by Samuel Fort
Chapter 22 - Fiela’s Intercession
After dinner, Ben brought one of the tablets from the cave to a large room Ridley had provided for his studies. It resembled Ridley’s study except that it was larger and contained more books, many of which were published hundreds of years before. The linguist was sitting at his desk and studying one of the tablets beneath a magnifying glass when Fiela appeared at the door.
“Can I speak to you, Mutu?”
Lowering the glass, he said, “Sure, what’s up?”
The girl sauntered over to him, her arms behind her back. “It is our wedding night.”
“Oh,” said Ben, checking his watch. He thought this might be coming and he still hadn’t decided how to handle it. What did Lilian and Fiela expect of him, now that he was a Nisirtu husband? What should he expect of them? In his heart, he still didn’t believe in the world they had painted as real, and he wasn’t sure how deep into the rabbit hole he should go.
He said, “It’s just past eight, so I thought I’d spend a few minutes…I mean, I thought you and Lilian were occupied with something.”
“Mutu, I’m not here to collect you. I only wish to talk to you.”
Ben placed the glass and tablet on the table. He was relived, but said, “This better not be about fetches.”
“It is not.”
“Then let’s talk.”
As if invited, Fiela moved forward and sat down in his lap, putting one arm around his neck. “There are some things you need to know about your new wife, my sister,” she said matter-of-factly. “Things I would rather you hear from me than from other Nisirtu.”
“A lot of things, I’m sure,” replied Ben. “I only met her a few days ago.”
“What do you know of her past?”
“Well, I know she’s the daughter of a Nisirtu king, a great musician, articulate, good-looking and highly educated. In short, she’s a princess.”
The Peth nodded but leaned her head to one side as if mitigating her response. “Had you ever met a princess before, husband?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“You understand they are human. They aren’t issued from a doll factory.”
“Obviously.”
“Then you would not be surprised to learn that Lilian has done some things she regrets?”
“Drugs?”
“Yes, definitely, lots of drugs, but not anymore. Except, you know, for some herbs. That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Then what?” Ben asked.
Fiela’s expression was pained. “I speak honestly and without accusation or judgment because I love Lilian. Dearly. I cannot imagine my life without her, so do not think less of me for wishing to share with you what she will not, or cannot.”
“Disclaimer acknowledged. Go on.”
“She has had many lovers.”
“Okay.”
“Many.”
“You said that.”
“Hundreds.”
“Oh…”
“Most were Ardoon. Many were women. All of this is known, Mutu.”
“Known to whom?” he asked, but then he understood. “Oh, you mean, known to the Nisirtu.”
“Yes. She is called by some…” Fiela stopped.
“Go on.”
The girl seemed to struggle with the words. “Some call her Kulmittu. Others call her Shamkhat.”
“Meaning?”
She put her mouth to his ear and whispered, “The whore.”
Ben froze. He hadn’t expected that. His countenance must have given him away, because Fiela’s expression suggested he was preparing to throw the girl off his lap, declare the marriage a fraud, and storm from Steepleguard.
He tried to downplay his reaction. “Look, Fiela, I only met Lilian, and you, a few days ago. My so-called marriage to her is a ploy to achieve our ends and is fictional. I mean, the fact is that while I’m fond of both Lilian and you, I’m not to the point where I can be bothered by the fact that Lilian has a sordid sexual history, and her sexual preferences are none of my business. I’m no boy scout, myself. I really don’t care what others think of her. Is she…well, has she contracted any diseases?”
“Oh, no, Mutu,” responded the Peth. “She has no diseases. Nisirtu are immune to most.”
“Ah, good.” Trying to reroute the discussion, he said, “You said she has been with women. Are…well, are you two involved?”
Fiela said, “We are not alike in that way. Lilian likes women, you know, physically, almost as much as men, but she doesn’t get emotionally attached to them. I don’t think she’s ever had a boyfriend or girlfriend. I know that she loves me, but as a sister, and so she rarely requests my affections.”
“Affections?”
“Sex.”
Ben shifted his eyes to one side and slowly shook his head. “But you just said you weren’t interested in women, and that you and Lilian weren’t involved, and that she loved you like a sister.”
The girl seemed confused by his statement. “We are adopted sisters, and she does love me, and I am not interested in women, and we are not involved. But Lilian does like women and desires me more than any other.” Seeing the man’s astonishment, the girl said, “She makes no secret of it, Mutu, but neither does she impose upon me. I love her, so why should I not grant her relief from her burden on occasion?”
“On occasion?”
Fiela shrugged. “Maybe once a year? Not often. I must be careful, because I can return her love for me in full measure, but not her lust, and so our relationship must be based on sisterly love, you see. She knows this.”
Ben was surprised at Fiela’s insight, and the complicated bond between the two women.
“Anyway,” the girl continued, “when I attend to her needs, it is physical for her, but platonic for me. Do you understand, now?”
