The Valley of the Gods

by Phil Tucker

  The others were waiting for him. The dead guards, true to Sisu’s word, stood on watch ignoring them completely. Jarek eyed them carefully, not relaxing as he took up the rope, watching as Acharsis fashioned a loop below into which he stepped. A tug, and Jarek set to hauling him up.

  It took longer than it should have, but after a few minutes Kish reached down to help Acharsis scrabble up over the retaining wall’s side.

  “I could get used to only having one hand,” said Acharsis, voice bright with false cheer. “Quite a civilized way to climb.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” said Jarek, moving to follow the others to the hatch that led downstairs.

  “How long will they stay this way?” asked Kish. “The dead, that is?”

  “Not quite so flippant now, are we?” said Sisu with obvious relish. “I have each of them ensnared in my mind. As long as we remain in the house, they shall remain quiet.”

  “Good,” said Acharsis. “Excellent work. Now,let’s go say hello to Istrikar.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Acharsis levered open the trapdoor and peered down the stairwell at the illuminated hallway below. Rushlights, but not too many; clearly the house was in the process of settling in to sleep. He crept down, doing his best to listen; soft voices here and there, but the echoes made them hard to pinpoint.

  A large home like this would be a hive of industry during the day and a source of great wealth for Istrikar. There would be chambers dedicated to the weaving of carpets, the molding of clay pots, the grinding of wheat and barley, the excess of which would be sold in the market. A manse like this would have dozens of servants, all of them sleeping on the first floor; the second would be dedicated to Istrikar, his family, concubines, and favored servants.

  Acharsis paused. Had he ever seen Istrikar with a concubine? Or express any interest in women or men at all? He stared blankly at the wall for a moment, trying to recall. No. The spymaster had been as sexual as a monolith and as randy as a desiccated river bed. Maybe things had changed?

  Unlikely.

  Acharsis reached the last step and peered out, trying to control the storm of memories. How long since last he’d been in a noble’s home such as this? Once, this would have seemed a poor hovel compared to his royal quarters. Now? He felt a stab of envy. To think that Istrikar should be enjoying these luxuries while he, Acharsis, son of Ekillos, still wandered the streets with barely a coin to his name.

  No matter.

  Looking around the gloom, Acharsis saw that the house followed the classic build with a hollow interior, a central court below ringed by a balcony on the second floor. A couple of servants stood in the courtyard, whispering to each other in the gloom, but nobody was walking about the second floor.

  The smell of dinner still hung in the air; goat, Acharsis thought, with plenty of mint and something sweet. His mouth flooded with spit. Istrikar was a consummate host; surely the man would offer him a platter over which to converse.

  A short while later, the servants below embraced. One of them was weeping, Acharsis realized, the soft tears of an old grief, and then the two figures parted, leaving the courtyard through separate doorways.

  “Time to enter that little cage,” he said to the epiphling. “Can you do that for me little friend?”

  The fiery bird cocked its head to one side then the other.

  Kish opened the cage door. “C’mere, Cinder!”

  “Cinder?” Jarek glowered behind her. “You’ve named it?”

  “Why not? Epiphling is a terrible name. Cinder? Can you come?”

  And as if beguiled by her voice, the epiphling - Cinder - fluttered down off his shoulder to perch on the little branch within.

  Gesturing over his shoulder, Acharsis stepped out onto the balcony. It was narrow, the railing waist-high, and it creaked beneath his tread.

  Only two rushlights lit the central area, enough to make out the doorways that ringed the second floor. Light spilled forth from two different rooms; which to approach?

  Acharsis closed his eyes. The sounds of the home grew just a little more distinct. A low murmur of voices came from one of the lit doors. There was something informal to the conversation’s lilt, and that decided him.

  He crept out onto the balcony and hurried down its length to the other doorway,the one from which no sound had emerged. The others followed. Acharsis brushed down his tunic, lamented the deeply formed wrinkles, decided not to take a sniff to determine his odor, and stepped inside.

  The room was large and surprisingly bare. No decorations hung on the clay walls, and a simple carpet of colorful stripes lay across the floor. No windows, of course; the illumination came from a pair of lanterns set on each corner of a large wooden desk at the room’s far end. A pile of clay tablets dominated one side.

