"I have heard of it. The kings of old in Hybron had such a thing from the Father-god."
"Yes. You shall know it when you see it. Out of the north it shall come forth and go round about, the sign of the king. It will circle the city and go throughout the land that many may see it and get to hear of it. That will be a sign to you that the day draws close. If you will make a leap of faith and join with us, the people of the First One, take your families and your goods and flee to Gamina and the land around about it, or to Hevan and the towns where my people are congregating. When the king comes he will tear down the temples of the other gods and the killing games and the blood sacrifices will be done away with. Choose now who you will be for, for your own gods or for the First One and if for your own gods, do not think to stay in Hybron for the old ways will be brought back."
This message and others like it had time to germinate in Jhis over the years since the death of the king. Some saw the king's death as a sign of things to come, that a change in the natural ruling order was coming, as Ilim said it was. But others saw it as the work of enemies and demons and they hated Ilim. Where once many had listened to him to see signs and wonders for their own amusement it was no longer amusing. However, most dared not lift their hands against him except a few. Not everyone hearing this message liked its import and eventually the captain of the Golden Temple guard - the Hatchet Men - was once again charged to do something about Ilim. But Ilim had secret friends in Jhis. One, a guard at the West Gate for many years gave him a familiar sign that trouble was on the way. Ilim grabbed a handful of clay shards from the shattered pot and shoved them in his pocket and went his way from the gate towards Egi. A soon as he approached Iyaak Rock, a sharp rock formation as large as a house near the wall, he got behind the rock and took the shards from his pocket and raised his palms up towards the heavens and silently said a Khuliom prayer and let the shards slip through his fingers. A hole depressed before him in the sand and dirt until it was wide enough for him to jump in and Ilim lept into the hole and disappeared from there and eventually went his way to Yilphaeus.
. . .
He had disappeared again. It seemed Ilim would appear and disappear like a holy messenger, or a ground-hole rat according to the less charitable, whenever they came sniffing around for him. They'd come for him again on the word that he was just outside the West Gate, his usual place years ago. How many times would the queen tolerate him coming up empty-handed? It was a surety this time, Ochorus thought. They had guards at the gate who watched out for him day after day. Ochorus was glad the serpent-queen was gone. After finding out Ilim had fled in the direction of Egi he dispatched men to follow him and warned all the fellows working under him not to inform anyone of their most recent failure. Especially not the queen's head huntsman. Oddly, she was uncharacteristically patient with the issue surrounding Ilim. She, like many Jhisites both hated and feared the desert prophet. He was one of the men who folded time and air, like a thaumaturgist and such men were extremely dangerous. Even she recognized this fact but he knew her patience would not last forever.
It was thought that they no longer existed. But this new one had risen up with the power of the gods. Or he was a grand trickster.
He went back to his favorite haunt, The Stage, to play a few rounds. The Stage was a new and peculiar kind of place where a troupe of musicians and actors had recently made their home. They had gotten into the habit of performing theatrics and plays, some new entertainments brought by the small Rurrian and Nalian populations that had moved into the land a few years ago. He'd heard from some of his men that these foreigners, these men and women were no longer able to find work in their homelands. The new fashionable actors in the theaters as they called their houses, back in their homelands were youths and young boys. So they traveled in companies or troupes, some of them landing as far as here, the Middle World. He had always thought plays were a Rhuctium fancy. Apparently, it was spreading. A few days ago Ochorus had reported a man who had climbed upon the stage after too much beer and denounced the queen for her sacrilege of digging up King Khalit's bones. This man had whipped up the crowds into a riotous frenzy. He enjoyed the tirade and partly agreed with it. He was no true supporter of the queen but she paid well. Afterward, he reported the man, who was now rotting away in some dungeon cell. If he was lucky he would die in there before the queen came back from Egi.
