Thick as Thieves Page 9
Narrow is the bridge between the lands of grain
and the lands of sand
the Isthmus evil stalked it
Terrifying Unse-Sek son of the Queen of the Night
tower tall
sword clawed
teeth blood red needle sharp
bat head and great bat wings
barbed at their joints
Unse-Sek stalked the Isthmus in the night
eyes gleaming
gleaming like the copper domes
of Ianna-Ir in the sunlight
In the dark gleamed Unse-Sek’s eyes
as he hunted men
waited until they slept
lurked and leapt
Then he devoured them greedy Unse-Sek
slurped their marrow
left their bones and gobbets of their flesh
scattered on the land
for their friends to find and grieve over
for their friends to weep over
So was the prince of Hylas lost
So did his father and mother grieve
and cry out for deliverance from
the demon saying who will slay the savage Unse-Sek
and make his name greatest
in the lands of grain and the lands of sand?
Glorified before the gods and potent will be his name
if he slays the savage Unse-Sek!
Came the news to Noble Immakuk and Brave Ennikar
Wise Immakuk Strong Ennikar
answered the grieving friends of the prince
the grieving mother grieving father
swore death to Unse-Sek
They went out across the Isthmus
wandered there stalking
the stalker
Lay in wait as he lay in wait
lurked as the demon lurked until he pounced
Foolish Unse-Sek seizing Ennikar
every hand with three talons
every talon a sword he seized Ennikar
was stung
stung by Immakuk’s blade
Snapped with his needle teeth at Immakuk
and missed
Strong Ennikar broke free
swung his sword and lopped Unse-Sek’s sword claws
lopped one hand and its sword claws
Howling for his mother Unse-Sek fled
chased
by Immakuk
and by Ennikar
He flew they followed
He turned and fought and was stung
fought for days
First Immakuk
Then Ennikar
drove the monster
wearied him until Unse-Sek turned
seized Immakuk in his teeth
his bloodred teeth knife sharp
shook him as a cat shakes
a mouse a mouse was Immakuk
Unse-Sek howled with victory snapped again
savage Unse-Sek seized again with sword claws
battered Immakuk with his wings
His barbed wings
pierced Immakuk’s eye with his claws
opened his eye bled out its life
dimmed its light forever
Immakuk raged
could not escape Unse-Sek
Ennikar Strong Ennikar rescued Immakuk
lopped the claws lopped the hand a second time
cut off Unse-Sek’s hand a second time
freed Immakuk
sliced Unse-Sek’s bat wings
so he could fly no more
lopped off his sword claws
Unse-Sek who could not fly could not crawl
he cried out for his mother
the Queen of the Night
cried out
died
Brave Immakuk and Noble Ennikar took his head
brought it to Hylas
hung it there above the gate
eyes still gleaming
When I was done, the Attolian thanked me.
“Very impressive, that Ennikar,” he said.
“So, so, so,” I said, and he smiled at the Attolian slang.
“Is he always rescuing Immakuk?” he asked.
He was probably remembering Ennikar pulling Immakuk into Anet’s Chariot at the end of the play in Ianna-Ir.
“Not at all,” I said. “They save each other. And when the Queen of the Night sends Death to take Ennikar to the underworld, it’s Immakuk who rescues him.”
“I’d like to hear that one next time,” he said. Then he yawned, stretched himself out on the hard ground, and slept. I watched him for a while, and he never moved. His breathing never changed—deep and even and completely relaxed. I looked out at the wide world around us and thought about the Namreen on our trail, and the ordinary robbers who might be at hand, about lions and starvation and death from thirst if we didn’t find water away from the trade routes—which, after all, are trade routes for a good reason. Then I lay down and tried to sleep like the Attolian.
The rainy season was well behind us, but there was still water cached in rocky depressions to supplement what we carried, and the sun was not too hot. As we moved away from the hills, I saw that there were indeed signs of life on the rolling terrain—thin grass and the occasional scraggly plant that fed the caggi. Without a trail to follow, we moved slowly. If the Attolian was impatient, it still didn’t show.
I hated caggi. I hadn’t really liked it the first time the Attolian had offered me a bite on the end of his knife. Within a few days I was so sick of it I would have almost preferred to starve. I didn’t like the taste, but what I hated more was the sad look of their small bodies when the Attolian carried them back to camp and skinned them. He often killed three or four of the creatures at a time. Stripped of their skin, they looked distressingly like little men lying in a row waiting to be cooked.
“You are Unse-Sek to the rodents,” I said, watching him work.
He bared his teeth and raised his hands like claws. “Nonsense,” he said. “I am a much tidier eater.” It was true. We picked those bones clean and buried them when we were through. Then the Attolian carefully scattered the ashes of the fire.
