Gate of the Gods: Book 5 of The Windows of Heaven

by K. G. Powderly Jr.

  — Jubilees 7:14-18

  5

  Treasure Cave

  14

  The assembly met in a modest, rough-cut stone chamber just inside the Treasure Cave—thirty-six of forty-two clan Saars, and the two surviving Revered Mothers. With neither of the remaining two Arch-Saars present, the road weary Zhui’Sudra, freshly arrived from his vineyard in the wooded hills east of Mount Lubar, sat alone in his inset balcony niche like a weather-yellowed ivory statue.

  Napalku sat behind his grandfather, dour Usalaq, in the center part of the chamber reserved for the Khaldini, by the vacant seat of the M’El-Ki. His earlier audience with Usalaq had been terse. Qe’Nani’s son had seemed disapproving of Napu’s questions, especially those about family history. The old man had answered evasively, in vague generalities. If Mother T’Qinna had not sat with Napu now, anxiety would have consumed him. The only thing that could make this any worse was if someone called on him to speak. He had already decided to keep his words as few as possible.

  He glanced over at El’Issaq, who sat near the spot of skylight with the sparse showing from the tribes of Iyapeti, to the right of where Kush spoke to the Ensi Council.

  In the shadows beyond Kush, at the chamber’s opposite end, sat the only other surviving “Revered Mother,” Ni’Alal-tamu’Ukum; a plump, sad-faced woman that Mother T’Qinna often made eye contact with, as if wordlessly communicating some deep mutual sorrow across the hall, as only women could. Even from a distance, Napalku saw that the centuries had not been nearly as kind to Ni’Alal-tamu’Ukum as to Mother T’Qinna. Gray-streaked black curls hung listlessly around puffy cheeks, and the purple bags under her glazed eyes suggested decades—perhaps centuries—of poor sleep.

  Kush continued his relaxed presentation before Arrafu, Lord of Arrata; “The need to reorganize the government by amending the Tablets of Destiny grows more acute each year. It is no longer wise to place our hopes in the return of the Sun Ships, despite a brief, broken oracle link to one of them—that would be one out of ten, from which we have heard nothing in as many years. With respect to the Zhui’Sudra and the Revered Mothers…”

  Laughter echoed down over the chamber like tortured, creaking wood. Kush looked around, bemused at the directionless sound. It took Napu several seconds to realize that its source was the balcony slot, where sat the weathered Ancient from another world.

  The Oldest Man on Earth spoke; “You have a peculiar way of showing respect, Kush—oh, I’m sorry, you fancy yourself M’Es-Ki-aj-Kush-Saar these days. Am I supposed to bow or something? I’ve forgotten; but then, I’m old.”

  Kush’s good-humored confidence collapsed into a scowl. “I would have the esteemed Prime Zaqen know that his son, my father, is still away these last three years exploring that great river that flows from south to north into the Great Sink-lands of the far west. We don’t know when or even if he will return to us, either. Tell us, O Zhui’Sudra—I recall a day when I simply called you Grandfather—how many more of us must vanish to keep this promise you made to some other old man before any of us—or this world—was even born? Has this been a sensible allocation of our limited resources?”

  Mother T’Qinna hissed, “He knows a rider came in from his father’s expedition not two months ago with word that all’s well with Khumi! Misori’Ra’s colony thrives at the river mouths in the Great Sink!”

  The Zhui’Sudra stood inside his niche, leaned upon the stone wall, and stepped into the light. An icy blaze animated his faded, but still alert, blue eyes. Napalku expected him to answer Kush with the facts Mother T’Qinna had just whispered. Napalku expected wrong.

  The Ancient instead ignored Kush altogether, and turned his gaze down to where the Khaldini sat. “You, down there!” he called.

  The spindly frame of Usalaq, whose cobweb hair and yellowed skin made him seem more like Lord Arrafu’s father than his son, stood up.

  The cantankerous voice from the balcony thundered, “Not you! The young one—there behind you, with Mother T’Qinna—Napalku son of Haviri, is it not?”

  Napalku stood, using all his power to keep his knees from knocking together, and said, “Y-yes, Exalted Father.”

