Apocalypto (Omnibus Edition)

by L. K. Rigel

  “With the culmination of his tour comes the Rites of May, generally the prince’s first visit to Sanguibahd, commonly called Red City. It’s the ideal opportunity to sample what will later be on offer for his Triune Contract, perhaps assist with someone’s proof of service.”

  Again, the audience laughed politely. Of course, no proofs attended the lectures.

  The Rites of May

  “The Triune Contract is sacred.”

  Mal’s voice cracked as she began the traditional chant. She was again on the stage. The only light in the auditorium came from fat beeswax candles on five pedestals at the forward edge of the stage.

  Despite years training for this moment, she was nervous as she approached her pedestal. It held a ceramic plate of incense, the beeswax candle, and a brass bowl. A wooden staff made of polished ash leaned against the pedestal.

  She circled her hands over the candle to breathe in its delicate fragrance then lit the incense in the candle flame. The smoke from both candles and incense would carry their prayers to the gods. She and the others struck their brass bowls five times.

  She unwound her obi and let it fall to the floor, then took the staff and stepped back from the pedestal. A sister standing behind her kicked the obi aside. Mal chanted:

  “My curse is my blessing.

  My service is my deliverance.”

  Witnesses seated in the theater joined in on the next line:

  “The Triune Contract is sacred.”

  Mal glanced sideways at Nin then looked at the floor to keep from laughing. They were unable to see the witnesses, but Nin had noticed it too – the low rumble of male voices among them. It sounded good.

  The next step, the sister behind her took the crown from her head and dropped it onto the sash on the floor. The sisters and the witnesses, chanted:

  “Daughter of heaven, bearer of the world

  You are the fig tree the gods did not curse

  Conduit and chalice, how glad are your lovers

  You open the gate forged by mankind’s error”

  The third step, the sister took away her lovely pearl choker and draped it over the crown. Mal chanted:

  “Where is my beloved? I wait in the meadow

  I am waiting in the meadow, untouched by human error

  Where is my beloved? He is beautiful in my eyes

  He is like the rainfall, like the great bull of heaven”

  The fourth step, the sister took the staff of ash and tossed it to the floor near the crown and pearls. Mal chanted:

  “I lie among the roses, in a bed of lovely petals

  I lie in heat for love, my furrow ready for love’s seed”

  The fifth step, the sister took her gold bracelet. Mal knew she’d get it back later; but she’d worn it for so long that it felt wrong to let it go.

  “I am the rose of heaven, and I am the rose of desire

  I am the red rose, and the white rose

  I am desire, I am satisfaction”

  The sixth step, she kicked out of her slippers, which the sister took away.

  “I will bear the fruit of the world

  I am the tree of life uncursed

  I am the furrow that will be sown

  By my lover’s worthy plow”

  The seventh step, she dropped her robe, her sole remaining garment, to expose her naked body and the circle of red roses on her arm. The witnesses burst into applause. The sisters spoke in unison.

  “My sister, I have taken your ego so that you may serve unhindered.”

  The five dropped to their knees.

  “Thank you, my sister, for your service to me this day.”

  They crawled across the stage to the princes who would help complete the ritual. Mal laid her hands on a prince’s bare feet while the witnesses chanted:

  “The Triune Contract is sacred”

  She rose to her knees and put her hands on his thighs. He was as naked as she was, and quite ready for her.

  “Your curse is your blessing”

  He knelt down and she placed her hands on his chest. This was no effeminate, sterile proof. It was a real man from the real world, well-fed and well-trained, with smooth skin over powerful muscles.

  It was Edmund.

  “Your service is your deliverance”

  He put his hands on her breasts.

  “The Triune Contract is sacred”

  She put her hands on his shoulders, and they kissed. He embraced her and eased her to the floor. He kissed her ears, her throat, and her breasts. His warm mouth covered a nipple. As he sucked, electric delight surged through her body. She opened herself to him, and he took her hands in his and spread her arms wide as he entered her.

