by Samuel Fort
Chapter 41 - Lilitu’s Speech
A few minutes before the reception was to begin, Fiela approached Lilian and said, “I cannot find our husband anywhere. Has he abandoned us?” The girl was beside herself with worry.
Lilian concealed her own concern. “Why should he do that?”
Because I made a fool of him, thought Fiela guiltily, but she said, “Maybe he longed for his old life. Perhaps he thought we were lunatics and finally made his escape.”
“Are you certain you have looked everywhere?”
“It is impossible to look everywhere. Steepleguard is too large. The tablet vault is locked but no one answers the buzzer, so he must not be there, and he is not in his study…”
“You must suspend the search for now. It is time for the reception. I will tell our guests that Ben is with Scriptus Ridley discussing matters of import. They will accept that so long as we can present him afterwards.”
“I do not like appearing in front so many people,” admitted Fiela, thinking of the Duke of the Ordunas and the eyes that had watched her every move earlier in the day.
“You need only introduce me. I will do the talking. You look wonderful, by the way.” Fiela was wearing a sleeveless scarlet dress that extended to her knees and that amply - perhaps too amply, thought Lilian - presented her cleavage. Her red hair was tied up in a bun. A pair of black pumps dangled from the fingers of one hand. “But you must wear your shoes.”
“They are uncomfortable,” the girl complained, but she put them on.
“Are you armed?”
“Of course.” Fiela motioned at the small of her back where Lilian saw a handgun tucked into an almost invisible pocket at the back of the dress. “And I shall have the spear with me, as required by the ceremony. I still think I should be in uniform. I am your guardian.”
“We have discussed this. You are serretu first and my guardian second. What would those assembled think if their future king’s serretu, the prospective mother of princes and princesses that will govern them, was introduced wearing a combat uniform? You might as well walk in with a cigar in your mouth. Have you spoken to the fetches’ superiors?”
“Yes. They know to be inside the building no later than 7:30 and they will be confined to the banquet hall. But why is that required of them?”
Lilian had practiced the lie. “I do not want Ardoon wandering the estate at night. It is a security risk.”
Fiela nodded as if this made sense, though she wondered how they would be any less a security risk inside the hotel.
“Now,” said Lilian, “ready yourself for the ceremony. Remember, only Agati is to be spoken tonight - no English. There are too many Ardoon around us.”
“Yes, Sister.”
Lilian put a hand on Fiela’s shoulder. “Do not be so glum. Tomorrow a new world is born.”
Fiela descended into the Great Hall from the left staircase. Diagonally across her body she carried a seven-foot spear consisting of a gold shaft and iron tip from which hung silk streamers of various colors. Lilian, dressed in a purple sequin dress, sleeveless but modestly cut just above her knees and below her neck, followed. Diamonds and rubies glittered on chains about her wrists and neck.
As Fiela entered the Great Hall, a hush fell over the hundreds that had gathered. She led Lilian up the stage and with the older woman standing a few feet behind her, slammed the base of the spear into the wooden stage seven times, sending thundering booms throughout the hall.
She yelled, “Behold the Nisirtu, Lilitu of Sargon, Regis Filia, Rightful Annasa of the Fifth Kingdom, Dominus of the Ardoon, Savior of the Nisirtu, and Vanquisher of the Maqtu.” There was a smattering of untimely applause that died quickly.
She slammed the spear into the mahogany planks again as she took in a new breath. “Behold, Lilitu of Sargon, Charge of the Great Sage and Asatu to the Heir of Sargon.”
Looking over her shoulder, she saw Lilian nod. Fiela knew that she had done what was required of her and was preparing to step back when she saw the Duke of the Ordunas standing near the stage. Staring directly at him, she slammed the spear into the stage once more and said, “Behold, my sister, whom I love!”
There were murmurs in the audience and a few confused looks, as this was not part of the required ritual, but then the throng applauded enthusiastically, some shouting, “Well done, Fiela!” One person in the back of the room yelled, “And behold the Edimmu!” which resulted in some polite chuckles. The duke expressed a sudden interest a cufflink.