He'd intended to do some gaming but Ochorus's mind would not let him relax. He felt jittery in his soul, not just about failing to get hold of the prophet but of things in general. Dark thoughts were harassing him but he could not understand why. He puffed out a long thick curl of smoke from his pipe, the fumes from the noxious, bitter herb he preferred usually relaxed him. Today even this did not calm him. Losing another game he threw down his dice and bones in resignation. He looked around. The stage, a large raised, round of wood in the middle of the room was dark and empty. No dancing or plays or anything so far this entire week. And the place was unusually dark and cast in shadow and incense, smelling of heavy foods and thick smoke.
"Borer, I am done. I will be back tomorrow. You know where to find me if you hear anything." Borer grunted and went back to the game. Ochorus left and went towards the temple of Hec. He needed some help. Powerful help. It had been a while before he had given any shrift to the gods. Perhaps if he turned to them they would turn to him and he could get better results in bringing this renegade priest-turned-prophet to heel. Perhaps he would be allowed some news of his daughter.
He passed through the loud and great winding market in the center of the city. What would please a god such as Hec? Something expensive, something great. As he made his way through, people made way immediately for him and he carved a path through the crowds. No one dared look him in the eye but deftly maneuvered around him so as not to invite a confrontation. There was no need to worry today. He was on his own business. There sat a merchant here or there who owed him ladre for protection from the other gangs in the city. He would get to them later. He settled on a salt merchant who peered up at him nervously.
"Yes sir? Peace be within you and what would you like today? I have highly prized red salt from the east of Zapulia." The man leaned in, "It is called rose salt and it is special. No one else has it. For you? It is free."
"I need two small bag fulls of this and make sure it is not cut with powdered rock. Let me see it first." He demanded. These upstanding merchants in Jhis were all criminals and they had the nerve to complain about men like him. They were more than willing to defraud people of every conceivable thing and everyone, Hatchet Men, the palace and the Ainash got their portion of the profits. Brisk business, the fraud salt trade, especially. City merchants were just as corrupt. Hatchet Men did not pretend to be anything other than what they were.
After he got the fine, pure red salt he bought pearl rice, the finest anywhere. The only customers at this stall were from wealthy households, he could tell. Servants wearing fine cloth. Getting the rice he went his way to the temple. The women were all out today and the fashions of Egi were all the rage, some were barely covered with linen dresses woven so fine they looked like spider webs and everywhere the step chain fashion was taken to new heights. Their legs and feet jingled and tinkled brashly with gold and silver chains, necks and bodies were so full of gold chains that the women were simply clothed in them. Gold it seemed was painted on their lips and their eyes painted with copious amounts of kohl. All women wanted to be Egian it seemed. The sun was high and it was getting unbearably hot. He preferred the old days when he and his men would lay about in the market places under stalls or tents and relax, drink and game or hang about in dens smoking, away from the oppressive heat of the high sun. Now he had - work - to do and he did not much care for it. He turned the corner and he finally reached the newly built temple.
A statue of the sun god stood at the entrance and fires burned in great copper braziers inside. He passed under the great columns and picked up a handful of incense at the entrance and thr
ew it into the brazier of fire and bowed slightly to the images of both Hec and the queen with his arm crossed over his heart. A priest stepped forward dressed in the signature bright yellow and white robes of the priests of the sun god. His bald head shined with oil and his long, thick, curled beard had a sundial ornament tied within. Ochorus touched his own beard and bowed slightly again.
"Welcome, my son and what brings you to this sacred place this day?"
"I must make a gift offering. I have these and gold. Are these acceptable?" The priests looked sharply at the offerings and gave a curt nod.
"They are acceptable."
"Please, father, pray over my offerings to Hec that I may open his ear and he may grant my wish."
"Good fortune you seek?"
"Yes, for an important thing I must do."
"I shall make the offering in prayer to beseech him to bless your mission, whatever it may be. Come with me and I will show you where you can pray before him. As the offering is made we will pray."
"I have another request." The priest looked at him expectantly.
"My daughter. Is she well?"
