Twilight in Babylon

by Frank, Suzanne

  “That gorgeous creature is one of my clients,” Guli said. “You are well, Justice?”

  “The gods are good, Guli.”

  “Glad to hear it, Justice. Well, gentlemen, if you will excuse me. A quick beer before I pick up my seal at the inscribers today.”

  They bid him a good New Year and he walked off. Kalam couldn’t look at his employer. Would he congress with a Khamite woman?

  “It’s a good omen to see a man taking opportunities,” the justice said. “His own shop and a girlfriend, besides. She lives on my street, I believe.”

  Kalam looked at the justice in shock. “I thought you only, uh, congressed, with priestesses.”

  The justice’s gaze was amused over his clay goblet of wine. “I know where the female lives because I’ve seen the deed to the house.” He held Kalam’s glance. “Is something bothering you, young man?”

  “Do you think Chloe is pretty?”

  “No.”

  Kalam sighed almost audibly.

  “No, not pretty. I think she is the most attractive woman I’ve ever known. She’s radiant, quiet, complicated, and by moonlight… not even Inana, in all her glory, can compare.”

  Kalam was shattered. In his effort to be nonchalant, he accidentally stuffed the drinking tube up his nostril. He jerked back from the reed, cut his lip and nose in the process, and upset the jar so it nearly toppled over.

  After the ale-wife straightened the jar, gave Kalam a salve for his nose and lip, and a flax cloth to pat the little bit of blood, then cut him a new reed and buffed the edge to a less than lethal blade, Kalam met the justice’s bemused stare.

  For all his life, Kalam had known Ningal; no man was more admired for his eloquence, his fairness, and his humanity. He’d turned down the responsibility of lugal, had even declined to be en, in favor of practicing justice without bias. His children were well established in nearby Lagash, his son served as the lugal there. His grandchildren were wealthy shipwrights in Eridu, on the shore of the southern sea. Great-grandchildren of his were scattered through apprenticeships and Tablet Houses across the land of the Black-Haired Ones. Ningal was above reproach in every way.

  His concubine was a marsh dweller who kept sheep?

  “I need to go to my office,” Ningal said. “I have tablets to oversee.”

  “Shall I come, sir?” Officially, it was Kalam’s last day off, before work began in the new year.

  “Enjoy today,” Ningal said. “I’ll see you at dawn tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” Kalam said, rising as the older man got to his feet and paid the ale-wife.”

  “One thing,” Ningal said, laying a heavy hand on Kalam’s shoulder. “Chloe may be taken aback by your first lesson. It won’t stop her from pushing to attend school. She’ll master all you teach her and be that much further ahead whenever she does get her way.” He clapped the aide on the shoulder, a friendly gesture. “Just bear that in mind when you have to tell your old tablet master, or Asa the stargazer, or the lugal, or whoever put you up to tutoring her so she’d be scared, that it didn’t work. She’ll make fools of them all.”

  Kalam’s face was hot. “I, I see sir.”

  “You don’t see dung, but you’re young. You can’t.” Ningal almost laughed, then turned away and left the tavern. Kalam sat back slowly and stared at the drinking tube. Chloe’s votive, the one he’d bought her this afternoon, sat on the edge of the table. Chloe, the Khamite concubine of his master. Chloe, who wanted to learn in the Tablet House and upset all of the balance in Ur. Chloe, the shepherdess. Chloe, the wealthy woman. Chloe, the female human. Chloe, who revolutionized how to write, without knowing it. Chloe, who plagued him.

  Kalam kneed the table.

  The votive crashed to the floor.

  * * *

  “I can scarcely walk,” Ulu announced, plopped down in her chair, legs akimbo. Ezzi didn’t even look at her. “Where is all the food?” she asked.

  “I, I was hungry,” he said. In truth, he was less than hungry. He had walked up and down the Crooked Way leaving beer and bread and morsels of meat for each of the hundred gods and goddesses who had votive alcoves set in the walls along the street.

