exhibit come to life.

Rob thrust Edwin behind him so roughly the lantern fell with a clatter.

This was a sophisticated illusion, he could tell: not much different from appearing as somebody's best friend. And who could say what lay behind?

Instinctively he responded in kind, flinging up a false seeming of his own.

The homeless man, of course-rags, and a piece of string for a belt, and his familiar threadbare blue toggle coat over all. It was a standoff, facade faced with facade.

"I can't see anything," Edwin grumbled at his back.

"You don't see him?"

"See who? You better not have bust my flashlight, Rob. Wait a minute, here we go." The light flickered and steadied as Edwin turned the lantern all the way up. "Holy Mike!" The light dipped wildly as Edwin fumbled it again.

Rob didn't look around. "Keep behind me, and set that light down before you break it."

A new voice spoke, low and hoarse: "Perhaps we should drop the masks, eh?"

Its sound was jolting, like a hidden door suddenly flung open.

"I will if you will," Rob said warily.

"Agreed."

Edwin jammed the lantern into a crevice, and drew in a long breath of wonder. The magnificent god-king had shrunk. A skeletally thin figure, very short by modern standards, sat slumped on the ledge. The long hair hung lank and thin in black streaks over his shoulders, and the beard straggled.

His ribs showed, and the yellow-brown skin stretched tight over his knobbly elbows and knee joints. He wore sandals and a ragged brown robe. Only the huge eyes were the same, eerily big and sharp. "You are not doing it right," he croaked pettishly. "Illusion is supposed to make you look grander and more impressive, not less. That is not the way it should be done."

"I see," Rob said, very taut.

The skeletal man frowned sourly up at him. Their faces were scarcely ten feet apart. "So you have youth. And beauty, though not of the Asian style.

It does not impress me. Tell me your name."

"Tell me yours first," Rob said.

The man smiled. "I am that I am."

"No way!" Edwin exclaimed, his eyes kindling.

"You understand him, Ed?"

"Yes, and he's lying!"

Rob didn't understand how Edwin could know this, but he said, "You want to try again?"

"Speak with respect," the skeletal man said, still smiling so that all his yellowish teeth showed. "For I am your father."