CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN (30 page)

“Believe it,” Kastor raged on. “Panos won’t let things between us go, no matter what the cost.” He turned and slapped the side of the wagon angrily before wheeling again toward the side of the cage. “You won’t have my wife, you treacherous worm!” he shouted at the mute tower. “She’d cut her throat before your lips could touch hers!”

“Easy Kastor,” D’Molay said wearily, jumping down from the wagon. “You’re the captain, and by virtue of rank will be eaten last. Let’s hope that Ares hurries home.”

As the soldiers continued to seek a means of escape, D’Molay cautiously approached the beast. Panos had unknowingly given him the chance he wanted. It seemed there would be ample time for him to try to communicate with it. He only hoped that the chaotic activity around them would not completely disrupt his efforts. He had imagined a more controlled audience, with him on one side of a sturdy door and the beast on the other, but this would have to do. At least if things went horribly wrong the soldiers might be able to knock the beast back down, although at the moment most of them were intent on digging a hole to discover how far underground the bars continued. Ignoring the sporadic showers of dirt cast in his direction, D’Molay carefully inched closer to the beast’s bowed head. It bared bloody teeth at him as he came near.

“Tracker, what are you doing?” Herikos gasped.

D’Molay thrust his hand toward the Greek, warning him to stay back as he considered how much to tell him. Could he trust the Greeks with his theories about Aavi? Treachery was everywhere, as their current plight pointedly proved. It would be wise to reveal as little as possible. Fortunately, Zephyrus had made that possible, leaving D’Molay the perfect excuse.

“My knife is in its back. I want it back.” D’Molay pointed to the small hilt protruding from between the beast’s shoulders.

“I’d buy a new knife,” Herikos said.

“A knife like mine cannot be bought,” D’Molay shrugged. Although many lived in the supernatural realms of the gods, humans did not have easy access to magical items. He couldn’t afford to abandon the only special weapon he owned, especially when it had been a reward for his services. To do so would dishonor the gift.

Several of the Greeks ceased their toil to watch in disbelief as D’Molay moved to one side of the beast and began to climb the net. Kastor just shook his head and urged them to get back to digging. “If he wants to be the first meal, that is his right,” the captain scoffed. “Have you found the bottom of the bars yet? Herikos! Get your flat drover’s ass over here and help them!”

Ignoring the activity behind him, D’Molay scaled the net encasing the beast. The fibers were smooth under his hands, taut, but with no sign of stress. The net seemed to flex with the sporadic jerking of the beast, allowing it no leverage. Under him, D’Molay felt the beast squirm in response to his weight. The movements were weak and he was in no danger of being tossed from the creature’s back. In reach of his knife, he braced himself for a reaction as he took the hilt and yanked it free.

A drizzle of amber ichor fell from its blade and several of the soldiers cheered to see he had succeeded in retrieving his weapon. The beast’s only reaction was a breathy grunt. D’Molay began to fear it was close to death.
   

He had no time to waste. He quickly climbed off the beast’s back and moved around to stand before its head, seeking a sign of intelligence in the creature’s dark eyes. They were definitely focused on him, but was that the instinctive desire to watch an enemy, or something more? D’Molay listened to the beast breathe. The sound was heavy, but not labored.

Glancing toward the Greeks, he noted that Kastor had set the slackers who had been watching him back to their labor of digging under the cage. All the same, he kept his voice low so that he would not be heard as he looked the beast in the eye. “Do you know why they’ve captured you?” he began. The eye nearest him narrowed and the grisly jaw opened to emit a low grumble. This was followed by a few strident barks and another sound halfway between a hiss and a purr. It seemed to D’Molay that the beast was indeed trying to respond to him, rather than just making random vocalizations. “Do you have words, or just these noises?” he asked. A hollow baying came in response. “No words, then,” D’Molay determined.

He folded his arms and considered how other non-humanoid beings of the City communicated. Some used gestures, but this animal lacked the delicacy of limb for that. He’d heard of others who talked by releasing scents or changing colors, and he hoped that was not the beast’s way. He could not understand those things. Perhaps it could understand pictures, he thought, as his fingers played over the hilt of his knife. Stepping a few feet away, D’Molay started to scratch an image in the dirt, colored by remnants of the beast’s blood. If he could draw Aavi’s likeness and get a reaction, that would be good evidence that she and the beast were connected.

“She is fair and bright,” he said as he tried to etch her outline in the hard soil of the yard. “There is no blemish on her skin; her hair is like fine silk.” D’Molay looked over at the unresponsive beast, then back down at his terrible drawing. It looked nothing like Aavi. There was no way the beast could make a connection even if this was a means of communication. D’Molay sat back on his heels and sighed, staring at the ground and worrying about what might have happened to Aavi. All he could do was pray to any god who might be listening to watch out for her. A moment after he bowed his head and filled his mind with Aavi’s image and appeals to the gods, the beast startled him by beginning to thrash wildly against the net.

“What are you doing?” Kastor demanded, alarmed by this development. Several of his men crawled out of what was now a deep trench and hurried to check the spots where the net connected to the wagon. “Are you baiting it?”

“Not at all,” D’Molay said, muting his excitement at what seemed to be a definite response to his mental projection of Aavi. “It seems to be able to hear my silent prayer. It’s reacting to what I was thinking.”

“Well, try a different prayer,” Kastor said, irritated.

“Or pray it a full belly,” Herikos proposed, wiping a dirty hand across his sweaty brow.

“I’ll just help you dig,” D’Molay said. Just as he was wary of sharing information with men, he held similar doubts about what gods might be listening to prayers, if there were any at all who still did. He jumped into a section of the trench and set his shoulder against the bars with others who were striving to break out. His strength seemed to redouble as he focused on escaping and getting back on Aavi’s trail.

