U’Sumi said, “The Iya’Baalim are famous the world over for being cattlemen. Even the Archons called their patriarch Iya’Baalu the ‘Father of Nomads and Cattle Herdsmen.’ Iya’Baalu first tamed the wild ox and later the quasi-dragons as armored cavalry mounts.”
She kicked her feet out of the water. “Yes, but what do they now herd? Why would cattlemen wander into Nhod? There’s no grazing land at all! Here the only livestock are the tricorns that Sengrist’s men rode on patrol; nothing else but maybe a few cows for milk—nothing for market!”
U’Sumi got up too. “We’d better tell Pahp.”
They didn’t find A’Nu-Ahki and Yafutu until it was nearly time for the feast. U’Sumi caught his father by the arm and told him what they suspected while they walked toward Sengrist’s big hospitality tent.
A’Nu-Ahki said, “So, you’ve caught on.”
“You mean you knew?”
“Nhod has few raw materials except rare salts, pumice, and people. Of these, the people wear out all too fast. No Iya’Baalim can herd cattle here, so it makes sense that an organized slave and prostitution industry would look to Nhod as a limitless supply for an increasing demand. Who wouldn’t serve a lifetime in relative comfort just to escape this place?”
“Crudely put, but quite right,” a jovial voice said from just behind them, as they approached the tent.
They turned and saw Sengrist. He stepped around them and politely motioned them inside.
“Not only do we give the people of Nhod food, work, and hope for a comfortable living, but—with a little help from Ayar Adi’In’s Temple laboratories—I have managed to inter-breed the Short-lifers with a more hardy stock to produce life spans almost a third of our own.”
A’Nu-Ahki’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you do this?”
Sengrist answered, “There’s high demand for them among private owners. The average longevity of the concubine’s beauty and vitality is about equal to the time it takes most long-term sexual relationships to sour.”
“Get your perfect disposable person, no fuss, no muss,” A’Nu-Ahki mimicked a smarmy merchant caller. The humor never reached his eyes.
“Oh, you don’t approve? But look at it this way: Lumekkor and Y’Raddu still have laws based somewhat on your Seti’s Code, which bind owners to care for aged slaves…”
“Laws unenforced and rapidly being overturned on flimsy pretexts.”
“And,” Sengrist added, no doubt trying in his own mind to be gracious, “the life these people could expect in Nhod is infinitely worse than anything that comes by my business. Take the catamites for instance. Wealthy older men with certain tastes, who can no longer compete on their own charm alone, purchase them. The young catamite would otherwise grow up in a shanty where he might well end up chained to some post as a wurm snack. We breed, feed, and train him. Then he’s placed with an older man who cares for him. They actually grow old together—the catamite at his accelerated rate and the older sponsor at his natural one.”
The conversation continued as they reclined on pillows around a stone table, where servants laid out food U’Sumi no longer felt like eating.
A’Nu-Ahki said, “A fine rationalization—especially after what we’ve seen in the Desolation—but a rationalization nonetheless.”
Sengrist shrugged. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But now, you tell me; what brings a seer of Akh’Uzan to the corrosive sands of Nhod?”
A’Nu-Ahki answered with a question. “When you and Na’Amiha were youngsters, did she ever mention what she read in the royal library or speak to you of the conversations she would have with Mother Udaha?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Try to recall.”
“She mentioned scrolls to me once or twice. She seemed to think for awhile that the Powers had some sort of sinister agenda. I remember that Mother Udaha suspected the same thing. I never had much use for the Powers, but neither did I find any real reason to believe they meant us any harm either. I guess I never paid much attention. My fathers kept me too busy tending the herds. To tell you the truth, I’m still too busy to get involved in such speculation.”
A’Nu-Ahki said, “You know I serve the Creator, E’Yahavah.”
“So it is said of the seers of Akh’Uzan and Sa-utar.”
“The scrolls my wife tried to interest you in were written by my ancestor, Q’Enukki the Seer. They speak of two times when E’Yahavah will destroy the world—once by water, another by fire. We call these events ‘World-ends’ because both will annihilate most life on the face of the earth.”
