Captain Tarsys said, “Then why is Minurta only lightly afflicted, and your son stricken down that he cannot even recognize you?”
Haviri somehow knew that everything would spiral out of control even as he answered. “My son caught the plague much later, after Nimurta.”
Tarsys narrowed his eyes. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “But why should he have been stricken at all, if he is faithful?”
Several others began to murmur in the background.
Haviri said, “This is one of the mysteries we have yet to solve. The disease spread rapidly, killing some, but bringing high fever and mental confusion to most. According to my son, Palqui—and the Zhui’Sudra and Mother T’Qinna agreed—E’Yahavah, and the hosts of heaven have used this, and possibly other methods, to confuse the Language so that most people can no longer communicate with one another.”
Haviri paused to let that sink in, and then went on, “Nimurta built a ziggurat, which he and Kush called Bab’Eluhar—the Gate of the Gods—near Kush’s settlement. Before the plague struck, his rebel faction redefined our history and theology, raising doubt among the young, and manipulating the Ensi Council. Many of the Khaldini were also corrupted, enabling Nimurta’s faction to advance their agenda almost unnoticed in the Academy, until it was too late to reverse things.”
Captain Ludth said, “How is all this even possible? Surely, someone must have noticed something so vast? My mother always stayed close to the Academy. You’re not saying that she is involved, are you?”
Haviri raised his open hands as if defending himself from a blow. “No, she was first to suspect something was wrong! This was the work of a couple of generations; laid out quietly, some of it before we even left on the Sun Ships, then executed in our generation-long absence. When the Council fell, Nimurta and Kush took the loyal Khaldini, the Zhui’Sudra, and the two remaining Revered Mothers into exile to a newly built settlement in the Sumar that he falsely called ‘Surupag,’ after a city in the World-that-Was. Not long after that, the plague struck. Since then, all law and order has broken down, and the Watchers have returned to fill men with madness.”
The three captains said, almost in unison, “The Watchers!”
“Nimurta had also subverted many of Iyapeti’s tribes, which kept Iyapeti tied up with a costly inter-clan war between his own sons in the northlands. Father Khumi was away exploring the great south continent during the events leading up to the plague. When he returned, and found the Council overthrown, he joined the exiles of Arrata at Surupag, which is where we now must go, also.” Haviri then told them the Great Wave before his own arrival, and of Iyapeti and U’Sumi’s march against Kish.
Ludth had his face in his great hands. “What of my mother’s disappearance? How did it happen, and who is responsible?”
Haviri’s heart sank. “We do not know, Ludth. She suddenly vanished without trace, not long before I was sent to meet you.”
Tarsys looked up, eyes ablaze. “So, what you’re telling us is that the world has ended in plague and madness while we were gone, and that our sacrifices to help the M’El-Ki fulfill his sacred charge were all a useless waste of time, treasure, and blood—that the mutineers were right all along!”
Haviri did not know how to answer him, and his silence said more than any words possibly could have.
Europatha laid a hand on Tarsys’ shoulder to console him, but the other jerked away. The red campfire light flickered off their faces like the striking of epileptic scorpion tails.
Haviri knelt before the embittered man, and said, “I don’t know what these things mean completely. The man whom the M’El-Ki trusted most, based on what seemed to all of us, for long decades, like the highest integrity and competence, has betrayed that trust. Nimurta has betrayed us all, and our children! Nothing I say can lessen that damage. I’m sorry.”
Tarsys glared up at him. “You’re sorry. E’Yahavah could give us no warning of what lay in Nimurta’s heart? How many Sun Ships have returned, four out of ten? How many long nights, during the decades of preparation, did all of us watch the M’El-Ki pray for heaven’s guidance and wisdom in choosing each of us for our roles, including that treacherous Legal who built Uruk, and promised to wait for us?”
Haviri hung his head. “Tarsys, we don’t understand everything yet. Please don’t do out of anger what Nimurta did for his own glory. You’re better than that!”
Tarsys stood up. “What difference does it make? We trained all of our lives for this, so that we could build a kinder, saner world than the one destroyed by the Deluge! For what? I’m going back to my ship. I’ll go with you to this Surupag place, tomorrow. But what do I tell my men, Haviri? How can I tell a shipload of tired, frightened men, who for long years have rumbled on the verge of mutiny, that they likely have no families waiting for them—or worse, no families who can even recognize them!”
