“Do not under estimate the Ainash. They make trouble wherever they can. The Hatchet Men do their dirty work. They themselves are not here to be blamed for anything.” Said Instructress Helga.
“Who are the Hatchet Men?” Asked the Behth..
“Good-for-nothing men that hang around the marketplaces in Jhis. Robbers and murderers put to use as strongmen and hired killers for the priesthood.”
“From whom did you hear this from. . .” But the boy had disappeared down the street. The man got up and closed and locked the door.
“Mother, do you think our sisters in the square will be safe? If they are coming. . ?” Asked Helga. Berenice shook her head. The wife spoke up.
“Please! If you can find them, tell them to come here and stay. Things are becoming more dangerous these days and if those men are coming to search you out. . .” She shook her head. “No! All of you must come and stay here. It will be very crowded but please! You saved our daughter's life. It is the least we can do.” Anet volunteered.
“I will go and bring them here! Mother?” She asked, giving Mother Berenice a questing look.
“Not by yourself and at this hour! It is evening, girl!” Said Helga.
“I can send one of my sons to go along with her.” Said Ladin. “Ganem! Get up and gird yourself and go with mistress Anet to find the other party.” Ganem, one of the youngest boys, got up immediately and put on his sandals and a tunic over his pants. Anet grabbed a wide scarf from Kaisha and wrapped it around her shoulders and hair. They both dashed from the house.
Ganem, no more than about eight years, was swift as a gazelle. She could barely keep up on his heels as they twisted through many narrow streets, passing by rows and rows of tiny, jumbled houses and under clotheslines and flew by wandering goats and dogs. They passed by one of the city wells. An old man was drawing water. When he saw Anet's gray robe and scarf, he bowed and smiled. Anet smiled back but did not have time to say anything, less she lose sight of Ganem.
“Come sister, we are almost there! To the eastern square!” Anet felt energized as they ran and leaped over raised gutters and paved streets. They passed by a fountain of the goddess Dana with her fishtailed babies swimming all around her fishtail and just as they passed the Fountain of Dana, there was the eastern square. Crowds were still gathered to be healed or to beg for some herbal remedy. The merchants were closing up shop for the day. The scions were very busy boiling water, washing scraps of cloth, chopping roots or grinding ingredients in mortars and pestle, administering medicines or talking with people about their various ailments. Anet was nearly winded when they'd reached the square.
“What do I say? I don't want to cause a panic.” Whispered Anet, mostly to herself. Ganem shrugged.
“Do you mind helping us even more, Ganem?” Ganem's dark eyes lit up.
“I want to help!”
“Good! Follow me.” Anet approached the square and Instructress Iddina saw her while administering ointment to a woman's eczematous arm.
“You must bathe it twice a day and put the salve upon it twice a day and drink the root tea four times a day for two weeks to cleanse yourself.” Said Iddina. The woman nodded. She then turned to Anet.
“Anetji! What are you doing here so soon?”
“Instructress Iddina, I must speak with you. It's important.” Anet looked around fearfully. Iddina seemed to understand they needed some privacy. Anet motioned for Ganem to follow her. Another sister took over Iddina's work and they wound through the knots of crowds. They finally came to the small pavilion where the scions slept.
“Ganem, stand guard right outside here.” Anet said to the boy. Ganem obeyed. Iddina gave them both an amused look. They went inside. “What is it, Anet, Your Greatness?” She teased. Usually Anet enjoyed Iddina's mischievousness but this was serious.
“Hatchet Men. A messenger came to the house to warn us. They plan to ambush us after we leave the city.” Iddina's expression soured.
“Ambush? But we travel with armed guards!”
“They are getting bolder and we do not travel with enough guards. It will get them killed too. Besides that, he said that they were making their way into the city to hunt us down.”
“Gudzhinza!” Cursed Iddina in her mother tongue. Anet nearly jumped in surprise.
“What does that mean?”
“Forgive me. And never mind what it means.” She said apologetically.
