Twilight in Babylon (24 page)

A few moments ticked by. “You planted them here.”

“Your intelligence is not underestimated, but then, how else could you fool the entire council.”

“You have no proof of your accusations.”

The outrage Ezzi had felt, the shame at discovering a “bad” star, overflowed. His words were sharp and swift as arrows. “It’s why you didn’t see the new star. And you missed the stars falling for two nights, until I ‘observed’ them for you. Then you readily agreed. You blamed Rudi for missing the blood moon. It took a while, but then I realized it is easy to hide the truth when you are known for your extreme concentration and deliberate solitude. The council thinks you are on the platform of the gods, sneaking glances at their Tablets of Destiny. I know you couldn’t tell it was night unless someone told you.”

Asa didn’t look at him, or express any emotion.

Ezzi’s steps brought him closer to Asa, even though his knees were knocking and hands trembling, still his words shot out with deadly accuracy. “You are in disfavor. The crops are failing. The
ensi
will step down, and you might not be chosen as the succeeding stargazer. If you listen to me, I can save us all.”

“You can make the rust go away?”

The stargazer was listening! Ezzi stifled a triumphant chuckle. “Not that, but I can assure that you will remain stargazer, that the gods’ need for a new
ensi
will be met, and that the people will be satisfied.”

“I am sure you will be compensated, too,” Asa said dryly.

Ezzi inclined his head. “My years may be few, but my ambition is limitless.” As he said it, he realized it was truth. He would do anything to feel the rush and flow of authority that he rode on at that moment.

“Unlike your humanity and honor,” Asa said.

Ezzi slammed his hand down beside Asa’s resting arm. “Don’t mock me.”

“What reasonless idea do you have?”

“I want a scribe, before I speak further,” Ezzi said, suddenly aware of what he was doing. How far away from the safety of his established life he was stepping.

“You are correct about my dishonesty regarding my sight,” Asa said, “but if I give you my word, then it is a contract between gentlemen I will never break.”

Ezzi doubted that, but he needed to speak with Asa now and get his plan in motion before Asa changed his mind. “I will trust your word as a gentleman then,” he said hesitantly.

Asa leaned back. “Astound me.”

“The crops are failed. Another sign the
ensi
must step down.”

Asa didn’t nod in agreement.

Ezzi paused.

“Is there something else?” Asa asked. “You might be able to see the night sky, but I can tell you what the signs mean. The crops are failed. There is no confusion about this omen.”

“It foretells what?”

“The
ensi
must die.”

K
alam had informed him gleefully this morning, when Ningal arrived at the court, that Guli had been arrested.

All day long, Ningal, heart heavy at the waste, had waited to see Guli appear before him again. Now it was past twilight; and he hadn’t heard from Guli himself. The neighbor had testified Viza had been walking peaceably in his garden when this giant hurled himself at the gentleman Viza and strangled him with his bare hands.

Ningal clarified that Viza wasn’t a gentleman, he wasn’t even an established member of the commonwealth. “As evidenced by his foreign title,
lord,
” he said. “Where is the accused?”

At long last they brought him in at spearpoint. Guli held himself stiffly; his hands were stained with blood. Ningal noted his blackened eye, the other eye healing, the split knuckles, and the way he breathed in stages—his ribs were most assuredly cracked. Ningal doubted the authenticity of the neighbor’s testimony; Guli had obviously been in a fight. Kalam’s glance was derogatory, and Ningal’s heart gained sorrow.

“Client Guli.”

“Slave Guli, sir,” the scribe corrected.

“Whose slave?” Ningal asked.

“Lord Viza’s. The murder victim.”

Killing a man, and killing one’s owner, were two different judgments. Guli refused to meet his eyes, and Ningal knew why. One was a debt that could be paid, the other was a debt that only Guli’s death could pay.

“How long was his servitude?” Ningal asked.

“He became a slave two days ago, sir. The documents haven’t even been filed.” Ningal gave him a curious look. “The scribe who was working on them is a friend of mine. We discussed it,” the scribe explained.

“I see.” He looked at Guli. “Tell me truth. What happened?”

