"Doubtful," Ama said. She waved her hand to the side. "Do not enter my city again."
Anzaru bowed. "For now," he whispered and walked past her toward the tents.
Ama pulled the shawl around herself and walked through the gates and into the city.
18
The house was dark. The single lamp she'd left burning had gone out. Fadil's breathing was the only sound she could hear. She hung her shawl on the peg and sat upon the floor in front of the pallet.
She'd walked through throngs of revelers heading to their homes. Drunk men, and women, had stared at her with longing and lust. The beast had growled within, demanding to be fed. With the hunger clawing at her soul, it'd taken all her strength to ignore such easy prey.
Pursuing the Ušumgallu had depleted her. The anger she felt for the thing as well as letting the beast provide her speed and vision had consumed what little strength she had remaining. If she met the trio this weak, they would kill her with ease.
Fadil muttered something in his sleep. Ama's eyes shot up to the pallet. The beast growled.
You are a monster! she had screamed at Hela.
So are you, her mother had replied.
Ama shook her head. Fadil practically glowed with life. The man was beaten, grief-stricken, and on the edge of everything. It would be so easy to wake him up, stir his loins, and feed. So easy--
She rose from the floor and walked to the kitchen. Her hand rummaged inside a clay pot and came out with three stones. She clutched them tightly and then returned to the front hall and lay down.
The lapis quieted the hunger, but not the thoughts. Ama's skin itched. She absently scratched her arm and then shuddered as a long flake of skin fell to the floor.
If you don't feed, you die, her mother's voice whispered.
Ama closed her eyes and saw Yusef's face. Or was it Fadil's?
"Ama?"
"Yusef?" she asked as she sat up.
Fadil was sitting on the pallet's edge. He rubbed at his eyes. "I am Fadil, remember?"
"Yes," Ama said. "Sorry. Woke me from a dream."
"I cannot let you sleep on the floor in your own home."
Ama smiled. "You need the rest."
Fadil groaned as he reached forward and offered his hands. "Come."
She grasped his forearms and let him pull her up. Even in the darkness, she could see the embarrassment on his face--she was naked.
"I shall sleep on the floor," he said in a cracked voice.
She shook her head. Ama gently pushed him toward the wall. Fadil sighed and followed her lead, rolling across the pallet to the other side. Ama slid across its surface and lay down beside him.
An awkward moment passed as the two stared at one another in the darkness. He finally pulled his hand up and touched her face. She shuddered and smiled.
"You're gentle," she whispered.
"Must be with such a beautiful woman."
They kissed. The beast's hunger, quieted by the lapis stones, returned with a growl. Ama tasted his lips, his tongue. Her taut belly shivered as his penis hardened against her.
"Touch me," she whispered.
Fadil's hand drifted from her cheek and down to her breasts. He cupped her in his palm. The beast groaned with frustration. She shuddered with want.
"Touch me, please," she moaned.
The fingers brushed down her chest, hesitated at her waist, and then slowly drifted down. As his fingers gently dragged across her mons, she bucked with desire.
"Give. Me. Your. Hand," she said between pants.
He held his other hand to her. She dropped the lapis stones in his palm.
"Hold them tight."
"Why?"
"Make love to me," she whispered.
His fingers slid between her labia and touched her clitoris. She exploded with a long, warm convulsion and kissed him hard. Still shivering from the waves of pleasure, she cupped his balls and gently squeezed. Fadil's breath hitched and his fingers trembled inside her.
Ama rolled him over and climbed atop him. Her fingers slid down through his chest hair and into the tangle above his member. She lifted herself and then slowly lowered. The tip of his penis slid into her and began to quiver. She tightened her muscles against him, holding him fast.
"Wait for me," she whispered.
Fadil said nothing.
The quivering slowed and then ceased. Ama smiled as she slid down. His full length buried into her. They moaned together, but Ama's muscles clamped down against him. She waited until she felt his need had passed. She leaned over and kissed him. He raised his head and drank her breath.
She arched her spine. His hands reached her waist, bracing her. Ama rose up his shaft before lowering herself again in long strokes.
Eyes closed as waves of pleasure broke over her, a pair of crimson eyes burned in the darkness. The beast was feeding off him, sating itself, but this was not the beast. The eyes blinked at her and a glowing smile appeared beneath them. "No," Ama whispered.
Fadil was bucking beneath her, his member near convulsion.
Ama pushed upwards. His penis slipped out of her with an audible pop.
His eyes flew open with a frustrated sigh. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head to clear it. "Nothing," she said with an unsure smile. She shuffled backwards and then lowered her face to his crotch. She opened her mouth and took him deep. They both moaned with pleasure as she tasted herself. She grunted as she bobbed up and down, her left hand rubbing against her mons.
Fadil's breath quickened. Ama's body trembled as her own need rose. His body arched and then he convulsed in her mouth. Her loins exploded with pleasure as she drank him.
When his penis calmed, she loosed him from between her lips and slid her body up. She rolled him on his side and curled up against his back. After a few moments, his breathing quieted and he was asleep.
Garaaga had spoken to her. This man, Fadil, was the one--the surrogate. She shook her head in the darkness saying "no" over and over again in her mind.
