The meal was rich. There was milk wine - a soured milk from camel, sheep, goat or mare - mixed with red sweet wine, quass, flat breads with olive oil, dried fruits, stewed goat and mutton and their own version of lapirim.
Lapirim was a staple of the tribal peoples. It was called different names by different tribes but it was always quite similar – organ meats aged and mixed with layers of herbs and salt and spread with the fat when deemed ready to eat. Some prized the hearts, others livers or kidneys or brains and spleens. But it was also made with eyeballs, lungs or genitals. It could be made from nearly any plant eating animal but sometimes predators too, the most prized lapirim made from horned beasts, aurochs or wild elephanta, but meat from those animals were rare. It was often stored underground for preservation. How much lapirim was served at a celebration feast was often a sign of the wealth of a family and sometimes there were even lapirim eating contests. The Raea usually preferred hearts and brains in their lapirim, but nothing of the animal was wasted. It had given its life to the tribe so that they might live, therefore it was necessary to eat everything. To do anything less was a sign of disrespect to the life given up. Ilim had nearly forgotten how much he'd missed it. He was feeling tired and needed it to strengthen himself for the long journey ahead. Generous portions were sliced and he piled them upon his flat bread and ate his fill, washing it down with milk wine. Later he ate dried plums and raisins and some honeycomb – the Raea were truly a wealthy tribe – and talked with the men after the feast, while they drank tea and gazed at the stars above.
“We are glad you made it back my friend. Tell us! What did you see?” Asked Kesh'i.
“I have glimpsed the mind of God. He has given me a commission.” They all nodded.
“We saw the rays from your face. Truly, you spoke with God. What was His will?”
“Messages of denunciations. To denounce the corruption in Jhis.” Said Ilim. He took a sip of tea. Kesh'i chuckled.
“The Ainash will not like that much.” Said one of the other men.
“The Ainash do not like anything that requires forthrightness. Why I became one I will never understand.”
“Ah, my brother, you are from an important family. You were trained to be one all your life. God put you there for a reason. Who better to clean a house than one who has lived in it?” Said Kesh'i. Ilim permitted himself a smile.
“You are speaking right, Kesh'i. Things do have reasons that we may not know.” He took another sip. It was flavored with cardamom and cinnamon. He savored the scented bloom of steam and a thought came to him. “Tell me, why do you not simply go to Jhis and buy salt there?”
“Jhis! Dak Ellak!” Kesh'i cursed.
“Juhi!” Said another. “They think us simple and stupid in Jhis. Salt is three times higher there than anywhere else and they think tribesmen cannot count. The sellers even saw it down and put it in pots and cut it with powdered white rock. Thieves and robbers, all of them!”
“We prefer the slab salt. That way we can see for ourselves what we are getting. Nothing but corruption and treachery from top to bottom in Jhis. Besides, Jhis becomes more dangerous each year for those who hold to the old ways.”
“That is true.” Ilim had to agree. Was he not going back there to denounce them for these very reasons?
“One of my friend's sons, a young man not more than fourteen years, was kidnapped while there and thrown into the arenas. He was a rebellious ram's ass who wanted the city life, but even so, he was a child of the tribe. We have not heard anything about him since. Lately, we have heard through the voices of the sands that they have taken to acting like the Egians. Kidnapping the poor and foreigners with no powerful family ties and throwing them into the games, or, from what we hear, in Egi, forced conscription, slavery or even prostitution, if they have youth and a fair look to them. Either way, it is an accursed place these days.”
“Was it ever a blessed place?” Asked Ilim and the others murmured in agreement. Ilim sighed. He thought of Khalit, another one rebellious against his elders and against God, looking for a way to make a name for himself after finding out about his Reshaim ancestors. He often thought of the king as his own son. His ears burned for good news but it was not to be found in Jhis and he wondered. Powerful as he was and wild of spirit, Khalit was not a schemer by heart. Everything he did was in the open. He worried for the king.
After the meal they gathered by a fire in the home of Kesh'i and retold accounts of the Reshaim and stories of honor and great warriors of old. Then they asked Ilim for any important official news. He told them of the king's intention to take a new queen. They scoffed at this.
“A Strab. It is no good, Ilim. The king has set himself on the path to death.” Said one man.
“Strabians, they call themselves. Puh! Back when I was young they were simply known as Strabs. High-minded, strange people. Never trust a Strab and do not marry one, nor take their daughters for your sons or give your daughters to their sons in marriage. It was known wisdom.” Said another man, shaking his finger in the air.
“May it always be known.” Said Ilim. The others raised their voices in approval.
Quite a few new babies had been born that week and now that it was known that Ilim was a prophet of God the tribal mothers approached and requested a blessing from him. The shaikhs gladly approved it so Ilim asked for a public call to prayer. A young man took up an old red ram's horn and blew it. Many town's people came out and soon there was an even bigger crowd of tribes people and townspeople. Ilim prayed before them. The call and response.
“Blessed are those of the desert for they have not forgotten the First Pillar.”
“Ellah Kaifah.”
“Blessed be all the babes born in the desert for they have been given the true life from God.”
“Ellah Kaifah.”