Set’s antechamber, like most of the rooms in his temple, was made of polished stone. His room was grandly decorated from floor to high ceiling with dark red banners bearing the jackal hieroglyph, the symbol of Set himself. Torches and braziers added dramatic light to the powerful atmosphere, creating shadows of statues and columns that shifted and danced. There were several large round stone tables bearing golden goblets and heavy bowls of fruits and dates. Set and Kafele walked past walls covered by intricately carved scenes of Set’s great deeds and godly benevolence as they entered the imposing chamber.

Set gestured for Kafele to take a seat at one of the tables. “So, you obtained her. You’ve had another chance to examine her. Do you still think she is -?”

“Please, don’t even say the words, my lord, it is too dangerous. Even the mere utterance might bring about some unstoppable change in her. I have been very careful not to say what I think she is or even to think it.” Kafele spoke quickly, with a fearful pitch to his voice as he took a seat on the cold stone chair. Like most chairs in Set’s Egyptian styled palace, it was beautiful, but not very comfortable.

Set looked at Kafele with a bemused smirk on his jackal face, trying to decide if he was more afraid of him or their catch. “My, you are worried, aren’t you? You forget that I am a god, Kafele. I have been observing you two since the carriage rolled past the gates. She seems harmless enough to me. Almost like a helpless child, really. This Aavi is nothing like I was expecting.” Set picked up his goblet of amber-colored mead and took a sip.

Kafele bowed and kept his eyes averted. “You are my god, Lord Set. I could never forget your supremacy over all. I know she may seem harmless, but please believe me when I tell you; I have seen what her kind can do. I’ve seen them wipe entire cities off the face of Earth. They are not to be taken lightly. Right now, her memory is missing from her mind. If she knew what she was, there is no telling what damage she would be capable of.” Kafele looked earnestly up at Set, as he sought comfort in the sight of his powerful god to overshadow painful thoughts from his ancient past on Earth.

Set put down his drink, the sound of the goblet against the stone table punctuating his decision. “Very well, we shall proceed carefully. But I am not completely convinced that she doesn’t know who and what she is on some level. I must know what her mission was, and what effect it might have had on the rest of us. I intend to get that information, one way or another, Kafele. Somewhere buried in her psyche that knowledge is hiding. I will find a way to pluck it out.” Set picked a date out of the nearby fruit bowl and popped it into his mouth, for emphasis. Kafele could hear Set’s teeth snapping as he chewed up the date, seed and all.

“Yes my lord, I understand.” But he was not at all comfortable with what might happen next. He worried for Aavi and for Set both. As a healer, he didn’t want to see either of them harmed, but as a worshipper of Set his loyalties were never in doubt. He would comply with his god’s wishes. “What do you wish of me, my lord?”

“Do not let her out of your sight, Kafele. Soon I will extract from her what I need, one way or another.
 
Bring her to me three hours hence and we shall begin. “

Kafele stood and bowed to Set. “Yes my lord. To serve you is my only desire.” He slowly backed out of the room, bowing as he went.
 

Set crushed another date in his hand as he thought about all the power he might soon command.
 
“I may yet make the Council obsolete.”

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Long after the day’s auction business had concluded, Es-huh carried a basket of fruits to the High Sulgi’s office. She was excited, for she had heard that a very special guest was coming. Lamasthu would appear before them all at sunset. For the goddess to visit her servants was a high honor, and Es-huh was thrilled to be a small part of the day’s great success that had inspired her visit. Even the High Sulgi had to answer to Lamasthu, which made Es-huh feel more connected to her master. They had worked hard, worked together, to please Lamasthu with their offerings and commerce.

As she arranged the fruits in a large brass bowl on the High Sulgi’s desk, Es-huh glanced over at the iron cage in the corner of the room. Es-huh wondered if Princess was happy with her new master. She hoped so, and that her advice had helped Princess in some small way.
 
Es-huh realized that Princess’s shredded clothing was still at the bottom of the cage. “They haven’t cleaned it!” she exclaimed, hurrying to correct the oversight. She ducked into the cage and began picking up the shredded fabric and putting the pieces in the basket that had been emptied of fruit. On this of all days, the High Sulgi should not be disgraced by shoddy service. Having collected up all the fabric pieces, Es-huh exited the cage and left the High Sulgi’s office. She thought again about how she and Princess had walked down the stairs together for the last time. Es-huh had prepared many slaves for the High Sulgi, but Princess was different. She would miss her.

Once she returned to the storeroom, Es-huh put thoughts of Princess out of her mind. There were many more tasks to attend to before the arrival of Lamasthu; banners to raise, candles to light, and more areas to tidy up. Es-huh had busy hours of work ahead of her. First, she attended to the hanging of large green leather banners that praised the power and wisdom of Lamasthu. They were almost ten feet long and Es-huh had to find other slaves to help her place them around the temple. Next she made sure that other charges were working hard to make the place extra clean for Lamasthu’s arrival. She set the short ones to washing the floors and the tall ones to dusting of the shelves. The most trusted tended to Lamasthu’s holy items, while she herself saw to the placing and lighting of the blood candles near every entrance and window of the grand slaver temple. As a devoted follower of the Babylonian deities, Es-huh considered this duty a high honor. Made from the bodies of devoted slaves who had been sacrificed to Lamasthu, the blood candles were the most sacred offering a slave could make to the gods. Es-huh secretly hoped that when she was too old to serve her gods that a candle would be made of her. Es-huh guiltily forced down that prideful thought as she lit the first blood candle.