Something tight and heavy tied Haviri’s tongue harder than a noose. His heart sank like a helpless bundle tied to a chunk of pig iron and dropped into an ocean trench.
Malaq said, “This is a hard thing, Captains; we know—the hardest thing ever, perhaps. We’ve suffered the same as you. Please wait with us before drawing evil conclusions.”
Tarsys glared at him. “We have waited! Waiting gives me nothing to tell my men! Neither do your words, Oracle Mage!”
The three captains returned to their ships like morose ghosts that glided over the waters as the evening lake fog. Everyone except the watches retreated to their tents to nurse their own inner wounds.
On the following morning, the three fishing boats carrying the men from the signal fire camp, each rowed out and met up with one of the Sun Ships. The ships took their men aboard, and the boats in tow. Haviri put himself and his men aboard the Iyared, so he could be near to Captain Tarsys.
The first man among Iyared’s crew fell from the brain fever around noon. Before nightfall, signals from the other two vessels told of seven additional cases. An hour after sunset, Captain Tarsys gave an order to his helmsman, but not in words that any of his wheelhouse crew understood.
Haviri and his men had carried more than just bad news.
103
T’Qinna eyed Nimurta’s Vizier with an amazed contempt. The flickering lamplight in the underground cell made P’Tah-Tahut into a looming Under-world monstrosity.
“Ninurta sent me to escort you to a new room in the palace. He has sent Inana to Kuara, for care. It seems some medicine woman in that the tiny tent village remembers and reveres him. The Great Lady’s quarters are available for you to occupy.”
T’Qinna said, “Is Inana ill?”
Tahut cracked his knuckles. “Pregnant. Ninurta imagines you’ll replace her. I’ve advised him against it, but he seems adamant.”
“I notice that you have not been affected by the Plague.”
A wan sliver of a smile curled the Vizier’s lips. “Likewise.”
“What do you hope to accomplish?”
“Wise S’Eduku-tal-ebab, we who retain our faculties need to work together. Whatever powers inhabit heaven sent a brain fever that has reduced Ninurta, and the vast majority of humanity, to capricious children at best, and feral beasts at worst. You and I are not affected; so likely are a few others, but not enough that we can prevail over the vast number of the maddened by authority and force. I have only been trying to manage the insanity as best I may. En’Tarah-ana of Assur is also immune.”
T’Qinna pondered this. P’Tah-Tahut had been high in the conspiracy of Kush and Nimurta, before the Madness. Might he reconsider his actions because of what he had seen since then? She had a way to find out.
She said, “The only way to manage the Madness is to return to E’Yahavah, and forsake all this talk of En-Ki and the Igigi. Your attempt to manipulate religion into a tool for advancing Kush and Nimurta’s political agenda is what forced E’Yahavah to action. He will not be your tool.”
Tahut laughed, a dusty sound like air forced through the withered lungs of a mummified co
rpse. “Well, dear lady, he has chosen a most bizarre way to respond! I don’t know whether you’ve noticed this or not, but this situation is larger than whatever our supposed agenda was before the Madness. This ‘talk of En-Ki,’ as you say, is actually the talk of En-Ki.”
“What does that mean?”
“En-Ki speaks to Ninurta. He tells us of what goes on at Uruk. Lugalbanda gathers multitudes to himself there, and already sends out organized colonists who also ‘talk the talk of En-Ki.’ It seems your E’Yahavah has thrown a child’s fit, and chosen to erase himself from human history. At first, I thought I was just managing Ninurta, who still had some form of power to enforce civilized law—even if only a demented shadow of it. Then I discovered this En-Ki has a life of his own; a life, and a plan.”
T’Qinna tried not to wither to a slump. “What is En-Ki’s plan?”
The Vizier sighed. “It seems the powers of heaven have been overthrown—much like what began to happen down here. En’Ki means to supplant E’Yahavah, and has already largely done so. Colonies go out into the world, just as the M’El-Ki and Zhui’Sudra planned, but they are En-Ki’s sons, speaking En-Ki’s words, and have no memory of E’Yahavah. I know, I’ve checked. Your son, Assur has become a rather scary deity—whether in fact or in his fever-burnt mind, ultimately doesn’t matter—even he hears words from En-Ki, independently of Ninurta, Inana, and the late Utu.”
