Game of Queens (7 page)

“And how much
are
we going to need?” Daniel asked.

“As much as it takes to send half a dozen lions to the Land of Dreams. Oh, and we'll need meat to put the poppy in. I don't think lions will just drink it.”

“Probably not,” Daniel said. “Do you actually think this is going to work?”

“It'll work better than
not
feeding the lions meat and poppy. With any luck, they'll be too full and too sleepy to bother with you. And trust me, Daniel, King Darius will be a lot happier if you
aren't
devoured by lions. I
like
kings to be happy.”

“But how will I explain—”

“Still being alive? Let's see—you pulled a thorn out of the lions' paws when they were cubs and they're so grateful they didn't eat you. You're a Jew, and lions don't eat Jews. You're a smart man, Daniel—you'll think of something.”

*   *   *

Even knowing that Arioch had personally watched the lions devour the drugged meat, Daniel found it hard to attain the calm he knew would help him survive the night. He managed to walk into the lions' den outwardly serene; to remain still as the iron-barred gate shut behind him and the bolt slid home.

The lions—three full-maned males—looked up as Daniel entered. No lioness; good. The males were more impressive but less dangerous than the faster, smarter females. One lion heaved himself to his feet and took an unsteady pace forward. Daniel didn't move. The lion apparently decided the effort was too great, and collapsed back onto the stone floor.

Well, this is going to be boring. I hope.
Daniel carefully moved until his back was against the wall; slowly lowered himself until he was sitting. The floor was cold and hard, but Daniel didn't care. His entire attention was on the three lions. The beasts weren't asleep, but they weren't alert either. With luck—
And with Your help, Lord—
the lions would leave him alone. Arioch had ensured they weren't hungry, so as long as Daniel didn't do anything to engage their attention, the lions probably would lapse into slumber.

The largest lion turned his head and stared at Daniel, then yawned. The lion had a fine set of teeth, with fangs that looked as long as Daniel's hand. The rank odor of a meat-eater's breath filled the damp air.

Daniel sighed. It was going to be a long night.

*   *   *

Yes, that was a very long night.
Sometimes Daniel missed Babylon, but he rarely missed its mad kings—and merely sitting on the throne in Babylon seemed to drive kings mad. At least Daniel had survived everything Babylon had hurled at him, just as Arioch and Samamat had survived.

Lions, idols, dragons …

Daniel always swore the dragon had not been his fault. He had merely pointed out to King Darius that just because food offerings disappeared from a temple every night, it didn't mean the idol worshipped there was a god.

“No?” King Darius had said. “Then who eats the food, if it is not the god?”

“Probably the priests and their families,” Daniel said. “That's what ate the food offered at our temple in Jerusalem—except nobody there pretended the Lord our God ate the temple offerings.”

Irritated, Darius had been intent on executing the priests and their families for cheating worshippers, and Daniel had only talked the king out of such a massacre by offering to prove that no one seriously believed the stone idol ate the food.

“Well, you're probably right. Now I suppose you'll say the dragon in the Temple of Bel isn't a god either,” Darius said.

“The king is wise,” Daniel had told him, and Darius laughed. Daniel then spoke seven words too many. “I'll also say it isn't a dragon.”

King Darius conveniently forgot the matter of the vanishing temple offerings. “Of course it's a dragon. It may even be a god, although it's not one I worship myself. Go prove it's not a god, Daniel. But I defy even you to prove it's not a dragon.”

*   *   *

“Daniel,” said Arioch, “how do you get yourself
into
these things?”

“Never mind that now. The important thing is for Daniel not to be eaten by the dragon.” Samamat began dropping dried figs into a leather pouch. “Should I put in some of the roast lamb as well?”

“Why give the dragon any ideas about eating meat?” Arioch regarded Daniel sadly. “Daniel, when will you learn to leave well enough alone? Or to
agree
with a king once in a while?”

“I
did
agree with the king. He said I'd say the dragon wasn't a god, and I agreed with him.”

“Oh, Daniel—” Samamat shook her head ruefully and handed him the bag of dried figs. Daniel looked at his two friends and sighed. “I'm sorry—”

“You always are.” Samamat kissed his cheek. “Try not to argue with the dragon, Daniel.”

