Suta’s mother-in-law ran from the hearth to cradle Lumekki’s head in her hands. A’Nu-Ahki rushed to seize his father’s wrist.
“He’s breathing,” Na’Amiha said.
A’Nu-Ahki added, “And his pulse is strong.”
Lumekki’s eyes were wide open, but rolled up into his head so that Suta could only see their whites. His contorted face grimaced at her like a frozen death mask, one side of his mouth curled into a jagged snarl. A’Nu-Ahki and his wife quickly rolled the old man from the table to care for him.
Sutara heard a faint screech that seemed to filter up through the stone mosaic floor. Gripped by a strange sense of clarity, she circled the table of stunned family members, and retrieved Lumekki’s wax tablet. The Old Man had scrawled the glyph of a single word at its center.
Time…
That was when the earth began to shake and moan under Suta’s feet.
The high-pitched wail seemed to come from all directions out of the forest night, drowning out and then silencing the distant music from Grove Hollow, further up the foothills trail.
Tsulia screamed, and threw herself into the arms of her companion when the ground began to slide back and forth.
The Archon’s Operative held her and kissed her, perhaps just to shut her up, perhaps because he had wanted to all along since their business together began. Tsulia was too terrified to care.
She didn’t stop him, even after the earth ceased moving, seconds later. Not until he began to undo her wrap.
“No!” Tsulia squeaked, and pulled away from him. She adjusted her dark brown curls, and redid the tight silk garment.
“I’m sorry.” He released his last hold on her arm.
The hazy darkness of the forest trail near the monastery-fortress of Q’Enukki’s Retreat closed in again like a blanket of silence, after the omnipresent screech died away. Not even the crickets chirped.
“What just happened?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never felt anything like it.” The Contact peered up at a gauzy patch of starry sky through the trees.
Tsulia’s tears began to flow. “Don’t be mad at me, okay? You’ve been real good to me, and I kinda wish we could, ya know?”
He sighed. “You’re not with child any more. I could tell when I held you. What happened? You weren’t due for a while yet.”
“I lost it. Moon… he…”
“Your husband’s not beating you, is he?” There was rage in the Contact’s voice.
Maybe he wasn’t just trying to shut me up. Tsulia realized.
“No,” she said, “Moon-chaser would never hit me. He’s not like that. He just sleeps around is all. He thinks I don’t know, but he doesn’t really do much to hide it either.”
“You didn’t…”
She finished his question, “Sacrifice it? No! I told you, I’m still real Orthy that way—I don’t believe in the Temple.”
“I didn’t think so. Is there anything I can do?”
Tsulia was glad the darkness hid the lie in her eyes. “No. I’ll be all right. I just wish we didn’t have to meet in the dark so much.”
“Everything will be out in the open in just a few more years.”
Panic gripped her. “Listen, the music’s stopped. The others at the Hollow will notice I’m gone!”
“This won’t take long. The Archon has new directions for you.”
“I won’t have to hurt Moon-chaser, will I?”
He placed a hand on her shoulder—from a gentlemanly distance, this time. “No. In fact, I think you’ll find that your husband’s mysterious Helpers will become your Helpers more than his before much longer.”
“What do I have to do?”
Tsulia’s spirits lifted, and the panic vanished, when he told her.
Archon Tarbet reclined back into the divan with “Luwinna’s” head resting on his shoulder. She even lets me call her Luwinna! He smiled like the sphinx that ate the phoenix. It’s as if she knows exactly what I need before I do! How could a man ask for more?
As if to answer his unspoken question, he remembered the argument with his son. It also probably helped with “Luwinna” that Tarbet kept company with some of the most powerful men in the world—indeed, with those who were reputed to be more than men. He didn’t let these realizations bring him down, however. No point spoiling it!
“Why’ve you waited so long?” she asked him sleepily. “You knew I was ready the moment you saved me from being crushed by that stone.”
She spoke of the rolling granite head from the colossus statue that Tarbet’s father had erected, but which a Samyaza Cult fanatic had destroyed with explosive sorcery—the incident that had started the current tensions with Assuri. The Archon had snatched his newest mistress and her young son from its path, and barely escaped himself. Why he called her, “Luwinna,” instead of by her given name, was another story.