Rubbing his face briskly, the linguist replied, “Fiela, I think you need to look up the word ‘platonic.’ But never mind, I take your meaning.” After taking a few moments to regain his wits, he said, “Okay. Thank you for being candid. Was there something else?”
Fiela, looking relieved, collected her thoughts and said, “Yes. It is something I thought I’d mention since this is the first official day of our marriage and everything.”
She is taking this ‘marriage’ act very seriously, thought Ben, feeling guilty that he did not and that he had just told her so. He was certain that Lilian viewed the marriage the same way he did. Only Fiela seemed to view it as legitimate and in a weird way that broke his heart a little.
“Go on,” he said.
Fiela toyed with a button on his shirt. “Lilian can be demanding. With me, I mean. Sometimes. You must accept that it is my will to comply with her instructions, whatever they are. She is the daughter of a king. I am Peth-Allati. Lilian and I are bound by our histories but we are not equals and never will be. If you try to shift that balance, it will cause a lot of grief.”
“Why do you think I’ll do that?” asked Ben.
“Because you are a compassionate person - no, do not object - and I think you like me. Right?”
“Yeah,” admitted Ben. “You are growing on me. Despite your homicidal tendencies.”
She beamed. “I love you, I think. I mean, I love Lilian, and what I feel for you is much like what I feel for her.”
The researcher wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Fiela, we met two days ago. You fall in love too quickly.”
“Knowing I could die tomorrow, is it not best to love today?”
“I usually don’t bank on dying, honestly.”
“But I am a Peth. I do everything with the assumption I will die tomorrow, Mutu. Anyway, what I am telling you is that Lilian and I were born Nisirtu and our culture is different than yours. When you are with me, or Lilian, we will accept your ways. They are Ardoon ways and while you are no longer Ardoon we know that you will not change them.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
The girl shrugged. “It will not be hard
for us, because we have been surrounded by your culture almost from birth. We mostly understand your belief system. But you do not understand ours and perhaps never will, completely, so you may find it difficult to accept our behavior.”
“Are you concerned about anything in particular?”
“No. I am speaking of a million little things. We are just - different. Can you accept that?”
“Of course.”
“Will you then allow us to be ourselves and not force Ardoon ways on us always?”
Ben grimaced. “It sounds terrible when you put it like that. I won’t force my ways on you or anyone else.”
She beamed. “Good!” and kissed him on the nose.
He squinted at her, wondering if he’d been manipulated into agreeing something he would regret. He was beginning to think the girl was wiser than he’d assumed. “That’s it?”
She thought a moment. “Do you read poetry?”
“No, not since I was forced to in school.”
“Oh,” the girl said, looking disappointed.
At that moment Ben remembered the book he had found in her jeans back at his apartment. The girl’s trying to bond with you, moron, and you just shot her down.
He added quickly, “I mean, you know how much I love books, but my schedule doesn’t permit much leisure time.”
“Perhaps you will have more while you are here,” she suggested, keeping her chin down but raising her violet eyes to meet his.
“I’m sure I will. Is there anything else?”
Fiela nodded. “Lilian said you were interested in the American president’s position on education reform.” The girl rolled now rolled her eyes as if that was the most ludicrous thing she had ever heard. “She said he gave a speech today somewhere to someone and that you should check it out on the internet.”
Ben made a face. “I don’t know why she said that. I really don’t have much interest in that subject. It just came up in conversation.”
“Good, because that subject kind of, you know, sucks. But she said to tell you that you should go to great lengths to find out what he said.”
With that, she hopped off his lap and darted out of the room. As he watched her go, Ben reviewed the conversation in his head several times looking for clues as to what it was really about. He came up empty and so pulled out his phone and surfed to his favorite news site. The story was buried deep – it was a story about education, after all - but in time, he found it.
President Gives Speech to Association of High School Principals was the title of the article. He read through it, seeing nothing of interest, until he reached the bottom of the print:
The president told the assembled principals, “I am not here to say what has already been said a million times by past presidents. I do not believe problems with our education system can be resolved with token initiatives or catchy slogans.” He then joked, “Of course, if it were in my power, I would have the FCC install jammers on every campus to stop smart phones from sending or receiving messages. Perhaps then our young people might look at their instructors on occasion instead of the phones concealed beneath their desks.”
Ben let his own phone drop from his hand to the floor.
That was it, then. Lilian had made her point. She had put almost his exact words, the ones he had spoken at the Ziggurat just the night before, into the mouth of the president of the United States.
The Nisirtu were not psychic. They didn’t need to be. What is the value in foretelling the future if you controlled it?
He’d confirm the quote in the newspapers tomorrow, of course, but he had no doubt that the print media would validate what the internet already showed him. He knew that he could find a video of the president speaking the exact words in the article.
But he didn’t need to. The final switch had been thrown in Ben’s mind.
The Delphic Order of the Nisirtu was real.
It controlled the world.
The world was soon to be ash.
