The asag coughed its surprise, and swung into pursuit, thick tail whipping above the tent with Lomina inside like a tree trunk swaying in a typhoon. Napu barely saw the spearmen on either side of him as he darted, shrieking at the bonfire like a moth.
The giant bird-lizard gave a choppy wail close behind, just as Napalku leaped over the flames. Thunder, with a blazing explosion of sparks, shot up into the night. Something huge swatted Napu like a fly into one of the tents on the far side of the fire pit. The noise stopped, except for the ringing in Napu’s head.
He got up and staggered, looking back toward the fire. Around it, the asag chased its own tale in confusion, then snapped it firmly in its spiked mouth, until it circled the flames like some enormous, two-legged chimera of snake and whirlwind, seeking to devour itself tail first. Javelins flew at the great wurm, pinioning it like the outward-sticking spokes of some horrible living wheel. The fire in its center blazed brighter, fanned by the surrounding monster’s frantic motion, until the creature suddenly stumbled over it, and landed, lifeless.
The asag draped over the ground like a couple newborn hills with seven or eight javelins wobbling in from hide, two inside one of its poisoned-moon eyes. On one side, the Lugal-Banda approached with his band of soldiers, on the other, Nimurta and the hunters.
The gathering men shouted, “Nimurta En-Mer’Kar! Nimurta En-Mer’Kar! Nimurta, Lord of the Hunt! Nimurta, Lord of the Hunt!”
Napalku shook his head, which only made the swaying worse. He drew near the gathering crowd, as the fire stoked itself back up to an orange glow after losing its air source at the fall of the wurm. The flickering vision was like some maddened nightmare of Under-world. The dead asag still had its tail jammed inside its mouth point first, as if it would swallow it even in death. Nimurta stood atop the fallen monster, arms raised to the night sky, soaking in the worship of his soldiers with hungry, half-shut eyes. Kengu the Lugal-Banda danced before both hunter and prey, leading the adulation:
“E’Yahavah’s Hunter, Nimurta En-Mer’Kar! Nimurta, Lord of the Hunt; who becomes the dragon that swallows his own tail!”
What scared Napu more than the self-eating asag, more than Nimurta receiving worship as a god, was that he felt an insane compulsion to join them. Angry voices whispered in his spinning head, hissing and croaking a desolate chant; “The One is the All, surrounding the world ocean, an endless wheel, feeding itself upon itself, and holding the world in its circle…”
13
Afew weeks later, Napalku watched the mound of the Treasure Cave, and the three sacred cities of Arrata, grow at his caravan’s approach. They circled around the south perimeter, to the easternmost of the three cities, S’Eduku-tal-ebab, which held the Treasure Cave’s main mouth.
Off in the distance northward, massive Anchorage Mountain and its smaller companion peak, sat like a white-crowned king and queen, with long arms stretched out to encompass the world. In one of the high crevasses on Anchor Mount, covered by year-round snow and ice, the skeletal remains of the Boat of a Million Years sat, which had brought the eight eldest “First-born” through the waters of Primal Chaos from the World-that-Was to those sacred heights.
The tribute caravan reached the city late that afternoon. Napu hoped the S’Eduku-tal-ebab would greet them, but was disappointed to find the Lord of Arrata at the watch house alone, except for a couple acolytes.
Lord Arrafu stood in the road, and called out the traditional greeting of the City of the Khaldini: “Welcome to S’Eduku-tal-ebab, named for she who is the Dawn-sayer of Knowledge at the House of the Holy Mound. Come in peace, and find the treasuries of wisdom entrusted to the M’El-Ki by the Zhui’Sudra, Father of Us All—may the days of his life be prolonged. Enter in the name of E’Yahavah A’Nu, E’Yahavah El-N’Lil, and the sacred Wordspeaker of E’Yahavah, who comes as a man.”
Napalku nearly collapsed with relief when Arrafu made no mention of any En-Ki. En’Tarah-ana’s fears over the long journey had left Napu unsure what to expect. At least the Greeting had not changed.
Lord Arrafu, a tall thin man who had weighed much more when last Napu had seen him, stepped aside to allow the caravan to enter the city’s lowest tier. Paid Khana’Anhu servants, much better dressed than the slaves of Kush, began to unload the tribute, and to fodder the animals.
