“You see?” says Anubis. “There is none to name you as once you were known.”

“I see,” says the man, “but the last might have had further words-”

“To waste! You are unknown and unwanted, save by me. This, because you are fairly adept at the various embalming arts and you occasionally compose a clever epitaph.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“What good would a name and memories do you here?”

“None, I suppose.”

“Yet you wish a name, so I shall give you one. Draw your dagger.”

The man draws the blade which hangs at his left side.

“Now cut off your thumb.”

"Which thumb, Master?"

“The left one will do.”

The man bites his lower lip and tightens his eyes as he drags the blade against the joint of his thumb. His blood falls upon the floor. It runs along the blade of the knife and trickles from its point. He drops to his knees and continues to cut, tears streaming down his cheeks and falling to mingle with the blood. His breath comes in gasps and a single sob escapes him.

Then, “It is done,” he says. “Here!” He drops the blade and offers Anubis his thumb.

“I don’t want the thing! Throw it into the flames!”

With his right hand, the man throws his thumb into a brazier. It sputters, sizzles, flares.

“Now cup your left hand and collect the blood within it.”

The man does this thing.

“Now raise it above your head and let it drip down upon you.”

He raises his hand and the blood falls onto his forehead.

“Now repeat after me: ‘I baptize me…’ ”

“ ‘I baptize me…’ ”

“ ‘Wakim, of the House of the Dead…’ ”

“ ‘Wakim, of the House of the Dead…’ ”

“ ‘In the name of Anubis…’ ”

“ ‘In the name of Anubis…’ ”

“ ‘Wakim…’ ”

“ ‘Wakim…’ ”

“ ‘Emissary of Anubis in the Middle Worlds…’ ”

“ ‘Emissary of Anubis in the Middle Worlds…’ ”

“ ‘… and beyond.’ ”

“ ‘… and beyond.’ ”