CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN (31 page)

Bowing before it, Es-huh offered the prayer she had been taught since she was a small child. “May the light of your soul give comfort to the goddess, and may the goddess give thee comfort in the place beyond places,” Es-huh said in a melodic tone.
  

There were six hundred and sixty six candles to light, so it took Es-huh most of the next few hours to get them all in place. As the flames flickered into life, Es-huh continuously repeated the prayer. The red wax of the candles burned slowly and if not extinguished would last for days, though usually they only burned until the visit of a major god was over. After that, the candles were put out and saved until the next visit of Lamasthu or one of the many other Babylonian gods held in high esteem.

During the lighting of the candles she was approached by the High Sulgi. “Ah, Es-huh.
 
So you are the lighter of the blood candles this year - very good.
 
How go the other arrangements?”
 
He asked nonchalantly, for he had much trust in Es-huh’s ability to make sure all was done properly.

“The banners are up and I have made sure that other cleaning is being done, High Sulgi,” she said, averting her eyes in respect. The High Sulgi’s claw like finger gently touched the underside of her chin as he pushed her face up
 
to look at him.

“You are one of my best servants, Es-huh.
 
I am pleased. I hope that you never disappoint me. Know that your preparations of Princess paid off handsomely. She brought one of the highest prices we have obtained for a slave in quite a while. I’m sure some of that was due to the costume you chose for her.
 
I shall give you a favor in the next few days.”

Es-huh looked up into his large black hawkish eyes. “Oh, thank you High Sulgi, I never want to displease you. Your praise is always my greatest joy.”
 
Es-huh felt tears come to her eyes as she looked at Namtar with a mixture of awe, joy and terror.

“Go then and finish the candle placements, then prepare for the arrival ceremony. Lamasthu will be here soon.” Namtar seemed to have a strange smile on his beak as Es-huh gave a silent bow and went to finish her tasks. It was late afternoon when she finally placed and lit the last of the blood candles. Her work done, Es-huh retreated to the sleep quarters she shared with three other female slaves and prepared herself for the great ceremony.

Lamasthu

Digital Alteration of
The Harem Servant Girl
(Paul Trouillebert, 1874).

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Namtar remained on one knee, his head bowed reverently. “Lamasthu, you honor us with your presence.” Eyes fixed on her feet, he noticed she had changed since her last visit. Now there was little trace of the talons that once dominated her feet, and her legs seemed less heavy than before. These transformations were becoming more evident among the greater gods, and although they pretended such changes were their own choice, Namtar knew differently. He’d noticed tiny changes in his own body and powers which certainly had not been of his own choosing. Being cut off from Earth was slowly taking its toll on them all.

Unaware that the underling was assessing her in return, Lamasthu looked at Namtar the way a scientist might look at an ant. His interpretation of her presence meant nothing to her. She would not have bothered to come at all had she not another important meeting in the City. She never appeared on a regular schedule, but collected her due at least once a season. This kept her minions at the Slavers’ Temple constantly on guard.

“Well?” she said. “Be quick and brief with your report.”

Namtar complied. “I have held back slightly over one hundred slaves for you, mistress.” On her last visit, he had only managed to get about seventy-five quality slaves for her. He wanted to make sure that Lamasthu would be pleased with him this time, for her anger was something to avoid at all costs.

A strange smile seemed to pass across her black lips and her yellow eyes seemed to glow a little more brightly. “That is acceptable. Make sure you can provide me with those kinds of numbers in the future.”

“I will make certain of it, Mistress.” Namtar wondered if Lamasthu knew that obtaining slaves was becoming a more difficult task to perform. There were plenty of humans in the realms, but virtually all of them were bound to other gods. Most new births were quickly dedicated to the deity of their parents. Stealing them without cause or recompense was a fast path to war or severe punishment from the Council. Namtar kept his concerns to himself. He knew well that Lamasthu would neither care nor offer help.

“I’ll send my priests to take them back to the Hanging Gardens.” Lamasthu turned away and flicked her tendrilled hand in a dismissive manner, ready to move on. “And have the other sales enriched the realm of Babylos?”

“I have 12,000 gold for the realm. We just had our best sale in the last hundred years, Mistress Lamasthu.”

She spun to look at him with a genuine expression of curiosity on her slimy dark green face. “Oh? And to what do you owe this increase?”

“We had a very successful auction. One sale of a slave girl brought in over a thousand gold.”

“For one girl? What made her so special?
 
Did she have four arms or magical abilities?

Namtar answered truthfully, but took care not to sing the praises of Princess too highly. Lamasthu might be angered that such a special slave had not been saved for her use alone. “She was an exquisitely beautiful virgin who caught the eye of several buyers. It was a lively auction, mistress.”

Lamasthu snorted. “So who bought her?
 
What fool paid that much for a virgin?” she asked with an air of superiority.