Napu glanced up at the rough stone castle that stood astride the entrance to the Treasure Cave as he made toward Lord Arrafu to give his report. In the narrow window of the castle’s single squared turret, a beautiful young woman with golden hair stared out at the arriving caravan. Napu followed her gaze down over the levels of the small city, and found that it stopped at Nimurta, who for a brief instant, Napalku caught staring back up at her. The “En-Mer’Kar” met his eyes with a glare, and then turned away.
Napalku stood before Lord Arrafu, and bowed to the ground. “I bring tidings that the Sun Ships have yet to return, but that the Khaldini at Uruk Haven still wait and watch in hope.”
Arrafu touched his shoulder, bidding him to rise. His voice seemed distant and preoccupied. “Yes, of course.”
“I must also regretfully report that one of the tribute wagons was smashed in the mountains by an asag.”
“Really? I thought those monsters long dead by Nimurta, our mighty hunter in the service of E’Yahavah.”
Napu resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. “They are now doubtless as you say, my Father.”
Arrafu looked over Napalku’s shoulder to Kush, Assur, and Nimurta. “Very good. Go refresh yourself, my boy, from the long road.”
“Thank you, Lord. I wonder if I might stop by the library first.”
Arrafu raised a questioning brow. “If that is what you wish. I believe I still keep it in the same place.”
Napu smiled. “Thank you, Lord.”
After seeing to his and Loma’s lodging at the caravansary, Napu climbed the seven tiers of the small city to the mouth of the Treasure Cave and the castle. The Sacred Library sat below the castle on either side, built into the cliff face as a narrow chamber with a row of windows to admit the morning light. Afternoon and evening readers used four alcoves with special reading tables beneath magical pearls of quickfire brought from the World-that-Was on the Boat of a Million Years. Only those left of the Eldest Eight, plus a few select acolytes, knew how they kept aglow with their eternal flame.
The library interior was dusty from disuse—far more so than Napalku recalled from when he had studied there during his Academy days not so long ago. One of the pearls of light had become dark, and the other three shone over reading tables not in use. There seemed to be far fewer students than before, which struck him as odd and disturbing.
With the librarian’s help, he found several histories from the world prior to the Great Deluge, written either on ancient papyrex or copied onto animal skin scrolls, and settled in to skim them. Some of the city and region names mentioned in the brittle scrolls were similar to those he had found on Qe’Nani’s “Eridu Stone.” Others either contrasted with or flat-out contradicted the Stone; it seemed to depend on which pre-Deluge author he read, and where they had lived.
On the Stone, it had said that “kingship first descended from heaven at Eridu,” but that it had later “moved to Bad-Tibira.” Government had transferred from there to either Larak or Lamak; Napu recalled that a chip had damaged part of that name’s first syllabic glyph. In addition, the listed order of the latter two cities might read in reverse sequence. He could not tell from the Stone’s archaic syntax. One version mentioned a fourth city of kingship, and another listed a different fourth city—unless this mysterious fourth city had two names.
Napu wished now that there had been more emphasis on pre-Deluge history at the Academy. He even remembered times when his instructors had actually discouraged interest in the history and geography of the World-that-Was. Younger sages had said that such things had no practical use, while older ones had called such interest unhealthy and even impure.
The oldest libra
ry texts were all obscure to varying degrees, but not altogether useless. The Standard History of the Sons of Seti mentioned the city or region names in different forms, but did not give them the prominence Qe’Nani’s stone did. Another text in a barely readable dialect claimed to be from a chronicler of “The Lands of Wandering, Beyond the Mountains and the Four Rivers.” It said that, “kingship first descended from heaven to earth into the mouth of the goddess Lilut, in the land of Yraddu.”
Napalku found this odd. Lilut appeared in conflicting accounts as a priestess-queen, a lost daughter, the wife of the Murderer Qayin, and a dreaded sexual plague demon. It mattered little, since Lilut lost prominence in these texts after “kingship was carried to Lumek,” or maybe, “Lumek-kor,” which probably confirmed that the Stone’s Larak reference should really be read as Lumek or Lamak, and that the ordering of “kingship” went from Eridu to Lumek. From there, the throne transferred to a metal-smith in a city called Bab’Tubila, which resembled the Stone’s Bad-Tibira.