Lilian moved forward, touching the Peth on the back in gratitude as she cocked an eyebrow and whispered, “Nice improvisation.” She kissed her on the cheek and Fiela retreated to the back of the stage, where she stopped and rested the spear against her chest. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might explode.
Standing in front of the giant red Lamassu tapestry, Lilian scanned the assembly before her. She was pleased by what she saw. Yes, a few dignitaries were missing, as she had expected, but most of the important people were there, in addition to select members of the citizenry. Three hundred and eighty seven handsome, impeccably dressed men, women, and children, the future of the Nisirtu, gathered to watch one era of humanity end and another begin.
And they trusted her to usher them into the new era.
The power she felt was electrifying. She had spent over two decades under what amounted to house arrest. True, a rather lenient and indulgent form of house arrest, yet there had been no doubt that she was on the periphery of the great circle, a planet in the smallest and outermost system in a galaxy full of shining stars.
The Nisirtu standing before her were, by and large, the secret allies of her father who had escaped the broad net of his usurpers. She knew that some were loyal to the blood that ran through her veins. Others supported her because they distrusted the Seven for undermining the Ardoon that they ruled and required for their subsistence. Still others, she knew, were admirers of Scriptus Ridley. Even King Sargon’s enemies treated Ridley with respect, so when the scribe had covertly announced his support for Lilian, others had fallen in line, even if they thought her father mad and her a megalomaniac whore.
Lilian did not care why those assembled had placed their futures in her hands. She only cared that they had.
Taking inventory of the audience, she determined that she would get the best results with a rant against the Ardoon. She didn’t want the hawks thinking she was weak and even the moderates loved the occasional fire-and-brimstone sermon. Her position would be that the Seven had the right idea but the wrong approach. It was their approach she opposed, not their hard line against the Ardoon. The collapse was inevitable now. There was no point in railing against it.
Silly games, these, she thought, but as Ridley had said, the people love a good show.
She began, “Thank you all for coming to my reception.” There were a few laughs at the inside joke and she grinned. “My husband is in conference with Scriptus Ridley about matters of great importance, so I will take this opportunity to say a few words about why we are really here: The end of this era, and the start of a new one.
“The sun rarely sets on humanity as a whole. The weeks and months to come will be a terrible shock to the Ardoon. For centuries they have experienced nothing but forward progress and so have forgotten that the thing they call civilization is an artificial construct, a flickering flame that can at any moment be extinguished. They have become vain, thinking that it is their birthright to have a stable and fruitful existence and that the blackness they emerged from can never reclaim them.
“The Ardoon of today are in some ways even more slavish than their ancestors. They have many more masters yet they have deluded themselves into thinking they are free and independent. Their toy phones and computers and the internet have given the slaves the ability to speak to one another instantly, and to share ideas, and to communicate, and they imagine this enhanced ability to babel is power. They have said, ‘Who can stand against us, when we
are united? Social media is more powerful than any government and with it we can topple kingdoms.’ They point to the so-called ‘Arab Spring’ as evidence of this, as well as the toppling of some insignificant Ardoon institutions.
“Having misconstrued the toppling of a few small governments that had been scripted to topple, they have grown cocky and think themselves gods. Now they say, ‘It is unfair that we do not have what our masters have. They are one and we are ninety-nine. Why should they have more than us? Let us unite so that no government and no kingdom may rule us! Let us become like our masters. Let us invade their world and claim it and distribute the spoils of our plunder amongst our own kind. For if we are ninety-nine and they are but one, surely it is right that that we do so.’”
There were murmurs of disgust in the audience.
“This is what happens when masters share their prosperity with their slaves. The slaves do not love their masters for what they are given but rather resent their masters for what they are not given. The Ardoon of today have leeched off the achievements of their superiors far too long. If not stopped they will raid field and factory and gorge themselves with food and toys and luxuries, and when it is all gone, and their masters are dead, they will cry ‘More!’”
