The Venom of Luxur

by J. Steven York

  Anok was silent.

  “Ramsa Aál will eagerly allow me along if he thinks it might lead him to even one of my tiniest secrets. In any case, I will make my own passage if I must. You cannot stop me.”

  Anok considered and nodded. “We would welcome your wisdom in our dark time, great sage. The peril is great, but if I am right, there is no safety here, or anywhere.”

  “Then it is done. I will prepare to close this house. I must ensure that its secrets are safe, for eternity if need be. But before you go, I have one last thing for you. A gift, a reminder that you walk the narrow path between good and evil, and my faith that you will ever find its way.”

  He walked to a cupboard, opened the door, and removed two long bundles wrapped in oilcloth. He brought them over and placed them on the table. He took aside the smaller of the bundles and carefully unwrapped it.

  Inside was a beautiful sword of moderate length. The guard and pommel were layered in gold and ornately sculpted with mystic symbols in an ancient tongue. At the top of the handle, where it joined the guard, was an eye inlaid with ivory and jade and, in the center of the pupil, a glittering black gem.

  Anok picked it up, feeling the heft of it. The blade was exceptionally fine steel, the grain of the metal marbled in a way only a few swordsmiths in the world could match. He knew it would be strong, and hold a razor’s edge. It fit well in his hand, and was nearly the same length as his current blades.

  He looked back at Sabé. “This is a beautiful sword. I can hardly accept such a gift.”

  “If it makes you feel better, it has a defect. This ancient blade that was long ago entrusted to me is called the Sword of Wisdom. Once it had great mystic powers, not the least of which was that it could guide its wielder’s hand to the weakest spot of any enemy. But that magic is long since faded, and not easily restored. Still, it is a fine and beautiful sword.” He unwrapped the second bundle, and brought forth another sword. Unlike the Sword of Wisdom, the hilt and guard were steel and very plain. The blade was fine, but unadorned in any way. “I had this sword made. It is the best that can be made in Kheshatta, which is far from the best in the world, but it is a decent blade. And though it looks different, in terms of weight and balance, it is the exact twin of the other.”

  Also in the bundle was a pair of scabbards with a harness to wear them across the back, as was Anok’s custom. He hefted the second blade, comparing the weight and balance. They were a strange, mismatched pair, and yet the contrast somehow seemed right to Anok. “Thank you, Sabé. They are very fine indeed.”

  Anok glanced at Teferi and Fallon. “You go ahead. I would speak with Sabé alone for just a moment, but I will catch up.”

  Teferi nodded, and he and Fallon headed out into the street.

  ANOK WATCHED HIS friends go, then turned back to Sabé, who sat with a knowing expression on his face.

  “Do not worry,” said Sabé, “you have them fooled.”

  “But not you, wise one. I was sure you would not be deceived.”

  “I have been where you are, young warrior. I have stood at the edge of the pit and gazed down into the flames.”

  “They believe that I have come through the ceremony of priesthood unchanged, redeemed from evil. But to save myself from the venom, I had to surrender to the Mark of Set as I never have before. I have unleashed something very dark within my own soul, old one. Call it Kamanwati. Call it a demon. I know it is part of my self.” He looked after his friends. “I do not wish to deceive them, but they can never understand what I have seen.”

  Sabé nodded. “All men have in them a capacity for ultimate evil. But most men deny it, or refuse to see it. You are different, only in that you have seen your beast face-to-face. You know the dark heart of man, as do I.”

  Anok shook his head. “How do you bear it?”

  “Day by day, young warrior. Day by day. As must you.”

  22

  WHEN ANOK ARRIVED at the temple in Kheshatta to begin his journey to Luxur, there was good news and bad. The good news was that Ramsa Aál and his entourage had already departed, leaving by fast chariots the previous day, and Anok would not have to suffer the priest’s scrutiny during his journey.

  The bad news was that the priest had taken his prisoner, Anok’s sister, with him.

  Anok took some comfort in the fact that Ramsa Aál seemed now to hold little interest in his sister, other than as a means to some greater end. He doubted she would be tortured or molested until it was time for her final role in Ramsa Aál’s schemes, whatever they might be.

  Though Luxur was north of Kheshatta, the quickest route, for those who would afford it, was to travel west to the Bakhr River, one of the Styx’s few major tributaries. It was this route by which Anok and his companions traveled.

  The Bakhr was, this far upstream, little more than a wide, muddy stream populated by crocodiles, and the four traveled first by small boat. As they continued, the stream became wider, if no less muddy. They stayed the nights at a series of small inns built along the banks for river travelers. Finally, after being portaged around a large waterfall, they transferred to a larger craft, a raft propelled by poles. This had accommodations aboard, though they were little more than tents on deck. Finally, at the Styx itself, they boarded a huge barge already loaded with passengers. Most of their fellow travelers were from Set, Pteion, and other points east, and nearly all seemed bound for Luxur.

  Anok immediately noticed that most of the passengers wore the white robes of elders of Set, the wealthy elite of the cult, who tried desperately to buy the favor of their god. He found this curious.

