Namtar folded his arms and turned his head at a slight angle. “I’ll give you forty gold for the boy,” he retorted, emitting a noise from his beak midway between a scoff and a humph.
”Surely you have more coin than that in your fine embroidered kilt! One hundred and twenty gold,” said Ptahetep.
“Seventy-two, or nothing,” said Namtar with an air of finality.
“Very well, High Sulgi, but know that Set will not be pleased,” Ptahetep said with a hint of resentment in his voice.
“I’m not here to please Set. My loyalty is to Lamasthu.” Namtar turned to a nearby servant, flexing the wings on his back as he closed the deal. “Pay seventy-two gold, and take the boy to the slave pens.”
As Namtar turned to go, he almost stepped on Mordecai who had inched close to Namtar’s legs in his eagerness to report his latest catch. “Master Namtar - upstairs, special!” Mordecai rasped in his strange wispy voice.
Namtar looked at the human-sized, misshapen creature. He tolerated Mordecai, who had been given to him by Lamasthu as a gift. He had to admit that Mordecai was very good at finding and bringing him fresh slaves at very little cost. “Let’s see what you’ve found. It had better be good this time,” Namtar said, not entirely disguising the disgust that always rose in his craw when he looked upon the ugly creature.
“Mordecai do good, you see!” the bat-thing replied happily, as he escorted the High Sulgi to the room with the iron cage. The creature flapped up to crouch proudly on the top of the cage above its prey as Namtar examined the sleeping form inside.
“Very nice. Where did you get her?” Namtar asked, only half-interested in the answer. He was far too busy admiring this latest acquisition. She was a truly beautiful specimen. A flawless, perfect body, porcelain skin, hints of pink in all the right places, and that luxurious, golden hair that cascaded all the way down her back. Namtar picked up a knife, unlocked the cell door and entered.
“Found her in Asia realm. Don’t think she’s from there,” Mordecai said.
“Really? What clued you in?” Namtar responded sarcastically as he began cutting the clothing off the unconscious woman.
“Golden hair, High Sulgi. Don’t see much gold hair when I fly over Asia realm.” Mordecai proudly replied, oblivious to its master’s derogatory tone.
“No, I suppose you don’t,” Namtar said distractedly as he sliced along the arm of the woman’s robe and pulled away the fabric. He was careful not to cut her; she would be more valuable if she was undamaged. After he had removed all her clothing, Namtar stood back to reassess his new-found treasure.
The girl lay face up, eyes closed. A calm, peaceful expression graced her heart-shaped face. One hand was draped across her chest and the other rested near her face, palm up. She had two soft, goblet shaped breasts with rose-tinted nipples, a tight, hour-glass waist, and beautiful hips. “Yes, she will bring an excellent price on the slave market,” Namtar said, leering at her. Then he noticed something odd. He hadn’t seen it at first, as there was so much of her beauty to take in, but this woman had no navel. He leaned in closer to get a better look. The indentation was definitely missing. “How very odd. What is she?” Namtar mused aloud.
“What odd?” Mordecai asked, worried that he had done something wrong. He didn’t like to displease his master. It would mean he would get yelled at and he hated to be yelled at. His large, fur-tufted ears were extremely sensitive to loud noises.
Namtar had all but forgotten that his servant was still there. “Hmm? Oh, nothing, nothing. You are quite sure she was alone when you found her? No one saw you grab her or tried to stop you?” he asked, worried that this catch was too good to be true.
Mordecai answered quickly in its raspy voice, “No, no. She all alone. Walking down path, just her!”
“All right. I believe you Mordecai. You’ve done well.” Namtar took a small bag of coins from his belt and tossed it to him. “Now go do whatever it is you do in your free time. I have to evaluate this new girl a bit more carefully,” Namtar finished.
“Thank you! Mordecai go fly now.” The bat creature backed away toward the open balcony and lurched off into the night sky, carrying the bag of coins with it.
