The Children of the Company (4 page)
Read The Children of the Company Online
Authors: Kage Baker
Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #C429, #Extratorrents, #Kat
“It is a beautiful park,” agreed Enna-aru.
“I have not been such a bad lord, you know,” said Atrahasis. “I have kept my distance from my subjects, but you will never hear that I was unfair. I never favored any man over another, even when they tried to buy my favor with offerings of gold. I never debauched their wives or daughters, either—” He saw Security Technical Rulon turn a shocked face to him, and caught the fleeting transmission:
What are you trying to prove to this monkey?
What are you trying to prove to this monkey?
Atrahasis flushed with humiliation that became rage. What the hell do you
know about strategy, you oaf? Mind your own business!
know about strategy, you oaf? Mind your own business!
He drew a spear from its case and struck his charioteer on the shoulder. “Drive! Let us hunt the wild bulls!”
So they rode forth into his acreage. Atrahasis seized the reins from his charioteer and drove with reckless speed, splashing through the streams, scattering the herds where they drank. He wheeled among the frightened and disoriented cattle, singling out the biggest bull at last. Enna-aru the king followed warily. The bull galloped off some distance, and they pursued; but when he turned at bay, pawing the ground, then Atrahasis vaulted out on the chariot-tongue. There he clung a moment, before leaping to balance upright on the back of the left-hand horse in his team. From that high vantage he sent his black spear down, with such force it pierced straight through the bull’s broad neck and into its immense heart.
It dropped without a moan. Atrahasis sprang down beside it, wrenching out his spear. The blood ran and smoked on the earth. It pleased him nearly as much as though it were mortal blood.
Why haven’t I done this before?
He
looked up, eager to see if Enna-aru had been watching. The king, indeed, watched with narrowed eyes.
Why haven’t I done this before?
He
looked up, eager to see if Enna-aru had been watching. The king, indeed, watched with narrowed eyes.
“You have excellent skill in the hunt,” was all he said.
“Butcher my bull, and build a fire,” said Atrahasis to his charioteer, with some asperity. “My brother king and I would feast.”
They killed twice more that day. Atrahasis took down another bull, this time leaping from the chariot onto the bull’s very back, felling it with a stroke that drove through and penetrated its lungs. Enna-aru the king cornered his own bull, circling and turning in the chariot, until the baffled animal charged and got a spear through the eye into its brain. Atrahasis thought that he might have been watching himself in a mirror, so shapely was Enna-aru, so powerful.
“Is this not fine sport, my brother?” he asked as they washed in the stream.
“You have succeeded in impressing me,” said the king. “Very male, all this, isn’t it? I daresay not one of the laborers who till your fields would be brave enough to leap on a bull’s back. Nor light-footed enough, after a lifetime of following the plow. Still, I have seen acrobats do as much.”
Atrahasis was silent a moment.
“How wise you are, mortal man,” he said at last.
He watched the king as they rode slowly back through the city, followed by surly Security Technicals bearing massive sides of beef. At one point Enna-aru bid the chariots halt in the street, and got down and called for an axe; with it he cut the beef into pieces, and handed them out to the crowd. They blessed him and cried that he was their lord, they called on him to live a thousand years, they prostrated themselves and kissed his feet.
And though Enna-aru smiled broadly, and was genial as a favorite uncle before them all, Atrahasis noted that his eyes remained a little distant.
“Such generosity, o king!” he said slyly, when they had ridden on. “Truly my people love you.”
“That was showmanship,” said Enna-aru. “And they don’t love me; they don’t know me. But they love a handout now and then, and the promise that things will be a little better. If you had understood that fairly basic fact, I might not have marched into your city uncontested.”
“Ah! So my fault was simply ruling by the
wrong kind
of showmanship?” said Atrahasis.
wrong kind
of showmanship?” said Atrahasis.
“No,” said Enna-aru the king. “Your fault was that you never gave a thought to what your people wanted.”
They dined once again on the terrace. A cool wind brought the smell of the river, the sound of frogs, the murmuring of rushes in the twilight. A round moon rose slowly out of the purple east, looking as though it had been painted on the horizon.