“What has happened to Utu?”
“According to Ninurta and Inana, he has become the sun god, rising from Eridu to the heavens, to defeat Enlil’s flood monster—that would be El-N’Lil in the Old Language. It seems A’Nu, El-N’Lil, and the Word-Speaker will have to make peace with the new situation in both the heavens and Earth. Or he can retreat and erase himself from history—which is what he appears to be doing.”
T’Qinna’s eyes narrowed. “I refuse to believe that! People will remember in time! You already know the M’El-Ki has returned. He will punish your arrogance, and the blood you’ve shed!”
P’Tah-Tahut shook his head. “A funny title, that; M’El-Ki: Steward of God over Earth. Do you know that the Mad Ones still remember your husband—well, some of them do—after a fashion? We’ve made contact with a couple villages that are still inhabited. In Kuara, you husband is called ‘Isumid.’ Here at ‘Kish,’ the ones who still speak a pidgin version of the Old Language call him ‘Usmu.’ In both cases, they view your husband as the Steward of En-Ki. The odd thing is; we haven’t taught them to do this…”
Terror crept up T’Qinna’s spine, until she had to lock her jaw, and the muscles of her body, willfully, to keep from collapsing into a heap of quivering flesh on the tiny straw mattress.
Tahut chuckled. “If we’d had our way, the people would have forgotten your husband altogether, as if he’d never existed. Yes, it seems that En-Ki has a wonderful plan for your husband’s life, too—and yours.”
104
En’Tarah-ana stationed the archers of his junior captain, Tul, over the newly finished gates of Kish, where the walls pronged out on either side, along the approach road. Tul was one of only two men from Asshur, beside ‘Tarah, completely unaffected by the Madness Plague. Only Tul understood. The other, Glath, had a good heart, but still imagined that everyone would eventually recover, and that things could go back to the way they were before.
Glath lived in a world already dead and near forgotten.
En’Tarah-ana had actually completed his inspection of the city defenses hours ago. His last scouts had just returned with news that a force of nearly a thousand horsemen and five hundred infantry had just crossed the Ufratsi River abreast the deserted ziggurat of Bab’Eluhar—or Bab’Ilu, as Ninurta’s men now called it. Iyapeti had an army three times the size of that which defended Kish, and while cavalry could do little to break down walls, the city’s walls were not that tall, and riders could speedily run down those who tried to break out of the siege.
A runner approached. “Etana summons you, Lord.”
En’Tarah-ana wearied of Ninurta’s penchant for accumulating to himself names and titles. For someone so brain-damaged, it never ceased to amaze that he could creatively spin his own religious and political narrative with such tireless vigor. Then again, a loss of inhibition marked many afflicted by the Plague. ‘Tarah nodded to the courier, and climbed down from the wall. Kish was small enough that it took only a few minutes to reach the palace. Slaves already lit the evening fires in the courtyard and throne portico. Ninurta lazed in his father’s old throne. En’Tarah-ana did not expect the person seated in the smaller throne, usually occupied by Inana.
Ninurta dipped his head in greeting. “Seeing the defenses ably you! Iyupiter’s army approaches. Making we our final plans now.”
En’Tarah-ana could almost feel Mother T’Qinna’s glare against his skin. He wished that he could make her understand somehow, but knew that was likely impossible. Her presence both puzzled and disturbed him. Why would Ninurta seat her on a throne?
“Where is Inana, Lord Ninurta?”
The dark giant stood, stretching himself. “Inana, I have sent to Kuara Village. She is with child. Poutings and shriekings much had she of not being able to wet her sword in many good bloodinesses, but she bears a son to En-Ki to be my heir, now.”
En’Tarah-ana had trouble keeping up with the speed that plans shifted and reformed at Kish, and wondered at the capriciousness of this En-Ki. “What of the Lugal-banda? Is he not your heir?”
Ninurta said, “Lugalbanda shall rule Uruk when I depart, but Inana carries another lugal for me. I call you for reasons other than talk of heirs.”