  She should be praying for world fertility but, great Asherah, it was all she could do to keep her body temperature stable. A man in reality was better than a man in theory! She focused on the honey bee tattoo over his left clavicle. She found his rhythm and let her body go with it. Asherah, yes!

  Nothing. Nothing in her training had prepared her for this. Her mind said keep control. Her body said let go. Let go. Don’t stop. Never stop. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and flowed with his movement. She wanted to moan, it felt so good – but Durga would hear of it, and Mal wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

  The thought of Durga helped her to maintain control.

  Control over her voice, anyway. Edmund held her tighter and plunged deeper inside her. Heat and pleasure and delightful desperate urges coursed through her. The world disappeared, and the only thing that existed was the one being they made together. The edges of her soul were blending into his. She had to stop this.

  “Ah!” Roh did it. Roh cried out in flagrante delicto and saved Mal from disaster.

  Back from the brink. The world was real again. Mal and Edmund were in their own bodies. They separated, as did the other ritual lovers, accompanied by tremendous applause in the auditorium. She avoided looking at him.

  Two sisters put gold slippers on her feet and dressed her in a gold sari embroidered with poppy-red primroses. Someone handed her a flute of champagne.

  And that was it. She was a chalice. She could make a contract tomorrow or start a proof of service pregnancy tonight. The house lights came on. The other fifteen new chalices joined Prime Hub on the stage, all dressed in gold and red saris, and the women of Red City descended upon them all with congratulations.

  And advice.

  Get pregnant immediately and get out!

  Don’t get pregnant right away; have a little fun!

  Be sure to put a provision for your dog’s food and a handler in the contract.

  Take your full recovery between pregnancies; you’ll be able to do more in the long run.

  Stay away from the equator; it’s too hot and the citizens are relentlessly cheerful.

  Never learn the names of your Ladies of the Hours; otherwise, they’ll cling and drain you of all your energy.

  Don’t go outside in the host city; you never know what’s in the air.

  Stay away from the far north and south; it’s too cold and the citizens are oppressively gloomy.

  Bring presents for your Ladies of the Hours, or they’ll sabotage you in a hundred little ways.

  On the opposite side of the stage, sisters helped the princes into sandals and gold robes and gave them champagne and finger foods. Edmund glanced at Mal and winked, like the day he had given her the box of blue amber. She felt a rush of good feeling for him. Not love, of course, but genuine friendship – and perhaps a bit of lust.

  Turning to seek Nin, she ran into Claire.

  “He won’t bid on you, Mallory.” Claire had apparently been watching Mal and Edmund. “He wouldn’t disgrace Allel.” Her flute was nearly empty, and by her demeanor it wasn’t her first.

  Ninny came to the rescue. “Careful there, Claire. It sounds like you’re developing feelings for Edmund. I thought you liked being back in favor.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Claire said. “I’m only thi
nking of Allel.”

  Nin pulled Claire close and lowered her voice. “If you have those thoughts, keep them like a treasure in your pocket. You know you can’t show favoritism, not even friendship. Don’t you have a dog?”

  Mal felt her face go red with embarrassment. Inwardly, she’d just acknowledged exceedingly friendly feelings for Edmund.

  “That always sounded good in theory.” Roh joined them. “And I do love my Eris more than anything. But there are some feelings you just can’t share with a dog.”

  “Yes, Roh, we heard,” Mal said.

  “Hey, that wasn’t my fault. Prince Garrick pinched me.”

  And thank Asherah for it.

  “They all had their tricks planned,” Roh said. “I swear they had a wager going as to who would last the longest.”

  “Mine definitely lost that bet,” Kairo said.

  Even Claire laughed. They were all giddy with relief.

  Nin said, “The trick is to channel all the risky emotions into a safe one. Like lust.” With a wicked grin, she surveyed the princes. “Prince Garrick is very fine. He can pinch me all he likes. Here’s my wager: I’ll get a proof out of him before the week is over.”