When Tarbet didn’t answer, she added, “She must have meant a lot to you, whoever she was. I’ve never seen you so tranquil.”
Tarbet felt elated just to be able to talk about it with someone after so many lonely centuries. “We were about your age, and you are her very image. Please don’t think that I do not value your service and friendship on its own terms—ever. It’s just that we never got to…”
She laughed. “I understand, it’s okay. I mean, go to, you not only saved my life, you gave my son and me a new, and better one! I just don’t understand why you waited so many years. I was available.”
Tarbet pulled her head of wavy dark hair further beneath his smooth-shaven chin. “Luwinna was a daughter of Q’Enukki; very old-line Seer Clan. I’m not sure she would have approved.”
“Oh. She’s dead then?”
“I don’t know; probably at Regati or else ‘Surupag. We lost touch. I figured doing this would make me feel dreadfully guilty—so I avoided it.”
She rolled over and looked up into his eyes. “That’s so romantic! You don’t feel guilty, though, do you? I don’t want you to.”
He chuckled. “Strangely, no, not in the least; in fact, I feel freer than I ever have my entire life, and more at peace.”
She kissed his cheek. “I’m glad. I’ve always wanted to do something nice for you. You seem so alone all the time, and nobody around here gets it that you have lots of responsibility and stuff.”
“I wish my son understood that.”
“Another argument?”
Tarbet sighed. “He refuses to take a wife—a woman, that is.”
“It’s no secret what he likes.”
“He can have all the young men he wants. It’s just that as Appointed One, he needs to pass on a blood heir. I even offered to have the Guild artificially inseminate any woman he chooses. He called me a hypocrite!”
“That’s harsh.”
“I’ve never once told him how to live his life! However, our clan has certain obligations. The Promised Line and the Archonate must continue.”
“He’s being selfish,” she said.
“That’s an understatement.”
“Luwinna” lifted her head. “Suppose you had another son?”
“Wish I could, Lu. Archonic Law still forbids divorce and polygamy for the Archon, and demands the Appointed One be a legitimate son. Even if I had another son, the Free-Form Marriage Bloc and the orb pundits would paint me as a closet Iyaredist. It’s all a bloody nuisance! Even some of the progressives on the Advisory Council want to disinherit the little newt! It doesn’t help to have that comet reappear just as the controversy heats up.”
The comet, and mention of the real Luwinna’s clan, brought A’Nu-Ahki’s Apocalypse to Tarbet’s mind for the first time in years. Funny how not even the Seer Clan wants him as A’Nu’s Comforter!
“Luwinna’s” eyes flickered and her voice fell. “I got scared when the earth shook last night. Did the comet do that?”
“I don’t see how. It’s too far away. Bloody omens!”
“How soon before it passes Tiamatu?”
“Three days—if it passes.”
“So it’s really that close?”
“Yes.”
“What will happen if it hits?”
“Nobody knows. If it misses, it’ll fly harmlessly by us. If it passes close enough, Tiamatu will deflect its course in an unknown direction.”
“What does it all mean?”
Tarbet stroked her rich dark hair. “I’m not sure yet.”
She kissed him again, and laughed. “It’ll come when you need it to. Maybe it’ll be a good omen for a change. You’ve proven yourself among the Mighty at predicting the paths of dangerous falling rocks.”
Dreadful nightshades flickered across the hilly wooded landscape in a chaotic ghost dance. The monastery fortress below seemed haunted by a world full of restless dead, unable to sleep amid dark festivities.
A’Nu-Ahki’s ziggurat-based telescope tracked the heavenly battle that lit up the late evening sky. Sparks flew between the head of the comet and the planet Tiamatu, equalizing radically different charm potentials.
He had sent his son, U’Sumi, down to gather the others.
Glancing up from the eyepiece, Nu brushed back a wisp of thinning hair, and looked skyward at the comet’s tail—still small at that distance. It had the same bluish-violet tint he had seen one hundred and fifteen years before, on its last visit.
