CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN (14 page)

Namtar put the crystal back in the cabinet, confident that she was suited for the slave market. She was not bound to any gods, she was not a goddess, and she was not protected with a Freeman’s mark. It seemed her odd spotlessness was due to some kind of cleansing spell. Namtar rejoiced at his luck.

“Oh, I’ll have gods lining up and fighting each other to buy you,” he declared to the unconscious girl. His beak seemed to upturn in a warped smile as he thought about it. This catch was a rare oddity in a long line of thousands of mundane slaves.

Eros and Zephyrus spoke little as they traveled to the City to report the desecration of the Promethean Shrine to the Council. The memory of what he had seen haunted Zephyrus. Eros tried to distract him with a few tales of humorous lovers’ mishaps, but his stories were received with mere grunts. To make things more difficult, the closer they drew to the City, the more reluctant Zephyrus was to go through with their duty to report the tragedy.

Zephyrus had never been to the City and wanted to keep it that way. As far as he was concerned, mixing with other gods was just asking for trouble. He repeatedly asked Eros why they both had to bear witness and suggested all manner of stalling - stopping for food, visiting friends along the way, chasing women - anything with the potential to make them miss the day’s Council hour. Eros exhaled slowly, trying not to become angry with him. Ditching Zephyrus and going before the Council alone was not an option. When he reported what they had seen at Prometheus’s grove, the Council would demand he retrieve Zephyrus so that a full recounting from all witnesses could be presented. That would mean two trips for Eros, and he wasn’t going to stand for it. Valiantly, he resisted all his friend’s attempts at diversion, and at long last steered him toward the entry gates of the City.

“You’ve done this before?” a defeated Zephyrus asked Eros.

“Many times. Just stay in line and answer the questions as I do,” Eros said as they queued before the glass guardians at the entry to the City. A line of deities, humans, and creatures moved steadily as each who desired to pass through the gates and enter the City stepped up for judgment. Zephyrus craned around Eros, trying to see what was happening at the front of the line.

“Can’t we just fly over the walls?” he asked impatiently.

“Do you want Zeus to thunderbolt you personally? He’s on the Council this cycle, in case you didn’t know.”

“S-shit,” Zeph commented, his airy outburst blowing tall hats and loose turbans from the heads of some in front of them. The accessories were retrieved with much cursing and some shoving as those who had stepped out of line demanded their positions back. Zephyrus affected an innocent expression and was not suspected. No one here knew him; he could probably get away with all sorts of things. He smiled. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The queue moved again. Eros stepped with confidence before one of the tall, rhomboid prisms. He gazed at his reflection in its polished surface, and wondered which deity of judgment hid inside it today. The duty to screen those who wished to enter the City was shared by many gods and spirits from across the realms, all of whom had the power to tell true intent from false. There were some gods who were immune from screening, including the current members of the Council and others who had undergone secret trials of scrutiny to earn the privilege. Eros was neither of those, however, and had no choice but to wait for the guardian of the glass to clear him.

Experiencing the scan always fascinated Eros. The clear reflection of his perfect muscles and flawless skin began to ripple, starting at his bare feet and vibrating up his nude body, as if a thin curtain of water flowed upward along the inner surface of the rectangular crystal. Eros watched the prism consume his entire reflection, the tops of his wings above his shoulders and his wild dark hair the last to wash away.

“Your purpose in the City?” A soft, feminine voice addressed him from inside the crystal. Eros fought his automatic urge to flirt with the being. He did not want to offend, although he suspected that the judge would understand that such behavior was merely his nature. Managing to stick to business, Eros answered.

“To report a temple desecration to the Council.”

There was a brief pause before a bright flash cleared the prism’s watery surface. “You may enter,” the voice decided, with no further comment.

“That’s it?” Eros flinched, not having noticed that Zephyrus was hovering just behind his left shoulder. “Seems like a lot of waiting for just one question.”

Eros, with great restraint, edged away from Zephyrus. Who knew what the guardian might find objectionable within him? In truth, Eros did not want to know. “I’ll wait for you inside the gate,” he said, and flew away over the heads of the already-approved crowd that was pressing toward the main entry.

He spied an open space on a high wall and landed there. The sun-warmed stone kissed his feet, inviting him to sit down. Lounging comfortably, feet dangling above a balcony festooned with flags representing many pantheons, Eros watched as visitors came and went from the embassy compound on which he perched. Risking a glance back toward the guardians, he chuckled to see Zephyrus gesturing animatedly at the prism. Apparently Zephyrus was getting more scrutiny than he expected. As he waited, Eros heard a pointed question cut through the other background noise.

“How can you assure me that you knew what you were looking at?” an insistent voice queried.

Eros was not above eavesdropping, especially when it required no guile or effort on his part. He could not make out the indistinct answer to the question that came from further inside the room, but he heard the first voice respond to it clearly.

“And you did not fall to your knees or run at the sight? You continue to prove your mettle, human. I am very pleased to hear you made sure I could keep in touch.”