“See how she lifts free of the earth?” said Atrahasis. “Red with smoke and dust at first, and then yellow; but the higher she ascends, the purer her light becomes, and she outshines even the stars. You and I have lifted free of the mud ourselves, o king. You shine upon those peasants down there; but who are your own people?
“The idiots in the street sang their love for you; but their love meant nothing to you. I saw that. Your eyes are clear, you have no fond illusions, you know the world for the shameful place it is, you know the
truth.
You are a unique mortal.
truth.
You are a unique mortal.
“What is it you desire, o king?”
Enna-aru looked at him curiously.
“A better world,” he said. “Full of better men.”
Atrahasis looked up at the first stars.
“I am going to give you a gift,” he said.
Atrahasis carried the frame out himself, set it up in the garden as Enna-aru watched, uncomprehending. He tested the fabric, the pads, the taut straps; and when all was ready he lifted it onto his shoulders and stepped out to the edge of the terrace.
“Now,” he said, “o king, you will see how close a man may come to being a god.”
He leaned into the night and swept down, down, until he caught the thermal rising over the massed cook-fires of the city. Up he floated then, turning as he soared, circling, and the white moonlight glittered on the distant river and on the irrigation channels, but shone full and steady on his high terrace
and the tiny figure of Enna-aru. The king stood motionless, face turned up to him; he did not cower or tremble, as a mortal might have done. In his steady regard Atrahasis flew high, and higher, up where the stars hung like lamps in the blue night; and Atrahasis had never been so happy in his life.
and the tiny figure of Enna-aru. The king stood motionless, face turned up to him; he did not cower or tremble, as a mortal might have done. In his steady regard Atrahasis flew high, and higher, up where the stars hung like lamps in the blue night; and Atrahasis had never been so happy in his life.
At last he drifted down, mothlike, and landed with a light foot beside Enna-aru.
“Magicians and acrobats you have seen, o king; but never the like of this,” he said triumphantly.
“Never,” admitted Enna-aru the king. He stepped close and examined the glider, peering intently at its tight-stitched fabric.
“It will bear two,” said Atrahasis, edging over within the frame. “Will you dare to fly, mortal man?”
Without replying, Enna-aru stepped in under the frame. He worked out the harness buckles for himself, and drew them tight; took firm hold of the frame, and stepped toward the edge.
He never cried out once, not during the initial plunge, not in the moment when they lifted on the thermal like a blown leaf. Atrahasis looked into his face and saw that it was shining.
When he returned to his chamber that night, there was a figure standing just within, obscured by shadows.
“You had better check your credenza,” said Security Technical Vidya.
“What are you talking about?” said Atrahasis, but he crossed to the cabinet and switched it on.
“They want to know what the hell is going on,” said Vidya. Atrahasis saw the long green line of transmission and recoiled, but all he said was: “Forty messages. Well, that’s certainly some kind of record. Wouldn’t you think they’d have learned to trust me by now?”
“I don’t think it’s a matter of trust,” said Vidya. “I think it’s a matter of Executive Facilitator Shamash having a bright young protégé in need of a posting. I think it’s a matter of looking for any excuse to boot you out on your ass. Sir.”
“Really,” said Atrahasis.
“Yes. Really. Sir.”
“I am obliged to you for the warning, Security Technical,” said Atrahasis, kicking off his sandals. “You may go.”
Vidya did not move. “I have been given certain orders, sir. You have twenty-four hours to bring the situation under control, and then I am to act. Permission to speak freely, sir?”
“Granted.”
“Do I have to point out the obvious? This mission is in jeopardy. A Company operation yielding millions in annual profits may be lost. The city you built is occupied by a hostile force. We will
fail
here, sir.”
fail
here, sir.”
“I think you’re wrong,” said Atrahasis. “Consider the progress of recorded history. Perhaps it’s my time to step down. The age of priests comes to an end, doesn’t it? And civilization takes the next step upward, to an age of kings. Isn’t that what the Company wanted? Wasn’t that the point of all this? Somebody has to write
Gilgamesh
, after all.”
Gilgamesh
, after all.”
