The Story So Far: Sole survivor of the destruction of Shadi, the world's oldest city, the priestess and daughter of King Amar-Sin, Ilati, seeks to avenge her people and end the rule of Nysra and his dark gods. Abandoned by her goddess, she sought out a new deity in the desert and connected with K'adau, the Mother of Demons. After traveling months with the Sut Resi, nomadic horse warriors, a one-eyed sorcerer named Eigou, and a charioteer of Magan named Menes, she fought and bested a demon at Sa Dul. Now they are traveling to seek allies in the Kingdom of Sarru, but that task will not be easy even with the possible help of Kulziya, Captain of the Royal Guard in Ulmanna. To make matters worse, one of the men responsible for Shadi's destruction will be present as a protected diplomat: Commander Sarhad of Nadar. 
 

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Caught by soft breezes wafting down from the north, hundreds of red petals showered down from the top of the grand Eastern Gate. The crowd pressed through the great bronze doors, flanked and guarded by statues of Lugal’s servitors, fierce winged bulls with stone bodies and golden horns. Together, they embodied the twin gods Eta and Mursu, evil destroyers vanquished by Lugal in the days before days and then forced to bear his yoke. With their ferocious expressions and wild eyes, they towered over the throngs of people moving between them.

Shir Del looked up at the statues fearlessly, ignoring the reverential gesture made by Kulziya as they passed beneath the gaze of the bulls. “Strange that no thief has made off with their horns.”

Kulziya laughed, but there was an edge of subtle apprehension to it. “It is not wise to anger the Twins, or one will have worse than a legion of howling demons behind them.”

Ilati arched an eyebrow. “Is Lugal not their master?”

“He is a god of justice and law. He does not extend his protection to thieves and blasphemers.”

“Why keep your gods in stones?” Roshanak craned her neck, fascinated with everything she could lay eyes on. “It would be very cramped.”

Eigou chuckled and reached over, affectionately flicking at Roshanak’s braid. “Even the gods in Ulmanna are civilized. We make our homes in brick. Why should they not do the same?”

Ilati swept petals from her hair with one hand, rubbing at Youtab’s shoulder with the other. The mare danced beneath her as they moved, restless energy magnified by the noise and strangeness of this new place. The priestess was at the center of the group so that the other horses and Eigou’s faithful mule could guard the crowd from Youtab’s wrathful hooves. Already they were drawing many stares, even in the chaos of a festival. Sut Resi barbarians came with their own reputation, and these ones rode beside men of King Tudhaliya’s personal guard unchained.

After moons on the grasslands and the forest road—the smell of water and growing plants, horse and wind, the black earth of Kullah and the fallen needles of cedar—the chaotic mix of scents tied to a city struck Ilati like a fist. There was the smell of the crowd’s sweat, the smoke of fires from roasting pits, bread baking and beer fermenting, river water diverted into canals teeming thick with reed boats, and a thousand other scents she could only identify as city. Ilati scraped together a handful of flower petals and held them to her nose, crushing them in her hand to release a sweeter scent.

How strange, that something she once would have never thought a moment of could come across so offensively. After a few moments, she let the crushed petals fall from her hand. Her nose would learn again to ignore it.

The noise was no less overwhelming: hymns to Lugal sung by the crowds thronging the broad, main streets of mud brick, punctuated by the clanging of bronze gongs, the hammering pulse of drums and cries of dancers lost in a flurry of ecstatic movements, the endless chatter of the crowd. Compared to deafening thunder on the open ground, it was not painful, but it was relentless. Ilati wanted to scream, but knew it would be devoured by the din of the crowd.

They were close to a parade snaking along the length of the Suen River as it approached the joining, towards the towering ziggurat to the northeast. The Temple of Lugal perched high on the central hill south of the rivers’ joining, across a great bridge of cedar wood sealed against the water by black bitumen and tiles that shimmered in the sun like the green and blue of fish scales seen through water. Accents of mother of pearl decorated the bridge between tiled patterns and the bitumen, glowing gold.