Sengrist said, “Sounds disturbing,” as he took his first bite.
“My clan has known for a long time that the first of these World-ends is fast approaching, though we did not know which one or when it would arrive. We still do not know for sure which one, though I suspect it is the destruction by water. We do, however, know now when it will happen—this was confirmed by the comet of seventy-two years ago.”
“I know you folks are handy with interpreting signs in the sky. I led the invasion force into Assuri at the time, which ended the Century War, so I remember that comet well. It had my men rather unsettled at the time.”
“If you recall, the Comet came from the constellation of the Wurm Breaker, and struck across the Southern Leviathan’s head. Interpretation is one thing. Being told in plain words is quite another. El-N’Lil, the Divine Wind, said to me directly that one hundred and twenty years remained before the end would come. We now have a little less than forty-eight years left.”
“Q’Enukki,” Sengrist said, as if thinking out loud, “that’s the Setiim dialect version of the name Q’Unukku, is it not? Means, dedication, teacher, or something like that. I can see, A’Nu-Ahki, that you are a dedicated man, like your ancestor—the fact that you brave the caustic sands is proof of that. But honestly, I’ve never had time for the luxury of spiritual pursuits. Even if I did, where would I begin? It seems to me that if your E’Yahavah wanted us to know him, he should have made himself a little more visible.”
“He hasn’t exactly hidden the evidence of his handiwork.”
“Perhaps not, but you know how people are. How can your deity expect anybody simply to take your word that the world is going to end in forty-eight years? Even if they did, what could be done about it anyway?”
“I don’t ask people to simply take my word for it,” A’Nu-Ahki said. “There’s a wealth of historic evidence concerning the accuracy of both Seti’s and Q’Enukki’s prophecies to give an objective person a reasonable basis for believing that their predictions about World-end will also come true. As to the evidence for E’Yahavah as Creator, you breed these people here for specific traits, so you must know something about creation codes. Codes of any form demand an intelligent sender and a receiver that can follow instructions, at least mechanically.
“Any historian older than five hundred years will tell you that the most ancient belief system in the world belongs to the sons of Seti. Even the Lords of Q’Unukku modeled their early worship forms after Sa-utar when Lilitua the wife of Qayin regained contact with her own parents in the fifth century. As to what can be done about it, a place of safety is being prepared and will be revealed at the proper time.”
Sengrist made a cockeyed grin. “And while I’m sifting over these volumes of evidence and making my pilgrimage to this place of safety, who will care for my business interests?”
U’Sumi saw this was going nowhere. “What good are such interests at the world’s end?”
The older nomads at the table glared at him for speaking out.
A’Nu-Ahki smoothed things over. “I can send you copies of the relevant documentation for your perusal, and you need not leave your business while you evaluate them.”
Sengrist rolled his eyes and laughed with cultured derision. “Well, E’Yahavah really should have told me when I was younger, then. Now I have quotas to meet for powerful men and titans—people who will not tolerate any reneging on my pa
rt.”
A’Nu-Ahki met the Nomad’s eyes. “They say that worlds end long before fire and water consumes them, where everyone is already as dead as a ghost and just doesn’t know it. He did try to tell you when you were younger—by Mother Udaha and my wife. I can see you have no interest in investigating this any further. I’ll trouble you with it no more.”
“Good enough then.” Sengrist smiled warmly—apparently not a man to hold onto his disdain. “I’ll provision and guide you to the hidden passes toward Assuri’s Northern March tomorrow morning. You must be sure to send my love to Na’Amiha when you reach home.”
“I’ll do that.”
U’Sumi’s blood ran cold as his father and Sengrist so amiably concluded the Nomad’s suicide pact.
THE PALADIN’S ODYSSEY | 367
The Gods came in their respective flying vehicles to witness the battle between Kripacarya and Arjuna. Even Indra, the Lord of Heaven, came with a special type of flying vehicle which could accommodate thirty-three divine beings.”
—The Mahabharata
(An ancient Vedic Indian epic)
THE PALADIN’S ODYSSEY | 367
16
Crone
A
fter over five weeks of winding through the torrid mountains along the secret trails, the cool glimmer of the distant River Ufratsi in the wide lands below revived U’Sumi’s will to press on.
