The Children of the Company Part 2

"That was showmans.h.i.+p," said Enna-aru. "And they don't love me; they don't know me. But they love a handout now and then, and the promise that things will be a little better. If you had understood that fairly basic fact, I might not have marched into your city uncontested."

"Ah! So my fault was simply ruling by the wrong kind of showmans.h.i.+p?" said Atrahasis.

"No," said Enna-aru the king. "Your fault was that you never gave a thought to what your people wanted."

They dined once again on the terrace. A cool wind brought the smell of the river, the sound of frogs, the murmuring of rushes in the twilight. A round moon rose slowly out of the purple east, looking as though it had been painted on the horizon.

"See how she lifts free of the earth?" said Atrahasis. "Red with smoke and dust at first, and then yellow; but the higher she ascends, the purer her light becomes, and she outs.h.i.+nes even the stars. You and I have lifted free of the mud ourselves, o king. You s.h.i.+ne upon those peasants down there; but who are your own people?

"The idiots in the street sang their love for you; but their love meant nothing to you. I saw that. Your eyes are clear, you have no fond illusions, you know the world for the shameful place it is, you know the truth. You are a unique mortal.

"What is it you desire, o king?"

Enna-aru looked at him curiously.

"A better world," he said. "Full of better men."

Atrahasis looked up at the first stars.

"I am going to give you a gift," he said.

Atrahasis carried the frame out himself, set it up in the garden as Enna-aru watched, uncomprehending. He tested the fabric, the pads, the taut straps; and when all was ready he lifted it onto his shoulders and stepped out to the edge of the terrace.

"Now," he said, "o king, you will see how close a man may come to being a G.o.d."

He leaned into the night and swept down, down, until he caught the thermal rising over the ma.s.sed cook-fires of the city. Up he floated then, turning as he soared, circling, and the white moonlight glittered on the distant river and on the irrigation channels, but shone full and steady on his high terrace and the tiny figure of Enna-aru. The king stood motionless, face turned up to him; he did not cower or tremble, as a mortal might have done. In his steady regard Atrahasis flew high, and higher, up where the stars hung like lamps in the blue night; and Atrahasis had never been so happy in his life.

At last he drifted down, mothlike, and landed with a light foot beside Enna-aru.

"Magicians and acrobats you have seen, o king; but never the like of this," he said triumphantly.

"Never," admitted Enna-aru the king. He stepped close and examined the glider, peering intently at its tight-st.i.tched fabric.

"It will bear two," said Atrahasis, edging over within the frame. "Will you dare to fly, mortal man?"

Without replying, Enna-aru stepped in under the frame. He worked out the harness buckles for himself, and drew them tight; took firm hold of the frame, and stepped toward the edge.

He never cried out once, not during the initial plunge, not in the moment when they lifted on the thermal like a blown leaf. Atrahasis looked into his face and saw that it was s.h.i.+ning.

When he returned to his chamber that night, there was a figure standing just within, obscured by shadows.

"You had better check your credenza," said Security Technical Vidya.

"What are you talking about?" said Atrahasis, but he crossed to the cabinet and switched it on.

"They want to know what the h.e.l.l is going on," said Vidya. Atrahasis saw the long green line of transmission and recoiled, but all he said was: "Forty messages. Well, that's certainly some kind of record. Wouldn't you think they'd have learned to trust me by now?"

"I don't think it's a matter of trust," said Vidya. "I think it's a matter of Executive Facilitator Shamash having a bright young protege in need of a posting. I think it's a matter of looking for any excuse to boot you out on your a.s.s. Sir."

"Really," said Atrahasis.

"Yes. Really. Sir."

"I am obliged to you for the warning, Security Technical," said Atrahasis, kicking off his sandals. "You may go."

Vidya did not move. "I have been given certain orders, sir. You have twenty-four hours to bring the situation under control, and then I am to act. Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"Do I have to point out the obvious? This mission is in jeopardy. A Company operation yielding millions in annual profits may be lost. The city you built is occupied by a hostile force. We will fail here, sir."

"I think you're wrong," said Atrahasis. "Consider the progress of recorded history. Perhaps it's my time to step down. The age of priests comes to an end, doesn't it? And civilization takes the next step upward, to an age of kings. Isn't that what the Company wanted? Wasn't that the point of all this? Somebody has to write Gilgamesh, after all."