“The man in whose home we are staying says he will find a ship that can take us back.”
“A ship? And how will he find a ship to carry twenty extra people?”
“I do not know.”
“And besides, where will this ship take us? How far will we have to travel to get back to the citadel?” Iddina was wagging her head, her long, coily twists of hair shaking and quivering. She was of the ebony-skinned tribes of the South Lands, a Makebitess, and her tribe often traveled near the boundaries of the kingdom of Jura. Then she stopped and laughed.
“It may very well take me home and perhaps I will see my brothers again, but everyone else will be out of their way. Then there is the question of food on such a long and arduous journey back.”
“Perhaps we should pray to Airend-Ur the Lord of the Deep and do what we always do, rely on the goodwill of the people we help. We are known far and wide.” Said Anet. Iddina smiled.
“Well! You are wise, Anet. Here I am, a desert sister for some years and did not think to look to God first. You may become a Mother of the Citadel yet!” Anet beamed. It seemed a very good thing. But Mother Berenice did not go on missions very often. Because of her many duties she was tied to the fortress. Anet preferred to be one of the courier scions or an emissary. But sometimes they were killed. There were the guardian and warrior scions, who on rare occasion showed her how to use a bow and arrow or a dagger. Then she thought of the southern lands Iddina hailed from. She had never been there. Perhaps she would get her adventure after all.
They left the square when the moons were high in the sky and a small crowd of young and old men with lanterns and torches escorted the scions to the house, all proudly lead by little Ganem.
“I am concerned, Anet.” Whispered Iddina.
“Why? We are safe now, Iddina.”
“But the people here, the family. If the Hatchet Men are coming, they will come in cover of darkness. Even though the people are friendly to us, gold and silver can despoil the hearts of some. Perhaps someone in the city can be bought off to find those that are helping us.”
“Oh.” Anet had not thought of that and a knot began to grow in her belly at the thought.
“Do not worry over much, Iddina.” Said an elderly sister who had been listening. “I am sure by the time they get here we will be long gone. Besides, I find that when we pray for those, especially those who show us kindness, God listens and acts on that request. Be not worried, my sister.” She said warmly. This would be the last mission for Carisse. She, like Helga, was from the Great Ridge Lands, fair skinned and fair haired. Carisse had gentle brown eyes and hair white as clean cotton and fine as silk. She was being helped along by another young sister Anet's age, Nirka, and half-hobbling along on her elaborately carved cane given to her as a gift long ago. It came from the family of a wood-carver for healing their child of leprosy. The man risked punishment for making such a beautiful thing for someone not of high station. Such was the condition of Jhis, back when it was a city-state. A few things had changed since then. One being that it was dangerous for the scions to ever go back to Jhis. Their enemies, the Ainash remained a powerful influence there.
Once they'd reached the house the small crowd bade them good night and called for the gods to bless them. They all packed in, unfolding robes, tunics and blankets to sleep on. It was very crowded but Anet loved it. She was surrounded by sisters everywhere. She felt excited because they slept under different stars and safe because they were all together.
Chapter Six
A force was moving in Hybron. He could feel it like a
slow burn in his bones and nerves. Normally it was just the pain of rheumy joints but lately it was something else. The controversies at the temple between Ilim and “the rest of them” had finally come to a head but other schemes were being hatched all around him. Eliaz was an old scribe, respected but no longer privy to the most important matters at the temple. Or rather, schemes. However, this did not mean that he did not hear things. He heard much and pretended otherwise. He'd heard it from Ilim before many other priests that the king was taking a new queen. This was distressing but what could one expect for a woman who could not bear children? Worse yet, the king was going down to Egi, of all places, to bring up this new woman. There was the old saying: “Out of Egi comes grain and grief!” What good ever came from Egi? he thought in dismay. There would be extravagant pomp and celebration at her arrival according to Bakku. It would only be a matter of time before this was on the lips of everyone in the city and all around the land. He knew Bakku was behind this. He and the high priest's other minions were all up to something. He could feel it. After the execution of the Kushigyar they were no longer allowed to create any law concerning a tax or a tribute unless it was first approved by the king. A few taxes were even lifted from the peoples, specifically the birth tax and the tax of the guilds which enraged the priesthood. But the king had imposed a law: that any religious institution could only collect tithes for strictly religious reasons and they could not share in the monies for the taxes of government. Of course, as far as the priests were concerned, this would not do, but they could not openly defy the king. So plans hatched in secret meetings and in the middle of the night. The new temple tax, for instance, had arisen from these meetings.
