“On the other hand, I’ve long suspected that he’s missed the point in his zeal.” A’Nu-Ahki made a fair impersonation of Nestrigati’s high-strung voice, “‘Twenty-thousand gold Standards for a peak palace, ten thousand for a family-sized dwelling, five for a bungalow, two for a single room hut! If you can’t afford that, work as free labor for space in a shelter dorm; pay now, and be a patriarch in the golden age to come…’ and all that!
“How will Nestrigati react when I tell him of E’Yahavah’s designs, now that he and his backers have already invested their life savings? I told him all along that we needed to wait on E’Yahavah. It seems he let his fear and ambition drive him. Yet there are still a few up at Floodhaven whom I think might still understand the genuine Work. What of them? I gathered my courage, and pressed E’Yahavah’s Messenger for an answer.
“‘Good Master, I know of some that still believe in the coming World-end from the teachings of the Seers. Though they are separated from me, I think that they are acting in good conscience…’
“But he cut me off, ‘Have they forgotten my words through Iyared, Lumekki, and all the seers before them? It is with you only that I establish my Pact. When the time is right, you shall come into this vessel—you, your sons, your wife, and your sons’ wives with you.’
“‘Sons!’ I cried out, ‘Does this mean my youngest will be with me?’
“He wouldn’t answer me, Khumi. He could have. But he didn’t—one way or the other.
“I turned the color of the parchment in embarrassment and watched his stylus point to the next feature.
“‘Your work is a cosmic egg. From every basic animal kind, you shall take two of each sort to bring inside the ship and keep alive with you. Of course, they shall be male and female, the birds after their kind, livestock after their kind, every scampering creature after its kind, and so on. Two of every created kind of land animal will come to you to be kept alive. Take with you ample supplies of all food types as provision for you and them…’
“I had a head full of questions. Truth was I wanted him to stay as long as he could. So I plied him with small talk. He put up with it graciously for the most part. Yet he would not allow me to go too far. At one point, I even prattled about my journeys through Aztlan among those that studied the creation codes of man and beast—had I lost my mind?
“He finished pointing out several other features of the ship and its cargo. He assured me that there would be plenty of extra space and charged me to bring those things that I considered most needful for the preservation of civilization, though he warned me to choose wisely here.
“Of course, the first thing I thought of was the library. Since then, other things have come to mind, but I don’t want to bog you down with details. The Messenger of E’Yahavah also said that whatever design features were not listed on the architect’s scroll would be left up to me—plumbing, form of lighting, whether or not to employ a quickfire generator and power cells—that sort of thing.
“Finally, he seemed about ready to go.
“He said, ‘Get some sleep and do not worry. You’ve labored long and hard, yet there is still much to do. As for me, I’ve completed my final walk up and down the earth and found it to be irreversibly corrupted. Do not trouble yourself with spreading this last message much, except to proclaim it once at Sa-utar, or unless somebody comes to you and asks—the time for words is past. Spend your energies instead on the vessel. It will speak for itself. Stay not in Sa-utar more than two days when you go—it is dangerous for you there. I will visit you again just before the Hour of Darkness.”
“I wanted to say something more, but before it could come out, he vanished. On the reading table, solid and real, lay the shipwright’s scroll.”
A’Nu-Ahki reached inside his cassock and produced a rolled parchment. He unfurled it on the platform, and flattened it with his hands. Tiva could see on it the multi-perspective design of a great ocean vessel.
Khumi leaned over it with a builder’s fascination.
His father folded his hands and said, almost as an afterthought, “Your brother and I need to visit Sa-utar with this soon, though I don’t hold out much hope that it will make any difference. As to my head shave, I went up and made sacrifice on N’Zar the following morning, and as a symbol of consecration, laid my hair into the flame. It’s a very old tradition; people hardly even remember it any more. It seemed to please the Ancient, although I’m not sure your mother was so thrilled by it.”
He allowed Khumi to study the drawing in detail.
Tiva’s distress began to creep up her spine. She saw her victory over the Old Man becoming more and more doubtful with each second Khumi pored over the design.