  Ulu’s expression was sly. “Making your own heat during New Year’s, boy? Tell me, I’ll find out her name, and we can work something so you get it at a discount.”

  His ears burned. “Not a… a female human,” he said. “I have spent many hours with the stars.”

  “By Sin,” she groaned. “There is nothing to eat after I spent a week getting us gold because you had to watch the sky? When has the sky changed? Even when Ziusudra sailed the sea, it remained the same.” She dropped one leg to the ground.

  He should offer to get her food, or send for food. The slaves were doing laundry by the river. “The sky changes every twenty-eight days,” he said.

  “Good,” she snapped. “So does my woman’s blood.”

  Ezzi stood there and stared at her. She turned her face to his, and he saw that one eye was bruised shut.

  “Don’t worry,” she said to him. “I enjoyed it.”

  He wrapped his cloak tighter. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said.

  “Be careful, that’s not starlight in the alleyway. It’s called daylight, and people who work for a living—”

  He shut the courtyard door, then remembered he didn’t have anything to barter with. He stepped inside. “There is no—”

  She got up and limped to the clothes she’d just stepped out of on her way to the table. She extracted three, four, five bags of jewelry and barley. Ezzi stared in wonder; she made this by having sex?

  “Don’t look so astounded. I may not know about the stars, but I can tell you how to make a man—”

  Ezzi grabbed a bag and ran for the door, closing it on her laughter. So much currency! He looked into it again, just in case he hadn’t seen clearly. Had she always been paid this much? All these years, she’d been hoarding this away from him? He could order a copper tub; he could order five copper tubs!

  He tied the bag and tucked it inside his cloak. Who did the banking for his mother, that was what he wanted to know. Sleep, gods, and goddesses were forgotten. Even hunger, his and Ulu’s.

  How did one go about learning about bankers?

  * * *

  “Why do you want to learn?” Nimrod asked, tossing a rock at the water. Kami, a fat-tailed, black-spotted sheep, ran after it.

  “I’ve never seen a sheep that plays fetch,” Chloe said, watching the sheep look in the swiftly running stream for the rock. And of course, being sheep, the others followed. Mimi, the goat, was too busy nibbling along the edge of the fields. Chloe absently swatted the goat and led it toward the stream, the sheep. “It’s a compulsion,” she said, as they crossed the narrow black furrows that would sprout lentils, onions, and cucumbers in a few days. “A possession.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t use that word with anyone but me, or you’ll be in the exorcist’s chair faster than you can say, ‘but I only have credit.’ ”

  She chuckled, and they spent a few minutes getting the sheep and goat, then all the sheep, across the stream and onto the northeastern grazing grounds. “What’s that?” she said, looking across the plain. A standing stone marred the horizon line.

  “A boundary marker for the city of Lagash.”

  “Is it nicer than Ur?”

  Nimrod shrugged. “If you like cities, Ur is a good example. If you like a quieter, simpler place and people, Lagash is fine. They don’t have a wall, so it doesn’t feel as… tight, as Ur can.” He scratched his beard. “Even then, neither of them is as impressive or useful as a city could be.”

  “Is it safe?” Chloe said, turning her attention to the sheep. “I mean, with no wall.”

  “No one to fear, at least right now.”

  “Are we really the only people, besides the Harrapan or Dilmuni?”

  “In this whole world?” he asked, looking around him.

  She looked, too. Green fields, black
dirt, and muddy water filled her vision. To the northwest, the direction her village had been, was only water and palm trees. No other survivors had shown up at the gates of Ur. Nimrod said the lugal had surmised other survivors went to Nippur or Kish, farther north. Nimrod guessed they took what remained of their flocks and headed farther west. Away from the water, toward the land of Kham. “Why do you ask?” he said.

  The sheep were contentedly feeding; even the goat was quiet. Chloe sat down on the soft earth and stretched out her legs. She was in her felted skirt and bare feet, like a sheepherder should be. Nimrod wore a loincloth, but his body hair was so profuse he looked like he wore a black pelt. The sun was warm, pleasant, and a breeze moved across the fields and the water, making it cool and perfumed with the sweetness of growing things.