What a monster I am that this omen of destruction should bring fond memories, he thought sadly, while he adjusted the track servo by a few seconds azimuth and another degree in elevation to maintain his fix.
A’Nu-Ahki’s father had been with him to watch the Apocalypse Comet’s first visit. Lumekki had yet to face his final war as a professional soldier in those days—a war the old Tacticon had only half-survived. No one expected him to come through the stroke he had suffered the night of earthquake. Nobody wanted him to in that condition. A’Nu-Ahki was surprised his father had hung on so long. Perhaps he waits for the crushing of Leviathan to sleep in peace. Maybe he knows somehow. His last written word was “Time.” Time for what, the Time of what; World-end, or more?
Nu found it hard not to be bitter over what the Aztlan War had done to Lumekki. The present Archon’s father had allowed the illegal conscription of the Seer Clan regiment, violating oaths taken by Tarbet and his ancestors. Centuries earlier, the dying Archon Iyared had passed on his office to the fathers of Tarbet only on condition that the Clan of Q’Enukki’s eldest son remain exempt from compulsory military service, and free to pursue their prophetic calling. Both A’Nu-Ahki and Tarbet had participated in that oath taking as junior heirs of their respective lines.
Iyared had done an unprecedented thing then to preserve from corruption the divine truths revealed to the early Archons and Seers. He divided the line of the Promised Seed from that of the Archonate, passing the Seed Line on to the sons of Q’Enukki—Iyared’s firstborn—and the Archonate on to his more popular younger son—Tarbet’s ancestor, Adiyuri.
Had Q’Enukki not disappeared into the heavens, the Seer Clan would have inherited the Archonate—with A’Nu-Ahki next in succession. Not that Nu cared anything for the Archonate. In addition to his father’s head wound and paralysis, Nu’s time missing as an unacknowledged prisoner-of-war in Aztlan had disrupted his work almost beyond repair.
A noisy shuffle distracted the memories. Nu’s son had returned.
“The others are on their way. I’d’ave been back sooner,” U’Sumi panted, pushing dark curls from his midnight blue eyes, “but Khumi and Tiva were fighting, and I got stuck playing go-between.”
“I hope we’re not going to have to listen to those two go at it the whole time on the ship,” Nu said.
The dark shape of the great ocean vessel Barque of Aeons, which A’Nu-Ahki had built at the command of the Divine Name, was visible from their mountainside perch, like a giant coffin in the valley.
Nu motioned for his son to look through the telescope’s eyepiece.
The others had just reached the top of the ziggurat stairs.
U’Sumi said, “At least we made it in time for the spectacle.”
A’Nu-Ahki pointed skyward. “Tiamatu’s already at zenith. Soon the comet will be right on top of her.”
The others gathered behind the telescope cowl. Khumi—A’Nu-Ahki’s youngest son—and his wife Tiva, were last to arrive.
Nu let his family each take turns at the eyepiece, while he and those not at the lens watched the erratic flashes with the naked eye. They went around several times this way—first Nu’s wife, then their three sons and their wives, and lastly Nu’s grandfather. Old Muhet’Usalaq mumbled a litany of ancient prophecies that came to life overhead in the skies that night.
U’Sumi’s wife, T’Qinna, was up at the eyepiece when it happened. She squealed, calling out to A’Nu-Ahki, “Father, quick, look at this! It’s doing something, but it doesn’t look like they’re colliding!”
The smoky haze and city lights of Assur’Ayur made viewing the spectacle difficult for the First Wives of the god Samyaza. Tylurnis and Uranna sat at a telescope with dual eyepieces, inside the glass chamber that sat like a half-diamond atop the Golden Pyramid. Creeping sea mists across the southern delta lands did not help matters.
Even with the hazy visibility, the flickering in the sky made ‘Nissa’s skin crawl. Although three centuries removed from her Seer Clan youth, Tylurnis could still read the heavenly sign the way she knew her father would. On top of all my troubles, this stupid comet reminds me that I am the daughter of A’Nu-Ahki! The only thing worse she could think of now was being a wife of Samyaza. At least I can still improve that situation.
