"I'm not going--"
"Please," the woman said. "There are guards here. They will enter your home if you do not let me in."
Ama grunted. The beast was too exhausted to flee into the desert. She'd never escape the house. She'd die, as would Fadil.
"Your oath of his safety?"
"My oath upon Sin himself," the girl bowed.
With a shuddering breath, Ama pulled the door open. The girl was dressed in purple and blue-- a servant of Sin Annah, the Priestess of Sin. Three temple guards stood behind her. One carried a clay tray with several jars atop it; the other two held spears, their swords sheathed.
The girl moved past Ama and beckoned the tray carrying guard into the house. They proceeded to the pallet. The two remaining guards stared at Ama. She looked back at Fadil. Sweat poured from his face and he was shaking.
Goodbye, she whispered and headed out of the house.
*****
The ziggurat was abandoned save the guards. Ama had stared up at the top as they walked, but there were no priests or priestesses in waiting, none praying for the land. Instead, they were waiting for her by the steps.
The two high priests and the high priestess stood in a triangle with her in front. A number of servants kneeled on either side.
"Close enough," a soft feminine voice called when Ama and the two guards were mere steps away. The hooded priestess pointed at the two guards. "You may return to your posts."
They looked at one another in surprise, but said nothing. They took to the temple steps and began their journey to the first level. When they reached their positions, they stood in silence, spears pointed to the sky. Ama didn't wonder they could hit her from that distance if they chose.
Ama scratched at her arm and another sliver of gray skin flaked off onto the ground. The priestess took a step forward and pulled back her hood.
Her black hair was tied with lapis adornments and scarlet threads. A crescent moon glared from her forehead in a puffy, pink scar. Ama stared into the woman's brown-flecked green eyes. She felt the urge to bow and followed it.
"Rise," the priestess whispered.
Ama did. She had never seen such beautiful eyes and it made the beast's hunger flutter across her soul.
"Sin Annah," Ama said. "I thank you for whatever help you might bestow upon my companion."
The woman nodded. "But you are confused as to why."
"Yes, Annah."
"I have been here many years. Have you not seen me watch you?"
"Yes, Annah."
"Is this not my city?"
"Yes, Annah."
The priestess pursed her lips. "And every Name Day celebration, children are found missing or ripped apart. Pregnant women are suffocated. And those waiting to meet their gods are pecked at as though by vultures." Annah cleared her throat. "And until last night, every Name Day resulted in such. Until last night."
Ama cocked an eyebrow. "But, how--"
"I am not a fool."
"Your highness, I meant no--"
"I. Am. Not. A. Fool." The woman's gentle smile had turned into a glare. "Do you think you have gone unnoticed? Do you think each priestess doesn't hand down the tale of the women who do not age? Who never work, yet always provide for themselves? Those who have lovers that age faster than others around them?"
Ama said nothing.
"You are death," the priestess whispered. "And yet death is part of the desert. Part of life." The woman took another step toward Ama. She raised her lapis ringed hand and touched Ama's face. Flakes of grey sloughed off. "And now I know even death is mortal.
"I watched you enter the gates last night. The guards pretended not to see you, or you made them forget you were there. But I saw you carrying the man. The one the King's protectors beat and tortured. And I saw the black marks on his back."
Roars of joy erupted far inside the city, but they seemed worlds away. Ama's head spun with fatigue. This much lapis so close to her was further draining the beast. She swayed on her feet.
"Lilith," Sin Annah called.
A blue-robed figure rose from behind the priestess. Her young face was pale with fear, but resolute. She walked beside Sin Annah and bowed to Ama.
The beast roared with hunger.
"Your man will recover for a time. Well enough perhaps to even have children with you." She placed a hand on Lilith's shoulder. "This is your city. And she is your offering, god-child."
Ama blinked. "I don't--"
The priestess pulled the knot at Lilith's waist and the robe fell away. The naked girl shivered. "Feed the beast," Sin Annah whispered. Before Ama realized what was happening, Lilith was doing just that.