  “Well, you think I’m crazy already, so it doesn’t hurt to tell you, I guess,” Chloe said, opening the basket she’d brought. With careful motions she untied the parcel within and handed one of the round items to Nimrod.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s good. Try it.”

  He ate one, gobbled two, then three. Nimrod crossed his arms behind his head and squinted into the sun. “You can tell me anything now. You can’t shock me.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I just learned you can cook.”

  She swatted him with the flax cloth. “It surprised me, too.”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “That, my friend, is the problem,” she said, staring at his upturned face. “I’m two people inside.”

  He opened an eye and gazed at her for a moment. “Split evenly, or fighting for power?”

  “Neither.”

  “What’s the other person like? Which one of you is the cook?” Nimrod sat up. “Are there any more of those round things to eat?”

  “One more,” she said, handing it to him. “I think I’m the cook. But she’s like me, almost exactly.”

  “Then why do you say two people?” He looked confused.

  “Because it’s another mind, other memories and knowledge.”

  “Fighting for control over you?”

  “No, not usually. Usually commenting on what I do, but what I do is exactly what she would do. If she were me.”

  Nimrod lay back down and closed his eyes. Chloe watched the sheep. “Don’t go too far,” she called to one who was starting to wander. “I’m talking to you.”

  I’m talking to ewe. Eweee that’s baaaad.

  Dadi, the sheep, looked up, gave a sheep’s pouting huff, and moved back into the flock.

  “You’re telling me, well… let me understand. Here’s you,” Nimrod said, holding up one hand. “Just you.”

  “Truth.”

  “Then this other person, the other mind.” He held up his other hand.

  “Truth.”

  “But it’s not trying to invade you.”

  “No, she’s there already.”

  “Not trying to hurt you.”

  “No.”

  “Doesn’t do anything.”

  “Chatters a lot, in ways I don’t understand.”

  “Words you don’t know?” he said, sitting up on one elbow.

  “I understand what she’s saying, I just don’t comprehend exactly how she’s saying it.”

  He stretched, his hair-tufted fingers playing in the grass. “You have a personal demon, I guess.”

  Chloe sighed. “I wish. It doesn’t do things for me.”

  “Doesn’t carry out curses, huh?”

  “Do you think the scribe in your father’s office would still be able to walk upright if I could cast curses?” she asked.

  Nimrod laughed. “That scribe must have a very powerful exorcist in his employ. No one likes that man.”

  “That’s not the worst part, though.”

  “It doesn’t sound so bad. A friend inside your head. At least it’s a friend, not an enemy. Not trying to throw you off a roof, or make you dance naked before your flocks, or something.”

  She laughed at Nimrod, then shouted at the sheep.

  “What’s the worst part?” he asked.

  “This other person, personality, is in love.”

  Nimrod sat up and looked at her with great interest. “With whom?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know him? Have you seen him?”

  “Only in her dreams. At first I thought he was a god, he had very unusual eyes. Now—I don’t know. I don’t know how she got in my head or what she’s doing there.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  The glance she gave him was withering. “Only madmen and priests talk to themselves. I can barely tell you about this—and you’re my closest friend.”

  He patted her hand. “I am glad you can. What are you going to do?”

  “Maybe an exorcism wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

  “I know a good diviner,” he said. “And then there’s the exorcist my mother used on my father.”

  “The lugal was possessed?”

  “I don’t think so, but it forced him to be more discreet. That was all she cared about.” He tore at the ground a little longer. “Is this other person, is she the compulsion to go to the Tablet House?”

  “That is where we are too closely woven to tell apart. The Harrapan have a statue, Pasupati, with several heads and many arms. This is like one body with two heads. Our hearts and desires are the same, but our minds are separate.”

  “Not in conflict, though?”

