"Do you know what it's like to be a priestess, Drimesh?" He said nothing. "I am a fertile land. I must take the seed. I must be plowed. I must pleasure and be pleasured to keep the crops growing, the water flowing, life alive." She reached out and stroked his cheek. "I am forbidden to take, and yet, I took you."
"I don't understand."
She smiled. "I took you. Into the sacred. Into myself. And not for Ishtar." He felt her leg brush up his thigh and he moaned. "I took you for me. As I want to take you again." Her leg dropped from his thigh. "Come to the temple tonight. Be with me again. I shall be waiting."
Ishtal dove beneath the water, heading back toward shore. He watched her go and caught movement in the olive grove. Golnath, the huge eunuch, stood next to the tree. The hate in his eyes was palpable. Drimesh waved to him and flipped over onto his back, displaying his erection.
15
After Golnath and Ishtal had left the river bank, Drimesh swam a little longer. Her smile, the way her entire body seemed to glow, left him shivering with want. But every time he imagined lying with her, he saw Mardahaga's broken and ancient face.
"You can't have her, Garaaga," he whispered while he floated on his back. "She is mine, not yours."
There was no answer from the blue sky above. No crack of thunder, no flash. Drimesh laughed, but the vision of blood on the pallet, Heriam's ravaged torso, choked off the sound in his throat.
Ama had taught him to be a man, not a beast. Ama had taught him to respect life and his power. Ama had failed to live up to her lessons, and now, so had her son. Garaaga's shadow, that thing within, had won.
"But not this time. You can't have her."
Ama had always spoken of Garaaga as her true father, her maker. Drimesh's maker. But what did that mean?
Another boat passed by. Drimesh flipped over and swam upstream. He had drifted toward the filthy water of Babylon, far away from his olive grove.
Mardahaga had paid for his services, and then paid with her life. What price would Ishtal pay?
"Do you really think she would accept you, for what you are?" a voice hissed in his mind.
Drimesh stopped mid-stroke and dipped beneath the water. Garaaga. It was the same voice he'd heard when he came of age, the voice in his dreams.
He swam to the bottom of the river and plunged his hands into the mud.
"You cannot escape what you are."
"I can die instead," he thought. He expelled all his air. His lungs burned from the lack of oxygen. The beast wanted him to rise, to head for air and safety. He forced it down and ignored its screaming growl. He breathed water and choked on it. "Drowning," he thought. He tried to keep the panic at bay, twisting his powerful hands in the muck. The world began turning black.
A strong eddy of water hit his body, plucking him from the river bottom. Drimesh opened his eyes and watched as he rose toward the sunlit surface. He broke the surface of the water with a gasp and filled his lungs with air. A large merchant boat had passed him. The men called to him as he coughed water and then inhaled again and again.
He treaded water, tears running down his face from the painful coughing and watched the boat head downstream. When he could breathe normally again, he looked up to the cloudless sky. "Did you do that?"
There was no answer.
Ama's smiling face filled his mind. His mother cooing to him when he was a child--his earliest memory of her. "Ama," he whispered.
Drimesh began swimming upstream.
Ama. Garaaga. They wouldn't let him die. Not like that.
"You can't escape what you are," the voice had said. The beast, the shadow, would always be with him, part of him. He had tamed it for decades. He would tame it again.
Mardahaga had died because of jealous rage. He would not let that happen to Ishtal.
16
Talnor broke off a piece of bread and dipped it in his beer. "Wasn't sure where you'd gone, so I just stuck around."
Drimesh nodded. By the time he'd returned from the river, Talnor had been sitting at the kitchen table.
"You did right. I had no intention of asking you to leave."
"Sorry I slept so long. I was quite exhausted."
"When do you have to begin your journey home?"
Talnor shrugged. "I had thought to stay in Babylon until I see the old man on market day."
"Makes sense," Drimesh said. He poured another cup of beer and pulled off a hunk of bread. The swim had left him famished. He chewed the bread twice and then swallowed it whole, chasing it with a sip of beer. "I have more business to attend to tonight."