“We’ll have to turn west and try now for a more traveled route,” he said. We hadn’t seen any water for two days and the Namreen’s waterskins were almost dry. A little later the Attolian left me in the shade of a gully while he climbed up a nearby hill looking for a sign of a road or any man-made thing.
“Nothing,” he said when he came back. “We’ll rest here, and when it’s cooler, we’ll start west. Eventually we must hit the route between Perf and Traba and there will be water somewhere along there. If I give you the last of the water, will you tell me about Immakuk and Ennikar and the Queen of the Night?”
It was an obvious ruse to give me the last of the water, and I gratefully accepted it.
“So, the Queen of the Night, angry that her son had been killed, sent Death, her brother, after Ennikar. Death wrapped Ennikar in his wings and carried him away to the underworld.”
Brave Ennikar Strong Ennikar
taken like any man by Death
to the gray lands
through the gates of Kununigadak which none may pass
twice
none leave who have entered by way of them
on the road from which there is no way back
to the land wherein the dwellers are bereft of light
where dust is their fare dust and clay is their food and
their drink
the gray lands
Grieving Immakuk lost his friend
a loss more powerful than a great river
bowled him over
sharper than a sword
cut him through
Loss led Immakuk from his journey home
Death stalked the land as Unse-Sek had stalked
had carried away his friend Ennikar
left Immakuk nothing
Why do men die why does death take them
Immakuk asked
asked Nuri
who had no answer
asked Shesmegah goddess of mercy
asked Anet to bring his friend back
The goddess of the moon heard his cries
took pity on Immakuk
took pity on him and
sent him to the stepwell of Ne Malia
lit his path there
to the underworld
Step by step Immakuk descended
to the water of Ne Malia followed the moonlight
below the water
into dark lit by moonlight descended
to the gray lands and the empty banks
before the eternal river
that has no beginning and no end
He walked the banks of that river
who knows how long
who can know how long
until he met a ferryman
Immakuk asked and the ferryman answered
two coins to cross the eternal river
Immakuk asked and the ferryman answered
all may enter none may leave but those unseen
by Kununigadak the Devourer
Only the anointed return from the gray lands
anointed with the oil from the land of the gods
only the anointed are unseen by Kununigadak
as they pass through the gates
to return to the bright lands all others remain forever
within the gates in the gray lands
bereft of light where clay is the food and
dust their drink
Two coins to cross the eternal river and Immakuk had none
tricked the ferryman
promised to pay and cheated him
rode across the wide river jumped to the shore
The ferryman said Immakuk two coins you owe me
No said Immakuk two coins I promised for a trip
across the river
But here I jumped You did not bring me across
Immakuk turned his back on the ferryman
walked who knows how long
who can know how long
to the gates of Death’s kingdom
gates guarded by Kununigadak
who allows any who choose to enter
none to leave
Immakuk passed through the gates
sought Ennikar
sought his friend
asked the gray people of the gray lands
for Ennikar
for the ointment of the gods
Found the palace of Death
brother to the Queen of the Night
Found the bottle that held the oil
that makes man immortal
that makes him invisible to Kununigadak
oil from the land of the gods
Death would not give up the bottle
would not let Immakuk
find its secret and steal it away
wanted all to come to the gated lands
All come None leave
wanted to rule over all
Immakuk was canny
coaxed Death to cajole his sister
inveigle induce convince persuade his sister
to give up Ennikar
The Queen of the Night said
where is my son where is the scion to my kindred
where is Unse-Sek
he is destroyed his head a decoration
She said she would not give up Ennikar
until she had a son to beautify her house
set up stelae to her spirits kindred to her kindred
a scion to free her spirit
to guard her footsteps
to carry her when she had drunk
to smother the life of her detractors
Ennikar gave her a son
and she gave up Ennikar
Immakuk and Ennikar
they anointed each another
with the oil of the gods
made only for the gods
“Wait,” the Attolian interrupted. “How did they get the oil?”
“No one knows,” I said. I explained that the tablet in the temple of Anet was broken and there were no copies of it. No one was sure how Immakuk got the bottle of oil from Death, what bargain he made. “When people tell the story or they put on the play of Immakuk and the gray lands, they make up different ways Immakuk might have tricked Death or different promises he might have made. Or they skip that part.”
I started again.