  Kush’s eyes were livid, as were those of Nimurta behind him.

  The Zhui’Sudra said, “Tell me, Son, what think you about all this? As a Khaldi, have you heard the Divine Wind of El-N’Lil on these matters?”

  An urge came hard over Napalku to tell him of his dreams about the Ziggurat and the Fish-man, but all that came out was, “I, ah, I’m not sure what you are asking of me, Exalted Father, please forgive my slowness.”

  “There is nothing to forgive. I once sat where you do—in a much larger, more ornate rotunda hall than this one—in a much bigger city, in a vanished world, long ago. I saw my own face in the crowd, is all, lad.”

  Napu felt certain that the Zhui’Sudra’s younger self must have had something competent to say back then, if his elders had only asked him, but that he had been just as disappointed with them as he was now of Napalku.

  The young Khaldi of Uruk started to say, “I’m honored…” but stopped after the second word. The Old Man had receded back into the shadows of his niche, muttering to himself. Napalku sensed that another great opportunity had somehow slipped past him—that he had disappointed the Zhui’Sudra just as he had disappointed En’Tarah-ana on their first meeting. Except here, first impressions meant everything. Seems I don’t know what to do with “the ears of my fathers,” even when I have them! The loss kicked him in the stomach.

  Bland Usalaq turned to him. “It’s fine, lad, you may sit back down.”

  Mother T’Qinna motioned for him to sit by her again, a sad smile in her eyes. “We’ll talk later, my Son—tomorrow morning, in the Library.”

  Kush talked more than enough to weary the ears until nightfall.

  15

  That night, macabre laughter woke Napalku from troubled dreams of flickering lights in the sky, and cold, heartless men with huge black eyes like bugs. Loma stirred next to him, sighed, and returned to her slumber. He paused, and gently brushed a lock of her black hair from her face.

  The laughter in the caravansary outside rose to a maniacal frenzy. Napu tossed on his cloak and stepped out of their lodging stall. The fire pit embers in the long center courtyard glowed softly; red under a moonless sky as some dim radiant river of Earth’s clotting blood. The noise drew him down the row of rough-hewn stone cubicles toward those inhabited by the clans of Assur. Others began to stir as Napalku approached.

  A shadowy figure dashed from one of the stalls just ahead. He stepped into one of the fire pits and trampled the hot coals, kicking up sparks. The man turned just as Napalku reached him.

  Flaring reds blazed upward from Assur’s bare feet, which stood in the searing embers. The Saar’s huge, dilated eyes and malignant smile fastened upon Napalku like searching torches. Harsh contours on the elder’s face painted Under-world’s flickering madness on a human soul. Curious lodgers grew to a vague gaggle in the smoky background.

  Napalku reached out his hand. “Come out of the fire, my Father, your feet are burning.”

  Assur slapped away the hand, and danced amid the coals, cackling and raising a storm of sparks. “I am the god of fortresses, the holy flame of Shamash! I stir the fires of heaven and draw out those running deep in the Earth! I am become a son of A’Nu—Anunnaki of the Watchers, the Eye-gigi!” He broke into perverse, girlish giggles as he continued to skip amid the awakening flames.

  En’Tarah-ana and Kullasina swept their father out of the fire pit, and knocked him down into the courtyard grass, just as Assur’s cloak ignited.

  After they stomped it out, Kullasina stooped to examine their elder’s feet. “There is no burn!” he cried.

  Napalku and Tarah’ stooped over Assur, making a window between their huddled bodies for the fire light. Assur’s feet were soot-covered, but Napu saw no blisters or charred flesh anywhere on them.

  The Saar giggled and cackled, sh
outing, “I see! They see! Watchee-me! Watchee-you! Eye-gigi! I-gigi! Igigi! I am King of the Anunnaki who serve the Igigi! Anunnakkikiki!”

  Napalku resisted an odd urge to punch Assur’s mouth until the Saar went silent. Instead, he said, “Could he be drunk?”

  Kullasina stood and glared at him.

  En’Tarah-ana answered, “I smell no beer or date liquor on his breath and clothes. Perhaps he is ill.” He laid a hand on Assur’s forehead. “He’s warm, but that could just be the fire.”

