Game of Queens (6 page)

“I don't know, Daniel. Who knows what the king will choose to do these days? I just hope…”

“Hope what, Sama?”

“Well, the stars indicate a change coming.”

“What kind of a change? A new king?”

Samamat frowned. “I can't tell. Maybe. Something different. I'll keep studying them, of course. Perhaps they'll reveal more after the full moon.”

Something different
certainly summed up what happened on the plain of Dura. Once the hundreds who had been commanded to travel there arrived, they found not only the statue of Ishtar blazing like fire under the summer sun, but King Nebuchadnezzar holding court there. All the musicians in Babylon had also been commanded to Dura; they ringed the idol, waiting with their harps and lyres, their flutes and timbrels and drums. Arioch sent Daniel a long letter, scrawled on new papyrus in Arioch's own slashing hand, warning him of what happened then—a forewarning for which Daniel was deeply thankful.

First, there wasn't enough water. Or food. The king, may he live forever, told everyone they could turn right around and go home—
after
they all prostrated themselves in front of the idol. Which they were supposed to do when they heard music start. And whoever didn't prostrate himself would be thrown into a fiery furnace. As if the sun wasn't hot enough to melt a helmet. So once the heralds had managed to shout this to everyone on the field, the king raised his hand and the musicians started playing, and I don't think anyone told them what to play, because I never heard such an uproar in my life. Harps and drums don't mix that well anyway.

So everyone fell over himself to be the first man flat on his face. Except, of course, for those three friends of yours. Which the Chaldean mages helpfully pointed out to the king, because there were so many people there the king really couldn't see past the first dozen or so rows, not with that sun glare and the dust. So the king, may he live forever, ordered everyone to stand up again, and ordered the music to start again, and everyone fell flat on his face again.

Except Abednego, Shadrach, and Meshach, of course. The three of them waited around, standing, until I and the guard got through the rows of prostrated worshippers—I hope Ishtar appreciates what the king's doing for Her Glory here—to arrest them and haul them before Nebuchadnezzar. Who demanded to know why they weren't worshipping as ordered. They said it wasn't permitted by their own god, so the king ordered them thrown in a fiery furnace.

Of course, there wasn't a fiery furnace out there on Dura plain, so I had to take the three of them and find one, and who has a furnace burning at this season? Or one big enough to hold three men, come to that? But I had to do something, friends of yours or not. So I told the king, may he live forever, that his will would be carried out, which seemed to please him enough to order everyone to stand up and go home again. I brought the prisoners to the nearest blacksmith's and had him get the forge going. We nailed up blankets around the forge and we all waited while Abednego, Shadrach, and Meshach stood in the forge, and why they didn't all three drop dead of the heat in there I don't know.

Finally I figured they'd been in a fiery furnace long enough to satisfy the king's command and ordered my men to haul down the blankets. Frankly, Daniel, I expected to find at least one of them dead of the smoke if nothing else, but all three of them were fine. Sweaty and sooty, but not dead. I suppose they had the sense to lie down on the ground and stay as cool as possible. They said the Lord Their God had saved them, and maybe He had, because it must have been hell in there. And of course once they'd said
that,
half my men were convinced they'd seen a mysterious fourth person in the smoke when we took down the blankets. And then they decided this mysterious fourth person looked like a god. Which is what they told everyone when we got back to the plain of Dura
with
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego alive and pretty well, considering everything.

And that's when Nebuchadnezzar ordered that anyone in his kingdom who spoke one evil word about this Great God of yours would be cut up in little pieces and thrown to the crocodiles in the Tigris.

All I can say is that I hope the king, may he live forever, doesn't want to hold any more mass religious rituals. Especially on Dura plain. In the middle of summer.

Better burn this even if it
is
a waste of papyrus.

Your friend, Arioch.