19
Night had disappeared into the aether leaving the sun alone in the sky. Wispy white clouds traveled south toward the sea. Ama sat atop the roof of her house, chewed another date, and glanced at Fadil. The merchant sat cross-legged and stared out across the city.
Fadil had been silent most of the morning. When they awoke, they were a tangle of limbs and embarrassed smiles.
"You didn't have to--"
"Shh," she had said and kissed him. "It was the way it was supposed to be."
He'd raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand."
"Nothing. How are you feeling?"
"Better. Hungry."
She had brought him a meal of dried fish and bread. Fadil had eaten with care. The angry purple bruise across his jaw bounced as he chewed. They ate together in silence and when finished, she wrapped a shawl around herself and headed to the ladder leading to the roof. Fadil followed, but only after snatching a bowl of dates.
"Do you swim?" Ama asked.
Fadil's hand trembled as it reached for another date. "No. I don't."
"Do you know how?"
He shook his head. "I nearly drowned as boy. I don't go into the water any further than my knees."
Ama laughed. "I understand."
"But I tried to get my boy to learn." Fadil crunched down on a date and winced. "My boy--"
She put a hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry, Fadil."
"Do you think he's dead?"
The image of the savaged corpse jumped across her vision. She shook her head to clear it.
"I don't know. But I think it's best you prepare yourself that he is."
Fadil wiped away a tear and swiveled to stare at the palace. "I hate this city."
Ama sighed. "It was different before they came."
"They? They who?"
"The Elamites. Or so my mother told me."
"I guess her parents told her the same."
"No, she--" Ama stopped herself. "Yes. I'm sure her p
arents told her."
"Sin is Ur's city god. Why didn't he protect it?"
She shrugged. "I've often wondered that myself. I don't think the gods are all that concerned with us. They take our prayers, our offerings, and laugh while we expect them to do something." Ama popped another date into her mouth and crunched down. Juice dribbled from the edge of her mouth. "And I think some gods have a terrible sense of humor."
"Whom do you worship?"
"I worship love."
Fadil frowned. "I don't understand."
Ama shuffled closer and put her arm around his neck. "I worship this." She leaned in and kissed him.
When she pulled away, his face had lit with a wan smile. "I understand."
"The gods cannot be held. The gods cannot speak. They do nothing to comfort us in our time of need. We only have each other."
He reached out and put his hand in hers. "I want another child," he whispered.
She nodded. "I have none to give."
"The last flood took my wife from me, and nearly my son. I think Babylon is no longer a good place for me."
The beast whispered inside her and she felt it trying to come forward.
Tell him to stay. To be with you. To be the vessel. The surrogate.
"Ur might not be a good place either," she muttered.
Fadil looked past her. "Why does she stare at you?"
"Who?" Ama turned and followed his gaze.
A solitary, cloaked figure stood atop Sin's ziggurat. Although the temple was far away, she knew Fadil was right--the priestess was watching them.
"Perhaps," Ama said in a broken voice, "she knows love when she sees it."
When she turned back to Fadil, he was blushing.
"You are too kind, Ama. Far too kind."
"Do you feel strong enough to walk to your tent?"
He shook his head. "I have no tent. No clothes. No stock. It's all gone."
Ama frowned. "Thieves."
"Yes. If you're gone from your area for any length of time, they take it all."
"Then I want to take you to the market. Buy you new clothes. And fresh food."
Fadil smiled. "I cannot let you do--"
"You can. You will. You are my guest and my--" She stopped herself. Garaaga's smile. The beast's whisper. Vessel. "My friend."
"If all in Ur were like you, we wouldn't need to pray to gods."
He pushed up with his hands and stood. She watched as he arched his back. His flesh was covered in bruises and tender flesh. Ama felt a wave of anger. The guards. She would deal with them sometime in the future.
"Shall we go then?" Ama asked as she stood.
Fadil shook his head. "Not yet. I have a favor to repay first."
"You do?"
"Yes."
He took her hand and led her to the ladder and into the house. When they reached the pallet, she let him undress her. When he pushed her down and crawled between her legs, she moaned with pleasure.
Garaaga and the beast said nothing.
20
It was the last day of celebration before the king named his day. The square was hardly vacant, but it was less crowded than the past several days. It was too early for the performers to sing, play, dance, or act. The people in the square seemed too exhausted to do much more than stand together and talk while they drank beer.
Broken shards of clay littered the streets and square. Discarded bones, fruit rinds, and pits were scattered as well.
A group of slaves, led by a royal guard, made their way across the city cleaning up after the celebration. When they reached the square, they would mill through the throngs of people and do the same. Their olive wood wheeled skiff was already filled with trash. Ama imagined they would have to empty it three or four times before they finished cleaning the the square.
Fadil held her hand as they walked. When he saw the guard and the slaves, she'd heard the change in his breathing and squeezed him. He was still uneasy around the guard, but at least he relaxed.
"New clothes."
"Yes, new clothes," Ama agreed. "And then maybe I'll teach you to swim."
He shook his head. "I'm not ready for that."
She laughed. "No one ever is."