Khumi said, “You never could have done this. No offense, Pahp, but I’ve seen your drawings. You don’t have the skill.”
A’Nu-Ahki laughed. “Of course I don’t. I didn’t!”
Tiva wanted to do something to disrupt their conversation—offer seconds on the fruit and porridge, ask if anyone wanted tea—anything to slow the advancing juggernaut of where she saw this all leading. Her tongue grew heavy and no words would come. What if I’m really looking at a drawing made by the very hand of E’Yahavah?
That’s ridiculous! Tiva raged silently to herself. The man A’Nu-Ahki described simply didn’t sound like the E’Yahavah her father had taught her about. Then again, every Lit sect in Akh’Uzan had their own peculiar version of “E’Yahavah,” as did the Archonic Orthodox, the Samyazas, and the Khavilaks. Would the real E’Yahavah please either show himself or stop tormenting me!
A’Nu-Ahki said, “So, Son, I hear you’re looking for work.”
Know that Paradise is under the shades of swords.
—Muhammad
Hadith 4:73
8
Campaign
Inguska faced the tiny dining hall full of immigrants with carefully concealed disgust. He definitely had his work cut out for him. Be patient with them. They have not had time to hear the new and better revelation of Heaven’s Daughters. Samyaza is just and wise.
He had arrived with their latest contingent of relatives from Assur’Ayur—supposed to be a distant cousin not seen since early childhood. The travelers had accepted him as an act of reverence—perhaps willfully ignorant that Inguska was not really their blood. Along the way, he had shared with them the New Vision of the Mouthpiece of Heaven. The new arrivals would be no problem. It was the Elder and the families that had already settled decades ago in Lower Akh’Uzan—they seemed to have grown rather comfortable under the indulgence of their local sponsor.
Their Elder said with eager nods. “You will like this Satori. He thinks much as we do.”
“In what way?” Inguska asked, accepting a piece of flat-bread from his host.
“This whole valley is home of Q’Enukki, their seer. His descendants all live here. He said long ago that a great World-end would come. Samyaza teaches us that he and his Watchers will defeat the evil that brings judgment. This Satori—he too does not believe in their World-end. He stands up to the leaders of his clan and makes fools of them.”
“Does he bow to Heaven’s Mouthpiece?”
The Elder’s eyes fell to Inguska’s feet. “Not yet, Lord. He says he embraces all the gods, not only the pantheon of Samyaza.”
Inguska scowled. “Then he is an apostate, who does not even rank with the old archons before Samyaza’s First Revelation.”
The Elder nodded sadly. “He has been good to us, nevertheless—a thriving community of the true faithful live in Sa-utar also because of him.”
“That is good. It is well that you have cultivated his friendship, then. Samyaza is the greatest of schemers, and it could be useful in the days ahead. If he works his will in the heart of an enemy, what is that to us?”
The Elder looked up again. “Tell us of these new wives the Lord of Heaven has taken. We have heard many rumors. One of my brother’s sons tells me that they have sent you to us. Is this so?”
Inguska regarded his host. If he loves his wine and comfort, he will betray me. If not, then the new holy war, surely blessed, will begin here. “I have been sent,” he said.
“Is it well with Samyaza and his host? We have heard terrible stories of fallen phoenixes over Aeden.”
“It is well with the Lord of Heaven. Though his phoenixes fell, he has received them again from the ashes in a new and more terrible form, with a new message of deliverance.”
“The Daughters of Heaven?”
“Yes; the sacred widows of Ivvayi and Ayyaho are now Samyaza’s high priestesses and his voice to us.”
“Do they rival the beauty of Isha’Tahar?”
“They surpass it.”
The immigrant Elder gasped at this. “Such sayings would have been apostasy when I was young!”
Inguska did not flinch. “Nevertheless, Samyaza has taken them and Isha’Tahar rises soon to the Third Heaven.”
The Elder said with guarded eyes, “Since the Queen of Heaven rises; we must let it be so then.”
Inguska let his breath out slowly. “Can all at your table be trusted?” he whispered.