Eros cocked his head, straining to hear more. It appeared that some human had seen something startling. Could it have been the beast? The first voice began to fade in and out, as if its speaker were pacing the length of the room. Eros heard the voice promise “whatever resources you need.” Someone wanted something, badly, but beyond that Eros gathered nothing from the snatches of conversation. Growing bored, he turned his eyes toward the guardians and was relieved to see Zephyrus plowing through the sky toward him amid thunderous clouds.

The flags of the balcony flapped wildly as Zephyrus blew in. Eros smirked at the grumpy expression on his face. “Seems like you were holding up the line.”

Zephyrus snorted, a wisp of fog shooting from his nose. “Damn thing wanted to know why I was so interested in sneaking into the City. Like I’m s-supposed to know the rules when I’ve never been here before.” Zephyrus’s mouth opened to continue, then he clamped it shut as he became aware of how much his distress was amusing Eros. “You think this is funny.”

Eros shrugged noncommittally. “You got in. Next time you’ll know better.”

“I’ll know not to ask it where I can get beer, that’s for s-sure,” Zephyrus muttered.

At this admission, Eros laughed so hard he almost fell off the wall. Below him, the sounds of hearty mirth reached keen ears. Dark hands quietly pushed closed the balcony doors.

Zephyrus and Eros Enter the City

Daedalus and Icarus
(Lord Frederick Leighton, 1869).

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In the Council Hall, Konohana sat calmly on her mat. Only an occasional shower of cherry blossoms spontaneously bursting from her hair indicated the petty jesting between Shiva and Zeus was disturbing her tranquility. As Quetzalcoatl was again late, the other two gods of the cycle’s ruling quartet were passing the time one-upping each other with tales of their exploits. Konohana suspected her realm had appointed her to fill the fourth seat due to her patience; perhaps they had forgotten that she was a volcanic goddess. Over time, she could be provoked into explosive anger. If she heard one more exaggerated story about the superior prowess of a child of Shiva or Zeus, she would be sorely tempted to remind everyone of this.

She reached for her cup of tea and sipped as the day’s cases lined up. Konohana and her fellow judges sat upon a central platform flanked on three sides with steps. Behind them, enchanted tapestries representing the glory of each of their realms hung from a high golden pole that spanned the width of the room. Shiva’s banner slowly cycled through creation and destruction, while Zeus’s was a non-stop spectacle of heroic exploits. Quetzalcoatl’s tapestry celebrated knowledge and celestial events, while Konohana’s own flag displayed quiet scenes of contemplation and compassion.

The gathering of Council petitioners was small today. In the early years of unrest when the City was first finding its equilibrium, the Council could barely keep up with the daily stream of cases. Now that the City had endured peacefully for many centuries, and the population of gods had thinned, service on the Council was less of a burden. Major gods, like Quetzalcoatl, Shiva and Zeus, had ceased ducking the job as they had when the hardest work had been required. Konohana was grateful for her current respectable companions. One cycle she had been forced to adjudicate with a huntress from Afrik who summarily speared most of the guilty, and a Nord god of mead for whom everything could be settled by a drinking contest. She appreciated the wisdom of these creator gods and counted her blessings for their presence.

Despite his banter with Zeus, Shiva had been paying acute attention to all around him. He was the first to sense the imminent arrival of the god for whom they waited. “Quetzalcoatl comes,” Shiva said. He raised his left hand and pointed toward the temple floor where Quetzalcoatl was walking among those who had come to address the Council, sizing them up personally.

“Look at him working the room,” Zeus scoffed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was looking for bribes.”

Konohana raised a painted eyebrow. “Do you question the Flying Serpent’s integrity?”

“I’m sure Zeus finds it comparable, and therefore as acceptable, as his own,” Shiva grinned. The snake that usually rested in a coil around Shiva’s neck stretched and fluttered its tongue at Zeus impertinently.

As Quetzalcoatl finished his survey and climbed the platform stairs, the doors to the temple opened to admit spectators. Deities and other beings hurried to fill the stacked rows of stone seats at the sides of the hall. Major gods and insignificant slaves intermingled in the audience. The Council Hall was the only place in the City where the rules of association were suspended. All were equal here.

One of the Council attendants tugged on a cobalt blue rope. A silver bell hanging from the very center of the ceiling rang crisply, its sound cutting through the hum of conversation and bringing all attention to the gods on the platform. Quetzalcoatl, who had not yet taken his seat, got the jump on the others by spinning on his heel and addressing the crowd.

“The first accused may step forward,” he said, taking his chair imperiously, sitting ramrod straight and preening the feather in his headdress to stand just as erect. Konohana smiled in bemusement as Shiva ignored his pretentions. Zeus missed the display entirely. His attention was fixed on the woman the temple guards were bringing before them.

“Oh, not again,” Zeus sighed, slapping a knee buried in many folds of drapery. “What are you charged with this time?”

“Disrupting sacred blood rites,” the accused spoke up, not seeming the least bit ashamed. The pale, dark-haired female grinned, exposing sharp teeth. “I thought it was just a normal orgy.”