"Found a nice woman, eh?"
"She found me, actually."
"Even better," Talnor laughed. "So I should make myself scarce?"
"Not at all," Drimesh said. He refilled his cup with beer and topped off Talnor's. "You shall once again have the house all to yourself." He leered at the younger man. "Unless, of course, you wish to carouse."
"I was never very good with women, Drimesh. It's amazing I found a wife at all."
"As large as Babylon is, there's always someone out there looking for another."
"Sure," Talnor agreed, "but why push the luck of the gods?"
Drimesh smiled. "You might want to go to the city square. There are shows there on nights like tonight. No doubt Hammurabi wants to show off the latest executions."
Talnor shivered. "At least in Ur, they do those behind the city."
"Babylon prefers to make it a spectator event. Hammurabi believes those who see the justice are less likely to commit the crime."
"I guess it works."
"Of course it does," Drimesh said. "The only problem is those that would commit robbery are more likely to murder you than risk exposure."
"Damned cutthroats."
"Yes."
"You know," Talnor said as he gulped another draught of beer, "Abraham's tribe has actually slowed the pace of things in Ur."
"Have they?"
"Yes. The government doesn't have to execute nearly as many. They take care of it for them."
Drimesh nodded. Yes. Like Ama. What had tipped them off to her? A witness? Someone felt her presence? Did Abraham's tribe have an eye among them? "But if they are caught, do they not suffer the same?"
"Absolutely. Some time ago, two were executed for stabbing a thief to death."
"A thief?"
"Yes. He tried to take something of theirs. Some book."
"Holy book?"
Talnor shrugged. "I don't understand what they consider holy. They eschew the idols of the gods. They won't eat of the pig. They will not be naked and bathe with the rest of the people." The younger man shook his head. "They are very strange."
Strange. Yes, Drimesh thought. Ama had said the same. Perhaps something in the desert had changed them, attuned them to the others that inhabited the land. Or maybe it was just their fanatical worship that allowed them to spot anything out of the ordinary.
"Strange," Drimesh whispered.
"I sometimes run into them out in the wilderness, along the trade paths. As I said last night, they leave me alone. But I have listened to their chants. I have seen them cut the foreskin of young men." Talnor shivered. "I've seen them do that to older men too. Converts."
"Barbaric practice," Drimesh said. "I understand Ishtar's eunuch priests. But cutting a man's penis? To serve a god?" He shook his head. "None worth worship would command that."
Talnor giggled. "I think I shall visit the shows tonight. Perhaps I can find myself someone to keep me company." He took another sip. "Perhaps it is time to tempt luck."
"I should be away for most of the night," Drimesh said. He leaned forward and gave the younger man a wink. "You'll have the house until dawn, my friend. Use it well."
"But of course," Talnor said.
17
The sun had crept below the horizon. Bright stars shined in the cloudless sky. Even the torch light paled in comparison to the glowing moon.
Drimesh had stalked past the courtyard and to
ward Ishtal's hut, following the paths as he had the night before. The priestesses were dancing in the courtyard, choosing their first round of mates for the evening. Ishtal had not been among them.
Ishtal had said nothing about Golnath, but Drimesh was looking for the large priest. He wanted to make sure to avoid him tonight. There would be time enough to settle his score with the unpleasant eunuch.
Unlike the previous two nights, the huts were quiet. With the priestesses still choosing their supplicants for the evening, the area was deserted.
He stopped in front of Ishtal's hut. Heavy purple and crimson cloth covered the windows. The breeze did not move them. He knocked on the side of the clay structure and waited. Nothing happened. Drimesh pushed aside the curtains covering the entrance and stepped inside.
Ishtal sat naked on a pillow in the far corner, her head bowed in prayer, a necklace of lapis beads wound around her neck. A gold cuff on her forearm glowed in the soft lamp-light. His hunger, the beast, twitched.