  “No. Not yet anyway.” Dadi was starting to wander again. Chloe got up and herded him back, with a reminding swat on his fat-tailed rump not to do it again. “She might be the reason I don’t remember anything before, about my village.”

  “I thought that was because you hit your head.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I know nothing.”

  “What is her name?”

  “Chloe.”

  Nimrod frowned. “What’s yours then?”

  She lifted her hands and shoulders, baffled. “I have no idea.”

  * * *

  “We don’t need a new ensi!” Rudi the stargazer said.

  “Asa said we do; he said it is what the star says,” Gem argued.

  “Asa hasn’t been able to see the stars for six summers,” Rudi scoffed. “How can he interpret an omen for a star he can’t see?”

  Gem adjusted his basket hat and leaned back. “The ensi must leave. Asa said that is the message the gods send.”

  Rudi sat down opposite and looked at the replica sheep’s liver—an exorcist’s tool. Her charts of the stars were scattered across the table, beside it. “A new star has appeared, there is no doubt of that.”

  “So Asa says.”

  “But it has only been a few weeks! How can he know what it means? We haven’t had time to study it at all!” Rudi gestured to the materials in front of him. “Generations it took to gauge when and where these known twenty-five stars appeared. Generations before we could recognize the shifting flocks in the sky. Where is Asa’s sense of judgment, of intellectual intercourse.”

  Gem sighed and stared at Rudi. “The lands are at stake. The gods are displeased. The ensi must step down in order to protect them. That is what Asa said. He was almost in tears when he told us. A man doesn’t cry for no reason.”

  “Asa cries in hope it will clear his vision.”

  “You better be careful, Rudi. You are the least favorite at the council, and if anyone overhears what you say, slander, about Asa—”

  “They could take me to court, and we would test Asa’s vision and everyone would know. He’s a stargazer who barely recognizes when it’s night!”

  “Bitterness is not an attractive cloak, Rudi. Especially not on you.”

  Rudi looked at the table. “The ensi isn’t going to surrender her position willingly. Puabi is too cunning for that.”

  “If she realizes she is doing it for the sake of the lands, she will.”

  “It won’t hold up before the council’s s
crutiny.”

  “The lugal already believes it.”

  “A month of probation, and I miss a lot, don’t I?”

  “You did it to yourself, Rudi. You completely missed the bloodmoon—”

  “It was not my—”

  “—then you refuse to take responsibility. You’re lucky I’m willing to risk—”

  “I am, Gem. I apologize for my wretched behavior.”

  “Since Puabi is your sister, though, I thought you should know.”

  Rudi looked at the table again. “Thank you.” She sighed. “Did Asa have a time line for when the ensi had to leave?”

  “If he did, he didn’t mention it. It wasn’t a full cabinet meeting, Rudi, just a few stargazers and the lugal.”

  “Who really discovered the star, Gem? We both know it wasn’t Asa.”

  Gem looked at Rudi. “A young man, barely an Old Boy.”

  “Whose Tablet House?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, but his name is Ezzi.”

  “Ezzi. A stargazer.” Rudi looked out the window over Gem’s shoulder. “I will place a curse on Ezzi. The brat.”

  * * *

  Outside the window, flattened against the wall, the selfsame Ezzi dared not breathe. Overhearing this conversation hadn’t been his intent; he’d gotten lost coming back from seeing Asa stargazer. How was he to know that Rudi, the most outspoken and least favored of the stargazers, would be right there?

  It was an omen from the gods, that must be it!

  A good omen, or bad, a diviner would have to tell him. The stairway behind him, the pathway out of the mass of temples and storehouses and palaces, was somewhere below that. He had to cross the section of light that streamed from the window. The window where Rudi the stargazer had almost seen him.

  Inside, they weren’t speaking. Ezzi looked over his shoulder; he could walk the circumference of this level of the ziggurat and get to the stairs that way. A much better plan. Keeping to the shadows, he walked away from the staircase to arrive at it.