Daniel tucked the bag of figs into his belt. “Do either of you know anything about this dragon? Have either of you ever been to the Temple of Bel?”

“Me? Set foot in a temple? You know me better than that. I don't supposed you'd condescend to take a weapon with you?”

“And my gods aren't earthbound,” Samamat added.

“No weapon,” Daniel told Arioch.

*   *   *

The Dragon Temple crouched, old and squat, in the heart of the temple district. Small, almost overwhelmed by the brilliant new buildings surrounding it, it hardly seemed an appropriate place for any god, let alone one in the form of a dragon. Not that Daniel believed what lay within any of the temples was a god at all, but the Babylonians believed temple idols to be their gods—
And you'd think they'd treat a live dragon god especially well
. Dragons decorated the Ishtar Gate, after all.

In honor of Daniel's inspection, the Dragon Temple was empty, for which favor Daniel was duly grateful. Talking to priests who knew he'd come to judge their temple on behalf of the king meant both priests and Daniel were ill at ease. However, he wished the temple were better lit; the sanctuary lay in deep shadow. A low basalt altar that reminded Daniel of a feeding trough stood between him and whatever moved restlessly in that shadow.

“I come on behalf of King Darius,” Daniel said. “I mean no disrespect.”

“Truly?” A woman's voice. Doubtful, suspicious; Daniel couldn't blame her.

Trapped in a place like this—
“Truly. Will you speak with me?”

A pause. “We will.” A moment later a creature padded out of the darkness behind the altar.

I was wrong. It
is
a dragon—

A living image of those decorating the Ishtar Gate, the dragon was large as a pony. Its neck snaked long and sinuous; its golden eyes gazed at Daniel, intent. Hungry …

“She thinks you have an offering for her.” The woman who spoke moved supple as the dragon, as if she danced through the temple's heavy air. She stopped and looked at Daniel with the same intent gaze. “Did you bring her an offering, my lord Daniel?”

“You know my name?”

“All Babylon knows your name.”

Daniel studied her: small, honey-colored, head shaved smooth; mouth red as poppies and eyelids painted green as the dragon's scales. A gold chain hung with scarabs circled her hips. Tattoos swirled over her body. Since she wore only air, Daniel had no trouble studying the tattoos. Lotus flowers. Winged serpents. The heavy outline of an Eye of Ra just below her throat. The Eye gazed at Daniel accusingly.

“Egypt,” Daniel said, and she smiled.

“Egypt,” she agreed. She laid her hand on the dragon's neck. “Did you bring her an offering?” Her tone hinted that Daniel had better have brought the dragon an offering.

Daniel pulled out the dried figs. “I brought these. Can she eat these?”

The dragon answered his question by gulping up the figs. It had a very long tongue and once the figs vanished down its gullet, the dragon licked Daniel's hand hopefully.

“Yes,” said the dragon's keeper.

Daniel ignored the mockery. “Does she have a name?”

“Of course. But why does my lord Daniel need that knowledge?”

“I'm not going to hurt her—look, you must have a name as well.”

The dragon's priestess stared at him. “You're not here to harm her?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why are you here?”

How do I get into these conversations?
Daniel sighed. “To prove the dragon's not a god.”

“And if she is not?”

“Well…” Daniel was no dragon expert, but the creature looked—unhappy. Both dragon and priestess showed bone pressing through skin; the beast's scales seemed dull.
Thin and forlorn, both of them. Dragon it may be, but it's still just a big lizard—
a very big lizard—
and this is no place to keep the poor thing.
Lizards liked sunlight. So did Egyptians.

“If she's not a god,” Daniel said, “she needs to live someplace better for her than this temple.”

The dragon-priestess smiled. “Then I will swear that she is not a god upon any holy object you choose.”

Lying through your teeth, to get your dragon out of this hole. Well, it is only a lizard. Certainly it's not a god!
“I'm sure that will convince the king—”

“My name is Amunet-Nefer-Setmut-Elu-ki,” said the priestess. “You may call me Elu-ki, if it pleases you.” She curved her arm over the dragon's neck. “And this is—” she hesitated, then looked straight into Daniel's eyes as she said, “—my pet. You may call her Bel.”