Tylurnis glared up at her twin sister, who was no longer really her twin sister. Uranna’s cinnamon skin and muscle tone were perfect under the gauzy two-pieced harem wear, but her hair was unkempt and dirty. Their divine husband had consumed ‘Ranna’s mind, imposing his own masculine persona upon her voice and mannerisms. He hardly ever left her alone any more. When he did, she seemed more like a vegetable than a person.
Samyaza had never been so all consuming of Isha’Tahar, his original Queen, and First Wife—who still hung on in a coma almost fifty years after the astra crash that had paralyzed her. Samyaza keeps her alive somehow. Why? The question came unbidden like a treasonous whisper: Would A’Nu-Ahki’s world really have been so bad for Uranna and me?
‘Nissa almost banished the thought, but then her “husband” croaked through Uranna’s mouth; “The omen suggests your strategy has failed.” Samyaza’s lifeless, shark-like eyes did not look up from the eyepiece.
Tylurnis felt an icy knot in her chest. “We have had to move slower than expected, along more torturous routes, yes. But we could not have predicted Lumekkor’s new weapon of divine warfare.”
‘Nissa’s current troubles had begun about ten years ago, when Lumekkor’s Guild had bestowed upon Assur’Ayur the “gift” of the sacred picture orbs. The first miraculous image from the device’s glowing interior was the vision of a gigantic mushroom of white-hot flame spreading across the trackless wastes of the North Polar Moors.
Samyaza had been furious.
When Tylurnis had asked him why he could not just teach Assuri’s priests how to build their own weapon of divine fire, he had used her twin sister’s hands to throttle her nearly to death. Later, he explained in detail how economic and resource limits prevented him. Divine intelligence still required human hands and feet—not to mention the proper mineral wealth.
‘Ranna raised her head from the telescope, but only Samyaza spoke. “I’m weary of your intrigues, ‘Nissa. Last week, necessity forced us secretly to order the massacre of an entire city of my most loyal fighters, just to appease Lumekkor! We live under the tyranny of your little charade in our very own Temple! I need no omens to tell me our holy war again goes ill!”
‘Nissa knew she was visibly trembling. The flashing of Tiamatu’s death throes highlighted the inhuman rage in her sister’s golden eyes.
“I ask forgiveness, my Lord.”<
br />
Samyaza roared, dirty nails clawing the air, “Why should I not turn both you and your sister out into the mobs as traitors to my holy war?”
Tylurnis had heard this tirade before. She knew her divine husband well enough to understand that he often threatened an errant wife for years—even decades—before finally carrying things out. If she could produce even a small political gain for Assuri, she also knew that it was possible to regain his former affection. The uncertain omen overhead could well push him past the brink, however. ‘Nissa had seen what Samyaza’s fanatical pilgrims did to women accused of betraying their divine husbands. She had wanted to keep her latest initiative secret a little while longer—until she could be surer of success—but decided she could no longer risk it.
“I have successfully made high level contact with Aztlan,” Tylurnis announced. “Psydonu and At’Lahazh will soon test their own weapon of heavenly fire. I believe that their northern High Priestess, Pandura, is leaking us this information to encourage a secret alliance. We can use our current situation to tie up a significant number of Lumekkor’s troops in outlying districts like Zhri’Nikkor and Ufratsis, while Aztlan spends its armies in the west. The Masquerade will go on, yes, but not forever, and not in defeat.”
Uranna’s face softened. “Give our enemies a two-front war. That would be good. What about Y’Raddu and the Iya’Baalim nomads?”
“Aztlan’s new Deep Ocean Fleet patrols their coasts, off Kai-yin. They even have a ship large enough to launch astras at sea—a veritable floating city! Lumekkor has no such vessel, and is years from building one.”
Samyaza’s voice took on a gentleness Tylurnis had not heard since before the “gift” of the moving-picture orbs. “I have always favored you and your sister. I will give you this last chance to redeem yourselves.”
The fire in the sky suddenly brightened with ‘Nissa’s prospects.
The Tides of Nemesis (The Windows of Heaven Book 4) Page 3
