“Because the battle net has fallen, and we’re already caught in its web.”
Napalku followed Pahpi Nu’s gaze out the window, to the horizon. Out of the gathering storm, came the distant dust plume of a mounted army far larger than the one that had accompanied Nimurta.
“I am the strong one, unopposed in the mountains, I am Ninurta—let them prostrate themselves at my name. I am the exceedingly mighty lion-headed one of Enlil, whom he engendered in his strength. The storm of heaven, shackle of the gods, I am the one whom Anu in his great might has chosen. I am the creature of Inana. I am the warrior, destined with Enki to be suited for the fearsome divine powers. Let my kingship be manifest unto the ends of heaven and earth. I am most able among the gods—let me be imbued with great awesomeness.”
— The Return of Ninurta to Nibru
An ancient Sumerian epic
6
Inana
16
Inana sat on an old rolled carpet, bored and brooding, amid the relics in the echoing shadows of the Treasure Cave’s innermost cavern. She pulled her wrap around herself tightly and rocked back and forth in the silence.
Her brother, Utu, had left her frustrated again, abandoned in the darkness, surrounded by dead magic talismans from the World-that-Was. She thought, He’s so afraid of being caught—whiney little man-baby! No one ever comes back here! He’s such a child’s toy compared to my En’Mer-Kar! Why does Nimurta make me wait when he is near enough to touch?
She gazed at the faintly glittering hulk of a winged chariot that had once flown like a bird—if her father’s stories were believable. If they were, then why leave the old magic buried and unused? Why does he teach the powers of quickfire only to a handful of nattering Khaldi scribes under boring old Usalaq? It is as Nimurta says—the Horned Serpent brings new wisdom, while the Firstborn have lost awareness of their own inner divinity!
“Well, I’m claiming mine!” Inana hissed to herself as she stood up and adjusted her hair. “There is one who will tell me more of what I need to learn, even if she doesn’t mean to!”
She scurried out from the inner vaults, where only she and Utu went in the wee hours before dawn, whenever they wanted to “play” in secret. Only after passing several chambers did she encounter anyone else, merely an Academy student cleaning some of the artifacts. Three people occupied the Library when Inana entered. She pressed herself into an alcove to remain hidden from the others, and listened.
“No; we can’t,” said a gravelly voice that Inana recognized as the Zhui’Sudra’s.
“Why not?” asked a quavering young man she did not know.
The Old Man answered, “Because the battle net has fallen, and we’re already caught in its web.”
Inana wondered at this. Surely, Nimurta cannot have struck so soon! He said the Ensi Council needed to vote first! His army was just for show!
The third person, S’Eduku-tal-ebab, said, “I can see their banner; it’s Clans Magog and the Ghimmuraya. Perhaps Iyapeti has come.”
The Zhui’Sudra said, “I don’t think so. ‘Peti was with Iavanni’s clans, last I heard. Napalku, you, and I had better go out to see what this is about. T’Qinna, I’d like you to stay here in the Library, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.”
Inana waited for the men to leave before emerging from her alcove. S’Eduku-tal-ebab had her back turned, enabling Arrafu’s youngest daughter to approach as if she had just entered the library from outside, rather than from the inner cave. “Revered Mother, I’m glad I found you,” Inana said.
S’Eduku-tal-ebab turned. “Hello, Inana. What may I do for you?”
Inana put on her most girlishly sweet smile—the one she always reserved for speaking to her elders. “I was wondering if you would tell me one of the stories of the World-that-Was—of when you were my age. I always get so much insight from you.”
“Perhaps another time, darling; something is happening outside.” The Revered Mother pointed out the large window.
Inana saw clouds on the horizon, and the dust of the approaching riders with banners unfurled. She knew her supposed future husband would be among them—not that it would matter in the end.
“Yes, of course, Revered Mother. I quite understand.”
S’Eduku-tal-ebab said, “It might be best if we cancelled your lessons for the day, also. You should stay inside the city too.”
Inana hid her intense disappointment with an obedient nod. “Yes, of course, Revered Mother.”