They anointed each other
knew the ferryman would not take them across the river
knew they would swim
knew the waters of the eternal river would wash the oil
away
Brought the bottle to anoint themselves
and to anoint themselves again
anoint themselves and others in the world
make all invisible to the Devourer
So that none must go to the gated lands without leaving
all shall come and go as they choose
said Immakuk
Before they could pass the gates
the ferryman spoke to the gray people
told them Immakuk had that bottle
that contained the oil of immortality
Kununigadak was blind could not see them
only Kununigadak could not see
the gray people not so blind
They pursued the heroes
faster went Immakuk
the gray people followed
grappled trapped seized
Ennikar Strong Ennikar
Trapped him the gray people
as the great are brought down by the weak
when they are many
As the hawk is mobbed by the roller birds
as the great sea eagle is brought down by gulls
Immakuk saw Strong Ennikar held
slowed his steps
noble Immakuk turned back
Give us the bottle of oil said the gray people in the
wind-filled whispers
the bottle give it give it to us and we will let you leave
the gated lands
all will leave the gated lands
never to return
Immakuk remembered his promise to Death
threw the bottle far away
deep into the gated lands
As the gray people weakened their hold
seized Ennikar and drew him through the gates
as they receded wailing
seeking the bottle lost that made a
man invisible to the Devourer
Wailed as the Queen of the Night
affrighted the gray people
seized with her claws
lifted the bottle
flew back to the palace
of Death her brother
Together Immakuk and Ennikar passed through the
gates
as no man has before or since
Immakuk and Ennikar
swam the eternal river
came into our world together
climbed the stepwell of Ne Malia
Because Immakuk had saved his friend but lost the
bottle of oil
no man has escaped Death since
“That Ennikar,” said the Attolian. “Always with a maid.”
“Sometimes it’s Immakuk who gives the Queen of the Night a child. It depends on the tablet and who is translating it.”
“Translating it from the old language?”
“Yes, from old Ensur, from before the Mede, then into Attolian.”
“Who translated what you have told me, then?”
I rocked a little, embarrassed and proud at the same time. “It’s my translation.”
His eyebrows went up. “All the translations—yours?”
I nodded again. I tried on a few feelings of superiority, telling myself that the Attolian was an uneducated audience who couldn’t really appreciate the work involved, but I couldn’t push that to a sticking point. I fell back on the embarrassment and pride. “I’m glad you like it,” I said.
“Are you translating it just now, as you tell it?”
“No, I translated it from the Ensur into the Mede a long time ago. I was in Attolia when I translated it into your language. I used to sit sometimes in the kitchens, and the workers there liked to ask me about where I came from. Once when they were telling stories of the Attolian afterlife, they asked me if there were stories of the Mede afterlife. One of them kept asking until I translated Ennikar and Immakuk and the Queen of the Night for him. I liked doing it, so I kept at it.”
The Attolian poked at the remains of the caggi in front of him. “In our stories of the underworld, it’s important not to eat anything, or you will be trapped there forever.”
“You’d be doomed,” I said.
“I would. I think I’d trade immortality right now for a jug of wine and a plate full of nutcakes.”
I remembered those cakes. I had been wrong to say that the only beautiful thing in Attolia was the queen. She was as beautiful as the Queen of the Night, but the Attolian nutcakes, with their tops decorated in loops and swirls of sticky honey, were even more beautiful—and they wouldn’t kill you.
I sighed. “I’d trade the plate of nutcakes for a bath,” I said. He nodded. We’d washed as well as we could in the springwater we’d found, but I think our pursuers, if they were out there in the wasteland, could have found us by smell and without needing a dog.
“When we get to Traba, if we transform that chain into coin, the first thing we will do is have a wash and a shave,” the Attolian promised. “May you dream of it tonight,” he said, and I lay down hoping for just that but instead was haunted through the night by visions of the Namreen.
I was still asleep in the morning when the Attolian sat up suddenly, waking me. Before I could speak, he held up a hand. There was a sound. Very faint. A clinking noise, a sort of tapping, not the jingle of a harness, but almost musical in the same way. I couldn’t identify it, but it was tantalizingly familiar.
The Attolian scrambled to his feet, pulling the strap of a waterskin over his shoulder. He leaned down briefly to ask, “Can you whistle?”
I said yes, not sure why he wanted to know.
“If I cannot find you again, I will whistle. You should whistle back. Two notes, one higher, then one lower. I will find you more easily than if you shout, and we won’t announce ourselves quite so obviously to anybody else nearby.” Then he scrambled out of the gully and was gone.
It was several hours before he came back. As time passed, I listened more and more intently for a whistle, wondering if I’d missed one while dozing or distracted by my thoughts. I considered how easy it would be for the Attolian to just go home to his king, leaving me—slow, annoying, and insufficiently appreciative of his caggi dinners—behind in the wilderness. I concentrated on his earlier refusal to leave my dead body by the side of the road to Perf and strained my ears for a sound floating through the air.