Guli looked into his eyes. “I’m thrice-convicted. It doesn’t matter what happened. I killed a man. I’m his slave, and I slayed my owner. We both know the penalty.”

I wanted to give you the benefit of a doubt, you young jackass!
Ningal raged internally. He gestured with his hand. “Take him away to await judgment.”

“Your Honor,” Kalam said. “Your judgments, inscribed on the standard outside—”

The stone standards stood before his offices, proclaiming the way Justice Ningal perceived the law. Never had a thrice-convicted criminal escaped with his life. Never had a slave who killed his owner been shown mercy. Fast and sure was the method Ningal believed served the commonwealth. Should mercy be shown even once, then it would be anticipated, and finally expected. Should leniency be applied, it would appear as favoritism and promote division within the populace.

Kalam continued, “According to your—”

Ningal cut him off with a glance. The slaves were lighting torches inside. Guli had left the room. The day was finally cooling. “What is next?”

*      *     *

“Transfer the curse,” Ezzi said to Asa. “Substitute another woman for Puabi. Within the temple, everything stays the same. Outside, the people think the sacrifice has been made, the gods receive their named victim, and life returns to the instability we are accustomed to.”

“What do you get from this?”

“I am your assistant, at a substantial salary, until you retire. I’m your eyes—between us. Then I am your inheritor.”

“Your ambitions don’t extend beyond stargazing?”

Ezzi laughed. It was working! The gods
did
reward those who dared conventions and morality! “If you managed it correctly, stargazer could be a position more important and powerful than the council, the
lugal
and the
ensi
combined.” Ezzi ticked off the details on his fingers. “You are the only one who can foresee the gods’ judgments of destiny. You decide what you are going to tell the council, the
lugal
and the
ensi.
With that knowledge and power, you can shape the world like a scribe preparing clay.”

“This is what you intend?”

This is what the gods have taught me.
“Yes.”

“Tell me, my corrupt, inhuman client, did you suspect my predictions were based on poor vision before you cast your shadow on my door?” Asa asked.

The voice within him that was confident and brazen, spoke. Lied. “I kept records of predictions and results throughout my years at the Tablet House. You’ve been wrong for so many seasons, that it is only the goddess of perversity who sustains your position.”

Asa sat forward, his eyes burning with anger. “I am agreed. You have your contract. All your terms, except this one.”

“Which is?”

“I never want to see you again. Messenger information to me. Leave me notes scrawled on tablets. I can read those yet. When my presence is required in public, walk behind me. I will never address you. I will never acknowledge you. You have manipulated the situation so you are guaranteed to be my eyes. Clever tricks and a wily mind have preserved that title for you. I can’t promise your position as inheritor, but I will recommend you if I am asked.

“Never set foot in these chambers again when I am here. You are no friend, no customer, no relation to me. I think more highly of my slaves. But you get what you want.” He stood. “Write out the contract, I’ll sign it in triplicate.” He turned his back to Ezzi and adjusted his robes. “The
en
has requested our attendance on him. Do not let one fringe from your robe intrude on my vision. I’ll send you the documents to seal. Now, get out. I have a council meeting to attend.”

*      *     *

Ulu didn’t go to the tavern, for she was too tired from having spent her day at Chloe’s side. Her hands ached, her arms did, too, from applying pressure the way the justice had instructed. No wonder it took so much time and effort to become an
asu
or
asipu.
She had learned all sorts of things about the body, so her mind was tired also.

She was ruminating on this when Ezzi walked in. He didn’t look up, just trudged across the courtyard to his staircase. “Hello, son,” she called.

He jerked as though he’d been struck.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she said with a smile. “I live here, remember?”

He glanced up at the exposed sky. “Aren’t you late for the tavern?”

“I’m taking the night off. Have you eaten?”

He shook his head.

“The kitchen has a wonderful fish; would you like it fried or smoked?”

“I’m not going to eat, Ulu.”

“Was your day blessed?”

“The stargazer Asa needed my assistance today. In fact, I should wash and change. We meet with the
en
tonight, at the council meeting.”

“He is certainly a great example of a fertility priest,” she said. “I bet he’s hung like a bull.” Ezzi looked at his feet. He was so uncomfortable with the basics of life.
How can he be my child
? she wondered. “With the fields like they are, though, he hasn’t pleased the gods.”