  Napu said, “We should take him to Mother T—I mean the Revered Mother. She is wise in medicines.”

  Kullasina’s jaw muscles tightened. “I’m sure we needn’t trouble the Revered Mother. He just needs to sleep it off.”

  ‘Tarah insisted, “I smell no drink on him.”

  Kullasina smiled. “The smoke may have masked it, Brother. If he is still unwell in the morning, then we can trouble the S’Eduku-tal-ebab.”

  En’Tarah-ana and Napalku allowed Kullasina to lead a still-gibbering Assur back to his tent in one of the nearby lodging stalls. They dared not speak together in front of the small crowd of awakened onlookers, but each returned to his respective tent.

  Napalku got no further sleep that night, and rose to meet Mother T’Qinna in the library, just before dawn. Dark clouds glowered on the horizon, obscuring the sunrise like an angry wall of Assur’s stirred-up smoke and soot from the night before. The hillside mouth of the Treasure Cave, with its adjoining library porticos on either side, grinned like a giant skull, as Napu climbed the winding path over the tiny city’s flower-lined tiers.

  Mother T’Qinna met him at the right-hand portway, beneath the small fort. She had covered her head against the cold in a brilliant blue scarf made of some mysterious fabric from the World-that-Was, which shimmered almost with a light of its own. She smiled at him, and motioned him inside.

  A shrouded figure hunched over one of the reading tables under the quickfire pearl light, pouring over a tattered scroll of something that the ancients used to call papyrex. The reader turned to face Napalku and Mother T’Qinna, pulling back his cowl as he did so.

  It was the Zhui’Sudra.

  Napalku bowed.

  The Ancient One spoke. “Don’t bow to me, young man. You know me only as a distant relic. My name is A’Nu-Ahki—and, of course, you know that too. I am an increasingly frail old man of nearly a thousand years age—most of them full of trouble and my own failure—so, for the love of the Divine Name, don’t bow to me!”

  “Please forgive your slow-witted son…”

  The Old Man slammed his fist on the reading table. “And stop with this ‘slow-witted’ nonsense! I have neither the time nor patience for false humility! Come sit by me, for troubled times are upon us all, and I’m not sure who I can trust anymore. Don’t make me decide not to trust you.”

  Napalku scurried into the seat at the table next to the Ancient.

  Mother T’Qinna laughed. “Pahpi Nu, I think you’ve frightened the poor boy nearly to death. Behave yourself!”

  The Old Man looked up at her, smiled, and leaned back against the table. “No doubt you’re right, as always.” He winked at Napu. “Never get old, my boy. They expect you to have all the answers. Then when you scrounge a few up, nobody listens to you! Forgive my irritability. Be assured that you are not the cause of it.”

  Napalku nodded, but all that came out of his throat was a tiny squeak.

  Mother T’Qinna said, “I’ve relayed to Pahpi Nu all you’ve told me about the Eridu Stone, your journey, and your dreams. It is wise that you did not expose yourself to Kush and Nimurta at the Council yesterday. I do hope that you will not hesitate expressing yourself to us here in private, though.”

  Pahpi Nu reached out and clasped Napalku’s shoulder. “I concur with T’Qinna. You showed great restraint. I should not have placed you in that situation. Still, I think it will serve a purpose. It is usually better if your opponents underestimate you—their pride makes them sloppy.”

  Napu found his voice. “You are both too kind.”

  The Ancient laughed from deep in his belly. “I think not. I suggested to the M’El-Ki that your father would be the perfect choice to represent the Khaldini at Uruk. He then strongly ‘suggested’ it to Usalaq. When you came to the Academy, after your father left on the Sun Ships, we handpicked your instructors, and watched your progress closely. We were rarely disappointed, and when we were, it was with the instructors, not with you.”

  Napalku’s head swam. “I had no idea. But you mustn’t think so highly of me! I showed no restraint in the Council hall—I just didn’t know what to say. I’m not real good at confrontation.”

  Mother T’Qinna ran her hand through Napu’s hair much like his own mother once had. “Even so, you have a teachable heart. The other shall come in time, as E’Yahavah gifts you.”

  “Gifts me?”