While all the others were drawn into the splendid, joyous energy of the celebration that arced like lightning from cloud to cloud, Ilati felt a coldness uncoil in her stomach the closer they moved to the city’s center.

Eyes were watching, and not simply those of gawking passersby.

Ilati’s thumb stroked the string of her bow to calm herself, thumb-ring already in place in case she needed to draw forth a vengeful arrow or two. She had not unstrung the weapon, wholly intending to meet the viper with fangs of her own if Nadaren men accosted them in the streets. Shir Del and Roshanak had both followed her example even though they knew how to string theirs on horseback, something Ilati still struggled with.

The priestess tried to identify the source of the coldness, looking ahead, then to the left and to the right. She even twisted to see behind, but nothing seemed amiss. The festival obscured everything except itself, beaming people thronging on every side.

Ilati took a deep breath, low into her belly, and forced her mind to focus not on the chaos outside, but the coldness within. Fear. Ilati’s fingers hooked an arrow. What am I afraid of here?

The closer they drew to the bridge, the feeling intensified. Ilati turned her gaze not on the work of art that was the great span across the waters, but the river flowing placidly beneath. She drew on her focus as Eigou had taught her, opening her eyes and then, with a deep breath, letting her mind discard the reality around her to peer beyond. Without closing her eyes, they seemed to open again. The forms of the people around her seemed to freeze and stutter, moving so slowly they were barely more than statues.

Roshanak glowed like a beacon to her left, a luminous purple-blue third eye made of light open on her forehead. Six spectral arms of the same color sprouted from her back, each ending in a delicate and purposeful hand. The girl abruptly turned to look at Ilati, the only other who seemed able to move normally. Or at least, the spirit within the second-souled girl could.

Ilati couldn’t be distracted by her long, not when she could feel a far greater presence uncoiling in the waters of the river.

The voice came from all sides, deep and rumbling, like the churning of river waters in a storm. There was no physical form rising from the river, but Ilati felt the god’s presence all the same. The indescribable sensations that rushed all around her like fearsome currents allowed her a window into Lugal’s mood: the river god was disturbed, verging upon displeased. Why have you come to my city, creature of the night winds?

Even with Eigou's lessons, Ilati wasn’t certain how to respond without speaking aloud, but forced her thoughts into order and hoped the god would hear them. I am only a messenger, a priestess, of the Mother of Night Winds. A demon I am not.

Yet you bring ruin in your wake. I see you.

Ilati kept her calm. Nysra and his dark gods are the ones you should rage against, mighty one. They intend to destroy your city as they destroyed Shadi.

They are welcome to try. I will devastate them, as I have destroyed all who seek the subjugation of my city.

She knew she was on dangerous ground, but forged ahead anyway. As you destroyed the great Ilishu, who made your chosen king kiss the earth before his feet?

You speak with insolence, priestess of the night winds! You would be wise to curb your tongue!

The priestess let go of her arrow, drawing on her memory of K’adau’s power to ward off the frightful shivers of dreadful awe Lugal’s anger inspired. I do not think you to be weak, mighty lord of Ulmanna and all it commands, but I have seen Nysra’s power first hand. He fell upon great Kullah like a lion upon a hound, and laid waste to its peoples like the sickle cuts grass. You will find in me a better friend than enemy, o wise lawgiver. Ulmanna is about to plunge into war, brother against brother. A kingship divided will fall like a sacred cedar to Nysra’s powerful ax.

Yes, I have heard the prayers of the princes, each seeking my favor. Lugal’s seething rage receded slowly, like floodwaters, replaced by something more thoughtful. You speak with a mind for strategy and a tongue for diplomacy, more than I expect from one of your nature.

Ilati took a deep breath. I wish an alliance against Nadar. They and their sorcerer king cannot be overcome without your people’s aid, great one. That is why I dare enter your city: as supplicant and warning. I have seen the sun blotted out and Ulmanna undone like a weaver destroys their work.

How do I know you are not their treacherous servant? The question struck like a barbed tail lashing forth from the waters.

Would the Mother of Demons ever consent to bend a knee to another?

Lugal paused, absorbing that. No. That is why she roams the wilderness. She cannot be tamed, not even by the gods of men. It is anathema, and her power is known from the days before days. But why does she care what becomes of a city of men?