“May they always recognize the First One and may God watch over them all the days of their lives.”
“Ellah.”
“Blessed be the tribes people that they keep to the way of the First One.”
“Ellah Kaifah.”
“May God rebuke those who deceive us and curse those who would veil Him from the people. He has opened the way and is sending his king to bring us back to the Red Path.”
“Ellah.”
“May we all seek His light in the darkness and seek His will in the face of all the gods for He is first. May we keep our eyes on the one He will send to straighten the way. Ellah Kaifah.”
“Ellah Kaifah.” Ilim felt as if a weight was lifted from his heart. He would seek the way and clear the path for the one who was coming. An invisible storm was coming over the world, a storm of darkness and light. And he had much work to do. Whether he would live to see it to completion he did not know but it made him glad of purpose, nonetheless. Many kissed and embraced him and went back to their homes.
“My brother, you are always welcome among the Raea.” Said Kesh'i.
“I will never forget your kindness to me, Kesh'i.” Said Ilim. The next morning Ilim left just before sunrise, when the sky was a faint dawning blush of orange and pink. Others had risen while it was still dark to see him off.
“Blessed be the prophet of God!” Some of the townspeople and tribesmen called. The camels and pack mules were loaded and they began their journey south where they would eventually travel west to Rhuctium and he would go east to Gamina to meet this mysterious girl-child.
Chapter Twelve
Shishak waited patiently in his study while the evening sun sank down behind thin, blood red clouds. The call to Night Prayers had sounded not too long ago. He ignored it, for this night he had special business. Jhis was more crowded than usual with satraps and vassals and all their retinues coming in and looking for lodgings. The most important were lodged right in the palace and the temple would be more than full of worshipers. He tapped his fingers absently to the sound of the lash. Below in the temple courtyard a man was being whipped. He had yet to hear from Bakku but he knew the new queen's family
and her entourage were well on their way. Just a few days ago he had received a message by falcon from Bakku that they had just crossed back over the river. He got back to work and finished stamping his seal of approval on the letter Demos wrote up for him. The city was pregnant with anticipation – and threats of unrest. Not everyone was happy to see the king replace the queen with this new woman and some had been a little too outspoken for the taste of the high priest. The former queen, now the Most Honored Lady Diti, was still seen in some quarters as the true queen. That would have to change. The man outside had dared to reproach him and other priests and the council for supporting this new marriage. Shishak despised the low people and the Aishanna-La especially for their silly ideas about what was holy. Principles were fine for simple wretches with nothing to gain or live for, but the priesthood understood these things to be relative. The only thing not relative in Shishak's mind was every man's place. Every man had a place and the place of the common man as far as he was concerned, was to remain quiet. Besides, he had long distrusted Lady Diti the moment the usurping barbarian had decided to marry her. She had done nothing to support the Golden Temple and had long been a hindrance to those who supported it at court. He heard foot footfalls coming toward his chamber door. He lit another candle for extra light. A knock.
“Come!” It was Teman, Demos and the arena master.
“We have dredged up many fighters for the wedding celebrations, Shishak.” Said Teman proudly.
“Dredged up? One hopes they are in good condition. How many? This will require a celebration of great proportions. The king stated before he left that he wanted a sea of blood spilled in the arena.”
“Good sir, he will get his “sea of blood”. Not only do we have the usual seasoned fighters and volunteers but we have managed to procure many others for the lions and the dog fights. My men gleaned them from the taverns and inns, drunk, and a few off some merchant ships in Haiga.” Said the arena master.
“Good, good, Amat! I have brought you here because I have a new crop for you, arena master.” The man had a strange gleam in his eye that Shishak found unsettling.
“Do you?”
“I do. There are many Aishanna-La here in the city who, suddenly, cannot pay the temple tax. The King's Guard will round up the men and the women, young and old and any children and put them in the games.” The Arena master's eyes went wide with surprise.
“Is there a problem?”
“Is this. . legal? What will the king say?” The man asked, hesitant. Shishak took up the letter with his own seal and what looked like the official seal of the king and waved it in his face, giving Teman a knowing glance. Amat squinted at it, muttering the contents to himself with difficulty. Teman turned to him.
“As I told you before, you need not worry about the king. He has left the priesthood in complete charge of these sorts of internal temple matters, those dealing with the people of the Golden Temple, and he is in agreement with us on this matter. You have only to read the letter and see the king's seal on it.” Teman pointed to the letter. “Look, those who do not pay the temple tax are also many of those who do not pay the royal tax. You know the law. Those who refuse to pay the royal tax commit treason against the king and must be put to death. Among our own it is the same way with the temple tax. And you would do well to remember, tax evaders are rebels and are no friends to the people of Hec, who carry this city upon their backs.” Said Teman. Shishak nodded.
“And besides, the captain of the King's Guard has already been made aware of the situation and is preparing to arrest them. If you will agree to hold them in the prisons and put them in the arenas, there will be a generous reward for you. You need not say anything about this nor will anyone besides us and the captain know of it.” Shishak lifted up a large, wooden box from under his desk and opened it. In it was a small fortune of gold and silver coins. The arena master's eyes glittered at seeing the money, nearly six years' worth of wages. Far more than he ever saw. He would be nearly as well off as the best arena fighters. He then looked from Teman to Demos and smiled. Shishak grinned.