Bakku had just left the city, the king following a few days later with a great retinue to fetch the new woman. Meanwhile, the priesthood was looking for ways to curry favor with this new queen and looked to Bakku for a way in.
“Bakku the snake!” He spat. He wished more and more these days for the village of his childhood, Uzimor, among the fragrant cedar and poplar forests of the southwest. Of olive groves in the village, even more ancient than he was. A simple, unsullied life. He sighed wistfully. Meanwhile, he had duties to perform besides writing letters, copying old books and keeping track of genealogies. Of the Aishanna-La that remained in Jhis, they needed care and attention. Many were poor. Some had some means, being craftsmen or merchants and some were wealthy. But the working poor were in a desperate plight and the holy days of First Festival were approaching.
There were also the rumors; growing undercurrents that looked to become an overwhelming tide among the people. It was the rumor of the rise of a new king. It was whispered and looked for but no one had truly seen any sign as far as he knew. Some claimed to have seen signs and wonders in the desert here and there, mostly overly excited folk or false seers. False seers! May their eyes grow black and rot inside their heads! Even the heathens among them looked for this sign when they heard it but it was mostly batted about in the homes and the inns of the Aishanna-La. Eliaz himself hoped and looked, at times. It had been five ages since the Destruction. How he wanted to see the temple and the faith restored to righteousness and justice again but he was too old to spearhead any reclamation and most of his fellows in the temple looked on the prophecy with derision at best, with fear and hatred at the worst. Priests like him who looked forward to it did not speak of it often. When they did, it was in carefully constructed speech, in somber, solemn tones.
It was becoming very hot inside his cell. His robes, made of the finest scarlet silks and damasks were weighing him down. He sorely wished he could throw them off and get into the pools. Instead he sipped his lukewarm tea, fishing out the mint leaves and then cast his gaze outside. The holy week was a charity week. Many people would need meals and use of the healing pools. There were plenty of funds to care for that need – that had been diverted to other uses at Bakku's behest. There was also the new temple tax, which had been raised to the cry of dismay of the people. It was harder than ever to feed and minister to those who came to the temple on the festival days. He thought on the few families he tried to shepherd. And those that died in the temple riots years ago. He remembered Anet's parents, faithful worshipers at the temple. Anet's mother was one of the few women fierce enough to walk into the temple. She refused to wait outside in the courtyard, stating that it was her right to enter. On her third time entering she was dragged out, stripped and whipped. Her husband, one of the minor nobles of the city withdrew his financial support from the temple at this outrage. This did not go unnoticed. Months later their home was burned down in a mysterious fire. Eliaz remembered because he was visiting with them, unbeknownst to anyone else, administering to them spiritually in secret. He was in the guest room when it happened. They had only one child. Eliaz saved the baby but her parents burned to death. He took a female goat and a camel and traveled to the citadel in Gamina and handed the child to the women there. Riots ensued as the husband and wife were well known in the community who helped the poor and not just the poor of their own people. Many died in those riots. Those were ugly days and the city had not fully recovered from it. Peace in Jhis was only intermittent. People saw the ugliness of the Golden Temple laid bare. The priesthood fooled no one. It reminded them of the oppression of city-state days. He wondered how Anet was doing and he was glad that she was not being raised in Jhis.