King Nebuchadnezzar never again emerged from the madness that devoured him. After months of nerve-shattering dreams—dreams Daniel interpreted as soothingly as possible for the raging king—Nebuchadnezzar abandoned humanity entirely, living naked in the palace gardens, eating grass, and snarling at anyone who came near him. Nebuchadnezzar's death, caused by his insistence on consuming nightshade leaves, came as a relief to almost everyone.

His heir, Prince Belshazzar, ordered a splendid tomb erected to hold his father's body, and then began his reign as he meant to finish it: drunk. Better than madness, Daniel thought, but not by much.

I hope the wine at least drowns Belshazzar's dreams. I hope King Belshazzar forgets I'm alive. I'm tired of interpreting dreams for kings.

*   *   *

Darius the Mede, Darius the Great, Darius the Lord of Half the World, marched upon Babylon, followed by an army so vast no man could count its soldiers—although they numbered at least ten thousand, for that was the size of Darius's elite corps, the Immortals. Darius had already conquered vast lands in Asia and Africa. There was little chance for Babylon to stand against him, and King Belshazzar apparently didn't even intend to try.

At a moment of ultimate crisis, Belshazzar ordered up another feast.

Rumor had it that all that was served was the strongest wine. What was not rumor, but truth, was that Belshazzar had dragged out the plunder his father Nebuchadnezzar had looted from the Temple in Jerusalem, and was using the Temple's sacred vessels as wine cups. No one had been able to dissuade Belshazzar from this sacrilege.

Daniel hadn't even bothered to try.

*   *   *

Darius's army marched ever closer to Babylon, and Belshazzar and his guests grew ever drunker. Arioch rode out with the king's guard to watch the approaching host, leaving Samamat in Daniel's care. The two of them waited through three long tense days and nights. On the third night, someone knocked softly at Daniel's door.

Daniel and Samamat looked at the door, and then each other.

“I don't think Darius's soldiers would bother to knock,” Samamat said, and Daniel answered, “Probably not.” And Arioch would simply have entered without knocking. Another glance passed between them, and then Daniel opened the door.

A veiled woman stood there. “Daniel Dream-Master? The king has need of you. Will it please you to come to him?”

“King Belshazzar asked for me?” Daniel found it hard to believe that King Belshazzar could remember his own name by now, let alone Daniel's.

“No. I asked for you.” The woman lifted the veil, revealing her somber face and her ivory hair. Belshazzar's wife.

“Queen Ishvari, I am honored. How may I be of service to you?”

“Come to the banquet hall,” she said, “and read for the king the writing that he sees upon the wall.”

“The king sees writing upon the wall?” Daniel asked, cautious. “What sort of writing, my lady queen?”

“The sort of writing that only a king's eyes may see.” Queen Ishvari chose her words carefully; Daniel understood exactly what awaited him in the king's banquet hall. A drunken, delusional king and—

And writing upon the wall that he alone sees. O Lord, what is wrong with these kings of Babylon?
Daniel vividly recalled the night that King Nebuchadnezzar demanded a dream interpreted—a dream the king didn't even remember. Now Nebuchadnezzar's son needed invisible writing read to him.…

“O queen, if only a king's eyes see the words, what can I do? I am no king.”

Ishvari regarded him with calm, steady eyes. “You are the Dream Master. You tell the meaning of dreams, and what is this writing the king sees upon the wall but another form of dream? The king will believe what you read to him. I could tell him what the words tell him, but he will not listen to me.”

“King Belshazzar may not listen to me either,” Daniel said, and Ishvari's crimson-tinted lips curved in a bitter smile.

“Perhaps he will not—but you and I will have done our duty.”

Daniel had sighed, and gone to tell Belshazzar what anyone sober could have said to him: that with Darius's army at the gates of Babylon, Belshazzar was doomed—

—news Belshazzar was too drunk to understand.

*   *   *

Darius proved an enlightened conqueror. Once Belshazzar was dead, Darius granted clemency to Queen Ishvari and her infant daughter. And Darius, seeing no reason to execute good servants merely because they had served their king well, left the palace hierarchy in place. More, Darius sought out those whom Belshazzar had forgotten; Daniel found himself once more in a king's favor and raised to high rank.