Without saying a word, he sat on a pillow across from her. The priestess whispered words too quiet for him to make out. Drimesh frowned as they became louder, Ishtal's body shaking, the lapis beads clinking together.
She raised her head to him and began to sing.
"What I tell you,
Let the singer weave into song.
What I tell you,
Let it flow from ear to mouth,
Let it pass from old to young."
Ishtal reached forward, beckoning him closer. Confused, Drimesh crawled and sat before her, his hands in hers. She locked her eyes with his, a tear running down her face, and began to sing again.
"My vulva, the horn,
The Boat of Heaven,
Is full of eagerness like the young moon.
My untilled land lies fallow.
As for me, Inanna,
Who will plow my vulva?
Who will plow my high field?
Who will plow my wet ground?
As for me, the young woman,
Who will plow my vulva?
Who will station the ox there?
Who will plow my vulva?"
She ceased her song and placed her hands to his face. "Who?" she whispered.
"I will," Drimesh said in a choked voice.
Ishtal smiled and kissed him. "As Inanna proclaimed, do."
She leaned back, pulling him with her. Their lips met and he stiffened as one of her hands grasped him, pulling him into her. He moaned as he entered. She thrust her hips up once, taking him in all the way. For a moment, they lay there, motionless, while she kissed him again and again.
"Love me, Drimesh."
"I will. I do."
Her hands found his hips and she started rocking.
18
The water cooled his throat and parched lips. Ishtal took the urn from him, splashing her face. She placed the urn next to her naked body and wrapped her arms around him.
Drimesh stared at the ceiling with sleepy eyes. Her hand played with his chest hair, twining it in her fingers as she breathed on his cheek.
"Who is Dumuzi?" Drimesh asked, turning to stare into her eyes. She had said the name in panting whispers as he pleasured her.
She blushed. "Inanna and Dumuzi." She kissed his cheek. "You have never heard of them?"
He shook his head. "Not together. Inanna is the old name for Ishtar."
"Yes."
"But, Dumuzi?"
She laughed. "Where are you from, Drimesh?"
"Ur."
"How is it you grew up in the kingdom, and don't know the rites, the customs, or songs?"
"My mother did not believe in such and therefore I never learned it."
She kissed him again, this time grazing his lips and then traveling down to breathe on his neck. A tingle shot through his body.
"Inanna married Dumuzi. Their coupling gave birth to the fertile fields, allowed the crops to grow in the desert. Gave birth to Sumer, Akkad, and finally, Babylon. All that you have lived in is the result of their marriage."
Drimesh thought for a moment. "You asked me to plow your field."
She laughed. "Yes."
"Then are we married?"
She hugged him, the pressure against his chest was a welcome sensation. "As much as we can be." She met his lips, tasting him. "You are my Dumuzi, and I your Inanna."
"I have never loved," he whispered.
"You are a child, Drimesh." Her fingers dragged down his neck and down his chest. "A child who has opened his eyes and seen the world for the first time. Coupling as worship."
He shook his head. "No. I have always considered it so."
"But not love," she corrected. "You've never known it as love, have you?" He said nothing. "That day at the river. Do you know what I saw? You-- You glowed, Drimesh. You glow now. You hum with energy."
His heart quickened in his chest. "What do you mean?"
She smiled. "I mean you seem more alive than other men."
The phrase echoed in his mind. "I don't understand."
"Other men travel here to worship Ishtar, to sacrifice." Her hand traveled down to his waist, knuckles brushing against his inner thigh. He sighed. "You visit to love me. Worship with me." Her hand grasped his growing penis. "Worship me."
"Yes."
"And why?"
"Because, Ishtal, you glow to me too. You-- You wanted me. And not because of--" His voice trailed off. He'd almost said it, almost said "the hunger." He swallowed as her fingers opened and closed around him. "You asked me to your bed. Asked me to love you."
She kissed him. "Priestesses may not marry," she whispered. She climbed atop him. "It is forbidden." She kissed him again and slowly lowered onto him. He moaned.
