Watson, Ian - Novel 16 (43 page)

           
Was hers the voice of my unfulfilled
suicide calling out lamia-like to me?

 
          
She
didn’t say what I must; or mustn’t.

 
          
‘Oh,
I can tell you such delicious secrets! But not right now. I must go.’

 
          
‘Wait,
Thess! Have you appeared to Gupta?’

 
          
‘Just
to you.’

 
          
‘Will
you appear to both of us together?’ Thus I could be convinced that she wasn’t a
private hallucination, an imaginary person who had formed in my mind during all
the months of scribing - formed with such total conviction that now suddenly
here she was projected into ghostly reality.

 
          
‘Please,
Thess?’

 
          
‘I’m
not sure if I can safely appear to two people at once. The pattern’s more
concentrated then. It’s denser. It could notice me and trap me. I think I’d
better appear only to you, when I can. Maybe you’d better not even tell Gupta
about me. I don’t know; I’ll think about it.’

 
          
‘But
it’s true that
Babylon
’s just an
elektronik
model?’

 
          
She
laughed. ‘Otherwise how could I be a ghost? Ooops -!’

 
          
And
she vanished from before my eyes, just as a man turned the corner into the
lane. A tall, robed, black-bearded man wearing a beehive of a turban. Swinging
a jaunty stick, he strode towards me and the temple gate. It was Shazar, come
to sample the wares of Ishtar; though not to find another bride for Marduk.

 
          
It
must be three months now since Deborah- Zarpanit had gone to the Underworld,
and a new Zarpanit had married Marduk. Procuring the replacement Zarpanit had
been none of Shazar’s business; nor would finding the next one be.

 
          
Shazar
was merely intent on paying a fraternal visit, of Sin to Ishtar; just as in the
Game of Babylon, the timeless game.

           
The guard had resumed his post
outside the gate. Hastily he drew himself to attention. As Shazar passed by me
he paid scant heed to someone whom he had never personally met. Besides, my
hair was bushy once more. I hadn’t needed to shave my skull to remain true to
Thessany. Her lion mark would always stay printed on my cheek, like a kiss
which had bitten deep.