Nidaba. He had finally made sense of the priestess Lia’s words to him just after his father’s death. She had arranged it so that every High Priestess in the kingdom would come here—so that he would be allowed to choose from among them which one would serve as his lukur. And Nidaba, according to Natum’s dying father, had been elevated to High Priestess status in the faraway land of Mari. By royal command, she had to be here.
She had left him long ago, chosen to serve her Goddess, made him realize he must serve his country. She had broken his heart, and he knew he had broken hers. But he was not the same heartsick boy now. Two years of training with his father’s armies, battling in skirmishes with the Ummamites to prove the new united Sumer equal to the task, had changed him. And now... now he was her king. And tonight she would serve him, as custom and the law decreed. He could not but help come alive at the prospect. He wouldn’t have been human to do otherwise. He was burning inside. Tomorrow he would marry another, but tonight... tonight he would know the woman he’d wanted for what seemed like his entire life. Tonight, Nidaba would be his.
He had waited as long as he could. All propriety had been observed. He clapped his hands twice, and the din turned to silence. “Begin the dance,” he commanded.
Immediately the musicians began to play. The algar and harp players plucked at their strings in a harmonious and sensual melody while the others kept time with the jangling cadence of the ala and the beat of the drums. One by one, the High Priestesses entered the chamber, cloaked by veils of colorful silk that floated and swirled as they moved. Eannatum’s eyes searched for Nidaba’s among the women who twirled before him. But they were covered well... and they kept their eyes respectfully lowered.
Lia retold the tale as the woman danced and twirled.
“Long ago the Queen of Heaven turned Her eyes to the Great Below. The Queen of the Great Above did turn Her eyes to the Great Below. And so She journeyed there. Inanna, unafraid, peered into the darkness that so frightens us all. Bravely, She journeyed there. And at each of the seven gates, She was stopped by the guardians of the Netherworld. Seven times She was stopped by the Netherworld gatekeepers. And at each gate, as was the custom, She had to give over one of her garments before She was allowed to pass. For no one carries earthly costumes, nor masks, nor jewels, nor riches, nor titles with them into the land of the dead. The darkness must be entered into naked. With no pretense, no pride. Only the true self. This is what makes visiting there so frightening.”
At Lia’s nod, Natum clapped his hands once, and the first of the seven veils fell away from each woman. The one that had covered their hair. Narrowing his eyes, Natum got to his feet and moved among the dancers, eyeing each one closely. There were twenty women dancing for him. Twenty dropping a second veil, and a third. Twenty hoping to be chosen as the king’s sacred lukur. But only one he wanted.
“Naked, Inanna was brought before Her Dark Sister, Ereshkigal. Naked, She had to face Her own Dark Sister. Her own dark side. Just as we must each face the darkness within us. But Inanna emerged from the darkness—proving that we can do the same. Meet, embrace, accept, understand, and in the end gain mastery over our own shadow side.”
Natum clapped his hands again, and the fourth veil fell away. Twenty beautiful copper-skinned bodies gyrated for his pleasure. Round, delectable buttocks swung from side to side as he passed. Golden breasts bounced for him, nunuz stones weighing down their swollen tips. Soft bellies, dark eyes...
Nidaba’s dark eyes.
He stilled when he saw her, and kept his gaze locked only to hers. She didn’t look away, but held his eyes. Her hips rolled toward him, and away, and only three veils remained on her. The one that covered her nose and mouth from his view, the one knotted at her wrist, and the one that hung from the chain of gold at her waist, draping down to cover her center. He didn’t clap his hands. Instead he reached out, and took that veil away from the chain at her waist. Then he held up his hand, and the music and dancing stopped.
The chains of precious stone that dangled from her waist concealed very little of her. Her small waist and large breasts pleased him immensely, as did the unusual length and grace of her arms, and her endless legs. He’d never seen her unclothed before. But he’d known she would be exquisite, and he was not disappointed. And with a flick of his wrist, he tugged the delicate scarf away from her face so he could watch her every expression.
Turn around,” he told her.