Whether it pleases me or not.

“Now may we return home?”

Daniel sighed. “To Egypt? I'll ask King Darius.” He regarded the dragon with interest. “I was expecting something bigger.”

“She will grow as the years grow. And she is quite big enough to bite. Hard.” Elu-ki smiled sweetly at Daniel. She had very white teeth. “When will you ask King Darius if we may go home?”

*   *   *

Daniel wasn't surprised when King Darius refused his request that priestess and dragon be returned to Egypt. The king did grant Daniel's next request, and Daniel returned to the Temple of Bel to explain.

“I'm sorry, Elu-ki, but King Darius won't let you return to Egypt—not right now, at any rate. But—”
And I don't believe I actually begged the king for this, and what Arioch will have to say I don't want even to think about!
“—the king will let you both stay with me. And I'll try to get you home to Egypt. Someday.”

“Someday. Someday is like tomorrow. It never comes.” Elu-ki shrugged. “Still, ‘someday' is better than ‘never.' We thank you, Daniel Dream-Master. Now may we leave this place?”

*   *   *

To Daniel's surprise, Arioch merely regarded Elu-ki and her dragon and sighed. “Don't tell me,” Arioch begged. “Just—don't.”

Samamat laughed. “Welcome, priestess. I'm—”

“The lady Samamat, reader of stars.” Elu-ki tugged on the plaited leather rope attached to Bel's wide collar as the creature attempted to shove its nose into a basket full of apricots Samamat held. Samamat smiled and offered Bel a handful of apricots; the dragon gulped down the fruit and licked Samamat's hand.

“All right, Arioch. Say it.” Daniel waited, resigned.

Arioch raised his eyebrows. “Me? I'm not going to say a word, Daniel. Not one word.”

“It wasn't my…” Unable to truthfully say bringing them here hadn't been his idea, Daniel settled for, “fault. Really.”

“Oh, I can't wait to hear this,” said Arioch, conveniently forgetting his plea that Daniel not tell him a word about the matter.

“Well, you see…” Keeping an eye on the dragon, Daniel explained precisely how he wound up bringing home an Egyptian priestess and a dragon-god. “I didn't think the king would let me, but when I told him the dragon would probably die if left in the temple, he—”

“—was so delighted the Great Daniel had actually been
wrong
for a change he'd have granted whatever you asked for,” Arioch finished.

“But I wasn't wrong,” Daniel said.

“You told the king it
was
a dragon,” Samamat pointed out.

Daniel thought about this for a moment. “Oh,” he said at last.

Elu-ki turned and pressed her face against her dragon's neck. A sun-scarab adorned the base of her spine. Arioch stared at the tattoo as if memorizing it.

“Come with me, Elu-ki, and I'll find you something to wear,” Samamat said firmly. “And you men go find a place for the dragon, and something for it to eat.”

“Bel,” the dragon's priestess said. “Her name is Bel.”

Smiling sweetly, Elu-ki handed the dragon's leash to Arioch and followed Samamat.

Arioch stared at the dragon; the dragon stepped delicately over to Arioch and with one swift movement of her snakelike tongue, licked his neck. “Ahriman's hells!” Arioch said. “Here,
you
take it.” Since Daniel was bent over laughing, Arioch dropped the leash over Daniel's neck. “And stop that stupid laughing,” Arioch added.

*   *   *

Samamat had managed to find a garment to cover Elu-ki; Daniel thought he recognized one of his own tunics. Since the priestess was small-boned and delicate as a child, the linen tunic more than covered her. Samamat tried, vainly, to belt in the tunic. Too much fabric; the cloth bunched up, and the little priestess looked like a badly packed bundle.

“I'm sorry, Elu-ki,” Samamat said, “but there's nothing here to fit you. We can go to the marketplace tomorrow and buy cloth. My maid can make you something to wear.”

“I know I'm going to regret asking this,” Arioch said, “but why can't your maid alter what our pet priestess has on right now?”