While they bantered on about who could have killed the Watcher, Buffy moved to the curtain and whipped it to the side suddenly. Beyond lay a storeroom containing nuts and fruits. Noticeably cooler than the rest of the house, the storeroom offered little additional space to hide. Disappointed, she replaced the curtain.
“But where is the Slayer?” Willow asked. “If the vamps came here looking for her and killed her Watcher instead …”
“We need to search for the vamps!” Buffy said. “They could still be nearby. They could be fighting the Slayer right now!” Quickly she moved to the stairs, but stopped abruptly when she saw that they were no longer alone in the house. They’d been making so much noise talking and searching that they hadn’t heard the intruders creep in.
A dozen soldiers lined the steps. The lead one, a shrewd-looking man with a scar on his left cheek, glanced toward the bed. He took in the dead man, then his eyes traveled to the sword in Buffy’s hand. His eyes narrowed accusingly. Buffy shook her head in protest, but the men poured onto the upper loft, surrounding them.
The lead soldier shouted at her in Sumerian, and Giles answered him pleadingly. Whatever he said didn’t wash. With spears pointed at their backs, they were forced from the house, then marched toward the monstrous palace in the center of the city.
“They’re accusing us of murder,” Giles explained unnecessarily.
“Where are they taking us?” Buffy asked.
“To be sacrificed,” Xander put in.
“Now look,” Giles said, being nudged forward by one of the guards. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. The Sumerians had a complex legal system, with the rights of civilians very highly honored.”
“But we’re not civilians,” Xander muttered pathetically.
“The Sumerians weren’t into sacrifice,” Willow told him encouragingly.
“Well, that’s something,” he muttered.
As they marched toward an uncertain future, Buffy gazed out into the darkness of the city streets. Somewhere out there, the Slayer could be fighting the assassins. Her Watcher was dead. She was probably filled with grief and rage. It might cause her to make mistakes. Buffy needed to break away, to find her and help. But right now, she knew that would only get her killed.
For now, all she could do was wait for a chance to escape, and hope the Sumerian Slayer could hold on a little longer.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Where are they taking us, Giles?” Buffy asked, glancing once again at the armored guards. How could she catch them unawares?
“Presumably before the king,” he answered. “Most grievances are heard by a king and a council of people who come to a decision together.”
“Like a judge and jury?” Willow asked.
“And executioner?” Xander added.
Giles nodded.
“You’re not supposed to nod, man!” Xander cried, regarding Giles with exasperation.
“Who is the king right now?” Buffy asked.
Giles thought a minute. Counted something out on his right hand. Dust motes billowed up around his feet as he plodded along. “Gilgamesh.”
At the mention of this name, three of the armored guards turned around, two with upraised eyebrows and the third with a scowl. Of course they would have recognized this one word in a sea of unfamiliar ones. Since English wouldn’t be spoken for nearly three thousand years, Buffy guessed the men had no idea what they were talking about. She realized the advantage.
“I’m thinking of breaking away to go find the Slayer,” she said.
Xander sucked in a breath and then released it. “Hey!” he said, catching on. “I think these guards are a bunch of big, smelly, nose-flute-playing funkyduddies.”
Willow laughed. “And I think they wouldn’t know algebra if it bit them on the patootie.”
Xander stifled a laugh. “Good one. Way to be brutal, Will.”
Giles regarded Buffy over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t advise it, Buffy. They’d search everywhere for you, and you can’t exactly dust them. You’d be putting yourself and this mission in grave danger.”
“And you don’t think that rotting in a prison or being put to death would jeopardize this mission?” she retorted.
Giles thought.
One guard spoke to him brusquely, then pushed him slightly on the shoulder.
“He doesn’t want us talking,” Giles explained.
“I’m going to take my chances, then,” Buffy said. “I’ve got to find the Slayer. We don’t have time for this.”
“What about us?” Willow asked.