They crossed through another alley and came upon merchant row. Unlike Market Day where the temporary booths and traveling tradesmen hawked their wares, clothiers were a permanent fixture. Their booths were made of cedar and decorated with beads and trinkets from around the world. Ama had heard some of them traveled as far as the sea would take them.
A stall on the end caught her eye and she nodded toward it.
"What do you think of those?"
Bright multi-colored robes and tunics hung from pegs on the stall's walls. Fadil stared at them.
"The guards took all my money. I have nothing. I can't afford those."
Ama squeezed his hand. "You're not paying for them. I am."
He shook his head. "No. You cannot--"
"I can. I will. And it's not going to cost as much as you think."
Fadil rubbed his bruised chin, the heavy whiskers on skin sounded like shifting sand. "Then I choose we look elsewhere."
"Elsewhere?"
"Yes. These are too...colorful."
Ama laughed. "My choice, then."
"No, I--"
She put her hands on his shoulder and turned him to face her. "My money. My choice." She leaned forward and kissed him. His cheeks flushed.
He looks so much like Yusef, she thought, but so much sadness.
"I--" He swallowed hard. "You are too kind, Ama."
"Not at all."
She led him into the stall. A tall man with a heavy white beard nodded to them. He surveyed Fadil's tattered tunic.
"Good day," he said in a high pitched voice.
Ama smiled. "My friend here needs new clothes."
"Obviously. King's Day is tomorrow, so I must ask to see your coin."
"Of course." Ama pulled her purse from her bag. Coins tinkled as they shook in her palm.
The man's guarded demeanor changed into a wide smile and he beckoned them in.
Ama stood just inside the stall as the old man disrobed Fadil. He tossed the torn and stained clothes onto the floor with a wrinkled nose. When the man saw Fadil's back, he shook his head and clucked his tongue.
"Rough few days, young man."
Fadil said nothing.
The clothier selected a long tunic and held it up to Fadil. He grunted and then placed it back on the peg. He chose another and then nodded to himself. "Arms," the old man said.
Fadil raised his hands and the clothier slid the tunic over him. The fabric had been dyed the color of sand.
Ama laughed. "That's already much, much better."
"Yes. Does the gentleman wish a robe?"
"Yes, he does," Ama said.
The old man nodded again and looked over his stock. His hands passed over a deep purple, a yellow, and a bright green. Instead, he chose a multicolored robe of blue, green, and red.
"Arms out."
Fadil obeyed. The old man folded him into the robe and quickly tied the sash at the side.
"There."
Ama laughed. "A prince."
"Indeed."
Fadil smirked. "Prince."
The old man held up his hand over Fadil's shoulder with his index and middle finger pointed to the ceiling.
She reached into her purse and palmed two oblong shekels and a slice. "Fadil? Why don't you see what we can have for lunch?"
He and the old man traded a glance. He sighed and left the stall.
"A new man, and expensive gifts," the old man said.
"Yes." She placed the coins in the clothier's outstretched hand.
"I should offer you commission. And would if you brought me customers more often. What has it been? Eight seasons?"
"I don't remember," she said. "But that sounds right."
"What happened to him?"
"Ur," she whispered.
The old man nodded. "Co
me visit me soon, Ama. Perhaps I can make something for you?"
She smiled. "Perhaps. Good day, Manai."
He bowed. Ama returned the bow and walked back into the square.
Fadil was standing near a cart on the outskirts. Smoke rose from a small fire. The smell of roasting fish and fresh bread was intoxicating.
"Found something you want?" she asked.
"Only if--"
"I'm starved." She looked at the fat woman behind the cart. "Fish. Bread. For us."
The woman's single tooth waggled at them from her black gummed smile. She pulled the spit from the fire, produced a small reed basket, and dropped two of the fish in as well as hunks of unleavened bread.
Ama pulled two slices from her purse and dropped them in the cart's clay jar. The old woman nodded to them and handed the basket to Fadil.
"Is it always like this?" he asked as they walked away.
"What do you mean?"
"The people. They are so eager to, well, to help."
Ama shrugged. "I don't know how it is in Babylon, but the people of Ur are always ready to help you. If you have money."
"You are wealthy?"
She laughed. "I do well enough."
They walked to one of the many benches near the square's edge. Ama sat down, Fadil beside her. He offered her the basket. She picked up the roasted fish and began tearing it apart with her fingers. Fadil followed suit.
"Who is that?" Fadil asked.
"Huh?"
She followed his eyes across the square to the black woman standing near the stage. Ama narrowed her eyes and dropped the remains of the fish in the basket. She pawed out a piece of bread, broke it in half, and popped it into her mouth.
"Why do you ask?"
"She's been watching us."
Ama nodded. "I'm sure she has. Probably a thief."
"Thieves. I thought if you did that here you ended up dead."
"Or worse," she agreed. "It's nothing to worry about. Finish your meal."
Fadil wrapped pieces of the fish with the bread and wolfed it down.
"When's the last time you ate?"
He shrugged. "Until this morning? Probably before I started looking for--" He swallowed and then stared up at the sky. "You think he's dead."
Daemons of Garaaga (Children of Garaaga) Page 16