Namtar turned back to his new prize. If she was missing a navel, there might be other defects. It was his duty to find out, and the job would pleasant to perform. He carefully verified that she had no brand of a Freeman on her arm, for if she did, she could not be enslaved. Encouraged when no mark was found, Namtar investigated her body completely. Her teeth were sound, her fingernails were neatly manicured. He was pretty sure she was a virgin. The price he could obtain for one as lovely as this girl would equal a prince’s ransom. He resisted the urge to take her while she slept.
Besides the lack of a navel, there was one other odd thing about this woman. She was too well groomed. Her hair was untangled and clean, despite the fact that she had been grabbed by a giant filthy bat, carried miles through the air, and then dumped in a dirty cage. Her breath smelled pleasant and even the bottoms of her feet looked like they had never touched the ground. “No one looks this good,” Namtar muttered to himself.
He picked up a handful of dirt from the corner of the cage and held it over her smooth stomach. It trickled out of his hand onto the girl. The tiny rocks and dust merely rolled off her skin. Within a few seconds, there was no evidence that he had sprinkled anything on her, though he could see the grime on his own hand from when he had held it. This unusual trait caused Namtar to worry that she might be a goddess of some kind.
It was illegal to sell deities; the penalty was death. Any other sentient beings could be sold as long as they weren’t bound to a specific god or goddess. Luckily for Namtar, there was a test he could perform to keep him on the right side of this harsh law. He went over to a tall wooden cabinet and took out a dark, irregularly-shaped crystal. The Council issued these to all flesh merchants so that deities could be discerned from other beings. As he walked back to his captive, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to use the crystal. If it changed color, Namtar would know by the shade and brightness if her sale was forbidden. Using the crystal would also leave a record that he had checked her thoroughly in accordance with the law. Namtar passed it over her, his hand stopping briefly as he thought it dimly pulsed for just a second. But as he peered intently at the crystal, there was nothing more. Try as he might, he couldn’t get it to glow again.
Namtar put the crystal back in the cabinet, confident that she was suited for the slave market. She was not bound to any gods, she was not a goddess, and she was not protected with a Freeman’s mark. It seemed her odd spotlessness was due to some kind of cleansing spell. Namtar rejoiced at his luck.
“Oh, I’ll have gods lining up and fighting each other to buy you,” he declared to the unconscious girl. His beak seemed to upturn in a warped smile as he thought about it. This catch was a rare oddity in a long line of thousands of mundane slaves.
Chapter 9 - To Stand Before the Council
Eros and Zephyrus spoke little as they traveled to the City to report the desecration of the Promethean Shrine to the Council. The memory of what he had seen haunted Zephyrus. Eros tried to distract him with a few tales of humorous lovers’ mishaps, but his stories were received with mere grunts. To make things more difficult, the closer they drew to the City, the more reluctant Zephyrus was to go through with their duty to report the tragedy.
Zephyrus had never been to the City and wanted to keep it that way. As far as he was concerned, mixing with other gods was just asking for trouble. He repeatedly asked Eros why they both had to bear witness and suggested all manner of stalling - stopping for food, visiting friends along the way, chasing women - anything with the potential to make them miss the day’s Council hour. Eros exhaled slowly, trying not to become angry with him. Ditching Zephyrus and going before the Council alone was not an option. When he reported what they had seen at Prometheus’s grove, the Council would demand he retrieve Zephyrus so that a full reco
unting from all witnesses could be presented. That would mean two trips for Eros, and he wasn’t going to stand for it. Valiantly, he resisted all his friend’s attempts at diversion, and at long last steered him toward the entry gates of the City.
“You’ve done this before?” a defeated Zephyrus asked Eros.
“Many times. Just stay in line and answer the questions as I do,” Eros said as they queued before the glass guardians at the entry to the City. A line of deities, humans, and creatures moved steadily as each who desired to pass through the gates and enter the City stepped up for judgment. Zephyrus craned around Eros, trying to see what was happening at the front of the line.