“We have a deal then?”
“Looks official to me. What terms?”
“I will send a message to you by falcon with the names of the families who are in violation. These monies are besides the payment for the dregs and the foreigners you managed to scrounge up from the inns and the docks looking for glory or gold. Find more if you can. I want them in the arenas for the wedding celebrations. Afterward, if there are no games scheduled after that, keep them in the prisons until the next round of games.”
“What about goods? If they have valuables or houses. . .”
“Any household goods and possessions, you and your men can keep if you can get them. You must see to that with the captain of the King's Guard. Divide it up between yourselves. But all the deeds to houses and businesses will be sent to the temple. The captain knows this already. Understood?” Amat nodded quickly.
“Indeed, we have a deal.” He said.
“Then, we are all agreed on this?”
“We are all agreed.” Said all the men. Shishak closed the lid and pushed the box toward Amat who snatched it up into his arms.
“Besides that, I shall pay you a gold coin for every extra man, a silver for every extra woman and a copper for every child you can manage to find on your own that is not on the list.” Amat started, thinking it over again.
“It is not allowed to put children in the arenas.” He said, gazing intently at him through narrowed eyes. Shishak shrugged.
“As to the lame, the old and children, throw them to the furnace. Or sell them to the slavers. I leave it to you.”
“Fair enough. You Ainash must have great stores of gold.” Amat said, his voice thick and eager. Shishak smiled and said nothing. Amat took his booty and left. Teman closed the door and laughed. Demos sat down slowly.
“Dealing with outsiders is hard work, my brothers. I wonder that God allows them to exist side by side with us.” Shishak said disdainfully. Teman shrugged and picked a black grape from a bowl and ate it.
“It is a sin we are forced to commit every day. Why worry over it?” He said.
“He allows nothing and everything.” Said Demos.
“Ah, Demos! Very true, very true, son. Nothing for the gullible that still read the book without understanding and everything for those of us who have sense. We have everything we need and He has not shown any displeasure. Why should it matter as long as we have our temple and our positions? One day we will have the kingship as well.”
“We may already have it, Teman. Bakku has the ear and the confidence of this new queen and her family. If we can bend her, and these Strabs are like us in many ways when it comes to dealing with womenfolk, we already have it. If not, we may find a way to get a third queen. One of the high priest's sisters as a wife, or perhaps even one of your sisters, Teman!” Said Shishak. Teman smiled.
“Any of them would make him a fine wife and queen.” Said Demos quietly.
“I am always one step ahead. Teman, have the wretch in the courtyard thrown in prison.” Teman got up and left. The sound of strokes had finally stopped and there was only the sound of the intoning hum of prayers and the late evening noises of the city. Shishak felt satisfied. The most important business of the day had just ended. It would be the grandest celebration the city had ever seen.
Demos said his goodbyes to his elders and went late to Night Prayers in the Courtyard of Sacrifice. This time he went through the motions as his mind was burning with the agonizing task he had - the letter he had to forge. Shishak came to his cell earlier than day with a forged signet seal of the king and dictated the letter. His ears burned as he wrote it down and now he had to find a way to warn the people. After Night Prayers, Demos went quickly back to his cell, walking briskly while in the courtyard and then running as fast as he could once he'd reached the second staircase. The halls were dark with the exception of a few torches casting long shadows. He took a candle, lit it
and set it down on the desk, his hands trembling. Demos rummaged through his papers in a near panic, nearly toppling over his ivory box of tools. He'd made copies of the tax ledgers after they had raised the tax, wondering what evil they were up to this time. Now he knew. He swept up a swirling storm of papers until he found the ledgers. All of the names of the families who could not pay the new tax and how many months these families were in arrears. There were so many. Demos's heart dropped. How would he get to them before the King's Guard? There were five long pages. He carefully rolled them up and stuffed them in a side pocket in his robe, went downstairs and allowed himself to be pulled in by the swell of the crowds leaving the main courtyard. Sure that no one noticed him he broke away and turned left down a narrow street, lost to sight in the deepening dusk. The moons, like the milk-colored eyes of a blind snake were low on the horizon. He imagined grimly that he was being watched by some sky demon who stalked his movements and worked to foil him. He had to get to Eliaz as quickly as possible. It had all come so suddenly and then he was obliged to join Teman, the Father Scribe of the temple, in this meeting. But he now knew that it was the will of someone unseen that he be there to witness it and for that he was glad, though he barely had time to think of what to do. He fled down the street until he could turn a corner and found himself in a smaller, familiar looking enclave, away from the noise of the crowds. Eliaz did not live far from the temple, thankfully. When he finally saw Eliaz's house he sighed in relief. Looking around carefully, he listened for footsteps beside his own. He stood, listening for what seemed an age. Nothing. The street was quiet, save for the soft laughter of a woman in one of the houses across the street. He strode up as if he belonged there and knocked. He knocked again, this time more urgently. The lantern hanging by the front door bobbed gently in the breeze, the flame flickering precariously.
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