  Istrikar sat behind the desk, a small mountain of a man clad in rich finery. A flicker of irritation flashed through his narrow eyes and then was gone. He wore his hair shorn close to his large, angular skull, and his face had all the softness of a well-used anvil. Rings of gold flashed on his fingers as he interlaced them over his belly, and his lips settled into a thin line as he leaned back, his simple wooden chair creaking in protest.

  “Istrikar,” said Acharsis, stepping forward with arms extended out to the sides. “Fancy finding you here.”

  “I told you to come back tomorrow,” said Istrikar, voice flat with annoyance. “I’m assuming you didn’t come in through the front door.”

  “We must speak, you and I.” There was no chair on which to settle; too bad. That meant Acharsis would have to stay on his feet like a common supplicant. Sit on the floor? Perch on the corner of the desk? Too informal even for him. So instead Acharsis stepped up to one of the walls and leaned his shoulder against it, crossing his arms as he did so. “What I have to tell you cannot wait.”

  “Can it not?” Istrikar glanced past him to where the others were filing in. “I see you’ve brought your friends. Am I meant to be intimidated?”

  “Hardly.” Blast, but the man was as yielding to his charms as a dead mule. “Congratulations, by the way. You’ve done well for yourself.”

  “I’ve not had the choice. It was either let Irella bedeck me in soft cotton and throw slaves at me or be strung up by my heels and flayed. What do you want, Acharsis? Why shouldn’t I summon my guards?”

  “I am here to sound out your loyalty to Irella. To determine how amenable you are to a change in regime.”

  Istrikar pointedly raised a single eyebrow. “You drunk?”

  “No. Look. We challenged her might in Rekkidu, and we won. We then went to Magan and installed my son as the new pharaoh. He’s defeating Irella’s army even as we speak. The wind is at our backs, Istrikar. We’ve come now to hammer in the final nail and remove Irella from power.”

  This gave the spymaster pause. His eyes narrowed a fraction as he tried to gauge Acharsis’ sincerity. “Your son. Pharaoh of Magan.”

  “If your networks are of any worth, you’d have heard by now that the old pharaoh died. We passed their trial and my son is now Pharaoh Senacherib.”

  “I’d heard that the old man passed, yes. But no word as to the identity of his successor has reached the River Cities. There’s a problem with your story. Your son isn’t Maganian royalty.”

  “No, he’s not.” Damn it, he’d hoped Istrikar would be more impressed. “But divine blood runs through his veins, and the lamassu recognized it and allowed him to enter the trial. I swear to you, Istrikar, by my own former divinity and my love for my father, Ekillos, that what I say is true.”

  If anything, this seemed to displease Istrikar further. “If this just happened in Magan, how are you standing before me in my study? And what happened to your hand?”

  Acharsis glanced down at his stump. “Oh, you know how it is with us godsblooded. Sometimes we lose body parts when we cross the netherworld on foot. Fortunately, we caught a ride with a demon to the top of the God’s Mountain, a much easier way to travel. She brought
us back down to Uros after we’d accomplished our little goal, and, well. Here we are.”

  “Uh huh. Sure. So now we’ve got a River Cities usurper in control of the Maganian armies. He planning to march them across the Golden Steppe and take Uros? That what you’re thinking?”

  “No. I don’t want to deliver our cities to Magan and their lamassu. It’s why we’ve come alone. We have another plan to dethrone Irella. A plan that requires your help, obviously.”

  “You want me to help you after what you did to my Waystation.”

  Acharsis fought to keep his smile pleasant, as if they were discussing the details of a picnic. “Did I do that, or did Irella? Can you fault a man for fleeing for his life?”

  “Yes,” said Istrikar. “Especially if it ruins my livelihood and forces me to work for the queen bitch herself.”

  “Then this is your chance to slip that yoke!” Acharsis punched his stump into the palm of the other hand. “Or do you want to remain her dogsbody for the rest of your life? Wearing her colorful cottons and served by her slaves and putting your network and expertise at her disposal? Hmm?”