*****
The rains came. Floods replenished the land. The king's absurd canal was filled enough for ship traffic. Ama sat upon the roof of her house and bathed in the sunshine. The slight curve of her belly spoke of what was to come.
She stared beyond the ziggurat and into the desert beyond. She'd buried Fadil by their favorite olive tree. She'd cried for hours after filling his grave.
You can never know love, Hela had once told her.
Ama knew different now-- she could know love, but only for a little while. She patted her belly. She knew the baby would be a boy.
Drimesh
1770 B.C.E.
1
The market was crowded and smelled of unwashed bodies; sheep bleated, horses whinnied and snorted and the hawkers plied their wares over the din. Drimesh wiped the sweat from his brow and fought the urge to rub at his face with his shawl.
He loathed walking through the large crowd, doing his best to pass through them to get to the booths and purchase the necessities or visit the lapis man. Inevitably, there would be a scene.
Hammurabi had made it very clear that pick-pockets would suffer extreme penalties if they interfered with the market. The Code was already very stern, but the market day penalties were far worse. Every market day someone was accused of being a pick-pocket. Once that happened, the accused and the accuser were carted off to face the wrath of Hammurabi's royal guard.
Life was short if you were convicted of being a pick-pocket or robber, and equally so if you were found to have falsely accused someone.
Drimesh carefully made his way through the throng, doing his best to keep from bumping into others. No one, he thought, was even trying to keep from bumping into him. Least of all, the females.
He did his best to avoid the eyes of the women in the crowd, but he felt their gazes. Drimesh breathed deeply and focused on the booth ahead of him.
Women always stared at him. Some with wonder, others with unbridled lust. In crowds, it was dangerous. He never knew if a husband or father would think he had soiled their wife or daughter.
Drimesh wove and bumped his way to the relatively uncrowded wooden booth. An old man, a silk patch over one eye, smiled at him. The four teeth left in the front of his jaw were dark with stain.
"Little brother," the old man wheezed.
Drimesh bowed his head and then stared at the lapis necklaces hanging from the top of the booth. "Nergur. Not selling many?"
Nergur shrugged. "Enough." He pointed to the stone encrusted bracelets and rings that sat on the booth counter. "Much more popular."
Drimesh nodded. "Of course." Drimesh lifted one of the bracelets and peered at it. The gold cuff of metal was adorned with a single, large piece of lapis. The dark veined blue stone seemed to glow as his fingers caressed its surface. He smiled.
"This one likes me."
The old man snickered. "Of course it does, little brother."
"How much?"
"What can you pay?"
"That," Drimesh said with a smirk, "is what you always ask. It's never a fair question."
The old man rubbed a finger through his white beard and told him. Drimesh untied the leather pouch beneath his tunic, reached in, and pulled out two coins. The gold glinted in the morning sun. Nergur's eyes widened.
"One day," the old man said, "you will
tell me where you get such monies."
"And on that day," Drimesh said as he placed the two golden coins in the outstretched, gnarled hand, "you will know more than you wish."
Laughing, the old man dropped the two coins into a pouch at his side. His fingers fumbled inside his pouch as he searched for change.
Drimesh shook his head. "You need it far more than me."
Nergur smiled. "Thank you, Drimesh."
"Until next week, old one."
"Little brother," the old man rasped.
Drimesh turned to walk away and stopped. The crowd had separated enough for him to see a line of women making their way into the city, kushi grass baskets atop their heads. A woman with a waist-long, thick braid of obsidian hair walked among them. She seemed to glow in comparison to those around her.
A tendril of lust stirred his loins. To strip off her dress, to see her olive skin unclothed...
"She is a beauty," Nergur laughed from behind him.
"You know her?" Drimesh asked without turning around.
"She is a daughter of Ishtar. A priestess." The old man's fingers dug into Drimesh's shoulder. "I would stay away from that one, little brother. She is already betrothed."
