by Phil Tucker
Acharsis went to make a cutting rejoinder as they stepped out from under the massive arch and into the complex proper, but his words were stilled in his throat.
The eight-tiered ziggurat rose like a black mountain, with a staircase broad enough for ten men to walk abreast as they climbed to the sixth tier. From there, oblique staircases were carved out of the ziggurat’s seventh tier to the outside corners, then cut back in along the face of the eighth tier to the foot of the high sanctum perched at the very peak.
Black as the night, with gray edging, it was overwhelming, jagged and perfectly built, each corner crisp, each facade smooth. It dominated the massive clearing within the complex walls, looming high like a thundercloud, a crack in the fabric of the world whose peak led straight into the netherworld.
Acharsis gazed up at the temple’s columned sides and shivered. Death watch guards were standing on each tier, gazing impassively out over the great courtyard.
Acharsis tore his eyes away from the ziggurat and looked around the complex. He’d been standing here twenty years ago, when Irella had betrayed them. She’d summoned the netherworld right there before the ziggurat, plunging them all into the land of the dead, and there attempted to slay them all.
It was a small mercy that the courtyard was filled with people, new buildings, and enough bustle that he could scarcely overlay his memory onto what he was seeing. Still, he shivered, goosebumps crawling along his arms, and forced himself to focus.
“Jarek’s map’s outdated,” he said, slipping his arm through Annara’s and urging her to move, to keep walking and not stand gaping like he’d been doing just a moment ago.
It was easy to drift forward, to lose themselves in the bustling crowd.
“The perimeter walls are still the same,” she said. “The Leonis still flows behind the ziggurat, on the far side of the complex wall.”
“Mmm-hmm,” said Acharsis. “That garden along the back wall is new, however.”
It was an extravagance of private irrigation and maintenance: a private garden of palms and greenery that was startling against the universal drabness of the clay brick walls, divided by gleaming paths of crushed white rock.
“And that building to our left is new,” said Annara.
Acharsis followed her gaze to a great square building. Its facade was fronted by crimson columns, and its walls were black. A steady chanting was emanating from its gloomy depths.
“All right, let’s focus,” he said. “Priests’ quarters to the right. It looks like that’s still the case. Senior Nekuulites, junior Nekuulites, all happy and living like hogs together.”
Annara snorted.
“Dead hogs, then. Ziggurat front and center, backed by a semi-luscious garden.”
“You’re not impressed?”
“Annara, once you’ve seen greenery drenching the earth along the coast of the Khartisian Sea like I have, once you’ve picked up damp moss in your hands and rubbed its soft surface with your thumb, this kind of garden is a pale comparison.”
“Snob.”
“Fair enough. Then, to our left, we have the scriptorium, the palace - which looks to have been greatly expanded - this new building, guest quarters, royal warehouses, kitchens and the like.”
“Master Iroku? There you are!” An old man in black robes trimmed with gray appeared before them. He patted his brow with a folded white cloth and smiled anxiously. “I was afraid I wouldn’t find you.”
Annara’s arm tensed, but Acharsis didn’t hesitate. He adopted a severe expression and thrust his shoulders back. Roll the dice, he thought. Ekillos, be with me. “Who are you?”
The man bobbed his close-shaved head. “Adept Agash.” He leaned in, peering closely at the pair of them. “One of the gate guards told me you’d arrived. I had them waiting, watching for you.” He tapped his nose. “One learns to compensate for one’s deficiencies.”
Acharsis nodded slowly as he thought of the drugged master and adept in the alleyway. “Wisely done, adept.”
“A small thing. You’ve arrived, and I have been assigned by Master Yesu to conduct you immediately to his presence. There is much to discuss.”
“Of course,” said Acharsis. “Still, we are most impressed by the diligence we see here. Perhaps a quick tour before you conduct us to Yesu?”
“You are most kind!” Agash gave a weak laugh. “Compared to Uros, you must think Rekkidu a veritable backwater. But, yes, if you wish a quick tour, I would be happy to give it. Let me send word to Master Yesu, and I am sure he will join us.”