17
Not long after she dismissed Inana, T’Qinna had another visitor in the library, where she spent so much of her life these days—that was, when she was not listening inside the oracle tower. This caller also entered silently, and nearly startled her from behind.
The face T’Qinna had not seen in many years had aged much, and not well. The woman cursed by her husband with the name of Ni’Alal-tamu’Ukum—“I Hang from This Oath of Dust”—had dull, watery eyes with purple bags beneath them, as if from centuries of weeping. Graying curls fell out from under a linen shawl. Although younger than T’Qinna by a number of years, the new visitor seemed generations older, if not physically, then by the cloud that hung over her like the storm gathering outside.
“Hello Tiva, I’m glad you came. How many years has it been?”
The woman dropped herself into one of the reading chairs like a sack of tubers. “Too many—at least twelve, maybe fifteen—I lost count; been living with some of Puta’s clan until I returned to my ‘special’ city, a few days ago.”
T’Qinna sat down next to her. “You look sad.”
“Go to, how could you tell?”
They both laughed, and for a second, the room seemed to brighten.
Tiva said, “Too bad Suta didn’t live to be with us here—or maybe it’s good for her that she didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
Tiva’s words came in a barely restrained shriek, “The whole mess is starting all over; like we did nothing at all!”
T’Qinna touched her old friend’s cheek with a gentle finger. “It’s not good, but I think it still falls short of being that bad.”
“You wouldn’t say so if you heard my sons parley—and that’s only the little bit Kush and his cronies will speak of openly when I’m around. I’m sure there’s much dirtier business afoot.”
“What have you heard?”
Tiva said, “They plan to seize control of the Council somehow.”
“They already have, mostly.”
“This is worse. I’m not sure how, because I didn’t hear it all, but P’Tah-Tahut said to Kush and Nimurta that something ‘would forever be our word against theirs before growing populations with no way to verify anything.’ They didn’t know I was listening outside the tent. One of them mentioned ‘the Tablets,’ but I’m not entirely sure which tablets or in what connection.”
T’Qinna clenched her teeth. “I think I can guess. They plan to take the Divine M’Ae somehow. That’s why we keep it on public display, and give clan patriarchs copies of the text; so no one can get away with that!”
Tiva laughed, though it sounded more like a snarl. “It sounded like maybe they just want to hide it away—which is bad enough! But you may be right. Nimurta, at one point, sounding all-pious as my father used to, said, ‘The Tablets are too holy to be kept out for public viewing anyway. People cannot be trusted to interpret them rightly.’ I felt like swinging my cake iron at his pretty-boy head!”
“That confirms it. U’Sumi trusted him way too much. So did I. Occasionally, Nimurta would say something that made me uneasy, but I never could pin down why, on those rare occasions back in the day. It was mere intuition with nothing much to support it, and it didn’t happen often enough to seem important. Sometimes it just looked like Nimurta was…”
Tiva finished the sentence, “…too good to be real?”
“Yeah; that says it pretty well.”
“Don’t feel bad, T’Qinna—and don’t hold it again
st U’Sumi. Khumi and I often said that Nimurta seemed more like one of your boys than one of ours. He fooled us all; perhaps all along.”
“There’s no way to know if it was all along.”
Tiva’s face darkened. “In the end, it makes no difference. He still betrayed your husband’s trust—betrayed us all. In a way, it would be far more frightening if Nimurta’s heart had once actually been true. It opens up all of the same old doubts—the same old fears—inside all of us.”
“The stakes have always been high, Tiva.”
“I know. I’m just so tired. I can’t remember the last time I had a decent sleep. The only good thing about it is that my sons are better at treating me as if I don’t exist than even their father is. I hear things that might be useful to know, but which give me nightmares.”
T’Qinna wanted to weep for her friend, but refused to risk them both breaking down into a crying jag. “There’s another army outside.”
Tiva sniffed. “I saw them on the way in. Bet you never expected to see one of those again.”
“No, I only hoped I wouldn’t.”
18
The winds picked up and the clouds descended as Napalku helped Pahpi Nu down the last of the tiny city’s rough, stone stairways, past the gatehouse, and out onto the open field between them and the mounted troop.