  Though Luxur was the most visible symbol of religious and political power in Stygia, in truth, its importance was minor in most respects. The royal palace was there, but King Ctesphon was said to be little more than a puppet of Thoth-Amon and the High Priests of Set. And though the ancient city was famed for its spectacular pyramids and devotion to the ideals of Set, Khemi was, in fact, the center of the cult’s power, although other sites were considered more holy.

  Finally, Anok took one of the elders, a short, balding merchant who seemed flattered to be approached by a priest of Set, and asked him where they were all going.

  The merchant seemed surprised. “You are a priest of Set? How can you not know?”

  Anok remained coy. “My companions and I have just returned from a long journey into a wilderness of nonbelievers, a mission for Thoth-Amon himself. I have not yet taken counsel with my superiors and am anxious to learn the news.”

  The merchant led Anok to a quiet spot near the railing and looked around carefully, to see who might be listening. “This is not for the ears of nonbelievers, or even for common followers of the cult. We elders have been invited only because of our—special station.”

  “I see,” said Anok, trying to keep a diplomatic tone.

  The priests never missed an opportunity to pander to the egos of the elders, especially if they thought it might cause them to empty their purses more thoroughly. Generally, the strategy was successful.

  “There is to be a ceremony at the Great Pyramid of Set, where we will witness the coming of a living embodiment of our lord Set! All who witness this shall be granted great favor with our god and enjoy great wealth in life and great joy in the afterlife. It is a great day indeed!”

  “Indeed,” said Anok, trying to seem excited.

  He was actually more fearful than excited. From all he had learned, he suspected that the event was not to be a ceremony to Set at all, but rather one to profane him, to steal his power. What purpose could the presence of Set’s elder worshipers serve?

  Later that day, they arrived in Luxur itself. Their first sight of the city was the Great Pyramid of Set, which, rather than appearing over the horizon, seemed simply to loom out of the sky’s haze, like a mountain seen from afar.

  Indeed, though there were many pyramids on the edge of the city, King Ctesphon’s nearly complete monument being the latest, and though many were more elegant than
the angular, step-sided Pyramid of Set, none was larger.

  He had never been there before, but Anok was familiar with it, as there were many paintings and drawings of the pyramid adorning the walls of the two temples where he had served.

  While the other pyramids were naught but tombs, the Pyramid of Set was a monument, and a temple, to the god Set. A grand entrance at its base was said to lead to many holy chambers in its interior.

  Flanking the entrance were two staircases, leading to a landing above the entrance, and from this, a single wide staircase leading to the truncated top. There, at the peak of the pyramid, was a small temple unto itself, a flat roof supported by stone columns, sheltering an altar.

  As their barge veered from the main channel of the river into one of the many wide canals built to bring stones for the pyramids through the city, the ziggurat loomed as a backdrop to everything. Dominating the east end of the city was the palace itself, a once-grand building marked by high walls and narrow towers of weathered yellow stone.

  To the west was the black palace of Thoth-Amon, smaller than the royal palace but far more ornate and of recent construction. Even now, the distant figures of workmen building a new wing could be seen. Anok suspected the construction would never stop until it was both the largest, and the most spectacular, palace in all of Stygia.

  The city itself was unlike anything Anok had ever seen. While the architecture was no less oppressive than that of any Stygian city, there were influences from the Hyborian kingdoms and the other northern lands as well. Though there were great houses and lesser ones, there were no slums here, nor anything like them. Other than the palace itself, all the buildings were neat and in good repair.

  There was a sense of precision and order that he found almost disturbing, like the walled inner city of Khemi, only more so.

  This is Set’s city.

  It was, he was sure, a city built not in the name of a cult but in the name of a god.

  The barge was rowed in next to a long dock near the city’s center, where another, similar barge was already unloading passengers and cargo. As they stepped onto the dock, they were barked at by a grim-faced official, whose tone softened as soon as he saw Anok’s priestly robes.

  “Apologies, lord, but your servants”—he pointed at Teferi and Fallon, ignoring Sabé, who was more obviously of Stygian blood—“will need to wear these in the city. Those without the true blood of Stygia are not often welcomed here; without these”—he produced numbered clay tags on leather neck cords—“as identification, they could otherwise be arrested and executed on sight.” He looked Fallon up and down. “It would be a shame to see your property damaged.”

  She sneered at the official, but Anok gestured for her to remain quiet. “As I come here in the service of our lord Thoth-Amon, I would hope not. It would be an equal shame to see your ‘true Stygian blood’ spilled into the River Styx to feed the fishes.”

  The official turned pale and signaled frantically for a scribe to come over and record their names and information. “I shall include an annotation that these servants are in special service to our lord and see that the information is circulated to the guardians that patrol the streets. They will not be harmed.”

  “See that they are not.”

  As the official wandered away to tend his business with other visitors, Teferi leaned close to Anok. “What a fine city you have brought us to. I am so happy to be here!”

  “Truth,” said Anok, “I was looking forward to seeing the legendary city of kings. Now, I will only be glad when we can leave.”

  As they waited for coaches to take them to the city’s temple, Anok found a quiet spot where he could recount to them his conversation with the merchant, and his puzzlement over the purpose in bringing them here.