“My house and I are faithful servants of the Lord of Heaven. We moved here with priestly blessings.”
“That is a comfort. When can I meet this Satori?”
“He comes tomorrow.”
Inguska rose. “Then I give you the message of Heaven’s Daughters tonight. Rejoice, all you counted faithful to Samyaza’s Queens; for they have given us their Lord’s new revelation of a renewed holy war!”
Many faces fell at the mention of more holy war, but Inguska knew that would change before he finished.
“What must we do?” asked the Old One.
Inguska swatted a bowl of wine from the lips of one of the Elder’s sons. “First we must renounce fermented drink and consecrate ourselves to our task! You must put away the vices of the old archons entirely! Wine is now forbidden by Samyaza—may his name be the song of ages!”
The Elder’s Son glared up at Inguska, but only for a moment. Then he lowered his head, and cried, “Forgive my venial blasphemy! I did not know it was an offense.”
The Elder touched the hem of Inguska’s cloak. “In times past the Mouthpiece of Heaven permitted wine. We could not have known, Lord.”
“Of course not,” agreed Inguska, who reached down with his hand, and gently touched the head of the offending son. He could feel the spiritual energy jolt through his arm like quickfire.
The young man gave out a cry of ecstasy and fell forward onto the stone table in a heap of joyful tears. “I see their beauty too!” he wailed, “golden flames of the Phoenix; ahhh, such loveliness!”
The others around the table began to mutter, but those with tired eyes at the mention of holy war now paid rapt attention.
Inguska said, “I bring to you Samyaza’s deeper truth. In past times, you called all of heaven’s host ‘gods’ and counted them of the same order as Samyaza, but of lesser degree. This was but a temporary revelation to mercifully dispatch archonic errors and silence the apostasy of Q’Enukki’s sons. The servants of Samyaza are but messengers—Watchers to keep us on the true path. In truth, we call Samyaza ‘Lord of Heaven;’ for he is not merely Heaven’s Mouthpiece, but a manifestation of E’Yahavah A’Nu himself to subdue tumult and oppression on Earth!”
Inguska began to see the reflection of his own fire in their eyes.
“What shall we do to fight in this renewed holy war?” asked one of the other sons.
“It will not be easy. We must recognize oppression of our people for what it is. There will be great sacrifice. But those who make the ultimate sacrifice shall experience the greatest of rewards!” Their eyes only flamed brighter when Inguska told them the plan for the new campaign.
T
he following evening, Inguska sat again at the low stone table in the modest dining hall of the immigrant elder in Lower Akh’Uzan. Colorful silk tapestries draped the walls, festooned with elaborate designs in blues, reds, and metallic golds of complex recurrent geometric patterns that, if Inguska looked too long at them, seemed to become angry faces in the voids between the colored shapes. The meal wound down with smooth kindly words, few of them genuine.
The only things Inguska found tolerable about Satori of Akh’Uzan were his two concubines reclined across the low board from their husband. The apostate does not even keep them veiled, and he introduced them to me by name! It’s as if he’s inviting me to seduce them! Galkuna’s golden hair feathered around her rich tan face—a rare combination in Assuri. Petara was dark as the midnight sky. At least the man has taste in women, he thought. How I miss my Dhiva and her sisters. Inguska’s concubines and wives were not due to arrive for another month, with the next wave.
Satori’s brow furrowed over large, sensitive eyes under a huge forehead. His soft voice wavered at the indelicacy of his words. “You must forgive all my questions, Lord Inguska. The tribal elders got together and insisted that I make an inquiry among my many Samyaza Sect friends—the rumors of the last year and all.”
Inguska said, “Ah, you mean that insane attack upon holy Aeden. Think nothing of it, my friend. There was a terrible conspiracy among the Demigods. A large faction wanted to go back to the old ways of the Century War—but Samyaza learns and grows with the times. He expects the same of his people. They were justly punished by their own folly.” Such words, in any other circumstances, would have fouled his mouth and sickened his heart with rage by their treasonous blasphemy. Here they were right and just, but only because they served Samyaza better than the truth would.