"She is well." Ochorus felt a momentary twinge of guilt rise in him but she was in the hands of the priestesses now and once a child was given to the temple they belonged to the temple. All he could do was inquire after her health. He had no other rights to her. He wanted to give her something, something from his mother long ago but he knew it would not be given to her. It was an old figure of carved wood. A teraphim that once belonged to his grandmother who gave it to his mother. What it stood for he was never entirely sure. Something about distant tribal relatives and property that was once given to his family. That property was long gone but the deed of proof, the teraphim, an ancient kind of deed, was still here. This thought fled from him as the priest turned and went into one of the inner chambers to give up the offering. He followed, his mind an erupting storm of emotion. Perhaps he should have offered a up a criminal in the arena, or paid to have a wild animal caught to offer up in the games. He had given up the most precious thing in the world to him. What more did the gods want?
Chapter Six
It is better to keep a snake under the foot where you can see him and crush him rather than let him get behind a stone somewhere at your back.
- The Book of Nagilla
"You may go." She loved it. He had to bow before her. She could feel the malice burning off of him like heat from a fire. Such a powerful force for energy and motivation seething around his person and she drank it down. Her own uncle, who killed her half brothers and even his own brothers and sought to kill her father and make her his wife so long ago. He must now bow to her. Now he pretended to be solicitous and give her wise counsel and all the while he plotted against her. She was endlessly amused at the turn of events and she intended to turn the knife ever deeper in his pride. She, Taliat, was the very image of perfection, a goddess come to the world, holding the golden and iron serpent staff. She pounded her staff on the ground once and dismissed most of the courtiers and gathered vassals. Her uncle, Lord-Chieftain of Egi, was about to turn and leave also.
"No. Except you, dear uncle. I would speak with you in private. To my chamber." She rose with all her closest people with her, stepped down from the jewel-paneled serpent throne and went to a chamber facing the Valley of the Royal Tombs where the Hybronian and Egian kings and queens were buried. The long, arched halls were decorated with blue and yellow tiles, painted with glyphs and script of all the noble families that had ever lived in Egi. This palace was new. She'd had a new palace built for her and had placed Bakku, her favorite adviser, in her father's house. They streamed into a smaller chamber, the War Room. There were chairs all around the walls and a massive, round table made of cedar, its top inlaid with copper panels etched with gold script. On top of the table sat a great glass container filled with hundreds of snakes, devouring each other. The largest of all, a giki-serpent, with its green and orange luminescent feathers flashing and shining with unnatural light was devouring the larger snakes in the tank. Occasionally it would bang its head against the top of the hard, thick glass. Tiny cracks had already spidered across its surface. On the walls were plaques telling the victories of previous Lord-Chieftains. She bypassed the table and sat at a floor length window beneath an airy curtain and leaned her staff on the wall. The floor was so highly polished it shined. She glanced at most of her courtiers and waved her hand. The Lord-Chieftain looked calmly from the tank to Taliat and then cast a cool glance around the room.
"Leave us, except you two." She said to her courtiers, pointing to two of her guards. The others left. Her uncle remained standing, staring at her with that carefully, cold look. In his face he looked very much like her father, taking in everything quietly, scheming. A more vigorous, physically mightier version of him. She had to be careful. He had tried twice now to overthrow her but she had no proof he was behind it. Yes, he was her blood. His hair was now half white from old age but he was still as poisonous as ever. That was the way of House Seht. She gazed at the tank.
"Fitting, aren't they? Only the mightiest or the most cunning survive in such a pit. Which ever one survives will be fed to my pet serpent. Or he will kill my serpent and become my new pet." She lifted her gaze at him through narrowed eyes. The Lord-Chieftain remained silent as stone.
"Uncle, what is this I hear of those who oppose my plan? Who are they?"
"Rabble mostly. Those who prospered under the barbarian's rule. Your husband's rule. Nothing to wonder at or be afraid of. They are no threat to Your Greatness." These last words he said with some slight sarcasm. She ignored this slight.