A scribe’s note on the scroll added, “This king was Tubaal-qayin, the brother of Na’Amiha, who became the wife of A’Nu-Ahki, the Father of All, who survived the Deluge in the Boat of a Million Years.”
Napalku muttered, “If only I could get an audience with him.”
Even without the benefit of such a firsthand witness, a couple theories presented themselves: Yraddu could be the Eridu of Qe’Nani’s Stone—the old consonant glyph segments matched well enough, as did Larak with Lumek—considering the chipped glyph—and certainly Bad-Tibira was a dialect variant of Bab’Tubila. On the other hand, a third text from Seti placed a major city called Erdu in the pre-Deluge land of Hawilahki as the “First City,” which claimed to be the primary priestly and legal center of those who had broken away from the Rites of Seti and Enukki to follow the fallen Watchers—that too matched Eridu.
The Stone had mentioned people as well as places. Napalku noted that the Sacred Histories depicted the Watchers as enemies, but the Stone described them more as benefactors. On it, their individual names were mostly worn off—except for one that might be associated with a term for the sun—Shamhaz, or maybe it was pronounced Shamash; who claimed to be the “shining disk.” What is that all about?
A shuffle from behind startled Napalku, as if he were hunched over something dark and forbidden, yet too fascinating to put down. He turned from his reading table, as if to block any view of what he had been studying.
He did not expect to see her standing behind him, as if she had been reading over his shoulder. There was no mistaking S’Eduku-tal-ebab.
Only by the depth in her eyes could Napalku tell that she was older than the world, and as venerable as time itself. Those eyes were ancient, yet green as the newest spring in the forested highlands of Kaukis Ghimmuraya; no wrinkle marred her face, and no gray streaked her multi-colored hair. She alone bore the natural skin markings of her long-dead race, graceful spiral patterns of leopard-like spots down either side of her uncannily youthful face. Only a thin scar from some long-healed injury disrupted a single spiral on one side of her forehead, which bore a paw-print-like mark at its center.
If Napalku had not known better, he would have guessed her age not much greater than his mother’s, and not at all that of his great, great, great, great grandmother; S’Eduku-tal-ebab—the woman whose name meant Dawn-sayer of Knowledge from the House of the Holy Mound. Who would know better than she, who had once lived in a world long dead—except the Zhui’Sudra himself—what the mystery of the Eridu Stone meant?
Napalku barely squeaked, “Wisest Mother, forgive my disturbing your contemplations.”
She smiled at him. “It would seem it is I who has disturbed yours, My Son. You seem to be in search of dark secrets.” She spoke with a fluid, musical accent that soothed his anxiety as if by some deep magic.
He hung his head. He did not want her to know that he had been inquiring about false deities—even though his motives were not idolatrous.
She said, “Perhaps I can help. I understand much is happening these days that demands a thorough search for the truth. The Academy is not what it once was, since the departure of my husband, I’m afraid.”
Napalku looked up at her. “I have come across something dangerous to us all, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
Her smile met her green eyes, amplifying their warmth. “Then you have come to the right place. Our meeting is by Divine decree. You are Napalku, son of Haviri, are you not?”
“Yes, Revered Mother, how did you know?”
She laughed as girlishly sweet as Loma, yet also with the chuckle of some wise, ancient aunt privy to all the family secrets. “I try to keep track of all of my children as best I can. Since you watch for the Sun Ships, I’m especially fond of you.”
“You are? I mean, you honor me too greatly, Revered Mother.”
The young-ancient-girl-mother laughed again. “Enough of this ‘Revered Mother’ nonsense! Call me Mother T’Qinna. Since you watch for my husband’s return, you shall call me by the name he does—my given name. Don’t you think that other one is a bit long and pretentious?”
Napalku did not know how to answer her. “I guess I never thought of it before. It’s what the Khaldini elders taught me to call you.”
She smiled and rolled her eyes just a little. “Yes, Son, I’m sure it is. Now tell me what troubles you. Hold nothing back.”
Napalku told her of everything since Qe’Nani had rushed into the shrine at Uruk with news of his stone thing, up to his own guesses about the scrolls he had just been reading. As he spoke, her deep green eyes seemed troubled and distant.