He lit the lamp. In the blaze of gold that filled the room, he saw the contempt-and, infinitely more galling, the pity-in Vidya's face.

"What is wrong with you?" said Vidya, without raising his voice. "You, of all people, are infatuated with a mortal. You are attempting to win his approval. A stinking little monkey has defied you in front of the other mortals, and you fawn on him and call him brother. What's next? Will you drink from one cup together? Will you offer to comb the lice from his hair?"

He mixed the cup himself, in the gray hour before the sun rose. He carried it out to the garden and sat, watching the stars fade. White mist moved a while above the river, was thick over the river fields. The first laborers emerged from their huts and drove the teams of oxen down, into that mist, vanis.h.i.+ng from sight as they would vanish in the abyss of time. Living ghosts. Their grandfathers were forgotten; their grandchildren would not remember them. Only this moment existed for them and it was all sweat, all stink, all grinding poverty.

And so it has always been. And so it will always be.

Enna-aru the king emerged from the temple, gilded by the rising sun. Atrahasis looked at him and smiled. He lifted the cup.

"Drink with me, brother. To a better world, and better men."

"I will," said Enna-aru, and took the cup and drank. He pa.s.sed it back to Atrahasis, who paused a moment and then drank down what was left.

He set down the cup and felt the biomechanicals swarming from under his tongue, ma.s.sing in his bloodstream to neutralize what had been in the cup. He flushed, felt the p.r.i.c.kle of sweat under his armpits, felt the twinge in his lymph nodes; only psychosomatic reaction. After a moment he breathed more easily. The heat and nausea faded steadily.

Enna-aru the king sat tranquil, cutting open a pomegranate with his curved dagger. The red drops fell like blood. He set aside half and broke the other open, revealing the rubies set in yellow membrane.

"Pomegranate seeds?" he said, offering it to Atrahasis.

"No, thank you," Atrahasis replied.

By noon the king was feverish. Atrahasis watched the flush grow in his cheeks, watched his eyes take on a certain gla.s.siness as he studied the maps of the city ca.n.a.ls and the grain warehouses.

By twilight the king was sweating and faint, and the blotches had begun to come up under his skin. Atrahasis led him to the couch of purple cus.h.i.+ons, with soothing and solicitous words, and had sherbet fetched for him.

By midnight the king was raving, with brief periods of clarity wherein he struggled for understanding. Atrahasis sat beside him, wiping the sweat from his brow. The king's guard crowded in the corridor, watched from the doorway.

"If he dies, we will kill you," said their chief, in an almost conversational tone. The king jerked and shuddered at the sound; Atrahasis rose in fury, but by the time he had turned and approached the mortal, there was nothing in his face but meek sorrow.

"Speak softly, if you love him," he whispered. "He has the fever, but why should he die? Enna-aru is not like other men."

The mortal looked past him uncertainly, into the golden circle of lamplight where the king lay marked with black sores. "You have poisoned him," he said, but without conviction.

"Fool. Those are the marks of fever, and you know it," said Atrahasis. "What man commands disease? The G.o.ds alone send it, to punish whom they will. But the G.o.ds have no power over Enna-aru the king, surely. He will live."

"He is not like other men," admitted the chief. "Yes, surely he will live."

He left quietly. Atrahasis returned to the bedside of the king, and sat. Enna-aru opened his eyes, the glaring eyes of a hawk, lucid and suspicious.

"This is not punishment," he said thickly. "Nothing but fever."

"Merely a touch of fever," Atrahasis agreed, and put a wet sponge to his cracked lips. "Undoubtedly the result of traveling. The fever will break. What shall we do when you're well again? Shall we take our wings and ride the night wind, my brother? How cool it will be, up among the white stars."

Before dawn the king was lucid for an hour, though he had gone blind; but he summoned his generals and his bodyguards, and turned his face to their voices as though he could see them. He gave orders that there was to be no rioting, no slaughter. There was still command, even in the hoa.r.s.e ruin his voice had become; they backed out of his presence and went down to maintain good order in the streets.

Just as the sun rose, Enna-aru stopped breathing. Atrahasis sat patiently waiting for him to resume, but he never did.

He was still sitting, staring at the king, when Security Technical Vidya came in an hour later. Vidya looked at Enna-aru, and smiled.