Drimesh nodded. "Is that a warning?"
"It is, little brother." Drimesh felt Nergur's hot, fetid breath on his ear. "That is trouble you don't want."
Drimesh turned to the old man. "I shall remember," he said with a smile.
The old man shook his head. "You will remember," Nergur said, "but you won't listen." The old man shooed him away with his twisted, arthritic fingers.
As Drimesh turned back to face the crowd, he saw that the line of women had disappeared into the city. He shook his head and walked back into the throng of people and waded through the marketplace.
More than once, he felt fingers brush at his waist. He made no effort to accost their owner--he didn't want to make a scene. Once past the edge of the crowd, Drimesh passed under the gate and into the narrow dirt street.
He hadn't been alive when the Akkadian empire dissolved, but he had heard the stories from his mother. She had fled Akkad during "The Curse," choosing to settle in Ur. He had been born there, and lived among the desert people until Abraham's followers had driven him out.
The Code, a tablet of laws taller than any man he'd seen, but much shorter than the huge walls that surrounded the city, towered above him.
Abraham's people, the desert folk, had embraced a different set of laws. They were as unyielding as Hammurabi's and as Drimesh had discovered, the elders of Abraham's tribe interpreted those laws any way they wished.
He walked past the tablet and settled into a gentle stride. City dwellers heading to the market passed him on his left. Eyes followed him. He ignored the stares from the young women and some of the men.
"Concentration is protection," his mother had told him. "You must learn it if you are to be safe in the cities."
She had been right, of course. In Ur, a few moments of distraction had cost him his wealth as well as the shelter of his birthplace. Distraction had almost meant destruction.
The skittering of sandals on sand caught his attention. His heart quickened in his chest and he fought the urge to turn around. Someone was behind him and trying to shadow his steps.
Drimesh increased his pace. His home near the temple of Enki was far from the city gates. He could take the long way, crossing the main streets and avoiding the alleyways, but it would cost him time. He was tired of the midday sun and the heat. The narrow, shaded alleys between the buildings would be cool.
He passed a guardsman standing rigid against the wall. Drimesh nodded to him. The young man nodded back with a smile.
The alleys or the street? He would have to decide soon. A long line of women turned the corner. They were still far away but their number made him nervous. It was time.
Drimesh turned on his heel and headed into a darkened alley. He could almost feel the joy of his follower as he stepped off the main street. If you were a robber in Babylon, it was better to murder your prey and escape unnoticed than risk having to face your victim before the court. Either way, death would be the punishment.
It was the lapis, of course. The man shadowing him had no doubt seen him purchase it from Nergur. Thieves watched at the market. They weren't foolish enough to strike there, instead preferring the dark alleys and narrow city streets to perform their vocation.
Drimesh cursed himself for not being more observant. If it hadn't been for that beautiful--
Sandals slapping the dirt. Quick movement.
Heart pounding in his chest, Drimesh waited until he could almost feel the assailant's breath on his neck. He stepped sideways and turned at the same time.
A stout man, clothed in a dirty skirt, lost his balance as he stumbled by Drimesh, a dagger in his outstretched hands. Drimesh bent his knees and brought up his fists.
His attacker recovered his footing and turned, the short bronze blade held before him. The man grinned and took a step forward. Drimesh held his ground. Another step. Another step. The blade was close enough for Drimesh to see the nicks and chips in the metal.
"Die for lapis and some coin?" Drimesh asked.
"Hand it over," the man said, "and I might let you go."
"I don't think so," Drimesh said. "Drop the dagger and I might let you go."
The man furrowed a brow. "Why should I do that?"
"Because," Drimesh said and held up a finger. "You'll live longer."
The robber's face grew pale as he watched Drimesh's finger elongate, thicken, and curve into a talon. The dagger twitched in unsure hands, the blade suddenly colored by the crimson fire swirling in Drimesh's eyes. The robber opened his mouth to scream.