  “She pays well,” said Istrikar. “And I’m growing old. I like having my feet rubbed with almond oil by a beautiful young woman while a second one tells me in graphic detail how much wealth I’ve amassed. It’s a new hobby of mine. I find it relaxing.”

  Acharsis gave a slow nod. “Fair point. I can understand the appeal. But back at the Waystation,you weren’t an avid supporter of Irella’s,of how she was taking over everything. Filling the fields with the dead. Constricting trade. Creating monopolies.”

  Istrikar said nothing. His face was as expressive as granite.

  “And now I hear she’s planning some kind of ultimate ritual,” said Acharsis. If this final ploy found no traction, they’d be out of luck. “To open a permanent portal to the netherworld. You can’t be in favor of that, Istrikar? Giving her that kind of absolute power? What do you think she’ll do with it?”

  “Conquer the whole damn world.”

  “And you’re in favor of that?”

  Istrikar sneered but remained quiet.

  “Of what use will a spymaster be once everything is under her thumb?” Acharsis moved forward to stand before the desk. “Of what use will anybody be when the land of the living is peopled by the dead? What world will we leave for our children, or for future miserly bastards like yourself once the boundary between life and death is so irrevocably shattered? Can you honestly say you’re at peace with seeing Irella destroy the order of the world so flagrantly?”

  Istrikar pinched the bridge of his nose and then vigorously scrubbed his face before crossing his arms once more. “All right. Say I’m mildly unnerved by this future. What’s this plan of yours that’ll depose Irella in her very own place of power?”

  “We’re going to use a rotten apple,” said Acharsis, unable to restrain a smile.

  “I’m not rising to the bait,” Istrikar said. “Keep going.”

  “You’re no fun,” said Acharsis. “But regardless. As I said, we’ve just returned from the peak of the God’s Mountain, where we acquired an apple of wondrous power.” Acharsis paused, a memory of Irella moving beneath him throwing him off his stride. He coughed into his fist. “We’re going to trick her into eating it, ruining her ritual and making her susceptible to an attack.”

  “Wait.” Istrikar placed both hands flat on his desk and rose to his feet, so that he was leaning forward and staring right into Acharsis’ eyes. “You’re aiming to kill her?”

  Jarek answered from behind. “Yes.”

  Istrikar straightened. “Then you’re mad. It can’t be done. Her ziggurat is crawling with more guards, deathless, leeches, Seekers and worse than fleas on a dead dog. You’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I’m impressed by the sheer scope of your ignorance, but that’s it.”

  “Not so hasty,” said Acharsis. “We’ve a hidden resource that tips the odds in our balance.”

  “What?” asked Istrikar. “You hiding a lamassu up your rear end?”

  “Better,” said Acharsis. Damn, but Istrikar made it hard to keep smiling. “Sisu?”

  “Wait a moment.” Sisu took a reluctant step forward. “I never agreed to your revealing my identity.”

  “It’s an integral part of our plan,” said Acharsis. “How am I supposed to explain it without doing so?”

  Sisu scowled. “All right.”

  “Istrikar, let me introduce you to Sisuthros, son of Irella and godsblood of Nekuul.”

  Istrikar’s head jerked back as if he’d smelled something intensely pungent. “You’re joking.”

  “No,” said Sisu. “After all, how do you think we got past your guards?” He held up his hand. Green flames flared around his fingers, flickering and causing the shadows to dance against the walls. “Luck?”

  Istrikar’s eyes were wide. “Well. That makes my life easier. I’ve been ordered to find you at any cost. Care to walk down to the ziggurat with me?”

  “Ha ha,” said Sisu.

  “No? Very well. I’ll leave the jokes to Acharsis. I’ll admit,your presence does change matters.”

  “Agreed,” said Acharsis. “Sisu is going to help us with most of the defenses within. The amulets, the dead, the weird, disturbing creations that Irella has walking the halls - we won’t have to worry about them.”

  Istrikar tore his eyes away from Sisu’s green burning fist and blinked at Acharsis. “Go on.”