He eventually called for his palanquin, got up and hobbled through the high halls and waited by the broad columns at the steps promenade. He felt engulfed by its loftiness, but where once he felt uplifted, now he felt swallowed up, like an ant. His bands were hurting. He wished he had been bold enough switch from these damnable gold ones to leather, like Ilim, who did not care to impress anyone. The metal dug into his skin. I wear them for God. he thought dryly. I shall bear it. He supposed he was just irritable and old. The smell of incense was strong, masking other, oppressive scents. Like the ever present scent of blood, both fresh and rancid, at the meat markets on the hottest days, and the smell of corpses. One could never escape that scent in Jhis.
In the center of the city sat the grand arena, where the battles fought were becoming more elaborate. Or horrific, in Eliaz's opinion. The blood lust of Hec could never be sated. But then it seemed the bloodlust of his own god could not be satisfied either, when one considered the priesthood. Ilim had disappeared from the city, which worried him greatly. They were usually able to secretly pass messages to each other but Ilim had been tossed out like refuse. Ilim was the best of them and never shrank from boldly proclaiming Holy Writ and exposing hypocrisy. He hoped his friend had not met an untimely end. Eliaz felt more despondent as all these troubling thoughts tormented him. Footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Two priests approached and bowed to him. He groaned inwardly. Courtesies had to be observed. Or endured.
“Ahaifa, brother.” They smiled. He bowed to them.
“Peace to you from God, my brothers. How did it go today?”
“No doubt you have heard the news about the queen?” Asked one of them. His name was Rutaz. Eliaz nodded. They smiled as if conspiring with him, or, he thought, perhaps to test him. But maybe his old mind was just growing more suspicious.
“It will be good to have this new queen on our side. Bakku knows the family quite well, I hear.”
“What can the Ainash accomplish through a woman?” Said Eliaz disapprovingly. The other two laughed glibly.
“Well, you are right to question such dealings but in this case we have no choice. For one thing, we may get her support in putting an end to the citadel problem. It is the end result that matters most.”
“Ah. The desert women. They have managed to stay just beyond our grasp.” Said Eliaz.
“The marriage will bring not only wealth and a new ally but more military might to the city.” Said the other priest.
“And what makes Bakku think this new marriage will work for our benefit? I do not wish to see temples to Strabian gods implanted in Jhis.” Said Eliaz, this time
in earnest. His concern was growing. Egi was a dark place, Egium the very apex of evil, in his mind. He feared anything from Egium infecting Hybronian culture. Things were bad enough in the land as it was. He viewed Anet as his own great-granddaughter and wished to see no harm come to the women but he crowed and pretended to conspire anyway. The second priest chided him.
“Always the skeptic, Eliaz! She, like all women, is under authority. Until she marries the king she is under her father, whom Bakku has befriended.”
“You are speaking right, Ganu.” Said Eliaz. “Bakku has always been clever and has always made useful connections. But soon her family will go back to Egi and whether she will have any sway with the king is anyone's guess. We all know the king is hot-blooded. He is a proud sun-worshiper and he is capricious. Then there is the problem if Ilim.” He watched them as he said the name. Rutaz made a warding motion with his hands, the other did not seem put off by the name. Eliaz continued.
“He likes Ilim because Ilim was his instructor as a child. It does not follow that he will be concerned with our causes. In fact, many times it has been the opposite with this king.” Eliaz warned.
“Causes?” One of the priests looked at him, puzzled.
“Well, there is the matter of the taxes. . .” Said Eliaz slyly.
“Ah, well. According to Lord Tybbl-Awat, that will require a careful approach. We do not yet know how that cause can be championed. But as he says, a way will be found.”
“Hmm.” Said Eliaz, stroking his long beard.
“It is all in how he is approached. And when. Besides that, there is the matter of the former queen. There have been rumors for quite some time that she still has close ties to the citadel.” Said Ganu.
“Ah, but where is the evidence? I hear many rumors but no one has produced so much as a letter proving she still communicates with them. If only we had some proof.” Said Eliaz.
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