Drimesh pounced. The long talon sliced the right side of the man's neck. Blood sprayed in an arc across the wall. Drimesh side-stepped and then punctured the man's larynx.
He willed the talon back into a finger and let his eyes return to normal. A wave of fatigue struck him. He had to get home; he had to feed. Soon.
The alley was silent except for the quiet gush of blood. Drimesh looked down the alleyway and to the street. No one had seen. He smiled to himself and walked quickly across the next street. He zig-zagged through the streets and alleyways, ensuring it would be difficult to follow his progress.
The Enki Ziggurat appeared as he walked onto the main street. Old clay brick walls festooned with intricate designs rose above the street. He smiled at it.
He walked inside his home, closing the door behind him. For a moment, he leaned against it, breathing deeply. So much focus, so much concentration, and the altercation in the alley... He had to sleep.
Drimesh made his way through the courtyard to the pallet in his room, stripped, and fell asleep clutching the lapis cuff.
2
Soft light made its way through the reed-woven curtains. Drimesh stared at the criss-cross pattern on the wall. People passed by on the street, their laughter and conversations a distant murmur. His stomach rumbled.
He rose from the pallet and stretched. A wave of dizziness broke over him. He shot out a hand to the wall to steady himself and cursed. He knew he must feed as soon as he possible. Drimesh closed his eyes and let the wave pass.
When he reached manhood and underwent the change, Ama had told him what would happen if he didn't regularly feed. "You will lose strength, my son. You will slowly fade away into nothingness. Into dust."
It had been several days since he last bedded. On normal market days, he was apt to find a very willing subject. The cutpurse in the alley had ruined that chance. Instead of picking from the herd, he'd have to hunt. "Or visit the temple," he mused.
He opened his eyes, gathered his clothes, and slowly dressed. The pallet was barren, save for the lapis cuff. Drimesh smiled at it. He reached down and admired the deep blue of the stone and dropped the cuff into the inner pocket of his tunic.
The curtains swished as he parted them. The sun was disappearing rapidly. E
nki's temple cast shade on his house during the morning, keeping it cool until the afternoon. But once the sun dipped toward the other horizon, the temple was powerless against the light.
He refastened the curtains, his face once more lit with bars of dim light. More people moved past his home. His stomach rumbled again. "Yes, yes, all right," he whispered. "I'll feed you," he said to his stomach, "and then I'll feed me."
3
The city streets were crowded once more. The market day was over, the market day celebration beginning. As the hawkers put away their wares outside the city gates, musicians and singers gathered outside their temples and prepared for the evening's entertainment. Grilled fish, kabobs of fresh lamb, and the heavy smell of cooked onions filled the air.
Drimesh sat on an olive tree stump near the city gates and watched the pandemonium in silence. He had splurged on the beef, wrapping the hunks of meat in a wide circle of pita. With a skill born of repetition, he'd managed to keep the grease from staining his tunic.
He popped the last of his meal into his mouth and chewed. His belly was satisfied, its demanded sacrifice made and consumed. He looked out over the crowd. The poor headed back to their homes, or joined the celebration as sanitation and servers. The well-to-do drank their beer, feasted, and waited for the evening's entertainment.
Servant girls carrying jugs of beer wandered through the crowd of blue and crimson-skirted wealthy. Slices were placed in palms, cups filled. The braziers were lit and burning hot in the night air. Torches surrounded the courtyard casting their flickering light across dark faces.
His inner hunger, the urgent need to feed, began tugging at his core. A beautiful servant girl walked toward him, jug of beer in her hand. He glanced at her and smiled. He pulled a slice from inside his tunic and held it between his index and middle finger.
The girl smiled at him, taking the coin and placing it in a sack tied to her belt. He raised his clay cup to her and watched as she poured.
"What is your name?" he asked.
Daemons of Garaaga (Children of Garaaga) Page 18