“Adept Agash,” Acharsis said, stepping close and placing his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Let’s not disturb Yesu just yet. I would appreciate a chance at a frank, unvarnished look at the… preparations. If you understand what I mean.”
Agash blinked, darted a look at Annara, and then bobbed his head. “Of course. But is there any cause for concern?”
“That is to be determined,” Acharsis said coldly. We have to get out of the courtyard before the two leeches he’s waiting for make their way here. “Lead on.”
“Very well, very well. This way, if you will.”
The old man hurried through the crowd, pointing out as he went where the grand tables for the feasting were being set up, and rattling off the list of goats and cows that were to be slaughtered, and the types of fish and fruit.
He led them directly toward the ziggurat.
“What are we doing?” Annara hissed under her breath as Agash drew away a few steps.
“I want a look inside the ziggurat,” Acharsis whispered back.
She squeezed his arm so hard, he almost yelped. “Are you mad?”
“Excuse me?” Agash asked, half-turning back to them.
“I said, where do you hold the godsbloods?”
“Ah. We have them in a very secure chamber in the heart of the ziggurat. This way, Master Iroku, through here.”
Agash nodded at four death watch guards standing beside an archway leading into the ziggurat proper and paused to ladle cleansing water over his feet.
Acharsis took a deep breath and was suddenly terrified he’d see his demon amongst the throng. He focused on Agash’s back and looked nowhere else. We’re passing into Nekuul’s domain, he thought as he washed his feet in turn. Ekillos, shield us.
The corridor was broad and filled with activity. Slaves rushed by, their sandals flapping, bearing tables and bolts of cloth, trays of prepared food and pitchers of beer. Death watch guards were standing at every intersection, while Nekuulites hurried to and fro, mingling with scribes and bureaucrats.
“Up one level,” said Agash. “Oh, my knees.”
He led them up a steep flight of stone steps where lanterns were burning in stone niches, and here the bustle grew quieter. The guards were ubiquitous, but now Acharsis saw the dead mixed in with their number, their gaunt, leathery forms standing as still as statues, their sunken eyes staring unblinkingly ahead.
“The dead,” asked Acharsis, stepping up beside Agash. “How do they know whom to attack and whom to ignore?”
Agash gave him a strange look, and Acharsis realized immediately that he’d asked a foolish question.
“It’s for my apprentice,” Acharsis said, indicating Annara. “I want her to hear it from you.”
Agash’s skeptical look didn’t go away. He pulled out a stone amulet from underneath his robe. On its surface, a rune was inscribed. “Anyone who bears a tear of Nekuul can pass them by unmolested. Or those who accompany such a bearer.”
“Of course,” Annara said smoothly.
One of the dead at the end of the hall suddenly buckled. In complete silence, it dropped to its knees and then toppled onto its side. Its companions didn’t react in the slightest.
“My apologies, Master,” said Agash. He began to stride toward the fallen corpse. “How embarrassing. This will take but a moment.” He stopped in front of the guards and spoke in Nekuulite to them. Immediately, two of them bent down and lifted their fallen brother.
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“What happened?” asked Annara.
“Not enough body left for Nekuul to animate,” said Agash.
The fallen dead did look more insubstantial than the others, Acharsis noted.
“They should never have been added to the guard,” Agash added with a sigh. “But, no matter. We pride ourselves for having a corpse chute just like you do in Uros. A quick disposal.”
“You do? Very impressive,” Acharsis said, glad for the diversion from his blunder with the tear. “No self-respecting ziggurat should be without one.”
“Corpse chute?” Annara asked with feigned confusion.
Acharsis rolled his eyes. “She tries my patience, oh, yes, she does. Attractive, yes, but not a thought in her head.”
Annara’s glare promised that he wouldn’t get away with that one.
Agash watched the pair of dead turn down the hall and disappear around a corner. “Yes, a corpse chute. A quick disposal method from the sanctum down, yes? All the bodies are dropped down into the cellar. Now, one more flight of stairs. Here we go. Only those of our order are allowed on the third floor and higher. This flight is the worst. Watch the fifth step; it’s taller than the others. Shoddy construction by the Alokites.”