  Nin was right. Garrick was very fine. But her joke wasn’t funny. Mal increasingly felt there was something wrong with the proof scenario. How was it not horrible to bring a person into the world who would never be allowed to seek a soul?

  Might As Well Put Your Sandals on Your Head

  The chalice was beautiful, but Edmund felt trapped in the windowless room. In Allel, they’d be planting tomatoes in the south fields about now – if illegally – and he was listening to a monotone lecture on the virtues of soulless proofs.

  One more seminar to get through after lunch, and he’d be back on the deck of the Golden Wasp headed for home.

  At twenty, he was officially too young for the guest-host journey, but what else was new? He was also too young to worry about the food supply of an entire city. He was too young to be thinking about getting heirs. Great gods, he wasn’t even king yet.

  But his father’s early death had taught him it was never too soon to do what was necessary to protect Allel, so he’d visited the minimum seven cities and come down to Red City to be certified.

  Admittedly, some of this was no burden. Maybe Counselor would stop complaining to him now that he never had any fun.

  The seminars were mixed. Raptor Control had been useless.

  New Insights Into Special Species – which they ought to just call What the Shib Are the Empanii Up To? – was actually interesting. He’d like to know even more about them. Only last month another citizen had wandered into the nest east of the wall and come out traumatized. The citizens were starting to call the place the mad bog.

  Most were bland wastes of time, like Maintenance of a World Concord Guard After the Imperium and Hazard-Free Sea Lanes From Pacifica to Zhongguó.

  This one fell into the awful, O-Asherah-why-am-I-here category. A quarter of the seats were empty. At least the chalice reading the speech was a delight to look at.

  Like all of them. Red City was overflowing with exquisite women. In one sense, it was painful to look. This kind of on-purpose loveliness would never find him in Allel. His life was and would be duty, work, and holding on to soul-grinding hope. He found satisfaction in improving the lives of his people, but not exactly joy. Or pleasure.

  Wake up, Edmund! Joy and pleasure are here now, saying come on, come on.

  Sister Jordana appeared to be reading a gridcom tablet on her lap, but he wouldn’t wager on her being awake. Beside him, Garrick started to snore.

  “Weren’t you with that one in the ritual?” Edmund had no idea why Garrick had glommed onto him yesterday, as if they were old friends.

  Garrick opened his eyes. “She was slightly more interesting then.”

  “Not a gentlemanly comment, but I’ll make a note of it.” He didn’t trust Garrick for a minute. The attitude of friendship was surely a pose.

  “There it is,” Garrick said.

  A vision of true perfection came through the door. Kairo of Sanguibahd nee Muskova took the seat in front of Alesso of Sarezzo. She had been paired with him last night, and now she didn’t even look at the poor guy.

  “Now that’s just cruel,” Garrick whispered.

  “Agreed.” She did give Garrick a quick glance. “I thought they’d match you with Kairo.”

  “No, my brother. That’s not how Red City works. No free samples where they expect you to pay.”

  Exactly what Celia would say.

  “Pathetic,” Garrick said. “Sarezzo breached the divine Kairo’s gate of heaven. He’ll never come that close to greatness again.”

  Garrick was still a jerk. When he visited Allel on his guest-host journey, he’d worn his sister’s dagger in front of Counselor. He’d also gloated over the Musée d’Concordia being awarded custody of the Scrolls of Scylla though they’d been discovered in Allel.

  There had been a mysterious tension between him and Celia. As soon as he was gone, she applied for the age waivers, suddenly keen to place Edmund on the throne.

  The sight of a long white-gold braid gave Edmund an urgent lurch as two chalices approached the empty seats in front of him and Garrick. The one with the hair had been his partner last night, soft and fragrant and welcoming. Inside her, he’d forgotten all the cares of the world. It would be pleasant to run his fingers through that hair again. It was a shame she’d bound it all in a braid.

  She smiled at him. Politely, generically, without recognition. All normal feelings were trained out of them, but surely a person would remember who they had sex with last night.

  When she turned around to sit, he realized who she was. Her mantle depicted Allel’s bay and citadel. This was Mallory, the one who had stopped with the Blackbird.