For two days now, the path had skirted the forested western plateau along a ridge several hundred cubits above the greenery. Bountiful springs and brooklets draped like strands of shimmering diamonds across their path. U’Sumi found this part of the trail so much the more tantalizing because of its constant view of the luxuriant rain forest that covered much of Assuri’s Northern March region. It was like the sun-lit strands of red and gold in T’Qinna’s dark breeze-tossed hair that way.
With the wide Ufratsi steadily visible in the southwest, he knew there could not be much more to the highlands. Indeed, at sunset on the third day since the river had first become visible, the trail wound down to an overlook directly above the water. It then switched back northward before descending the last gentle grade right down to the river’s edge.
U’Sumi and Yafutu dove into the stream with crazed war whoops and splashed each other in the twilight, while A’Nu-Ahki kept watch for river leviathans and crocodiles. The riverbed there was clear and sandy, with little foliage or depth for water dragons to hide in, but caution never hurt.
T’Qinna lit a fire and prepared the evening meal.
Afterward they all slept soundly, each keeping to the rotating watch schedule that A’Nu-Ahki had resumed while still in the mountains.
The following morning, U’Sumi’s father announced his plan to ford the river at an old and famous bridge some three more days south of their present position. From there, they would cut west on a major trade route for the city of Y’Raga, then south along the narrow stretch of land between the Hiddekhel and Ufratsi Rivers, toward the major metropolis of Ufratsis. The road from there continued further south, into Assuri’s hilly Lakes Region, where Tubaal-qayin of Lumekkor had established the garrison fortress of Dumuzida after accepting Assuri’s surrender at the end of the Century War.
U’Sumi and his father both knew that Dumuzida’s vast embassy complex still had a token Lumekkorim garrison stationed there. Samyaza had preferred that to having even a handful of foreign occupying troops in any of his Temple cities. U’Sumi nearly spit out a mouthful of his breakfast when his father announced that they would not be going to Dumuzida, but to Samyaza’s Temple capitol of Assur’Ayur, instead.
A’Nu-Ahki summed it up for them. “I mean to confront the Watcher to his face—no more messing around with giants, sycophants, middle-men, and empty shows of lights in the sky!”
The smoldering rage in his father’s eyes terrified U’Sumi more than any of the monsters he had faced since leaving Akh’Uzan. It did so even more because A’Nu-Ahki had always warned his sons that heaven’s fallen Watchers were not trifling powers to directly provoke. They still had an office and authority within the current cosmic economy until the promised day when E’Yahavah himself would throw them down.
U’Sumi noticed that he was broadcasting his fear when Yafutu and T’Qinna both stopped chewing their way-bread and glanced to him then his father with questioning eyes.
The Seer chuckled merrily. “Don’t be afraid, children. Have you not traveled with me long enough to know that E’Yahavah protects us? I do nothing rashly. Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. Take heart! This is the last stop we make on our journey to my house. Afterward there will be ample time to prepare for the final end.”
U’Sumi knew better than to repeat the mistake he made in Aztlan, but his father’s eyes still unsettled him. They never met his own, nor T’Qinna’s and Yafutu’s. Instead, they looked past them, at something or someone only A’Nu-Ahki could see. U’Sumi knew only that he was glad he wasn’t that unseen person or thing. He kept his misgivings to himself.
After that, the road to the bridge went by pleasantly enough, until they reached the village at the crossing. There they met a gathering of stern Northern Ufratsim elders who barred the path before the gates of their town and to the stone bridge beyond. The river swelled on the right. Left, a narrow strip of forest below a rocky rise potentially hid an army of watching eyes.
They village’s Chief Elder said, “Where are your travel permits, what is your business, and why have you not offered the Sacred Greeting of this day and hour?”
A’Nu-Ahki answered, “We have no documents and we do not know your greeting customs yet. We apologize for that. It’s just that we’ve journeyed long across the great wastes, through the mountains of the Eastern Wall and have only entered this land a few days ago. If you require scrolls of destination, we’d be happy to submit to any documentation procedure considered legal in these parts.”