Her eyes widened ever so slightly. But she knew she had no choice here, and she did as her king commanded. She turned.
And he took his time. He let his eyes feast on the long curve of her spine, and the swell of her rounded buttocks, and the slight crease at the base where they met her thighs. He would press his lips to that crease tonight. He saw with some surprise the birthmark she bore. The crescent moon blazed on her thigh. Perhaps it was a sign of divine approval, for he bore the same mark himself.
“Face me,” he told her.
Again, she did as he commanded, her eyes defiant but full of fire. And he knew beyond any doubt she was as aroused right now as he was. Though she might have denied it, he could see it there in her eyes. Her chin was high, her stance proud. But her eyes blazed with secret longings, denied desires. He reached up to touch the nunuz stone that dangled from her breast, fingered the stone slowly. Each time it moved he saw the reaction in her eyes, until finally he gave the stone the slightest tug, and heard her suck her breath through her teeth. “This one,” he said at last, catching the veil that was tied to her wrist and pulling her out of the group of priestesses. ‘This is the priestess who shall be my lukur. Take her to the sacred bedchamber to await the arrival of her king.”
At his nod, his men-at-arms came forward and flanked Nidaba, ready to lead her away. How times had changed, he thought vaguely. Only a generation ago, it would have been the High Priestess doing the choosing. She would have had final say over whether the son of a king was worthy of the throne, and if he fell short of her standards, she would have chosen his replacement.
Now, the reality of the old ways was rapidly fading into symbolic acts with far less meaning, played out to reinforce the image of the king as supreme commander of all within his reach—even the High Priestesses of Inanna.
“Do not forget, my king,” Nidaba said softly, shocking everyone in the throne room by speaking to him without permission at such a formal event. “It will be the Goddess you embrace this night. Not me. Inanna will use my body as Her sacred vessel. I myself will have no part to play. But if you displease Her, she may very well strike you down.”
He leaned in close, and whispered in her ear, “Do you really believe that is the way it will be, Nidaba?” His cheek brushed over hers. “I do not. But we shall see. Either way, I have no intention of displeasing... the woman I will be with tonight.”
Straightening, he commanded his men. “Go. And remember this is the body of the Goddess you have in your charge. Treat Her as such. She is to have anything She desires.”
She turned away from him and marched toward the door like a martyr to the pyre.
“Inanna is an impatient Goddess,” someone said. “Already She lives in this priestess! See how proudly She moves!”
“Fool, don’t you recognize her? She’s the priestess who is half goddess already!”
“They say she has strange powers....”
“Left on the doorstep of the temple by the Goddess Herself...”
The murmuring spread. Nidaba stopped walking and turned to watch, as several bowed their heads in respect when she passed. A look of confusion crossed her features as she met Eannatum’s eyes once more. He placed his right fist in the palm of his left hand and bowed his head. A gesture of deep respect, which he gave willingly, and meant sincerely.
Then everyone in the room followed his example, saluting her, bowing their heads. A frown creased her brow as she turned to go.
* * * *
“YOU ARE STARING,” Nidaba said in her deep, rich voice, like ho
ney on his senses.
Nathan blinked and shook himself out of the past. “I was... remembering. My coronation.” He glanced sideways at George, expecting to see the man there, looking puzzled, but George had gone into the front parlor with his dog, and the two were relaxing near the fire. “When you danced for me,” he said, finally.
Nidaba’s thick lashes came down to veil her gaze. “I was confused when they all began to treat me as if I was the Goddess herself. As if She had already descended into my body.”
He smiled very slowly. “But She had, Nidaba.”
“No. She never did. She turned her face away from me that night. Abandoned me because I did not serve Her well.”
“You’re wrong. How have you managed to live so long, and not yet come to understand your own nature? A woman like you, Nidaba, is the Goddess personified. She didn’t need to take over your body. She already lived in you, from the day you were born.”
That same tiny frown he’d seen in the past, marred her brow. He would have said more, but Sheila’s voice, groggy and thick, interrupted him.