"Good work, sir. That'll impress them. Shall we display the body, sir?" Atrahasis said nothing for a long moment.

"I wonder if this is what I would look like," he said at last.

Vidya cleared his throat.

"What are your orders, sir?"

Atrahasis did not look up. "Tell the people to pray for the king. Tell his generals to obey him."

"So ... you don't want this announced right away," said Vidya.

"No. And send for his chief bodyguard."

The mortal came swiftly, and bid his lieutenants wait in the corridor. He stopped, aghast, at the sight of Enna-aru the king.

"You see how it is," said Atrahasis quietly. "Had he any heirs?"

"No," said the mortal. "He was only a young man! How could he die?"

Atrahasis said nothing. The mortal lifted his eyes to the window, looked out, at the city with its shops and warehouses, at the green and yellow fields stretching to the river. He looked sidelong at Atrahasis.

"You are thinking this is a rich place," said Atrahasis. "You are wondering who will rule here now. And it has just occurred to you that you might be king."

The mortal blinked, opened his mouth to deny it-then went pale.

"How did you hear my thoughts?"

Atrahasis smiled. He rose, standing his tallest, and put every cheap trick of theater he knew into his reply.

"Did you think we G.o.ds were really so easily defeated, mortal man?"

The mortal backed away a pace, staring. Then he threw himself to the ground, in terrified self-abas.e.m.e.nt.

"Great Enlil, forgive us! Do not punish us! We were misled!"

"How loyal you are to your king," said Atrahasis bitterly. "How faithful to his ideals. I could crush your skull now with my foot; I could grind your brain into the tiles. Never have I so ardently desired to do a thing, mortal. But I will tell you how you will preserve your little life."

"Spare me!"

"Shut up. You will go forth to the people, and say the king has been wounded by treachery. Not mine; kill one of your underlings, and hold his head up before the mult.i.tudes, and tell them thus have you done to the traitor, in the name of Enna-aru the king.

"Then, mortal, you shall be king in this place. And you shall declare that Enna-aru has been taken up among the stars to heal his wound, and dwells now with the G.o.ds. You will rule and grow as rich as one man may be, but you will see to it that we G.o.ds receive our portion in all things.

"Vidya will be your high priest, and he will instruct you in the desires of the G.o.ds, and will serve you; but only so long as you obey the will of the G.o.ds. Disobey, and our vengeance will be cruel and subtle. You will lament in ashes a thousand years on the floor of the house of the dead."

"I hear you," said the mortal, weeping. "I obey you." He crawled forward in an attempt to kiss Atrahasis's feet, and Atrahasis stepped back in horror.

"Never touch me, mortal," he said. "Go now."

The mortal rose and fled into the corridor. A moment later Atrahasis heard a strangled cry as his will was done, and an innocent was stabbed and beheaded.

Evening came, and Atrahasis heard the ma.s.sed prayer rising from the city below, with the fumes of burnt offerings. He lit incense in his own quarters. Now and then he went to look at Enna-aru the king.

The moon rose, and he dined alone on his terrace, though he ordered and set aside a portion for Enna-aru. He heard the clash of arms and the exchange of pa.s.swords as the army kept civil order through the night. He carried the untouched plate in and set it by Enna-aru's bed.

Dawn came grayly, and once more the mortals led oxen down through the mists to the fields. Atrahasis, watching, wondered why they were not at home praying for the king. He went in and lit more incense. He ordered a morning meal for two, and set half aside.

Another evening, and another, and the city remained calm and well ordered. Goods were bought and sold. Enna-aru's soldiers settled into their quarters and made friends, romanced girls, found favorite beer shops. On the floor by Enna-aru's bed, full plates were laid out in a line, in progressive degrees of spoilage.

The prayers for the king fell off a very little, in their volume and intensity.

On the evening of the sixth day, Atrahasis looked down at the tranquil city, and hated it.

He called to him Vidya, and said: "Do you suppose we could get away with bombing the d.a.m.ned place to the ground?"

Vidya, after a pause, said: "You've lost it, haven't you?"

"Go f.u.c.k yourself," said Atrahasis.

He went into the chamber where Enna-aru lay, blue as lapis lazuli, and quoted:

"For whom have I labored, boatman?

For whom have I lost the blood of my heart?