She stared at those below her for a long second before saying quietly, “But there will be no more.”
Nods and whispers of agreement greeted this pronouncement.
“Only the guiding hand of the true and uncorrupted Nisirtu has allowed humanity to progress to its current state. The human cesspool in this country idle away their time texting or emailing or calling one another on their shiny toys to babble incessantly about every second of their miserable, directionless lives. It is like the grunting of pigs in pens. They send endless streams of photos of themselves to their slave friends. And do you know why they do this? Because their lives have so little meaning that they secretly wonder if they even exist.”
Lilian pantomimed holding a phone to her ear. “Did you get the selfie of me eating that fish taco, Chad? Yeah? And was I in it? Are you sure? Good, just checking!”
There were a few chuckles and grins.
“The problem,” continued Lilian, “is that we have allowed the Ardoon to ascend Maslow’s pyramid. They are consumed with the need to improve their self-esteem and to self-actualize. They cannot do this, we know, because they are trespassing into the realm of the Nisirtu. Their proper place is at the base, where they are fated to scurry for food and clothing, humping like dogs and following their carnal desires wherever they might lead. Even the Ardoon elite, their pathetic rulers, equate toys and money with power, not understanding that power is a thing unto itself. They make this error because they share the genes of the animals they rule. You can put a suit on a slave but he remains a slave!”
Lilian exhaled and took a few steps before continuing. “Well, the zenith of the Ardoon has finally arrived. Humanity shall rise no higher because the Nisirtu have grown weary of the Ardoons’ wicked ways. The Families have rightly said, ‘The Ardoon seek to become like us, so we shall confound and silence them. We will take from them their precious internet. We shall destroy their phones, radios and televisions. Let us further deny them electricity, and water, and engines, and farms, and medicine, and security. Let us return them to their natural state so that their eyes will be reopened to the reality of their pathetic existence. They are not gods nor masters and they are certainly not Nisirtu!’”
The condemnation was welcomed with enthusiastic applause. Lilian gave it a moment to die down before continuing.
“Now, as a loyal member of the Seven I would never object to the actions of our Families…” she said tongue-in-cheek. The room erupted in laughter. She smiled sheepishly.
“But were I to have an objection, it would be that the Nisirtu should be united in this monumental undertaking. Why should the Seven not seek peace with the Maqtu? Why do they continue to war against their own kind, even now, when the scripts are irreversible? The Seven have won. The Maqtu are defeated. The proper thing to do – the Nisirtu thing to do – would be to humbly accept the swords of the defeated Families - to restore them and offer them a seat at the great table. Is it just that three ancient and noble kingdoms should be destroyed or made vassals for opposing a strategy they viewed as suicidal? Wrong or right, their only sin was to seek the preservation of the Nisirtu.”
Again murmurs of agreement rose from those gathered in the Hall.
“I need not remind you learned people that there was also dissent amongst us as to when to end the empires of the Persians, Greeks, and Romans. We were almost split in two when arguing the creation of the United States. The introduction of communism was debated for decades! And need I mention the problems with Germany at the start of the previous century?”
There was boisterous laughter throughout the gallery. Lilian made a face. “That is why one does not return sour milk to the refrigerator.”
When the laughter had subsided, she said, “And yet somehow our ancestors found a way to come together and keep the Nisirtu intact. Yes, we have had our wars. I know that better than anyone here.”
There was an awkward stillness below her.
“No, truly. My father warred against the other Houses and I have suffered for it. Yet the Fifth Kingdom was not abolished even after my father was usurped. It is regrettable that my own kingdom now seeks to marginalize or destroy three of the kingdoms that had beneficently allowed it to remain intact only two decades ago.”