“Can’t we just fly over the walls?” he asked impatiently.
“Do you want Zeus to thunderbolt you personally? He’s on the Council this cycle, in case you didn’t know.”
“S-shit,” Zeph commented, his airy outburst blowing tall hats and loose turbans from the heads of some in front of them. The accessories were retrieved with much cursing and some shoving as those who had stepped out of line demanded their positions back. Zephyrus affected an innocent expression and was not suspected. No one here knew him; he could probably get away with all sorts of things. He smiled. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
The queue moved again. Eros stepped with confidence before one of the tall, rhomboid prisms. He gazed at his reflection in its polished surface, and wondered which deity of judgment hid inside it today. The duty to screen those who wished to enter the City was shared by many gods and spirits from across the realms, all of whom had the power to tell true intent from false. There were some gods who were immune from screening, including the current members of the Council and others who had undergone secret trials of scrutiny to earn the privilege. Eros was neither of those, however, and had no choice but to wait for the guardian of the glass to clear him.
Experiencing the scan always fascinated Eros. The clear reflection of his perfect muscles and flawless skin began to ripple, starting at his bare feet and vibrating up his nude body, as if a thin curtain of water flowed upward along the inner surface of the rectangular crystal. Eros watched the prism consume his entire reflection, the tops of his wings above his shoulders and his wild dark hair the last to wash away.
“Your purpose in the City?” A soft, feminine voice addressed him from inside the crystal. Eros fought his automatic urge to flirt with the being. He did not want to offend, although he suspected that the judge would understand that such behavior was merely his nature. Managing to stick to business, Eros answered.
“To report a temple desecration to the Council.”
There was a brief pause before a bright flash cleared the prism’s watery surface. “You may enter,” the voice decided, with no further comment.
“That’s it?” Eros flinched, not having noticed that Zephyrus was hovering just behind his left shoulder. “Seems like a lot of waiting for just one question.”
Eros, with great restraint, edged away from Zephyrus. Who knew what the guardian might find objectionable within him? In truth, Eros did not want to know. “I’ll wait for you inside the gate,” he said, and flew away over the heads of the already-approved crowd that was pressing toward the main entry.
He spied an open space on a high wall and landed there. The sun-warmed stone kissed his feet, inviting him to sit down. Lounging comfortably, feet dangling above a balcony festooned with flags representing many pantheons, Eros watched as visitors came and went from the embassy compound on which he perched. Risking a glance back toward the guardians, he chuckled to see Zephyrus gesturing animatedly at the prism. Apparently Zephyrus was getting more scrutiny than he expected. As he waited, Eros heard a pointed question cut through the other background noise.
“How can you assure me that you knew what you were looking at?” an insistent voice queried.
Eros was not above eavesdropping, especially when it required no guile or effort on his part. He could not make out the indistinct answer to the question that came from further inside the room, but he heard the first voice respond to it clearly.
“And you did not fall to your knees or run at the sight? You continue to prove your mettle, human. I am very pleased to hear you made sure I could keep in touch.”
Eros cocked his head, straining to hear more. It appeared that some human had seen something startling. Could it have been the beast? The first voice began to fade in and out, as if its speaker were pacing the length of the room. Eros heard the voice promise “whatever resources you need.” Someone wanted something, badly, but beyond that Eros gathered nothing from the snatches of conversation. Growing bored, he turned his eyes toward the guardians and was relieved to see Zephyrus plowing through the sky toward him amid thunderous clouds.
The flags of the balcony flapped wildly as Zephyrus blew in. Eros smirked at the grumpy expression on his face. “Seems like you were holding up the line.”
Zephyrus snorted, a wisp of fog shooting from his nose. “Damn thing wanted to know why I was so interested in sneaking into the City. Like I’m s-supposed to know the rules when I’ve never been here before.” Zephyrus’s mouth opened to continue, then he clamped it shut as he became aware of how much his distress was amusing Eros. “You think this is funny.”