The Chief Elder eyed them suspiciously. “Enter the gates and surrender all weapons to our arms bearer. You must restrain the sphinx. We shall consult the Holy Oracle to hear what the Gods at Assur’Ayur would have us do. Your names?”
“I am A’Nu-Ahki of the Clan Q’Enukki, Seer of Akh’Uzan. These are my children. We will surrender our weapons, provided your gatekeeper gives us certificates of receipt that we may retain them on our departure.”
U’Sumi almost objected when he heard this. It hardly seemed the best time to part with his hand-cannon. However, the Elder nodded, and receipts were handed out for each weapon as they were collected. T’Qinna reluctantly attached a collar and leash presented for Taanyx. The cat quietly bore this indignity at a few words from her mistress.
A’Nu-Ahki asked, “Is there an inn we can stay at until our permits are ready?”
The Elder glared at T’Qinna and said, “All but the spotted wench may lodge at the village inn. Spotties stay in servant hovels. Perhaps one of my boys will put her up, but we cannot guarantee her virginity come morning—that is, if she still has any to guarantee!” He and the other elders laughed; their first sign of any concept of humor.
U’Sumi gripped the rein of his unicorn to keep himself from leaping off and teaching the old lecher some manners.
A’Nu-Ahki said, “We stay together,”
“Then you stay in the street! By Samyaza’s law of hospitality, we will bring food. E’Yahavah’s Mouthpiece is generous to the undeserving.”
Inside the gates, the villagers maintained a tollbooth at the foot of the ancient stone bridge. Directly in front of the bridge causeway sat a small stepped ziggurat with a tiny gold and crystal oracle chamber on top of its flattened apex. One of the other gate elders knelt inside, speaking what he no doubt thought were mystic words into the mouthpiece, to be carried “over the spirit world” to the “Lord of Heaven” at Assur’Ayur.
U’Sumi knew from T’Qinna that the “mystic words” were merely a code that identified which oracle out of hundreds might be summoning the central nexus at Samyaza’s Temple. S
he had told him once that all the Temple-based oracle systems worked that way. Clearly, this one rated primitive compared to the network she had known in Aztlan. Here only sounds could be sent and received—no moving pictures.
Low-level priestly elders, entrusted with only the barest minimum of technical knowhow to maintain and operate the oracle, listened mostly for the arrival of new directives from “the gods” at Assur’Ayur. These dubious deities held sway over all the lands from Satyurati, over the Northern March to Ufratsia, and from Regati, through central Assuri, and southeast out to Zhri’Nikkor. Occasionally, as now, it became necessary for the villagers to initiate contact to ask for instructions.
U’Sumi heard the man up in the crystal-gold booth stammer and whine into the device’s mouthpiece. Sweat ran down the fellow’s face in rivulets, staining his linen smock. Though the words were too low to be audible, the raw panic in the Elder’s eyes spoke as though the fire of heaven might strike him at any moment.
A sudden oppression covered U’Sumi like a giant black hand, as if some vast object had just blocked out the sun while pressing down onto him—only the lighting never changed, the sky remained clear, and he was still standing. No. My knees just buckled ever so slightly. No inner arguments, harsh accusations, or suggestive words entered his head, as with Shadow-mind, just an emotional compression that squeezed away hope.
Something big had just arrived.
U’Sumi now felt the terror of the man in the crystal-gold booth. He glanced around to see what if anything had changed. No newcomers—just his father’s party, the village elders, and a few casual onlookers—were near the small oracle ziggurat. It must have been something in the background or perhaps hidden in plain sight. He had nothing else to focus on, so U’Sumi began a careful observation of the village itself.
The peoples of Assuri and Ufratsia had cosmetically kept all the strictest protocols of the Orthodox Setiim priesthood in their dress and mannerisms. These villagers could have passed in everything but dialect for Sa-utar’s ultra-Orthodox elder tiers from a generation or two before. Yet something foreign was also present, hovering in the background, unseen.
The Paladin's Odyssey (The Windows of Heaven) Page 30