She shrugged. “Well, it does not matter now, does it? This civilization is at an end. In a hundred years, or a thousand, it will be forgotten. Consider the fate of the Olmec, the Mycenaens, the Minoans, the Anasazi, and hundreds of other civilizations that tested the patience of the Nisirtu. Even today Ardoon historians and archaeologists are unable to explain how such seemingly advanced societies could fall and their populations vanish into thin air.”
She raised a finger into the air. “The simple explanation is, ‘Because the Nisirtu willed it.’”
More applause.
“Not only will today’s civilization collapse, it will cease to exist even as a memory. It shall become a thing of legend to the descendants of the Ardoon and later not even that. I say that is a fair punishment. What is a harsher, to kill a father, allowing his children to memorialize him, or to kill him and then wipe his memory from his children’s minds? To do the former is to make the man a martyr. To do the latter is to undo him completely.
“That said, the coming realignment is on a scale never attempted by our ancestors. It is the eradication of not one or two civilizations but all of them at once. This is a complete remaking of the world and it is not a matter to be taken lightly. The Families think the downward spiral can be controlled and that they can avoid the vortex the Ardoon are sucked into.
“They are either delusional or horribly misinformed. I do not plan on paddling around the whirlpool and hoping for the best. I plan to stand here, on terra firma, and to watch my foolish peers as they are pulled into the depths. As the Great Sage once told me, ‘It is foolish to pull an enemy off a bridge when he can instead be pushed.’
“I think many of you are of the same mind. We are, in a way, like the ark of legend. None of you have been selected by chance. Among you are not only wise and worthy nobles but also architects, engineers, physicians, statisticians, biologists, and experts from dozens of other fields. All of you are here because you will be needed to re-establish civilization. You are the progenitors of the new world. This place, Steepleguard, shall be your new home.”
She opened her arms to the congregation. “Welcome to Mount Olympus. Welcome to the rebirth of the Fifth Kingdom of the Nisirtu.”
Lilian continued her speech, introducing various nobles and discussing with them some pressing issues, until her watch told her it was fifteen minutes before eight o’clock.
Looking up, she saw two men at the far end of the Great Hall near the doors that led to the courtyard.
She recognized one of them as a man known to the Ardoon as Todd Peck, though his Nisirtu name was Torbitz. He was a chemist with blond hair down to his shoulders who looked like he had stepped off the cover of an old romance paperback. She was unfamiliar with the other man, who was a bit shorter and dark haired, but Lilian thought they had arrived together.
They scanned the room furtively before casually putting their backs to the doors and trying to push them open. The doors didn’t budge. The two men conferred in whispers before making their way through the crowd in Lilian’s general direction, though she knew they were focused on the corridors behind and on either side of her that led to other egresses.
When they were only ten feet from the stage, she said loudly enough for everyone present to hear her, “Gentlemen, are you leaving us? This is a most inopportune time. Where are you going?”
The two men froze when they realized she was speaking to them. Looking back awkwardly, the man named Torbitz said, “We beg your pardon, Princess, but we were looking for the, uh…the facilities.”
“A bit too much wine,” added the other man, trying hard to smile.
Lilian put on her mask of astonishment. “Is it so urgent that you would leave just ten minutes before I conclude my remarks? And why did you attempt to leave the building? Did you intend to relieve yourself in the bushes? I think you have lived among the Ardoon too long!”
Others in the room laughed, but uneasily. They sensed the tension in the air. So did Fiela, who moved toward the men.
Seeing the Peth’s movements, Torbitz held up his hands. “It was mistake,” he said, taking a step backward. “You’re right, Princess, it was very bad timing. But you see, we did not want to push through the other guests and disrupt the proceedings. We assumed there was another entrance to the building that we could access once we were outside. No offense was intended.”
“Oh,” said Lilian, “I do see. Unfortunately, it is quite impossible to either enter or exit the building. All the doors are locked, and they are substantial doors.”
“Ah,” said Torbitz, unable to handle the weight of his artificial smile. “What are we to do?”
“Perhaps you should call your friends in the hills above and ask them.”
The other guests began worriedly whispering to each other, their eyes never leaving the stage. The two men said nothing.