I cannot say if she does, Master of the Two Waters, but I do. I would not see your people suffer as mine have suffered.

Vengeance is in the nature of the Howler in the Desert. Still, there is a strangeness to it. Lugal seemed to calm further, presence as placid as the river’s flow beside them. The would-be kings must prove themselves to me or resolve their quarrelsome weakness. Their rift has been deepened by the cancer among them. Perhaps you are the knife to cut it out. This would prove your intentions are as you say to my satisfaction.

With great pleasure, o mighty one, Ilati said. The face of Sarhad appeared in her thoughts, sending a current of rage down her spine.

The cold receded with Lugal’s fading presence and the world around Ilati stuttered back to life. She realized that everyone was staring at her, probably because she and Youtab had stopped at the riverside near the bridge, frustrating the crowd behind who wished to move to their god’s temple. Well, Roshanak was probably staring for another reason.

“What is so fascinating about the waters?” Kulziya called, turning around. He was in the lead now, best suited to guide them through the city streets.

Ilati blinked like a sleepwalker suddenly roused. “I thought I saw something moving.”

“There are many fish.” Something in Eigou’s tone told her he suspected something more had just happened, but he was less certain than the second-souled with them likely was.

She nodded slightly, whistling to Youtab. The mare had fallen still, though her ears kept flicking wildly as she tried to sort through the chaotic din of the festival. At her direction, the mare perked up and started to move again.

Roshanak leaned over, almost enough to fall off Thriti’s back. “What was that?” she asked as the others refocused on the path ahead.

So no other would hear, Ilati kept her voice quiet. “The patron god of this city.” The effect was not as powerful or profound as her audience in the desert, but she still trembled slightly from the aftermath of Lugal’s presence and the voice rushing like floodwaters around her. In a past life, she would have made an offering to any god upon entering their city, let alone hearing them, but now she thought only of K’adau’s approval. Still, it was a harrowing experience that dominated her thoughts even as they drew closer and closer to the palace.

Tiered towers and high, crenelated walls marked the exterior of the palace, a fortress with few equals. Fired mud-brick with a white glaze formed much of the exterior, patterned with fired tiles of blue-green in elaborate geometric patterns that looked like the currents of the river. Golden fish gleamed on the walls, each one radiant in the sunlight. The gate was framed by two long, serpentine dragons carved of white marble with dark veins on either side: their fearsome heads near the height of a man’s with neck descending and then rising behind, their front legs against the ground, and their bodies rising into an arch of twisting tails.

Menes looked over at Kulziya. “Which gods are these?”

Eigou chuckled as he clambered down from his mule’s back. “These are the spirits of the two rivers that Lugal rules. You will find their likenesses in many places throughout Ulmanna and all of the kingdom it rules: the Suen and the Adbatti. It was here that Lugal split their courses with his fearsome ax, widening the fertile lands so a great kingdom could arise, and spread their rich soil with the help of the Twins’ yoke.”

“Yet they are fearsome beasts.” Menes eyed the dragons’ fangs and claws with a skeptical expression.

“They seem docile now, but even Ulmanna must fear the floods that come from the gods if they are angered. The rivers can be quite savage beasts,” the sorcerer explained. “They are as the Esharra and Nintu of Kullah can be, devastating when the waters rise. That is why the greatest parts of Ulmanna perch upon the hills, even with the many channels and flood controls its people have hewn into the earth.”

Kulziya nodded in confirmation. “Truthfully, though, even as dragons they are tamer than the rivers of Kullah. I do not know how those cities have survived, so terrible is the River Esharra. The kings of Kullah were mad to build their greatest city along its banks.”

“They believed their gods would shelter them from all evil.” The words fell from Ilati’s lips as bitter and poisonous as wild almonds. “They were not mad. They were deceived by unworthy flies clustered around their prayers.”

“You speak with such anger, wild woman. Even here, I would not dare blaspheme against a god,” Kulziya said, a bit taken aback despite Eigou’s fiction that Ilati detested the civilized lands of men.