Ezzi snorted. “You don’t know anything. It’s the
ensi
the gods are unhappy with. She’s responsible for the crops and the weather.” He turned around and took a few steps up. “Send some fish to my room. I’ll eat while I dress.”

“We can have it later, when you get home. I’ll wait for you.”

“Don’t bother,” he said, and took the remaining steps two at a time. He slammed the door and left Ulu in silence.
Well,
she thought,
maybe I’ll just go to the tavern to say my greetings.
Her dress wasn’t fresh though, and she wasn’t really in the mood. A nice dinner, with some pleasant conversation, had been her only wish. She could just make out the light flickering through the slits in the wood of Ezzi’s closed door.

The house was so nice now, even without Guli’s assistance in picking things out. Clean, with fresh sheeting and fronds on the beds, the warm smell of baking bread, new matting, blooming flowers, light incense. Ezzi hadn’t even noticed. She’d hoped to please him, but maybe she couldn’t. Such a delicate boy, with great sensibilities. What did he think about? What did he want?

How could she have given birth to him? They were as dissimilar as fish and peafowl.

As she watched, the light went out and he came downstairs, his hair wet and his cloak scented with sunshine and soap. He adjusted the pin and his cylinder seals.

“You look wonderful,” she said. “If I weren’t your mother I’d want you to be my customer.”

“You’re disgusting,” he said.

“I didn’t mean it badly,” she protested. “You look handsome—”

He slammed the courtyard door shut. Ulu pressed her lips together. She never said the right thing, she never looked appropriate. Her son was ashamed of her.

“Ma’am,” the kitchen slave asked. “How do you want the fish?”

Ulu looked at her hands, red and raw from hot water and oils for the girl. It had been a long time since she’d done anything with them other than count earnings and earn the counting. “Just bring me some beer,” she said. “Save the fish.”

“Would you like it smoked or jellied or pickled, ma’am?”

Ezzi said only peasants ate food that was smoked because they couldn’t buy fresh every day. Jellied was too vulgar. “How about a nice stew?”

The slave left and returned with a jar of beer and drinking tube. Ulu dismissed the girl and broke the seal herself. The markings were familiar, but she couldn’t read them. It seemed she saw markings everywhere from everyone now. Writing. The world had gotten so fast, she was almost lost. She took her first sip—the beer was bitter. Not her favorite, but she’d opened it already. She looked at the seal. Perhaps it warned her that it was a bitter brew?

No one she knew would know. Guli could figure some math, so he could mix dyes and water and make hair beautiful; most people could figure weights and exchanges, but to just… read? What purpose would that serve?

Guli, she thought. He would be delightful company tonight, just a pleasant meal and conversation. Ulu called for the slave and sent her down the street, but not before pulling another jar, whose writing looked different, and checking that the barley cakes were fresh. Ulu washed her face, made sure her robe was clean, and sat back to wait.

The slave returned. Alone. All the anticipation melted away.

“The male Guli hasn’t been to the tavern. At his former house he didn’t answer my knock.”

Ulu looked down. “Thank you,” she said. The slave left Ulu alone with her own company.

*      *     *

Cheftu couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and he couldn’t figure out what year, what time period in which he was seeing it, but it appeared that this society had put democracy in motion long before Athens claimed to have created it. The two houses of the commonwealth of Ur stood opposite each other. The
lugal
mediated, and Cheftu and Puabi sat to the side. Hers was the tie-breaking vote, if needed.

Commerce was the topic tonight. The barley crop was blighted. If nothing else went wrong, they would have 30 percent of the normal yield. Scribes were working furiously to recalculate taxes, and thus the commonwealth’s budget. Spies had been sent north to learn the cost of grain in the cities along the river above them, before formal inquiries were made about buying grain. The reconnaissance would keep Ur’s money-loving northern cousins honest.

Ships were sailing tonight to canvass the known world for a replacement crop. Cheftu had the numbers of the surplus in his hands. They would have almost nothing left if they dispersed the stores, but if they distributed half of them, they could guard against another bad year.