“What is it with you and kings?” Arioch asked. “Do
I
wind up made a general? No, I'm still just captain of the king's guard.”

“In other words, you have one of the most important posts there is. And I suppose Darius thinks I may be useful,” Daniel offered.

“Right. That's why you're set up over all the other princes and governors. Be careful, Daniel.
Try
to remember you have a food-taster.”

Arioch was proven right—although it wasn't poison Daniel's enemies used, but law.

*   *   *

It was the king's custom to hold court and receive petitioners, and to grant requests honoring his favorites. And when that request was that Darius decree that for a month any man who prayed to any god or man save Darius should be thrown to lions, at first Darius smiled, thinking this a jest. But it was no jest, and upon the petition being repeated, Darius agreed.

“I hate to say this, Arioch,” Samamat said, when the new law had been read out and posted at every city gate, “but I don't think Darius is any better than the Babylonian kings. What kind of mad law is that?”

“The kind of law that gets Daniel thrown to lions,” Arioch answered grimly. “Look, Daniel, I want you to promise you won't pray to anyone or anything but King Darius for the next month. Better yet, don't pray at all.”

Daniel knew he couldn't swear that. “I will pray only in private, silently.”

“It won't help,” Arioch said.

“Which is why I won't promise, Arioch.”

“Daniel's right.” Samamat touched his hand, lightly. “All someone has to do is swear they saw or heard him praying to his god and not to Darius.”

“You mean
lie
? To the great king himself? Yes, you're probably right.” Arioch turned to Daniel. “Well, try to stay out of trouble and close to the king.”

But even that tactic couldn't save Daniel for long. Sooner or later, he had to go aside, and once he was out of the king's sight, he was doomed.

*   *   *

King Darius did his best to mitigate Daniel's fate: offered the accusers gifts to change their testimony, attempted to alter the penalty. But he had sealed the decree into Median and Persian law, and such a law could not be changed—even by the king himself.

All the king could do for Daniel was furnish his cell with a comfortable bed and provide good food and wine. And allow him visitors. Daniel always suspected King Darius had conspired with Arioch to arrange Daniel's deliverance; even Arioch's resourcefulness had some limits.…

“Daniel,” said Arioch, “is it absolutely impossible for you to stay out of trouble with kings?”

“It wasn't my fault.”

“It never is. So—lions.”

“Yes,” Daniel said. “Lions. Maybe if I sit quietly, they'll leave me alone.”

“Maybe if you sit quietly, they'll have an easier time eating you. No—don't say anything. Let me think.” Arioch always liked to pretend thinking was a difficult task that he undertook as infrequently as possible.

“Arioch—don't tell Sama. She'll just worry.”

“You think so? And by the way, do you really think the entire city—including Samamat—doesn't already know? The men stalking you made sure the whole thing was bellowed in the marketplace and from the top of the Hanging Gardens to the bottom. Darius isn't getting out of carrying out the penalty.”

Daniel sighed. “I know. I'm sorry.”

“You're sorry? You're about to be devoured by lions, and all you can say is ‘I'm sorry'?”

Daniel thought about it; shrugged. “What else can I say? King Darius can't flout his own law.”

“Does the law actually say you have to be thrown into a den of
live
lions?” Arioch suddenly stopped talking, and when Daniel began to answer, Arioch held up his hand. Daniel obediently waited; clearly Arioch had just thought of something.

One of those clever ideas he always swears he's too dull-witted to think of—
Daniel only hoped Arioch's idea wouldn't cause even more trouble. You never knew where one of Arioch's ideas would lead you.

“All right,” Arioch said at last. “Here's what we're going to do. Do you know if Samamat uses poppy syrup?”

“To read the stars? I doubt it.”

“Well, how would I know what astrologers use? I'll ask her—she may know where I can get the stuff.”

“Arioch, you can get poppy syrup from half the merchants in the Street of Spices.”

“Not as much as we're going to need.”