“Perhaps if they had spines, they would strike me down.” Ilati slid off her horse as the others did, landing beside the head of King Tudhaliya’s personal guard. He took a step back, less to make needed room and more to distance himself from her glare. “I do not fear the gods of Kullah, nor any anger that springs from their craven hearts. They could not slay me if they wished it.”

Kulziya’s eyebrows rose and he glanced at the blue sky and then Eigou nervously. “Does she speak so of all gods? Shall I keep my distance before she offends Lugal?”

Eigou’s lips twitched with amusement even as he sighed in exasperation. “She has her reasons, Kulziya, but I hope she does not intend to sharpen her tongue against our divine host.”

“I have no quarrel with the Lawgiver,” Ilati said, adjusting her quiver at her side. “So long as I am not given cause, I will keep a more civil tongue.”

For a moment, the wind touched Ilati’s hair like the caress of a proud mother. It was a brief, fleeting sense of approval and amusement, and a surprising reminder that even here, K’adau had not abandoned her. Ilati’s shoulders relaxed slightly, some of the angry tension fading. Youtab butted a nose against her arm as well, affectionately tugging at Ilati’s sleeve with teeth. It was enough to pull Ilati from her hateful thoughts. She scratched behind her horse’s ears before stroking her neck lovingly.

“The stables are this way,” Kulziya said as they passed through the gate. “Will your horses submit to non Sut Resi hands?”

“They will honor those who honor them. Woe to he who brings out the bridle or the whip,” Shir Del said, narrowing her eyes slightly at the guard captain as she pulled off her saddle bags while Roshanak and Ilati did the same. She amended, “I would not send your stable boys anywhere near Youtab. Let her eat under the open sky and give her as much space as one can, even from the other beasts.”

Ilati looked up from Youtab’s dark eye, leaning her head against her horse’s. “I cannot guarantee safety for any who approach. She is her own.”

“That may be seen as a challenge for some stablehands,” Kulziya admitted.

“Remind them that the harm they do to our horses will fall upon their heads tenfold,” Shir Del said fiercely. “Araxa, Thriti, and Youtab are heart-bonds, not servants, and I will think considerably less of whipping a man than I would plucking a burr from their hide.”

Ilati shrugged a little when the approaching stablehands all blanched. “I was merely going to fill them with arrows.” It was a bluff on her part, but well worth it if they treated Youtab with respect. Besides, there was a level where she meant it. She kissed Youtab’s nose and rubbed the horse affectionately between her ears. “Go with them to the stables, wild one, but do not go within. Stay in the pasture where earth and sky meet.”

One of the stablehands approached nervously, his attention darting back and forth between Youtab and Ilati. “How are we to guide them without lead, noble warrior of the wilds?” he asked, bowing low to the priestess.

“Respectfully,” Ilati said coolly.

“I will see them to the stables,” a voice said from behind, rich and cultured. He spoke with a formal accent, one of the delineations between the commoners of Ulmanna and the wealthy palace-born. “I would not have our guests, whether two-legged or four-legged, treated with anything but the greatest hospitality.”

The group turned to see a man in bronze armor much like Kulziya, but burnished and adorned with complicated images of winged bulls plated in gold. He stood tall and handsome, dark beard sculpted into a triangular point with jeweled bands and trimming, his tunic a rich purple shade. Ilati did not recognize him, but knew to whom they spoke by his dress and regal bearing: a prince of Sarru. He smiled at them, a warmth suffusing the expression.

Eigou stepped forward, clasping the prince’s hand fondly. “Prince Hattusa, it is always a pleasure to see you.”

The prince pulled Eigou into a hug, clapping the old man on the back with a broad grin. “If only I could say the same, you rascal. Spitting out the truth to powerful men and then fleeing the consequences…it is a wonder you yet live.”

As Hattusa released him, Eigou shrugged and grinned. “I have my wily ways. Now, I think introductions are in order. This is Menes, Magan’s finest charioteer. The elder Sut Resi you see is Shir Del and the girl is her daughter, Roshanak. Our other wild woman is my granddaughter, Hedu.” He indicated each in their turn for the Prince’s sake.