“Nathan, what are we goin’ to do about poor Lisette?”
He stalled for a response even as he hurried to help her to the table. “Come, Sheila. Sit. Are you all right?”
“I slept some,” she said, sniffling, and shuffled her feet as he led her to a chair. Then she sank into it as if boneless.
“Nidaba, this is Sheila. She’s my most trusted friend.”
Nidaba studied the woman, and Nathan thought she looked first relieved at the sight of Sheila and then concerned as she perused Sheila’s wet, red eyes and puffy face. Nidaba glanced at Nathan then, a question in her eyes. “Is she one of— ?”
“No.” He said it quickly, not giving her time complete the question.
Nidaba looked doubtful. “That’s what you thought about the other one, you’ll recall.”
“Sheila’s been with me for years. The other one... only a day or two.”
Nidaba sniffed, but eyeing the woman again, seemed to accept his word that Sheila was not a Dark Witch on the hunt.
“It’s good to see you up and around, miss,” Sheila said. “I only wish it had been under better circumstances. Not with death itself breathing down our very necks.” And she shivered as she said it.
“Death?” Nidaba looked from Nathan to Sheila and back again.
“Sheila’s best friend, Lisette, was a nurse,” Nathan explained. “We hired her to come here, to help us care for you.”
Nidaba lifted one brow in regal sarcasm. “Oh? Was she the one who tried to murder me a short while ago?”
“Tried to murder you? I’d like to know how she managed it when she’s been lyin’ dead in the basement all the afternoon!” Sheila cried, her voice breaking near the end.
“Please,” Nathan said, before Nidaba could respond yet again. “If the two of you will let me speak.” They both fell silent. “Good. Sheila... Dammit, I don’t know how to say this gently.”
“Say it straight, Nathan. I’m no frail flower, as you know very well by now. Or ought to.”
Drawing a breath, Nathan sighed. “Your friend Lisette has been lying in that basement far longer than you realize. In fact, I suspect she was put there within a few hours of her arrival here.”
“Well, now, don’t be daft, Nathan! She’s been right up here with us, helping to care for your ladyfriend. We’ve both seen her, spoken to her...” Sheila stopped herself when he held up a hand.
“The woman who’s been walking around here with us was an impostor. Someone who killed Lisette and then made herself look just like her in order to fool us.”
“Impossible!” Sheila said. Nidaba, though, remained silent.
“Remember how she lost her voice right after she got here?” Nathan asked. “So she wouldn’t speak above that odd, hoarse whisper? That was because she couldn’t change her voice. Only her appearance, Sheila. If you had heard her speak at full volume, you would have known it wasn’t your friend’s, voice.”
Sheila blinked. “But... but... how? She looked—it was no disguise, Nathan. She looked exactly like Lisette. Even a makeup artist couldn’t have done such a convincing job of disguising herself.”
“A glamourie,” Nidaba murmured. “By the Gods, she must be good.”
“A glam... what?” Sheila rubbed her forehead with two fingers. “I don’t understand any of this! Even if someone could make themselves look that much like Lisette, why would they bother? Why would anyone want to murder her and then impersonate her? It just makes no sense!”
“To try to get to me,” Nidaba said very quietly. “I regret that your friend got caught up in all of this, Sheila. It seems my presence here is what brought this upon you, and for that... I am deeply sorry.”
Sheila, though, was still shaking her head. “It makes no sense,” she said again. “She looked... she looked exactly... How could anyone be that convincing?”
Nidaba’s eyes met Nathan’s. Only an immortal High Witch, and a very old one at that, would be likely to have mastered such an art, and Nidaba knew that as well as Nathan did himself. He could see the knowledge there. This enemy they faced could be more powerful than they had first believed.
“What are we going to do with her, Nathan? I... I just... if we call the police...”
“If we call the police, I’ll be arrested for kidnapping Nidaba, she’ll probably end up back in the mental ward, a sitting duck for this killer, and you’ll in all likelihood get yourself deported. We could both easily end up as suspects in Lisette’s murder, as well. I don’t think that’s what she would want. Do you, Sheila?”