“That is reassuring. I’ve always believed that war—for whatever reason—is a silly waste of time and lives. There is so much we can learn from each other.”
You foolish sheep of a man… “Yes. I look forward to long talks over good meals like this one.” Inguska looked past Satori to the concubines. I would show you lovelies what a real man could do…
One of the wives, the golden-haired one, met his eyes and scowled. Inguska almost flushed. This woman Galkuna is wiser than her husband is. She discerns the intents of the heart. I must be more wary with my eyes.
Inguska said to her husband, “I, too, wish to learn. I’m curious about your valley customs. I understand they take an unusually literal view of the old World-end apocalyptic tradition here.”
Satori chuckled. “It’s a form of madness with them. I sometimes feel I’m the only sane man in Akh’Uzan—though things are getting better. More immigrants bring more diversity.”
“I’m glad you feel that way about us.”
“I really do. The only other elder in this valley who shows a welcoming hand to anybody outside the Seer Clan is A’Nu-Ahki, up at Q’Enukki’s Retreat. He and I don’t agree on most things, especially World-end, but he’s a civil man who welcomes strangers—I’ll give him that. He’s courteous with me even in disagreement. He even married a woman of Lumekkor, and has engaged one of his sons to a mysterious mottled girl who speaks with a strange accent—poor child’s the scandal of the valley.”
Inguska’s eyes showed none of his revulsion. He had known many a friend to keep a spotty wench out in the barn for hay-sport, but had never had the stomach for anything so akin to bestiality himself. How can a man marry his son to a woman with the Mark of Qayin? It’s obscene beyond imagining!
Satori continued his empty-headed chatter; “My daughter by Galkuna is betrothed to A’Nu-Ahki’s oldest boy. I’m not pleased that she’s taking up with his World-end ravings, but at least they haven’t forgotten the more important teachings of Seti in that house. The same cannot be said for the rest of the valley, unfortunately.”
The more important teachings? Inguska tried to shake it off, but found he could not do so completely. At least the affected warmth in his voice never faltered, “The loss of civility is a tragic scar. If I may ask—which teachings of Seti do you see as the most important?”
Satori’s posture relaxed. “Why, those dealing with s
imple human decency, common sense, and the ways of peace. I believe that E’Yahavah—in whatever form he takes—is always a god of peace.”
The Elder nodded, followed by his sons.
Inguska also bowed his head. “Such is the heart of Samyaza’s Law of Hospitality as well.”
“So what are your plans—if I may ask?”
Inguska smiled. “I need to visit relatives north, in the Immigrant Quarter of Sa-utar. Then I shall return here to meet the caravan that carries my wives. I think it is here that I will settle.”
“I welcome you, though I must be honest and say that you might find conditions more favorable in the city. These are a backward people in this region—lots of old prejudices.”
Inguska grinned. “Perhaps we shall teach them differently together.”
“T
heir beauty haunts my dreams,” said Enkasi, the immigrant elder’s son who had seen the vision of Heaven’s Daughters.
Inguska said, “Mine too.”
They rode their pack beasts northward along the Inland Highway towards Sa-utar. The eastern mountains glistened in late afternoon golds.
Enkasi shaded his eyes to look ahead. “You have taught me much in such a short time. Is it permitted for me to ask questions for understanding?”
“It is permitted.”
“The Law of Samyaza says that lying is an abomination. Yet you lied to Satori with no shame or hesitation. I do not question your actions, but I’m confused.”
“There is no shame in your question, Enkasi. Lying is abominable, except in these three cases: When you lie to your wife to settle her heart or to keep her in subjection to you. When you lie to save your own life or the life of a brother in the cause of Samyaza—even to the point of feigning denial of the Lord of Heaven, and all that is holy, so that you may live to slaughter his enemies later. Lastly, it is especially an act of righteousness when you lie in such a way that furthers the cause of Samyaza in the holy war—unless the truth would serve the cause better.”
A Broken Paradise (The Windows of Heaven Book 3) Page 14