“Of course; my apologies, Lord.”
Ninurta sat down, and pointed to Mother T’Qinna. “This is the leopard goddess, Prya. She is hostage. You men are to defend Kish to the last, and to show the enemy that Prya is hostage.”
En’Tarah-ana’s mind raced at the realization that Ninurta did not recognize her. “Shall I take Prya to the wall with me now?”
Ninurta’s face fell. “It must be so, I deem.”
“Will the great Etana be joining us to meet the enemy?”
“I will take counsel with my Vizier, and come later.”
En’Tarah-ana bowed. “As your order.” He reached out his hand to Mother T’Qinna. It surprised him when she rose, and took it.
Once out of Ninurta’s earshot, En’Tarah-ana said to her quietly, “I would beg that you allow me to explain, My Mother.”
S’Eduku-tal-ebab faced forward as she walked. “The Vizier said you were unaffected by the Plague, my son. How is your father?”
“His madness is far worse even than Ninurta’s.”
“Yet you still serve them.”
“No. I allow them to believe that I serve them.”
Her eyes narrowed. “They nearly murdered El’Issaq. Kush spoke of how you plotted with him and your father to betray Napalku, and the M’El-Ki. El’Issaq heard it from Kush’s own lips!”
“I had to give my father a plausible reason for making contact with the young Khaldi and El’Issaq during the caravan. My hope was that you and the Zhui’Sudra would act before it was too late!”
She pulled him to a stop and faced him. “It was already ‘too late’ long before the caravan even left Kush for Arrata! It was likely ‘too late’ decades before that! My guess is that Usalaq tried to play both sides too, I notice Nimurta left him to run Arrata, while the rest of us went into exile!”
His heart melted as his conscience asked yet again if there had not been some other way. If there had, he could not see what it was, even now. “I did not know how high up the corruption went. I knew the Khaldini of my father’s tents, and those of the Agadae, were in Kush and Nimurta’s pay. My hope was that Napalku and El’Issaq would let you know how bad it was, and get word back to me. I know how hard that must be for you to believe, now.”
“Is that why you helped Magog find El’Issaq and kill his escorts?”
“I did not do that. I had no idea what El’Iss
aq’s itinerary would be, once we all left Arrata. His caravan was spotted by one of Magog’s scouts; I heard it from Magog himself only after the fact, before he went south, with El’Issaq already his prisoner. My father and Magog would not permit me to see him. Napalku had vanished; you and the Zhui’Sudra were under close guard. All I could have accomplished by exposing myself would be my own arrest. I felt it was better that I remain free to act, should opportunity arise.”
Mother T’Qinna seemed at the edge of rage. Her words bit like an asag’s teeth. “And has opportunity arisen, My Son?”
En’Tarah-ana resisted the sudden urge to smile. “More than you realize.”
105
The tiny walled city, now called Kish, sat on a low hill on the narrow tongue of land where the main waters of the Ufratsi and Hiddekhel Rivers met, to begin that long fan of delta channels that cut through the southern Agadae plains into the marshes of the Sumar.
U’Sumi and Iyapeti arrayed their forces just beyond bowshot of the ramparts, along the low wall that began at one river and ended at the other. U’Sumi saw where Kush’s workers had begun to dig a moat outside the northside wall to connect the two rivers and make his city impregnable. The falling of the Madness had stopped that work, just as it had the construction of the uppermost level on the Bab’Eluhar ziggurat, the silhouette of which was distantly visible on the horizon to their backs.
Iyapeti dismounted and met his brother at a safe distance outside the city gate, his silver-streaked golden braid trailing in the breeze. “Not high, as walls go, but too high for as few ladders and grappling hooks we have.”
U’Sumi glanced southwestward at the Ufratsi bend, which sparkled orange in the setting sunlight beyond the long shadows of the western bank. “Did we find enough boats for an effective amphibious assault?”
“Only enough for a hundred and fifty men to cross at one time to the city landings on the Ufratsi side. We have shield-men for each prow, but if Nimurta concentrates his archers on the boats, instead of the walls, it won’t be near enough; especially with the need to make three crossings and back.”
Gate of the Gods: Book 5 of The Windows of Heaven Page 33