“It was an Egyptian healer. He outbid two other gods to get her. I think he had examined the girl when she was first discovered. He must have taken pity on her, Mistress. It happens from time to time.”
 

Lamasthu’s eyes narrowed with displeasure. “How would an Egyptian healer be able to spend so much for a harlot slave? They don’t earn that much in a dozen lifetimes. Are you certain there was nothing else unusual about her?” She approached Namtar with menace, determined to extract the whole story from him.

“Well, she never got dirty. I dropped dust on her once and it just fell away from her. And she claimed to have no memories of her past. Then there was the missing navel.” Namtar spoke ineloquently, growing more nervous by the moment

“Missing navel?” Lamasthu snarled. “What are you talking about?”

“She did not have one. I noticed it the first night we had her. But I hid that fact from the buyers. I didn’t want that to lower her selling price.”
 

“You fool! You said the healer had examined her.
 
He must have known about it.” Lamasthu crossed her arms and stroked her chin with her tendrilled hand. What did the lack of a navel mean? She paced around the room, thinking to herself. After a few seconds of silence, she turned back to Namtar. “What’s the name of that healer?”

“Kafele, who is in the service of Set,” Namtar immediately supplied.

“Set?
 
I might have known.
 
Leave me; I have other matters to attend to.”

She dismissed Namtar with a wave of a tendril and moved to the balcony. A distant outline of a large pyramid in the Egyptian quarter dominated the horizon as the late afternoon sun shone over the city. She would be adding the acquisition of this unusual slave to the agenda of the meeting she had come here to have with Set.

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Set glared at the figurines representing his brother and sister gods. He had arranged them on a golden table in order of their troublesomeness. Sekhmet stood at the front of the line this season. She had been gathering allies from other realms at an alarming rate, and was winning fierce devotion from her mortals. It seemed she was taking a page from Set’s own playbook.

“It will do you no good,” he growled at the image of his feline rival. The small statue, like most images of gods in the City, had a spiritual connection with its real counterpart. The miniature Sekhmet magically responded with an irritated flick of her tail and looked away, as if completely disinterested in Set’s opinions. Set grabbed the disrespectful figurine and squeezed it. As Lamasthu crept into the room, it began to bite and claw the dark god’s fingers.

“I like your toys,” she said, surprising him. “Let me play.”

Set tossed the Sekhmet statue back onto the table, where some of the other effigies grouped around it protectively. “You’re late, Lamasthu.”

“Perhaps if you’d told me your secret I wouldn’t be. I had to hear it from Namtar, and he’s such a bore I nearly slept through the news.” Lamasthu moved from where she stood partially protected by a rack of ceremonial spears to stand opposite Set. “How ever did you find our little stray? Did you beat the bushes like Quetzalcoatl? Go anywhere in the realms and you’ll trip over one of his hunting packs.”

“The universe knows of my interests and caters to them,” Set pronounced, a conceit that sent Lamasthu into gales of laughter. When she recovered, she guessed the truth.

 
“Your man stumbled over her, didn’t he? How much do you want for that healer? I could use a servant of superior competence.”

“He’s not for sale.”

“Is the girl?”

“Of course.” A smug quirk of Set’s heavy lips told Lamasthu his words did not mean what they seemed. “Someone will pay dearly for her.”

Lamasthu sidled up to him and tickled his side with her long fingers. “Do remember to share your profits with me,” she counseled. “Spare me that tedious trip across the realms to cut a deal with the Feathered Serpent.”

Set realized that a short-term alliance was his best strategy, and fought down the anger that was tempting him to test his physical strength against that of the Babylonian goddess. Nothing would send her into Quetzalcoatl’s camp quicker. “When we see what we have,” he said cautiously, “you can tell me what you want for it.”

“Good. I like to have first pick. In the meantime, don’t break her. You’re very hard on your poor little playthings.”

From the table, the tiny Sekhmet hissed at them both.

And he wins again,” Eros said dryly, shaking his head at Zeph’s misplaced belief that he could actually win a game of dice with the god of trickery. Zephyrus stared at the dice that betrayed him with an innocently confused look on his face. Hermes stretched, reaching up to scratch at the fluttering golden wing attached to his hat. He appeared years younger than Eros and Zephyrus, preferring the form of a teenaged youth to that of an older male. The guise added much to his ability to maneuver and deceive. Older gods often wrongly assumed he was green and inexperienced.

“That’s ten more sheep to steal for our shepherds,” Hermes accounted. “I hear the Mayan realm has a good selection this time of year.” He adjusted the new clasp on the shoulder of the chiton he wore, which he’d stolen from Apollo’s chambers.

The three gods were passing the time at a busy trading center. Hermes resided here when he wasn’t up to his own tricks or engaged in delivering messages for the other major gods of the Olympian realm. After the capture of the beast, Eros had brought Zephyrus here to recover. Frankly, he was a little worried about him.