  The one whose shades had revealed where to dig for the Scrolls of Scylla, and she’d always kept the secret. Never once asked for credit.

  He smiled, remembering. Celia had insisted they put on a show with those fancy gifts, and Mallory had liked the blue amber rocks best of all. Counselor still kept the amazing bumblebee the kid had sent.

  “Why the smile, brother?” Garrick said. “Are you remembering last night, or thinking of what’s to come after this penance?”

  “Thinking about my sister, actually.” He imagined her on the gridcom, plotting with Celia and the Emissary to get him into the ritual. Counselor was fascinated by chalices. Just this morning, she had sent a message.

  I want reports! What do they eat? What do they wear? How many boards can they break with a palm thrust? How did Mallory’s hair grow out?

  Mallory’s hair was magical. Otherwise, there wasn’t much to tell. The food was delicious, but Allel’s was good too. The lectures were a waste of time. Clothes were clothes. Perhaps Mallory wore that fabric as a compliment to Allel. It would please Counselor to think so.

  As for the ritual, he wasn’t putting those details on the gridcom.

  The lecturer plodded on. “Since there’s no soul ceremony with a proof pregnancy, no issue from proof of service can make a claim to succession.”

  “Meaning,” Garrick said sotto voce, “if you don’t pay, you don’t get the product.”

  Mallory and her friend went rigid as statues; they must have heard Garrick. After a few minutes, the dark-haired one said, “Are you sure, Mal? We could do ours together.”

  “Not going to happen,” Mallory said. “I’m not doing a proof – oh, great gods. Roh’s done it now. She brought up Father Jesse.”

  “Heresy,” said a female voice in the back.

  “No, it’s true!” said another. The topic had drawn more chalices than princes.

  The Emissary rose to her feet. Shib, that woman was tall. “Father Jesse’s supposed ability to see souls is irrelevant.”

  Why would the Emissary of Sanguibahd let that Samaeli priest get under her skin? The guy was an opportunist. He made claims that couldn’t be proved or d
isproved. And her attention made him more important than he should be.

  “His assertion that souls go to Samael before entering the womb is ridiculous and, if you will pardon the pun, immaterial.”

  Garrick sure looked smug. The city must have something to do with Father Jesse. No doubt they’d find a way to use the Samaeli’s growing popularity to consolidate even more power. Beesboom.

  “And while it’s comforting to think that a god might care equally for those without souls,” the Emissary continued, “it is – yes – heresy.”

  His chalice – did he think of her as his? – bent down and removed her sandals then put them on her head. The Emissary seemed pleased. Gradually, most of the chalices in the room put their shoes on their heads.

  “Thank you, Mallory.” The Emissary was pleased. “This is a good place to end our morning workshop. Let’s all give Rohna a hand.”

  During the tepid applause, Mallory’s friend turned around. She crossed her eyes at Garrick, as if she too thought the whole thing was a bore. “I’m Ninshubur,” she said. “And this is Mallory.”

  “Ninshubur.” Garrick put all his charm into the name. “Asherah’s warrior maid. And Mallory. We met once before, I believe?”

  She seemed pleased Garrick had remembered her.

  “Do you two want to see the hydroponics garden?” Garrick’s knowledge of the ancients was lost on Ninshubur, but she seemed ready to like him for his other charms.

  On the way to the gardens, Ninshubur and Garrick fell into playing with each other. Her dark beauty should be pleasing against his red-gold brilliance, but when they stopped on the stairs for a passionate kiss something about it was just irritating.

  He and Mallory waited for the kiss to end. “What was that with the shoes on your head?”

  “It’s from a story in the ancient wisdom. It’s as useless to argue some things as it is to wear shoes on your head.”

  “Ah, very neat. And a smart bit of diplomacy. I thought a war was going to break out in there.”

  He hadn’t expected intelligence. She seemed to understand he’d given her a compliment. “We’re mostly Asheran around here. We find the Samaelii a bit … offensive.”