  “Perhaps,” suggested Sabé, “there is some truth to the story told to the cult elders, but only a little. Perhaps we are here to witness the coming of a living servant to something, though perhaps not Set. Perhaps some demon, instead. If the wealthy and powerful could be somehow tricked into following this false god as their own . . .”

  But Anok was skeptical. It seemed an elaborate ruse for such a small return, and certainly not the world-changing event they had been expecting.

  Just then, Anok noticed a number of prisoners being led from the hold of the next barge. They were a dirty and tattered lot, who strained under the weight of their chains and heavy wooden yokes. Yet his eyes were drawn to the rags of their clothing, which were of fine silk, and rich colors could often be seen beneath the grime.

  These were not simple slaves.

  He excused himself from his companions and slipped closer. The prisoners were both men and women, mostly older, with an air of authority that translated to indignation at their current fate. Though guardians goaded them along with spears, they showed more outrage than fear. Clearly, these were people used to wielding authority.

  And though their clothing was, in each case, strange to him, something of their cut and ornamentation made him think they might be priests of priestesses of gods other than Set. One man, a Shemite, bald, with a distinctive scar across his head, was familiar to him. He had seen the man many times, sitting on the steps of a Temple of Bel in Kheshatta.

  This could not be coincidence. These holy men and women had been kidnapped and brought here to Luxur by Ramsa Aál. They, too, were part of his plan.

  Then one of the prisoners, a smaller man, turned toward him, and he instantly recognized the face: Dao-Shuang, master of the Jade Spider Cult!

  23

  THE TEMPLE OF Set at Luxur was hardly a temple at all. Most of the ceremonies to Set in the city were held at the Great Pyramid.

  Rather than a conventional temple, there was a large, walled compound containing many buildings. Several larger buildings served administrative functions and provided safekeeping for sacred artifacts and the cult’s treasure troves. There were also barracks for the many guardian troops posted there, stables for the animals, and blocks of apartments for servants and acolytes of low rank.

  But most of the buildings were individual villas, some modest cottages, others nearly palaces in themselves, where priests and high-ranking acolytes lived and kept their private chambers.

  Anok and his friends were quickly assigned to a medium-sized, two-story villa near the gate, and the servant who showed them the way pointed out Ramsa Aál’s villa, one of the largest in the compound.

  Their new home was larger than their villa in Kheshatta, and far more luxuriously furnished. Looking at the expensive but ill-matched furnishings, Anok suspected they had been selected, possibly at random, from among the tribute brought by hopeful elders.

  In both size and design, it reminded Anok of his father’s house in Khemi, and the thought of this brought him pain. He seemed no closer to finding his father’s killer.

  He blamed the Cult of Set, but he was increasingly convinced that the cult could never be looked at as a whole. It was a group of greedy and powerful men who served their god in name only, and the lust for power in fact. To damage the cult was a worthy goal, but it would never give him the satisfaction of knowing he had found his father’s true murderer and served him justice.

  Their belongings were delivered shortly, and they began, uneasily, to settle in. None acted as though they expected to be staying long, except Sabé, who promptly found the largest and most comfortable room and claimed it for his own. “Age has its privileges.” He immediately began unpacking the boxes of scrolls he had brought with him.

  Anok noted that none of them appeared to be from his trove of magical lore. Those in languages that Anok could even barely understand were plays, poetry, chronicles of heroes long dead, and a few of erotic nature. “You act as though you are on holiday, Sabé.”

  “The situation is dire, and my time on this world may be short. Should I not enjoy what days or hours I have left?”

  Anok said nothing more. Perhaps Sabé was right. He and Teferi had been polite enough to quietly ignore t
hat Anok and Fallon had casually moved into the same sleeping quarters.

  He looked again at Sabé. “Do you know more than you are saying of what will happen?”

  “You mean, do I have some prophecy, some foresight of the future? I have little belief in the former, and alas, never any talent for the latter. I have only hazy guesses.

  “But Ramsa Aál has brought to this place persons who in turn have power over others. Are not the followers of most gods in turn required to bow down before their priests and priestesses? Are not many of the elders of the Cult of Set in turn bosses of men, kings of merchant empires, leaders in their towns, or masters of many servants and slaves? If a spell could be made to bind any one of them, would its power not be increased a hundredfold? A thousand? Or more?

  “Would a man who dares usurp the followers of his own gods hesitate to do that same for others as well?”

  “The Scales can do this?”

  “The three Scales have not been together since before history. I cannot say they can, but unfortunately, I cannot deny it either.”

  The mention of the other priests, priestesses, and cult masters made Anok think again of his sister. “I saw that the other prisoners were taken to a small stockade near the barracks, but my sister was not there. I suspect Ramsa Aál is keeping her in his villa, but I cannot rest until I am sure.”

  Sabé grimaced. “It is too dangerous a thing simply to satisfy your curiosity. There is little you can do for her now.”

  “Who said that was my only purpose? I will snoop, eavesdrop if I can. Perhaps I can learn more of Ramsa Aál’s plan and how its many pieces fit together.” He looked out the window at the fading pink of the sky. “Night is falling, and I must see what I can see.”