The Rise of the Goddess

12 | TYRN

Holding one of the hooded falcons fettered to his gauntlet, Horus crouched in the shadow of the ship's rear, searching for the one to whom he would entrust the dangerous task of revealing Marduk's stronghold. He eyed the group of quaking, sobbing women, surrounded by a wall of soldiers to prevent their escape, the king's unhappiness plain as he winnowed the women down one by one into the unfortunate dozen who would be doomed to satisfy Sethi's lust. No. It could not be one of them. They would have more than enough to endure.

Further up, on the terrace, Sethi stood with his back to the scene, looking out over the gardens, his hands on his hips, ignoring the servants offering him wine and sweets. Close by, Serde's tribute stood in open crates ready to be loaded onto the ship. A fortune lay spread out in the shade of the ship's wing: gold and silver ingots, jewels, bolts of silk organza, white linen, wool, jars of wine, spices, incense, fragrant oils, silk blankets, fine woven rugs, even furniture, chairs, tables, chests with drawers, gilt in gold. A group of twenty palace servants huddled beside the tribute, frightened and miserable, also under guard. Horus cursed, wondering how he would even have a chance to speak to any of the captives with so many soldiers present. He hadn't really thought his plan through as well as he should have.

"So, even the birds are not safe from our oppressor's predations."

Horus turned, wary. An old man approached from behind, lugging a bulging satchel stuffed with scrolls. "I know this one," the wizened man said, nodding at the hooded peregrine, her white breast feathers speckled with warm spots of brown. "Tyrn. A clever bird. Shame it has to be her."

"And you are?" Horus asked, sharp, annoyed by the intrusion.

"Zherei, Master of the Ages," the old man answered, lowering his burden with a heavy sigh. He sank down beside Horus onto the charcoal-dyed oyster shells of one of the black squares of the game board, uncaring of the dark powder staining the pristine white of his robe. He gestured at the ship, resigned. "And destined for wherever this is going. I am certain I will never come back. Not after what I said."

Intrigued, Horus took the bait. "And what was that?"

Zherei fiddled with his staff. "Ah, nothing, never mind." He cast a furtive look at Sethi, who still stood with his back to them, his bearing shrouded in contained anger. "Well, I suppose it does not matter now," he muttered, rubbing his forefinger under his nose, "and perhaps I ought to warn someone what he's after before it's too late . . . unless you are destined to travel with me?"

"I am not," Horus paused. "What do you mean warn—?"

"And Tyrn?" Zherei interrupted.

"She has to go," Horus said, eyeing Zherei in a new light. Perhaps the old man might—

"Shame," Zherei murmured. "She's a fine bird. Deserves a better fate than this." He gestured, vague, at the tribute, captive servants, and shrinking group of women.

Horus tried again. "What do you mean warn someone?"

"Yes, that," Zherei said. He adjusted several of the scrolls in his satchel until they lay in a neat bundle. "He's looking for the jihn, an ancient, hidden artifact of great power. It consumes the light of the gods and obliterates them. He says he dreamed of it—that it was his. Although why he would want it is beyond me, since apart from him there are no other gods on Elati."

Horus digested Zherei's words, a tendril of dread circling the pit of his torso. "And . . . now he's taking you with him."

Zherei nodded, morose. "I should not have told him he was the darkness. As usual, I got carried away."

"The darkness?" Horus repeated. "You meant to insult him?"

"No, not at all, the darkness is real. An entity," Zherei said, tilting his head back to examine the ship, his gaze following its dark contours, the curve of its wings, the floating steps, his expression shifting between fascination and fear. "In the beginning the Creator was both darkness and light, so he wrestled with himself until the light was able to contain the darkness in a barren world, but the darkness created the jihn and escaped. The first world it came to was Elati, where it used the jihn to consume the light of the gods, its intention to travel to every world and consume every god until the jihn was powerful enough to overcome the light of the Creator. But the Creator caught the darkness in between the worlds soon after it left Elati. While it was still weak, he split it into a million pieces and placed each fragment in a different world, where he made the gods the defender of his light. Unable to destroy the jihn, since it was made with part of his essence, he hid it in Elati, foretelling one day the darkness would find its way back, drawn to the power of the jihn, and when that happened," Zherei waved his hand, encompassing the city, the sky, and the sea, its waves crashing against the white shore far below, "all this would end."