“No offense, but I’ll be faster without you. Go on and hear what King Gorgonzola-Mess has to say. I’ll join up with you at the palace.”
“I don’t like this,” Giles said.
“Neither do I. But we can’t take the chance that we’ll get locked up while the assassins run free.”
“Okay,” Giles said. “You’re sure you can find the palace?”
Buffy sighed, rolled her eyes. “You mean big, pointy building in the middle of town?”
Giles looked in the direction of the tremendous step pyramid. “Ah, yes. Right.”
“Okay, guys,” she said. “See you later.”
And with that, Buffy fell out of line. The two guards behind her turned to stop her with their staffs, which they brought together to block her. With a leap she kicked them aside. Momentarily the guards stood stunned, and then they cried out for help. She kicked one in the head, punched the other one in the stomach, then ran into an alley.
Reluctant to leave the rest of the prisoners unguarded, only three guards pursued her into the narrow corridor.
Quickly outpacing them, she turned one corner, then another. The men separated, covering more ground. In one particularly narrow alleyway, Buffy chimney-crawled up twenty feet, then planted both boots firmly on opposite walls. One of the guards passed beneath her, then a second one. If they were vamps, she’d have pivoted down and staked them. But now she let the men run beneath her and remained silent.
Their shouts echoed up and down the streets around her. The first guard passed beneath her again, going back the way he came.
She waited patiently.
The other guard ran beneath her.
The soldiers waiting in the main corridor called out to their comrades. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Buffy’s legs began to ache, and she eyed a balcony just a few feet above her.
But then the main retinue called out once more. Below, the three soldiers met up again and walked out to the main street.
A minute later, she saw the group of soldiers pass by her alleyway, Willow, Xander, and Giles marching along with them.
She’d escaped. For now.
Now she just had to find the Slayer, and then rescue the Scoobies from a Sumerian prison. She didn’t know what the Slayer looked like, had no idea where the assassin vamps were hiding, and couldn’t imagine what awaited her in a Sumerian jail break.
Better odds than usual.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Giles watched Buffy disappear down a darkened alley and hoped for the best. His Slayer was not the most patient girl in the world. In fact, she was downright impetuous. Of course, he himself had been rather impetuous when he was younger, in his Ripper days, but that scarcely bore thinking about. At least Buffy didn’t resort to the black arts and inadvertently kill one of her friends, as he had done.
He trudged on in the dust, sneaking surreptitious looks at the guards. At any inattentive moment, perhaps the rest of them could slip away as well.
But as the palace loomed nearer and nearer, Giles abandoned this thought. The guards ushered them through the main entrance. Two more soldiers guarded the doorway with spears. They scowled at the prisoners as they passed.
Giles hoped Gilgamesh would be a little more friendly than these fellows were turning out to be. Downright surly they were, and clearly of a mind to think one guilty before proven innocent.
The guards led them down a wide, high-ceilinged corridor li
t by wall-mounted torches. The smell of burning oil crept into Giles’s nostrils, and he stifled a cough. Thin, acrid smoke hung in a layer near the ceiling of the corridor.
Giles expected to be locked up for the night, but instead the guards marched them to the center of the palace.
They paused at a pair of double doors embedded with detailed copper, lapis lazuli, and gold and adorned with scenes of rams, sheep, goat-fish, kings, chariots, and barley.
Guards posted on both sides of the entryway narrowed their eyes at the new arrivals. One bowed to the commander of the retinue, and then reached up high over his head to grab the door handle. He heaved it outward, revealing the opulent throne room. A long, narrow strip of cloth led up to a throne made of gold and copper. Sitting on the throne was a man, presumably the king, with an impressive beard hanging down to his navel. He wore a large crown, akin to a pope hat but made of precious metals hammered into delicate designs.
In front of him three women, a child, and a lone man were speaking. He listened patiently, then conferred with a group of people Giles couldn’t quite see past the doorway.