  “We need your help in hiring Kish to work in the kitchens. She’ll doctor Irella’s food with the apple.”

  “Not a problem,” said Istrikar. “But that won’t help you. Irella’s food is prepared in a private kitchen by trusted servants. They transport it to her, and the lead cook must taste everything she eats in her presence before she’ll touch it.”

  “The apple won’t hurt anybody but Irella,” said Acharsis. “And once Kish is in the kitchens, she’ll figure something out.”

  “You’ve other obstacles,” said Istrikar, sitting back down. “I’ve had to take part in endless sermons since agreeing to serve. It’s a complex ritual you’re looking to disrupt.”

  “Walk us through it,” said Acharsis. “Please.”

  Istrikar scowled and stared down at his clay tablets as if they were the source of his problems. “All right. The day is spent in feasting. Irella herself will be outside the city walls undergoing rituals of purification from dawn till dusk. Then she’s going to have herself a big parade through the center of Uros to her ziggurat, where she’ll ascend and bless the people before moving inside to feast. After that, there’s another ritual where she’ll shed her blood into a special chalice. This will be placed in Nekuul’s inner sanctum to be blessed. In the middle of the night, the ritual will take place at the top of the ziggurat. All the godsbloods will be brought out and restrained. The leeches have these special crystals they’ve brought out of Nekuul’s realm which will act as receptacles for her blood. The head priestess will bring the blood forth, bless it and check that everything’s fine, then pour the blood into each crystal.”

  Istrikar licked his lips. “The ritual ends with the godsbloods being drained of their divinity, and that power will flow into the crystals and into the blood, where they’ll apparently flood Nekuul with enough power to open her portal.”

  Istrikar let that sink in and then leaned back. “Even if you get Kish into the kitchen,even if she drops your rotten apple into Irella’s sacred feast,even if everything works, the head priestess will still catch on when she says her prayers over the blood.”

  “It won’t get that far,” said Jarek. “We’ll kill Irella before then.”

  “Big words,” Istrikar said. “How are you going to get to her? After the feast she’s going to be secluded at the top of the ziggurat in her private chambers. Nobody can open those doors but her.”

  “I can open them,” said Sisu quietly. “Her blood runs in my veins. The seals will open to my touch.”

  Istrikar gru
nted. “Fine. Even so. But your plan is as shaky and improbable as an old man’s attempt to piss in a small pot from three yards away.”

  “It won’t be easy,” said Acharsis. “I agree with you there. But we can do this. All we need is for you to open a few doors. And think of it this way. If our plan fails? You need not be implicated. You can go on with your life as if nothing ever happened. You’re in a win-win situation.”

  “Is that so?” Istrikar didn’t sound convinced. “How do I win if you pull this off? You think I’m going to go back to being your spymaster? Fat chance.”

  “No. But I’m sure we can find something. Perhaps we can officially recognize you as the ruler of a mercantile league. Help you restore the Waystation.”

  “Hmm,” said Istrikar. “Not a bad start.”

  “I’m sure we can reach an accommodation,” said Acharsis. “All you need is to get Kish hired into the kitchens, and me close to this head priestess.”

  “What?” Sisu’s shock was evident. “Why?”

  “Why?” Acharsis gave him a rueful smile. “Because someone’s going to have to ruin her concentration the night of the feast. And while Jarek is a much better specimen of a man than I am, he lacks a certain sensual flair that only the son of Ekillos can manifest.”

  “The head priestess is my aunt once removed,” said Sisu. “She’s a formidable woman. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  Acharsis grimaced. “I never said I’d enjoy it. But as the son of the god of male fertility, I have to use what resources are at my disposal.”

  Sisu covered his face with one hand. “I can’t believe you’re going to seduce Aunt Hephesa.”

  Istrikar drummed his fingers on his desk. “I’ve been on the job little more than a week and I’ve already learned to tiptoe around High Priestess Hephesa. This is the weakest link in an already absurdly weak chain of planned events.”

  “You’ll have to do some spying for me,” said Acharsis wearily. “Learn about this aunt. What she’s like, what her foibles are, if she has any addictions or weaknesses I can exploit.”