The company’s chieftain rode an enormous dried-blood-red onager the likes of which Napalku had never seen before. The rider approached slowly, pulling at the bridle as if using great effort to restrain his mount. The creature’s huge black eyes bulged with a ferocity that seemed capable of terrible rage; its flank muscles rippled under sleek hair, like running water over rounded stones, to produce a gait as graceful as it was ominous. Nothing like it had ever roamed the Sumar and Agadae before. Even Pahpi Nu made a pause in his stride as the creature and its rider drew near.
The Zhui’Sudra stopped about a third of the way across the wind-whipped meadow, forcing the rider to go the greater distance.
Pahpi Nu shielded his eyes from the blowing grit with his hand, to get a better look at the rider. “A rather large escort for a simple Ensi Council meeting, wouldn’t you say, Magog? I had no idea there were enemies about. As I recall, there haven’t been any enemies since before this world began.”
The Rider—a huge, pale, muscular man with gold braids, a sheathed sword, and a horned helmet—seemed confused. “The Council has not met?”
Only then did Napalku notice Nimurta and Kush in the corner of his eye, rushing down the tiers of the hillside city, as if trying not to break into an undignified full run.
The Zhui’Sudra answered, “It would seem not about your business.”
Magog dismounted from his enormous beast, which up close looked even less like an onager, and bowed toward Pahpi Nu. “Forgive my discourtesy, Eldest Father. It has been a long and dusty ride. I bring with me a son of the Ghimmuraya, who is to wed Inana, the daughter of Lord Arrafu.”
Pahpi Nu’s cold eyes did not match his smile. “Of course,” he jerked his snowy head back toward the city. “Your confederates approach.”
Magog’s pale face blushed to a beet red. Kush and Nimurta trotted up to them from across the rippling field.
The Zhui’Sudra walked through their midst, with Napalku in tow, shouting above the wind, “It seems there’s a meeting of the Ensi Council after all—let’s say at noon—to give our bright young warriors with no enemies a couple hours to refresh themselves. Don’t be late, gentlemen; I’m calling this one, and there is ever so much on the agenda to discuss!”
Napalku had never seen Nimurta’s face so angry. The players in his little theater had missed their cues.
19
Inana found the tiny clay tablet at the secret drop site behind the potter’s shack, barely dry. Plans had changed, and she had to move quickly. Her contact at the stables had given no reason, just the pick-up signal.
The ring, its jeweled barb coated in rare basilisk venom, was exactly where the tablet—now safely ground under foot—said it would be. Inana clamped the ornament with its gem-encrusted stinger away from her adjacent fingers, lest she accidentally prick herself before reaching her intended target. Anxious thoughts kept her company as she trotted back uphill toward the Treasure Cave to beat the coming rain: Now if only Utu does his part without losing what little nerve he has!
“Where are you rushing off to so fast?”
Inana froze in mid stride at Ereshkigal’s grating voice, behind her.
“Do I get an answer, my golden baby sister?”
Inana willed her facial muscles to relax into her sweetest smile before swinging around to confront her sister. Ereshkigal was as dark of complexion as Inana was fair.
“I’m just going back up to the Library. The Revered Mother cancelled my lessons for today, but I want to study ahead for tomorrow. My husband has arrived, and time is short.”
Ereshkigal’s eyes glistened like the venom on the barb Inana wore on her ring finger. “What an industrious girl! Will Utu be helping you ‘study’?”
Inana’s uncanny inability to blush had shielded her during many such difficult encounters, but this one nearly went bad when her face involuntarily tightened. “Utu is three years behind me in his schooling.”
“Not in everything, I fear, Baby Sister.”
Inana did not react. “I suppose he’s advanced in geometry.”
Ereshkigal laughed into the wind. “What a unique way of putting it!”
Inana wanted to scratch her sister’s face with the ring, but resisted the urge. “I don’t know what you mean, Ereshkigal. You really should speak more plainly. I’m just a child, you know.”
“You may have Dahdi and your instructors fooled, Inana, but you don’t fool me. Leave Utu alone. He’s just a boy!”