“I’m sure the Peth surrounding Steepleguard would have some timely advice for you,” continued Lilian. “You are hoping to evacuate the building before they attack, no doubt. To ensure you don’t get caught in the crossfire.”
The whispers in the Great Hall became a gentle roar. There were shouts of “Traitors!” and “The Seven!”
The situation was now clear to Fiela, who lowered the tip of the ceremonial but still quite functional spear. She stepped forward until the iron tip floated only inches from Torbitz’s statuesque face. He tried to retreat but found himself held by a group of men that had assembled behind him.
Lilian motioned for the men holding Torbitz and his anonymous friend to bring them to the edge of the platform. The tip of Fiela’s spear floated steadily above Torbitz’s nose like an angry fly. When he was near enough, Lilian crouched and whispered into his ear, “Give me the name of the other spies and I shall spare your miserable life.”
“What? Please! I don’t know!”
“Unfortunate,” she said, standing. “Peth, how quickly can you make these creatures into trophies?”
“Five minutes,” answered Fiela.
“No! Please!” screamed the other man. “Let us join you! I spit on the Seven!”
Torbitz scowled at his confederate.
“A good decision made too late,” said Lilian. Turning back to her flock, she said, “Anyone with children or a low tolerance for spilled blood should turn around now.”
Some did, but most, even those with children, did not. It was not the Nisirtu way.
“Do it,” said Lilian with a flick of her wrist. Fiela instantly shoved the tip of the spear into Torbitz’s left eye. He screamed for only a second because the Peth immediately began spinning the spear tip, grinding the man’s brain to a gray paste. It was, in its way, a merciful execution. The other man suffered longer simply because his writhing caused Fiela to first severe his nose.
When she was done, she looked at Lilian questioningly.
“Thank you Sister, but that is all. Be quick about the trophies.”
The men who had blocked the traitors hauled their corpses toward the kitchen, Fiela following. Lilian again faced her audience, which quieted.
“Such things are to be expected, and were,” she said. “Yes, we are surrounded by Peth-Allati under the command of Lords Moros and Nizrok. They have orders to capture us and try us as rebels before the Seven. I am not inclined to give them that pleasure. I find it ironic that they now wish me at court after having banned me from it for two decades.”
“Is Lord Moros here?” asked a boy at the front. It was an innocent question. He might as well have asked if Santa Clause was on the roof.
“No, child, he is not. He has dispatched his underlings for this. But I believe he is on his way.”
“What shall we do?” asked the woman standing over him, his mother.
“I would suggest,” said Lilian, speaking not only to her, but to everyone in the room, “that you retire to your rooms, and stay there, until I send for you. I hope this can be concluded within the hour.”
“Do you need our assistance?” yelled an older man from the back of the room. Lilian saw it was Lord Shadernum, an old but stout former Peth of the Fifth Kingdom who had once served her father, before the madness. He had to be nearing ninety, thought Lilian, yet he was still a bear of a man, with thick white hair and a braided beard and a patch over one eye. When she was a toddler the man often carried her on his shoulders around her father’s estates.
Lilian smiled radiantly as the memories resurfaced. “Lord Shadernum, you are ever loyal, but no. Fiela is my protector now.”
“I am willing to work under her!” yelled the old man, grinning, “or in any position she will have me!” Coming from anyone else such humor would have been scandalous, but most of the guests knew that the aging Peth was a favorite of Lilian’s and could do not wrong. Several in the audience laughed and the laughter became contagious. Just like that, Lord Shadernum had swept away all the tension that had been building in the Great Hall.
“Any man who can handle my sister is a man to be reckoned with!” yelled Lilian, which resulted in additional laughter.
She made a shooing gesture. “Now, off with the lot of you. We shall reassemble later.”
As directed, the guests began climbing the various staircases to their rooms above. Some entered their rooms while others opted to remain outside, looking over the interior balconies to the floor of the Great Hall to see what would happen.