Up they went, and Acharsis’ earlier burst of confidence was beginning to wane. They were deep inside the ziggurat now, and without tears of their own, they’d be unable to escape without Agash’s escort – which precluded bolting and running.
“Now, the holding room for the godsbloods is in the center of this floor. We obviously can’t go in, but if you look down this hallway, you’ll see one of the main doors.”
The hall wasn’t very long, and it was very well lit. Acharsis felt his guts coil when he saw the two deathless standing outside the stout wooden door. Their pale masks gleamed, each slightly distinct from the other, and their forms were clad in robes of shadow so dark, it seemed as if their masks were floating in the air.
“Are all the doors similarly guarded?”
“Yes, assuredly.” Agash smiled sourly. “We’d not want to risk our godsbloods escaping, would we?”
“Of course not,” Annara said, and gave a tight laugh.
Elu’s on the other side of that door, thought Acharsis. That’s got to be driving her mad.
Even as they watched, the wooden door opened, and a black-robed man with a shaved pate and a cadaverous face emerged. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had the physique of a fighter, but he was clad in the garments of a leech.
“Ah,” said Agash. “Master Rexashas. He’ll be pleased to make your acquaintance.” He turned and bowed low to the approaching man. “Master, let me introduce you to Master Iroku, come direct from Uros, and his apprentice?”
“Eleshi,” Annara said smoothly.
Master Rexashas stopped before them, and Acharsis forced himself to meet the man’s gaze with just as much cruel disinterest. Ekillos, my fallen master and father, source of wisdom and knowledge, hear me now, even if you are lost in the very depths of Nekuul’s domain. Hear me now and grant me whatever aid you can, please!
“Master Iroku, welcome.” Rexashas’ voice was clipped. “From Uros? What tidings do you bring from the empress’s city?”
“Everything is as you would expect,” Acharsis said with as much bored disdain as he could muster. “The empress strives to exalt our goddess, the people grumble but are content as long as enough grain crosses their plates, and the dead do as they are told. I will not bore you with petty palace politics. It is no doubt similar to what you experience here, but on a grander scale.”
Rexashas raised an eyebrow. “No direct word from the empress?”
Acharsis smiled coldly. “Nothing I would wish to repeat in an open hallway.”
“Hmm. And Master Nab-Enlil? Does he yet fill the apprentices’ hearts with fear?”
The man’s tone had become light, almost careless, but the skin around his eyes had tightened.
“Oh, no,” said Acharsis. “The apprentices have wept tears of everlasting sorrow since Nekuul called the good Master to her realm.”
“Hmm,” said Rexashas. “Yes. A pity. I am on my way now to meet with Yesu to discuss the crisis and the arrival of the armed forces. Our council chamber should be sufficiently private for you, should it not?”
“Assuredly,” said Acharsis. His heart was pounding so loudly, it was a wonder the other man couldn’t hear it. Rexashas’ gaze was disturbingly unnerving. Did he suspect? Surely, he did. “Still, since we’re here, I must admit to not being impressed with the godsbloods’ holding room. Are these two deathless the sole form of security at each door?”
Rexashas narrowed his eyes. “Are two deathless not sufficient?”
Acharsis waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind. Suffice it to say that in Uros we take, shall we say, greater precautions.”
The leech frowned. “We are not so backwards as you might think. Though we’ve not had cause to use it in decades, there is a special chamber on the fourth level in which we could place any particularly dangerous godsblood. Nekuul’s wards would prevent any godsblood from even thinking of their dead god, much less offering up a prayer to them.” His smile could have frozen the Leonis. “Even one of the original demigods would find himself hard-pressed to do more than breathe in there.”
“Very good,” Acharsis said. “I’m suitably impressed. Where are our quarters and the council chamber located?”
“Above, of course,” Rexashas said, then walked past them, clearly expecting them to follow. “We masters have our quarters on the fifth floor. Come.”