He lit the lamp. In the blaze of gold that filled the room, he saw the contempt—and, infinitely more galling, the pity—in Vidya’s face.
“What is wrong with you?” said Vidya, without raising his voice. “You, of all people, are infatuated with a mortal. You are attempting to win his approval. A stinking little monkey has defied you in front of the other mortals, and you fawn on him and call him brother. What’s next? Will you drink from one cup together? Will you offer to comb the lice from his hair?”
He mixed the cup himself, in the gray hour before the sun rose. He carried it out to the garden and sat, watching the stars fade. White mist moved a while above the river, was thick over the river fields. The first laborers emerged from their huts and drove the teams of oxen down, into that mist, vanishing from sight as they would vanish in the abyss of time. Living ghosts. Their grandfathers were forgotten; their grandchildren would not remember them. Only this moment existed for them and it was all sweat, all stink, all grinding poverty.
And so it has always been. And so it will always be.
Enna-aru the king emerged from the temple, gilded by the rising sun. Atrahasis looked at him and smiled. He lifted the cup.
“Drink with me, brother. To a better world, and better men.”
“I will,” said Enna-aru, and took the cup and drank. He passed it back to Atrahasis, who paused a moment and then drank down what was left.
He set down the cup and felt the biomechanicals swarming from under his
tongue, massing in his bloodstream to neutralize what had been in the cup. He flushed, felt the prickle of sweat under his armpits, felt the twinge in his lymph nodes; only psychosomatic reaction. After a moment he breathed more easily. The heat and nausea faded steadily.
tongue, massing in his bloodstream to neutralize what had been in the cup. He flushed, felt the prickle of sweat under his armpits, felt the twinge in his lymph nodes; only psychosomatic reaction. After a moment he breathed more easily. The heat and nausea faded steadily.
Enna-aru the king sat tranquil, cutting open a pomegranate with his curved dagger. The red drops fell like blood. He set aside half and broke the other open, revealing the rubies set in yellow membrane.
“Pomegranate seeds?” he said, offering it to Atrahasis.
“No, thank you,” Atrahasis replied.
By noon the king was feverish. Atrahasis watched the flush grow in his cheeks, watched his eyes take on a certain glassiness as he studied the maps of the city canals and the grain warehouses.
By twilight the king was sweating and faint, and the blotches had begun to come up under his skin. Atrahasis led him to the couch of purple cushions, with soothing and solicitous words, and had sherbet fetched for him.
By midnight the king was raving, with brief periods of clarity wherein he struggled for understanding. Atrahasis sat beside him, wiping the sweat from his brow. The king’s guard crowded in the corridor, watched from the doorway.
“If he dies, we will kill you,” said their chief, in an almost conversational tone. The king jerked and shuddered at the sound; Atrahasis rose in fury, but by the time he had turned and approached the mortal, there was nothing in his face but meek sorrow.
“Speak softly, if you love him,” he whispered. “He has the fever, but why should he die? Enna-aru is not like other men.”
The mortal looked past him uncertainly, into the golden circle of lamplight where the king lay marked with black sores. “You have poisoned him,” he said, but without conviction.
“Fool. Those are the marks of fever, and you know it,” said Atrahasis. “What man commands disease? The gods alone send it, to punish whom they will. But the gods have no power over Enna-aru the king, surely. He will live.”
“He is not like other men,” admitted the chief. “Yes, surely he will live.”
He left quietly. Atrahasis returned to the bedside of the king, and sat. Enna-aru opened his eyes, the glaring eyes of a hawk, lucid and suspicious.
“This is not punishment,” he said thickly. “Nothing but fever.”
“Merely a touch of fever,” Atrahasis agreed, and put a wet sponge to his cracked lips. “Undoubtedly the result of traveling. The fever will break. What shall we do when you’re well again? Shall we take our wings and ride the night wind, my brother? How cool it will be, up among the white stars.”
Before dawn the king was lucid for an hour, though he had gone blind; but he summoned his generals and his bodyguards, and turned his face to their voices as though he could see them. He gave orders that there was to be no rioting, no slaughter. There was still command, even in the hoarse ruin his voice had become; they backed out of his presence and went down to maintain good order in the streets.
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