Inana thought, Don’t I know it! However, she said, “I’ve done nothing to Utu. You can ask him.”
Ereshkigal clenched her jaw. “Go to your studies! Just know that I’m watching you. You’ll have no cave to hide in when I expose you before your bridegroom’s wedding party! I hear some of the Ghimmuraya have iron swords.”
Inana smiled as her sister turned and stomped away to get inside from the storm. Then she muttered, “When I’m finished, Sister, Under-world itself won’t be a deep enough pit for you to escape from me into.”
Then she remembered the time, and scurried back up the hill for the library before the rain hit. Fortunately, she found Utu in his assigned spot—near the display niche, inside the main entrance to the Treasure Cave.
The Ensi Council had already closed the rotunda doors.
20
Napalku sat with Grandfather Usalaq, next to Mother T’Qinna, behind Lord Arrafu. Usalaq seemed not to notice him, as always—not to notice anything—as he sat with long, spidery hands folded on his lap. It was as if the tawdry drama acted out in front of them had no more significance than an Academy lecture on some dry bit of ceremonial trivia. The thinning silver of Usalaq’s hair and beard made Napu think of spider webs.
Kush had the Speaker’s Fire—a central spot beneath the canopied skylight, where a fire pit provided heat and warmth to the rotunda. “With the arrival of Saars Magog and Ghimmuraya, the Ensi Council has a quorum to take a vote. The issue is the question of where the center of the Divine M’Ae should shift, given that the Sun Ships have not returned long after their due date, and the weight of population leaving Urartu’s highlands for the Agadae plains and Sumar’s marshes. Does any saar, not of my tribe, nor of the tribes of my father Khumi, second this motion?”
Napalku expected Assur to speak. He expected wrong.
Magog of Iyapeti stood, and shouted, “I second this vote.”
The entire rotunda broke into a confused rumble.
Mother T’Qinna elbowed Napalku and whispered, “Kush is a masterful politician. If my son—herding the northern Agadae as he does—had seconded, there would forever be a question of self-interest on Assur’s part, being geographically so near to Kush. Someh
ow, Kush has forged an alliance with Magog, and perhaps even Ghimmuraya, of the Northern Inland Seas region—more distant even than Arrata—to disguise their power grab.”
Napalku said, “How did he do that? How can shifting the center of civil and religious power southward benefit tribes that are farthest north?”
She answered, “I don’t know. I only know that Kush and Nimurta have manufactured a perceived leadership crisis out of the lateness of the Sun Ships—as if all depended upon their timely return—to foment a desire among the tribes for change, even to the point of creating an alternate history based on Qe’Nani’s ‘Eridu Stone.’ Watch, Napalku; for they will begin to present this new ‘history’ openly before this meeting ends—but not after they have first secured the votes needed to legitimize their treachery.”
Kush’s jovial voice boomed across the circle of tribal chieftains in the rotunda: “The time has come for us to establish cities of power and industry. The Ghimmuraya have found vast new veins of iron ore. The mighty rivers of the plains will turn great quickfire wheels—the wheels of the powers of heaven—to sustain industries capable of building wonders past our comprehension! Imagine flying chariots, and wagons that need no onagers to pull them because they move of their own energy! Imagine the powers of the World-that-Was restored, that we not be vagabonds scattered aimlessly to the wind! I ask you all to imagine…”
The voice that interrupted seemed to come from everywhere, “…wars where entire cities are destroyed by a single weapon that harnesses the very powers of heaven to annihilate millions! Imagine a people—or even a single man—wielding that kind of power, knowing only what they can do, but nothing at all of what they should do! Imagine that and you will imagine the world that Kush offers you!”
The hall broke into a frenzy of voices, until each saw that the Zhui’Sudra had risen and stepped forward on his balcony into the skylight.
Kush smiled, his wet eyes glistening like marbles. “My Grandfather, with respect, you dishonor me and yourself by interrupting me against the rules of lawful order, and by accusing me of evil intent.”
Gate of the Gods: Book 5 of The Windows of Heaven Page 9