Then the king turned back to the group of people, smiled, and waved his hand amicably. They bowed and thanked him, backing out of the chamber. Giles could catch only a few words. They spoke far too fast for him to understand everything. But he heard enough to understand that the king had listened to their case—something about them buying their freedom.
Giles had read of this; people could sell themselves into slavery in Sumeria. They could also buy their freedom. Slaves could own land and run businesses. These people had probably sold themselves into slavery, then saved up enough money to buy back their freedom, with the king’s blessing.
Giles waited expectantly. Should they enter? Plead their case before King Gilgamesh? He looked anxiously at the guards around him. They did not motion for him to proceed through the door, so Giles just stood. He looked to Willow and Xander, who craned their necks to see through the door.
Then a young man was pushed forward into view. He stood before the king, pleading desperately. Giles caught a few remarks—something about theft, and selling an item illegally. The king conferred with the unseen group of people, then pointed a finger accusingly at the young man.
Giles heard “three months’ labor” and “until debt is repaid,” and then guards grabbed the young man, who protested beseechingly. The king would have none of it. He pointed angrily toward the door, and Giles felt his heart sink. This was one tough monarch. He hoped that the stories he’d read of his fairness were true. If not, they were going to the gallows.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Out in the crowded city street, Buffy blended in with the throng of people walking to and fro. She’d lost the guards. She was certain of it. Within minutes she had retraced her path back to the Watcher’s house. Inside, men labored on the second floor by lamplight, throwing their shadows into the courtyard. After a few minutes, they emerged from the front door, bearing the dead body on a stretcher. A thin sheet covered the Watcher. People stopped and stared, murmuring questions. None of them fit the profile of a Slayer. Many were men, and most of the women were old enough to be her mother, too old for a Slayer to have stayed alive. Two little girls watched. Too young.
As the men carried the body away, Buffy watched them go. The Slayer was not here.
Was she already murdered?
Buffy regretted not being able to speak the language. She needed Giles. Maybe she’d been wrong to leave them. But if they’d all been locked up, she could have done nothing to save the Slayer, and the Master would rise.
Slipping into the shadows, Buffy began her search for the assassins.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The guards pushed Giles and the others before the king. Giles walked uncertainly down the long center rug toward the monarch. King Gilgamesh’s dark eyes glittered beneath a furrowed brow. He gripped an intimidating spear in his left hand. Giles wished for the comforting presence of Buffy and hoped that she was out there right now, finding the other Slayer.
The guards spoke quickly to the king, again too fast for Giles to catch every word, but he did hear “murder.” Lovely. Oh, what a fantastic place to meet one’s end. They’d be put to death, the assassins would kill the Sumerian Slayer, and the Master would open the Hellmouth. Chaos would reign on earth.
Giles took a deep breath and tried to recall all he could about the laws of Gilgamesh’s time. He’d read the Code of Hammurabi several times, the famous set of ancient laws translated in the early 1900s. But he knew that came later in history. He struggled to recall what laws would have been different in 2700 B.C.E. He hoped it wasn’t laws involving suspected murderers. That they would be torn asunder by lions to prove their innocence, for example. Or that they would be hung above a pit of vipers and slowly lowered down, down to a death by poisonous biting.
No. Giles had watched too many Indiana Jones films. He was getting as bad as Xander. He was thinking doom, and he should be thinking triumph.
The king turned to him and spoke. Giles did his best to translate.
“They say you killed the city’s royal scribe.”
Royal scribe? Gulp. Giles cleared his throat. “We only discovered the body, Your Majesty,” he replied. At least, that’s what he hoped he said. It may have also been “I’ll gladly wash your socks, given the right incentive.” This time jump was his first shot at actually speaking ancient Sumerian in a conversational context, after all. “He was dead when we arrived.”
“And who are you?” asked the king.
