The Justin followed the shiver of reedy torchlight to a great stone hall, where in the judge’s seat sat a man garbed in deepest black.
“Anubis?” asked the Justin.
“Perhaps,” said the god. “What do you seek, living man?”
“My friend Ptah.”
“Then you know nothing,” the god said, “but we will judge you all the same.” He gestured, and there were scales, and a feather, and a hungry crocohippolion.
The Justin placed his heart on the scales.
“How can you do that, living man?” asked the god curiously.
“Oh,” said the Justin sadly, “the Girl tore it out years ago.”