“Welcome, all of you,” Hattusa said, spreading his arms wide as he gave a respectful nod. “King Tudhaliya and Ulmanna receive you as honored guests.” His eyes darted over the group, pitying as they took in Ilati’s scars.

Ilati looked down at the ground, feeling a sting in her heart. She disliked the pity. It reminded her too much of the priestess of Zu who had died in those desert sands. When she looked up again, her expression hardened and her lips pressed into a grim line.

If Hattusa noticed, he gave no sign, turning instead to Eigou and stepping closer. “My father hopes you have come with answers about the red star rising in the east.”

Eigou raised an eyebrow, mouth twitching into a wry smile. “He should be careful what he wishes for. Nonetheless, I think I can satisfy some of his curiosity.”

“There is another matter better spoken of in private.” Hattusa turned his smile back on the group. “Not that it needs to trouble your companions. They have come quite the long way, by the looks of them. Baths and fresh clothes before a fine meal, I think. My father will welcome you with a feast, but you will have time to rest again. It is tradition to eat after the setting of the sun on the first day of Lugal’s festival. You have come at an auspicious time.”

“What is wrong with how we dress?” Shir Del asked with a frown.

Hattusa looked flummoxed for a moment, uncertain how to explain that the court of the mighty king would probably not appreciate hide armor and a bared breast from the woman. It was expected for a Sut Resi among her own people, but the shock and discomfort it would create were not insignificant.

Ilati looked over at her friend. “We smell of horse and these are clothes of war.”

Shir Del’s brow furrowed. “You say that as if it is a problem. How else will they know I am a warrior of the Sut Resi? Next you will tell me I must leave my bow or cut my hair.”

“We should at least be clean,” Menes said, glancing to Hattusa. “Perhaps there is a middle ground?”

“If you have hides that are not so…” Hattusa searched for a diplomatic term. “...worn, perhaps those will suit. But at dinner with the great king, you will not be permitted to carry your bows, lest you be thought assassins.”

Ilati put a hand on Shir Del’s shoulder and squeezed hard before the woman could let loose the sharp rebuttal clearly building on her tongue. “Generous prince, could we be permitted them if they were unstrung or peacebonded?” She made sure her request was tendered with the appropriate level of deference. “Your mighty king is most hospitable, no? It is a venerable tradition that Sut Resi will always have their bow with them, but we have no intention of harming anyone with them.”

Hattusa cleared his throat, contemplating the suggestion. “If they are peacebound,” he said finally. “I know how swiftly a Sut Resi can string their bow.”

“Is that satisfactory?” Ilati looked to Shir Del. It was phrased as a question, but the undertone was emphatic and firm.

An argument bloomed across Shir Del’s face and her eyes narrowed at Ilati, but after a moment she sighed. “If that is what we must do.” Under her breath she added, “Not that I am contented with it.”

Ilati squeezed Shir Del’s shoulder again, this time comfortingly. In the Sut Resi tongue, she said, “I promise you that if we have need of them, that binding will pose no obstruction.”

“I am holding you to that, little sister,” Shir Del said. She wrinkled her nose slightly. “Let us bathe, then.” She whistled a command to her horse, then nudged his rump towards the stable area. “Araxa, lead the others. We will see you again soon.”

To the surprise of the stablehands and Hattusa alike, Araxa immediately began to move towards the stables with Thriti following. The two horses were never far apart, each taking comfort in the presence of the other. Youtab followed after a moment of hesitation and a glance back at Ilati. The stablehands made no attempt to touch the horses, but guided them by walking alongside.

“Your beasts are clever,” Hattusa said, marveling. He bowed his head again to the group. “The servants will guide you and I will see your horses are well cared for. Eigou, I will find you inside the palace before dinner to discuss the other matter.”

“I pity the first to try to lay a hand on your wild one,” Shir Del said, watching them go. “I doubt they will leave the experience with bones all intact.”

Ilati shrugged slightly, more worried about Youtab than anything else even though she knew the horse could take good care of herself. “If she can handle battle with a demon, what are mere men? Let us see what the palace holds.”