They walked down the hallway in silence, past the countless eyes of the dead and the death watch. Annara looked on the verge of bolting, for good reason. Their ruse would be up the moment Yesu saw them. But how could Acharsis excuse himself without arousing suspicion?
Moments later, they reached the stairs ascending to the fourth level. If they climbed those steps, they would not come back down. Of that, Acharsis was sure.
Rexashas placed his foot on the first step.
“Stop,” Acharsis said, throwing up his hands.
The leech looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
Acharsis closed his eyes, pinched the brow of his nose, sucked in a deep gasp and staggered. He felt Annara’s hand close around his arm. He bit his lower lip, stood tall and opened his eyes once more to stare at Rexashas.
“Ammi shalash,” he said hoarsely, allowing his voice to shake. “The vision falls upon me. Our Lady of the Final Night orders me into the sun. I am to stare at Qun while she reveals her message to me.”
Rexashas stepped back down. “Ammi shalash? Now?”
“Now!” barked Acharsis. “Agash! Lead me outside. Go!”
“Climb to Nekuul’s sanctum,” said Rexashas, his own voice just as urgent. “It’s but six levels above -”
“Agash, go!” Acharsis shoved the old man harshly. “Rexashas, I will join you shortly and reveal my vision.”
He then turned his back on the leech and followed the faltering Agash, who, after glancing back and catching Acharsis’ expression, began to jog forward and then run.
Agash took them to an archway that led them directly outside, onto the third tier. The spread of the great courtyard below, with all its activity, was almost overwhelming, but Acharsis ignored it and focused on the priest, who raced ahead to the top of an oblique staircase carved into the ziggurat’s face and then hurried down, picking up his robes as he went.
Down they went, past the entrance to the second tier, then they were at last on the courtyard floor itself.
Agash was panting. “Here, Master?”
“Leave me, Agash!” Acharsis barked. “Return to your quarters and pray to Nekuul. Go!”
The old man almost tripped over himself as he turned and dove into the crowd.
“Ammi shalash?” Annara asked as he hauled her toward the Gates of Stone.
“Ammi shalash,” Acharsis said grimly. “Irella herself used that excuse
on me the night she convinced me to betray the others. It means a divine visitation from Nekuul, and it trumps all protocol, all tradition, all other priorities.” He laugh bitterly. “I never thought I’d have cause to thank her for revealing that Nekuulite secret, but I will be sure to do so the next time I see her.”
They hurried through the Gates of Stone, darting past the line and ignoring the guards, then turned off the Way of Stone at the first intersection and peeled off their black robes, inverted them so the beige interiors with the markings of common merchants were revealed, and donned them again.
When they stepped back out onto the street, they were completely changed. His heart still thudding, Acharsis gripped Annara’s hand and led her back toward the covered market, where the others were awaiting them.
“We’re doomed,” Annara said, head hanging low, a long, curled lock of her hair falling free. “Deathless guarding Elu? Death watch and the dead at every corner? There’s no way we can fight our way through such a mass of defenses.”
“Agreed,” Acharsis said.
“It’s hopeless.” Annara looked sidelong at him. “There’s no way we can reach him.”
“You’re probably right,” Acharsis said.
“Then, why are you smiling?”
“Because I’ve got a plan,” Acharsis replied. “Or at least the beginnings of one.”
“A plan?” She stopped walking and jerked him to a stop as well. “You mean, you think it’s still possible to get him out? After everything we’ve seen?”
“Oh, yes,” Acharsis said. “Especially after everything we’ve seen.” He looked over his shoulder at the black ziggurat, rising to challenge the heavens. “And, with a little luck, we won’t even have to draw a weapon. Now, come on. We need to meet up with the others. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Chapter 11
Jarek forced himself to relax. To not obsess over how much time had passed since Acharsis and Annara had left on their reconnaissance mission. To wonder how he’d find out if they had been caught, and how long it would take to force Acharsis into revealing the location of Sisu’s netherworld. Were deathless on their way here already?