"Then--" he panted. "Then why?"
Ishtal raised herself and then slowly lowered again, taking him deep within herself before sliding him back out, only to repeat. "Because I have to," she whispered.
She pushed upwards and stood straight, legs still straddling him. With him still inside her, she raised her hands. "For the goddess, by the goddess. And for me."
Drimesh grasped her hips and pushed her upon himself, raising her slightly and then continuing. He drove into her again and again, feeling the hunger devour her cries, her pleasure. The lapis beads around her neck glowed in the soft lamplight. Sweat joined the sheen of her oil-anointed body.
Just as he gave into the wave of his own pleasure, she convulsed against him, her vulva tightening on him, grasping his root like a fist. Drimesh cried out as she wailed in bliss. "For the goddess," she moaned. "And for me."
19
He left Ishtal sleeping in her hut. Despite her lapis jewelry, another stray lock of her black hair had gone white. The beads were colorless stones now. They had protected her for most of the night, but at last they had been destroyed by his hunger.
Once she was asleep, he covered her naked body in a sheet, clothed himself, and struck out into the night with a pang of regret. She would be there again, waiting for him. She would send for him. He would appear. They would talk. They would worship one another.
As he walked through the temple gate and into the city, the smile on his face dimmed. They would worship one another until death. Hers. Ama had lived for centuries before the tribe got to her. Drimesh doubted he would live any less. But Ishtal was a woman born of man--she would die of age.
The night was quiet. Babylon slept in silence. After another bout of love-making, she had sung the entire song for him. He understood at last what she'd meant. She had asked him to make her lands fertile. To ply her with seed. She wanted a child.
Drimesh had done his best to shrug off the inference, using his skills as a lover to once again drive conversation from her mind. It had worked, but made their next round of bliss less enjoyable. The idea of her giving birth to a child of his had hurt some part of him.
"You will never have children, Drim," Ama had told him when he came of age. "Garaaga does not allow it."
"But you gave birth t
o me."
"Yes," Ama had agreed. "Only women are allowed to have children."
"Then my father--"
"Your father was a tradesman. A merchant. He worshipped Enki and was a good man." Ama said this last with some difficulty.
"Can you finally tell me where he is? What happened to him?"
Ama shook her head. "It is unimportant, Drim. He loved me. He loved the idea of you." She brushed a finger across his cheek. "And for giving you to me, he will always be blessed and live in my memory."
There would be no child for Ishtal, at least not of him. Perhaps she would have a child by another man. Perhaps he could claim it as his own, raise it as would any father. Given enough time, he might even convince Ishtal to leave the temple, to be with him, live with him as his wife.
A shuffle of feet reached his ears, breaking his train of thought. Drimesh was in sight of his house. Three men ran from his door.
"Hey!" Drimesh yelled.
A fourth man in white robes stumbled out, a red stain blossoming on his back. He gave Drimesh a single glance and then started running.
Drimesh ran as fast as he could. His sandals slapped up dust and pebbles from the hard clay street. The man in the white robes glanced over his shoulder at Drimesh, lost his footing, and tumbled to the ground.
"What were you doing in my house?" The man stared up at Drimesh with wild, fearful eyes, but said nothing. Drimesh squatted and put his hand around the man's neck. He raised him from the ground until the man's feet were in the air. "What have you done?"
The intruder pulled at Drimesh's hands, trying to free them from his neck. A dagger dropped to the clay street. Drimesh stared at it. The bronze was slick with blood. A crimson jewel was affixed to the blade. "No," he whispered. His eyes shot back to the face of his captive. "What have you done?"
The man's face had gone purple. Drimesh dropped him to the ground where he collapsed in a heap. Drimesh picked up the dagger and stuffed it in his tunic. Then, with a fistful of the man's hair in his hand, Drimesh dragged him back toward the house.
Daemons of Garaaga (Children of Garaaga) Page 23