  A’Nu-Ahki stood with the help of his cane and began to pace. “You have the seer gift, son—the dreams—just as I do. Or so you told T’Qinna.”

  “I have the dreams. What do they mean?”

  A’Nu-Ahki stared off at the gathering storm outside. “Something is about to happen—may already be happening. Kush shall have his cities, but he’ll not enjoy them for very long.”

  Napu said, “There’s something else—maybe the ‘already happening’ part. Something strange happened at the Pilgrimage Inn last night.” He told them of Assur’s madness.

  Mother T’Qinna’s green eyes seemed to fade to gray. “Are you sure he mentioned the Watchers?”

  “Yes, Mother. He also called himself ‘the god of fortresses,’ and a son of A’Nu—he used a strange contraction for it; Anunnaki, I think it was.”

  Pahpi Nu said, “A plural form used sometimes in the apostate Temples of Ayar Adi’In and Erdu in the World-that-Was. It means ‘offspring of heaven’ or ‘sons of God.’ The bastardized religion of those times tried to associate these fallen deities with E’Yahavah A’Nu, but the sons of Seti and the Seer Clan of Q’Enukki saw through this, and denounced it—to no avail.”

  Napalku said, “He used another word too—Igigi—to describe the Watchers watching us. I don’t understand, but this word made me feel sick somehow; like I wanted to start hitting him, and not stop until he was silent.”

  A’Nu-Ahki stroked his white beard. “I don’t know this word—unless it is some sort of new contraction centered on the root word for eye.’”

  “I don’t know it either,” said Mother T’Qinna. “But I know the powers of suggestion the Watchers use. If even one of them controls my son, and his confederates, they may utilize what priestesses in Aztlan used to call ‘gateway words’—a kind of back door into the human mind for activating previously inserted suggestions that can alter perception to manipulate behavior. They induce a trance to implant such suggestions and trigger words, either by potion or by some meditative technique. The words themselves are meaningless. They are artificial associations that activate the suggestions, even hallucinations. Pahpi Nu rescued me from such a spell when I was a young girl, after we first met in the World-that-Was.”

  Napalku asked, “And this ‘Igigi’ might be such a magic word?”

  Pahpi Nu said, “Perhaps it is some new name for the Watchers; an attempt to reinvent themselves, like this ‘En-Ki’ is supposed to be their new name for the Divine Messenger. If Kush and Nimurta want to establish an alternate history, and a new civil cult, it would hardly do for them to use the same terms for the Watchers as before—they would want to call them by a name with positive connotations—something that would not sound alarms in people’s minds. Yet they would also wish to tie those new terms with something safe and familiar to people, for that very same reason.”

  Napalku had trouble following Pahpi Nu’s archaic speech patterns—like the expressions reinvent themselves, alternate history, and sound alarms —but he caught the Zhui’Sudra’s general meaning. Slowly changing the meaning of familiar words would certainly be easier th
an introducing entirely new names and terms, while old, subversive evils needed new names so people would not easily recognize them. En’Tarah-ana had said much the same thing during their night meeting on the rock outcropping.

  So had El’Issaq, the night Qe’Nani had rushed into the Shrine to tell of his find: “People these days seek new connections to the World-that-Was; convenient ones, independent of sacred history, and easier to mold to current political, market, and cultic agendas.”

  Napu said, “They want to make the Evil Ones seem good, and E’Yahavah to appear evil, or at least unimportant.”

  Pahpi Nu clapped Napalku on the shoulder. “Precisely, my boy, but they want it done in a way that is not so easily noticed. They wish to displace the teachings of the Seven Seers in substance with that of the Watchers, while outwardly keeping our traditional rituals for as long as possible.”

  Mother T’Qinna continued, “In that way, they hope nobody will see what they are really doing until it is too late to stop it.”

  Napu felt hopeful for the first time since he had heard Nimurta’s speech by the Eridu Stone. “I’m glad I got to speak to you both! Now we can stop this treachery and prevent the war.”

  The fading light of the quickfire globes flickered in Pahpi Nu’s eyes as tormented ghosts. “No,” he said, as his face fell, “we can’t.”

  Napalku’s insides plunged. “Why not?”