“Well... well, no. I think she would want the person who did this to her caught, and... and punished.”
“I’ll see to it that they are. I give you my word on that,” he said. “But not if we get the police involved.” Nathan got to his feet, came around the table, and took Sheila’s hands in his. “Did she have any family, Sheila?”
Sheila shook her head. “She was alone. Oh, there may have been a cousin or two, back in Queensland, but aside from that... no. No one.” She met his eyes, and he could see that she understood. Slowly, she nodded. “I want her buried proper, Nathan. Not tossed into a swamp somewhere. She deserves respect. Words said over her. A decent resting place.”
I’ll see to it,” he promised, lowering his head as a heavy ache settled in his chest. “Trust me.”
Chapter 12
NIDABA STOOD ON the cliffs above the sea, with George on her right and Sheila on her left. The ever-present Rottweiler, Queenie, sat at George’s feet, her gaze focused on the tiny boat, just as everyone else’s was. The small craft bobbed and bounded on the waves as Natum rowed further and further out into the sea. The sky beyond him settled to a darker shade of gray, and moments later the little boat was barely visible.
“I can’t see him anymore,” George said, sounding scared to death. And no wonder, with the wind, the darkness, and the knowledge that a killer lurked somewhere near.
Nidaba had realized almost from the first words she had exchanged with the big man that he was a child in a man’s body. Part of him—that innocent part—reminded her painfully of the son she’d had once, long ago. Her Nicodimus.
She automatically closed her hand around George’s larger one and squeezed. “Don’t be afraid, George. He’ll light the lamp in a moment, you’ll see.”
“And we should light ours, as well.” At Nidaba’s other side, Sheila bent down to do just that, then stood, lifting the kerosene lantern so its soft golden glow spilled all around them.
The wind blew in off the sea, and Nidaba’s hair snapped and danced in time with the lantern’s flame. She wore a long black dress she had found in the closet. Eannatum had, Sheila told her, stocked it himself, choosing each item for her personally. This gown, a simple one of some clingy modern fabric, had a scooped neckline and long sleeves that fit her arms snugly. It hugged her body the same way, all the way to her hips. From there it flowed freely to pud
dle around her feet. A braided cord of silver, gold, and black served as a sash, tied loosely about her waist, the knot dipping lower in front, forming a vee. It was very much like the clothing she had worn of old, except in color. And she felt the tug, the calling of the High Priestess she had been and still was, deep inside. One of her duties had been to comfort the bereaved on occasions such as this one. She had, she realized dully, fallen into her old role with barely a pause.
Finally, in the distance, an answering light appeared on the sea. It rose, ghostlike, then moved slowly from side to side in wide arcs.
“It’s time,” Nidaba said.
Sheila lowered her head in silent prayer, her free hand closing around Nidaba’s, though she may not even have been aware of it. She was not an immortal. Natum had assured her of as much, but Nidaba knew it for certain by her touch. And by her trembling, she knew the woman was in pain.
“Good-bye, dear friend,” Sheila whispered at last.
“Not good-bye,” Nidaba said softly. “She goes into the arms of the Goddess, where she will find comfort and perfect love as she adjusts to her new form. No longer physical as we are, but every bit as alive, every bit as real. Your friend is still with you, Sheila. She lives on. And she’s all right. She truly is.”
Blinking, Sheila turned to Nidaba. “You really believe that?”
“I do. Speak to her, if you need evidence of it. Ask her for a sign.”
Sheila’s face puckered with her frown. But she didn’t speak. She only turned to stare out at the sea as the wind made the lamp flicker.
Nidaba closed her eyes, focused her energies, silently called on the departed soul to send comfort to her friend. As she opened her eyes again, the clouds parted, and the lopsided gibbous moon shone down on the waves for just a moment. Something arched up out of the water, moving gracefully, its skin slick and shining in the moonlight. Then it splashed down again, vanishing beneath the waves.
Eternal Love: The Immortal Witch Series Page 83