When he finished, Mother T’Qinna said, “You’ve done well, Napalku, especially your quick piece of scribal research here, just now. The stone you saw traces a crude line of kingship from the sons of Qayin, who was the first man born of a woman, and who murdered his brother. The line began in a land called Y’Raddu, passing west across the old northern world, to L’Mekku, Patriarch of Lumekkor. Rule went on to L’Mekku’s son, a metal-smith lord of Bab’Tubila. The fourth city represents a tribal alliance of cult cities bound less by geography, than by unholy oaths.”
Napalku asked, “What about the Seven Seer-Sages?”
She shrugged. “The tribes of the old northern world had, by that time, rejected the authority of Seti and the other Seers—even most of the children of Seti had effectively done so. They built a new sacred city close by, in the land of Khavilakki, and called it Erdu, which was a local variant of Y’Raddu, designed to suggest that the new city was a ‘new Y’Raddu’ or some such foolishness. It was a priestly center for many Watcher cults.”
“The Watcher Shamash?”
“They pronounced his name Samyaza, but he is best forgotten. His cult had long waged war with Lumekkor, Seti, and Khavilakki. Yet in the decades just before the Deluge, Seti’s sons appeased even his cult, and a large number of them had migrated to Erdu in Khavilakki, and even to Akh’Uzan, where we built the Boat of a Million Years. My guess is that your stone came from that Erdu. You are also perceptive in one other detail.”
“What is that, Rev—um, Mother T’Qinna?”
“If Nimurta sees this stone as an alternate history fitting his political and cultic narrative, as he seems to, then he means to overturn Arrata so he and Kush can center all government and popular religion on this Bab’Eluhar of theirs.”
Napalku began to fold his hands and squeeze them like bread dough. His words sounded weak and naïve even to himself; “Maybe it is simply as Nimurta says, that growth demands nearer centers of Divine government.”
Her green eyes softened on him. “If that were so, he could have petitioned the Zhui’Sudra for administrative and worship sites just as the clans of Iyapeti did in the north lakes region. He’s not content with shrines; he wants ziggurat temples. He’s your Legal, I know—I too had hoped better of him. You are a loyal and generous heart, Napalku. Try to understand, I’ve seen this before on another world, crushed under the sto
nes of fire and water. It works as a machine once it starts, and it always starts the same way.”
The word was strange to Napu. “A ma-chine?”
“Has that word also been allowed to vanish when we hope to restore industry again? Yes, a machine—those seemingly magic tools from the World-that-Was that we can no longer make, which run by themselves—like this quickfire pearl that dims in the day and brightens at dusk.” Mother T’Qinna motioned to the globe of light above. “Of course, it’s not really magic at all, but engineering.”
“An‘Jineering? How is all this like a ma-chine?”
Mother T’Qinna said, “Kush and Nimurta now control the breadbasket—the region growing most of the grain. This was why the Zhui’Sudra sent my sons Assur and Aram, with their clans, to Kush after the Sun Ships left—to counter-balance Kush’s power. I’ve been expecting him to try to buy them off, ever since Assur left Kush to settle along the upper Hiddekhel River, and Aram did the same along the upper Ufratsi. With such an alliance, Kush has leverage against the M’El-Ki. Is this why Assur neglected to pay me his respects? Has Kush subverted even my own sons?”
“Assur is with Kush, Mother T’Qinna, I am sorry. His son En’Tarah-ana is still faithful, though. I have not seen nor heard anything of Aram one way or the other. Your emissary, however, spoke of the ‘breadbasket’ too.”
Her eyes narrowed with a terrible ferocity of deep, dark, often cruel centuries. “Their little army is a show of force. They mean to wage war.”
And Ham knew that his father had cursed his younger son, and he was displeased that he had cursed his son. and he parted from his father, he and his sons with him, Cush and Mizraim and Put and Canaan. And he built for himself a city and called its name after the name of his wife Ne’elatama’uk. And Japheth saw it, and became envious of his brother, and he too built for himself a city, and he called its name after the name of his wife ‘Adataneses. And Shem dwelt with his father Noah, and he built a city close to his father on the mountain, and he too called its name after the name of his wife Sedeqetelebab. And behold these three cities are near Mount Lubar; Sedeqetelebab fronting the mountain on its east; and Ne’eltama’uk on the south; ‘Adatan’eses towards the west.
Gate of the Gods: Book 5 of The Windows of Heaven Page 7