Here Giles froze. Time travelers? Watcher, Slayer, and Scoobies? Futuristic vigilantes bent on destroying a team of assassins? Giles plunged in. They had limited time. He needed to get them out of there fast. “We came on a mission of protection. We learned that the scribe’s ward was in grave danger.”
“But you didn’t see fit to save the scribe himself?”
Gulp. Giles needed a glass of water. “We did not know he was in danger.” Here he turned and looked at Xander and Willow. Their eyebrows were raised, faces worried.
Willow whispered, “Ask him where she is!”
“It would greatly help us if you could tell us where the scribe’s ward is,” Giles said. “She is in terrible danger.”
The king’s eyes softened a bit. Giles hoped it wasn’t his imagination. He turned to the lead guard. “Did you see Ejuk?” he asked. The guard shook his head. “What threatens her?” he asked Giles. This time the king spoke slower, using fewer words. He knew Giles was obviously a foreigner.
“Assassins,” Giles answered, opting to leave out the fangs and undead part.
“Vampires?” asked the king.
Giles’s mouth fell open. “Yes,” he answered, haltingly.
The King nodded, then turned to his guards. “Sounds like something special is going on. Something worse than usual for our Ejuk.”
Giles turned around, whispering the translation to Xander and Willow.
“They know about vampires?” Xander said in disbelief.
Giles grinned in spite of himself. “It makes sense. People in the ancient world didn’t believe in different things from what we do now, they just believed in more.”
“Wow,” Willow breathed. “So their Slayer gets to fight out in the open? No secret identity?”
“Her identity as the Slayer must still be secret. Otherwise she’d be too much of a target among the undead. But it’s likely she’s not the only known fighter of evil supernatural forces here. The king probably knows that she kills vampires, but not that she’s the Slayer.”
“Whew,” Xander said. “No secret identity would have been a bummer. I’ve always wanted one myself. Like a secret spy who infiltrates the strongholds of supervillains on small island countries in the Pacific and—”
The king stopped conferring with the guards and spoke. One left the room. Moments later, four young women entered the room. They wore billowing white linen gowns, and wreaths of gold flowers adorned their h
eads. Strings of lapis lazuli beads hung from their necks and ears. Each held a small bowl of clear water. Giles was terribly thirsty and welcomed the offering.
One of the women, dark haired and in her early twenties, approached Giles, holding out the bowl. He reached one hand out for it, and then she flung the bowl upward, drenching him in the water. He blinked in surprise, wiping water out of his eyes. The other three women threw water on Xander and Willow, then again on him for good measure.
The king laughed. “You look so funny,” he told Giles.
Giles turned to him in disbelief. “Glad to oblige,” he muttered in English.
The king cleared his throat and resumed his somber composure. “These are the temple priestesses of the water god, Enki. The water they carry is blessed by the god himself. If you were vampires, you would have been badly burned.”
“Sumerian holy water,” Willow said, wiping water off her face with one sleeve.
To Giles’s horror, Xander winked at the nearest temple priestess, casually pulling his dripping hair out of his eyes.
“I am glad to see you are not vampires yourselves,” said the king.
Giles felt a little better. Maybe now they could get somewhere. He glanced at his watch, hidden under his heavy sleeve. They’d been separated from Buffy for an hour now. They had no more time to waste.
“What do you propose we do to help?” asked the king.
Help? This was unexpected. Giles felt a little relief and happiness creeping into him. With the king’s help, the guards could search for Ejuk, and where she was, the vamps would be. “Can you help us find Ejuk?” he asked.
The king conferred again with the guards. Starting to grin, Giles turned to Willow and Xander. “Do you realize how exciting this is? We are standing in the court of King Gilgamesh himself! The most famous of all Sumerian monarchs! He quested for eternal life and even found the fruit of immortality, which a snake ate, but that’s okay. He still found it. He survived the great flood that killed most of humanity. He killed the great giant of the forest, Humbaba. It was during his reign that cuneiform came into regular use to record everything from tales to business receipts.”
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