"I will determine what is a threat. These people are accusing me of misrule, amongst other blasphemies. I want to know who they are. I hear rumors of them planning my assassination."
"I tell you, Your Greatness, there is no such thing but if you must know, they are many of them closely related in blood and kin to the wild tribes, especially those with ties to the Karig. They do not like this thing you are doing. They see it as a sacrilege to his bones." He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you seek to dig up his bones? Is he not now gone with his god, into his fiery halls? Why bring him back?"
"I know not what gods he went to, nor do I care but I have learned that his bones have properties that I desire. I will say no more." She looked him over and noticed the image of gold, a pin on his shirt. It was the crocodile god, Nisrok.
"You never did care for the Queens of Heaven did you? What does the crocodile god do for you that the moon goddesses cannot do?"
"He grants me power and the ability to survive. I was shuffled off to the forsaken city by your father years ago where it used to be that vassals and officials died mysteriously after only a few years. I have survived for many years and thrived because of him. My city is by the river Mowret, my dear niece, which he rules. One who ignores the powerful god of the Mowret does so at his own peril."
"Wise indeed. But Nimnet grants wishes as well."
"Perhaps, but for a price I find too high." She smiled widely.
"Why is it too high?"
"A kingdom that eats its sons eventually bleeds away its future and its glory."
"Is that so? I do not know. Egi still stands. As it has for thousands of years."
"Egi has not always worshiped the same way. And I remember the history of the dragon-worshipers."
"Dargonnud of the deserts." She said. He grunted.
"Once they were powerful and greatly feared. They are not here today." He said.
"They were powerful but they were low peoples. Descended from luti. Low peoples do not know their hands from their feet. Strabians have been sent here to Egi from the gods themselves, descended from the sons of God. Our ways are not the ways of the ancient dragon-worshipers, uncle. I have a plan that will secure Egi and Hybron grand kingdoms, indefinitely. And it will require Kahlit's bones."
"He was a filthy luti. What will his bones accomplish?"
"He was part of the Re
shaim blood."
"Oh, those." He sniffed
"He has uses you cannot imagine. People may be lowborn but their elements can be used to transform a man. A sort of alchemy. Some of the warriors of the South Land jungles eat the organs of their enemies to confer their power onto themselves. I hear this is a practice in the far north as well and in the far west. The tribal people here in the Middle World practice this with fierce beasts they hunt down and kill. What I do is a more civilized version of this ancient ritual and any who oppose it oppose the will of a goddess. Just you be sure to find those rebels and bring them in. They must be punished. Do this for me and I shall make a great gift to Nisrok's temple."
"Your Greatness, if I may- "
"I do not require your counsel or so-called wisdom, uncle. Only your obedience." He turned purple with rage and it delighted her to see him work to stifle it. Finally, he spoke again.
"You killed my brother."
"Oh, he is your brother now, is it? At first he was "my father". I merely achieved what you failed to do. Is that not how this family has always worked? We are alike, Lord-Chieftain. Do not blame me for sharing the same likeness in looks and in thought. I know you have tried to kill my father. He knew it. You have never been subtle and I know you have tried to assassinate me. I know it to be true, do not deny it. I know the taste of poisons and venoms. I know them well, the alchemical work of them. I know them far better than you do and I have put them to use in ways you do not imagine. I have you by the goah, uncle, and do not think that I will not have you flayed and impaled if you take one more misstep against me. And by the way, it is: You killed my brother, Your Greatness. You are dismissed." She said, gazing at him, unblinking. He held her stare for a few moments, bowed curtly and then turned on his heel and left. She watched him as he retreated, satisfied. She would humiliate him many more times before her rule as a mortal was over and relished the thought. A Strabian woman telling a man when to come and when to go out. It was radical and she intended to prove her point that her place was exactly where she desired it, especially if she would be a goddess. Godhood was now the chief concern of her realm. In fact, it had always been her only concern since she was old enough to understand family politics. The house of Seht is a den of serpents and I shall prove to be the most poisonous.
Red World Trilogy Page 37