Eros shrugged noncommittally. “You got in. Next time you’ll know better.”
“I’ll know not to ask it where I can get beer, that’s for s-sure,” Zephyrus muttered.
At this admission, Eros laughed so hard he almost fell off the wall. Below him, the sounds of hearty mirth reached keen ears. Dark hands quietly pushed closed the balcony doors.
Zephyrus and Eros Enter the City
Daedalus and Icarus (Lord Frederick Leighton, 1869).
* * *
In the Council Hall, Konohana sat calmly on her mat. Only an occasional shower of cherry blossoms spontaneously bursting from her hair indicated the petty jesting between Shiva and Zeus was disturbing her tranquility. As Quetzalcoatl was again late, the other two gods of the cycle’s ruling quartet were passing the time one-upping each other with tales of their exploits. Konohana suspected her realm had appointed her to fill the fourth seat due to her patience; perhaps they had forgotten that she was a volcanic goddess. Over time, she could be provoked into explosive anger. If she heard one more exaggerated story about the superior prowess of a child of Shiva or Zeus, she would be sorely tempted to remind everyone of this.
She reached for her cup of tea and sipped as the day’s cases lined up. Konohana and her fellow judges sat upon a central platform flanked on three sides with steps. Behind them, enchanted tapestries representing the glory of each of their realms hung from a high golden pole that spanned the width of the room. Shiva’s banner slowly cycled through creation and destruction, while Zeus’s was a non-stop spectacle of heroic exploits. Quetzalcoatl’s tapestry celebrated knowledge and celestial events, while Konohana’s own flag displayed quiet scenes of contemplation and compassion.
The gathering of Council petitioners was small today. In the early years of unrest when the City was first finding its equilibrium, the Council could barely keep up with the daily stream of cases. Now that the City had endured peacefully for many centuries, and the population of gods had thinned, service on the Council was less of a burden. Major gods, like Quetzalcoatl, Shiva and Zeus, had ceased ducking the job as they had when the hardest work had been required. Konohana was grateful for her current respectable companions. One cycle she had been forced to adjudicate with a huntress from Afrik who summarily speared most of the guilty, and a Nord god of mead for whom everything could be settled by a drinking contest. She appreciated the wisdom of these creator gods and counted her blessings for their presence.
Despite his banter with Zeus, Shiva had been paying acute attention to all around him. He was the first to sense the imminent arrival of the god for whom they waited. “Quetzalcoatl comes,” Shiva said. He raised his left hand and pointed toward the temple floor where Quetzalcoatl was walking amo
ng those who had come to address the Council, sizing them up personally.
“Look at him working the room,” Zeus scoffed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was looking for bribes.”
Konohana raised a painted eyebrow. “Do you question the Flying Serpent’s integrity?”
“I’m sure Zeus finds it comparable, and therefore as acceptable, as his own,” Shiva grinned. The snake that usually rested in a coil around Shiva’s neck stretched and fluttered its tongue at Zeus impertinently.
As Quetzalcoatl finished his survey and climbed the platform stairs, the doors to the temple opened to admit spectators. Deities and other beings hurried to fill the stacked rows of stone seats at the sides of the hall. Major gods and insignificant slaves intermingled in the audience. The Council Hall was the only place in the City where the rules of association were suspended. All were equal here.
One of the Council attendants tugged on a cobalt blue rope. A silver bell hanging from the very center of the ceiling rang crisply, its sound cutting through the hum of conversation and bringing all attention to the gods on the platform. Quetzalcoatl, who had not yet taken his seat, got the jump on the others by spinning on his heel and addressing the crowd.
“The first accused may step forward,” he said, taking his chair imperiously, sitting ramrod straight and preening the feather in his headdress to stand just as erect. Konohana smiled in bemusement as Shiva ignored his pretentions. Zeus missed the display entirely. His attention was fixed on the woman the temple guards were bringing before them.
CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN Page 9
