Chapter 11 - Looking For A Way Out

Kussuk stood as Merek’s chambermaid finished rinsing him off. The red mud was still embedded in several of the lower plates on his back. It would simply have to fall out with time.

Seeing that the male would not leave mud tracks in her mistress’s quarters, the chambermaid bowed and left the anteroom where the two of them stood. Kussuk did not have a good feeling about this.

Entering the concubine’s quarters, he was amazed to find how ornately it was decorated. Fine mats were spread around the floor, nearly covering the entire stone surface. A good-sized fire was burning in the fireplace, brightening the room considerably. Statues stood in several places throughout the room; most of them wood, but three were carved from solid stone. They all depicted the deceased king mating with his concubines. The walls had several shelves, which held glass jars of anything from food to rocks. On the walls flanking the fireplace were two tapestries: One depicting the royal seal of the city, the other depicting the royal seal of the world court.

Kussuk was surprised to find the concubine not wearing her death shroud. She was standing in her usual adornments next to a large open balcony, looking out at the pouring rain. For some reason, he noticed that a large groove have been carved in the stone floor just outside the archway, and the deluge of rain was neatly channeled away from the entrance to the chamber.

“My sorrow is with you,” he said in the respectful greeting of a mourner.

“The king never liked rain,” said the concubine, still looking out onto the balcony, “He even had the royal chamber modified so the sound wouldn’t disturb him when he worked.”

“I never thought of rain as something to be liked or disliked,” Kussuk countered, “It does not come down on my behalf.”

Merek was silent for a few moments, lost in thought.

“Do you know why you were summoned here, Kussuk?”

“The messenger simply said that my duties were demanded in the royal house.”

“You were summoned here because you are the next rightful heir to be king.”

The words hit him like a spear strike. Him? King?

“Merek,” he said, finding this concubine’s since of humor suddenly distasteful, “your humor does not sit well with me. Even the king’s most favored-”

“You find this a joke?” she hissed, turning around and facing him. Merek was considerably larger than the solder that stood before her. Even in the correct posture of a concubine, she looked down at him.

“I find nothing humorous of yesterdays events,” he hissed back, totally unimpressed by the size of the concubine, “but I have no plans of being used as a game piece in some type of royal power struggle.”

‘Yesterday’s events?’ Merek thought.

“Kussuk, have you not heard of this morning’s news?” she asked.

“I had the night watch,” he said, still fuming, “I was asleep when then you sent for me.”

Merek returned to her standard posture, “I see. Then you know nothing of the days events?”

“No.”

Merek turned back towards the balcony and walked out into the rain. She motioned Kussuk to stand beside her.

“Behold,” she said, pointing to the courtyard below, “look upon the labors of the false god.”

Kussuk’s lowest pair of legs buckled as he looked out over the balcony. The fire-tenders had long since given up at keeping their desiccation fires burning, and had vacated the courtyard. What remained were the upturned carcasses of the king, two of his daughters, prince Wikki, general Kek, and countless members of the royal family. Three bodies at the entrance of the courtyard also caught his attention. Their carcasses had been split completely in half. He recognized the old husk of the slave master, and then the identity of the guard next to it.

“Morick,” he said, saying his brother’s name aloud.

“My sorrow is with you, Kussuk,” said Merek. Her words hurt him more because she actually meant what she said, while his traditional greeting had been merely a formality.

“How... how did this happen?” he said, turning away from the scene and reentering the room. Merek followed.

“As proof of his divine right to be king, prince Wikki went out into the front fields this morning with a slave. Quee and Kek challenged him at the gates, and in the ensuing battle, Wikki was killed and Kek was mortally wounded. Quee took Kek to the slave quarters for reasons that are unknown to me. But while they were there, the false god returned and...”

Merek broke off, and composed herself.

“The guards found Quee, Kek, and two others dead in the slave quarters. The false god had taken the slave master, along with all the slaves, and attempted to leave the city. The slave master managed to slip away in the rain and alert security.”

“How did my brother die?” asked Kussuk, still stunned.

“Your brother, the slave master, and another guard tried to stop the false god at the city gates.” Merek replied, intentionally leaving out the detail that she herself had given the order. Then, leaning closer to Kussuk, she said, “He went proudly. The king would have seen great favor in his bravery.”

“Where is the false god now?” asked Kussuk, the anger already tainting his speech.

“It escaped into the front fields along with all the slaves.”

“Then I... I... Send out a war party. We shall hunt down this false god and slaughter him along with every slave we can find!”

“Were this any other day Kussuk, then I would agree with you. But the false god is dangerous. Those carcasses in the courtyard are but only a claw-full of this city who have died in the last two days. And there is a much more pressing issue to address.”

“What could be more pressing that the vengeance of our people?!” yelled Kussuk.

“Prince Wikki’s father,” the concubine said coolly.

Kussuk’s rant was cut short as he realized what the woman before him was implying. With prince Wikki’s death, his father would have no choice but to declare an all-out war against their city. He and the other members of the city’s army would be outnumbered ten to one.

“I... I must think on these things,” he stammered, visualizing the entire city in flames, “And I must console my brothers family.”

“The advisers will come to you later this afternoon,” she said, “When you accept, you will be officially made king this evening. I suggest you go and get your affairs in order. You haven’t much time.”

“Agreed,” he said, his head still reeling from the conversation. He turned to leave the room.

“One last detail, Merek,” he said as he neared the exit. “Would you prefer to continue here in the palace as one of my concubines, or live out the remainder of your days in solitude?”

Now it was Merek’s turn to be stunned. He had seen through her reason for bringing him here before the advisers had told him!

“Whatever would suit the king,” she said, appearing nonchalant.

“I know my allies,” he said, and left.

Merek stood silently for a moment after Kussuk left the room. The old proverb had done little to settle her nerves. Did he consider her an ally? Did he see her as a threat? ‘He is too smart to exile me,’ she reassured herself, ‘He will need my wisdom in the coming months.’

The rainwater had been dripping off her carapace and onto one of the mats she was standing on. She noticed that there seemed to be quite a bit more coming off her back now; there was even a small rivulet forming across the mat, disappearing between the edge of the thick weave and the next one. ‘That smell...’

In one continuous move the concubine pulled out her private dagger from beneath her carapace and spun around to slash at the person behind her. But the false god had been ready, and grabbed the hilt of the weapon with one of its massive flesh-covered grips. Try as she might, the dagger wouldn’t budge. It was as motionless as if it had been forged in the side of a mountain.

“You have come to kill me anyway!” she hissed, “I knew you had lied!”

The false god twisted the dagger from her grip. Flipping it over to grasp the blade, it threw the weapon at one of the large wooden statues. The dagger sank point first into the figure of the king.

{I said I wouldn’t kill you if you did not harm the slaves,} the false god said, {and I will keep my word.}

Merek stood motionless with both surprise and fear. The false god obviously did not consider her a threat as he simply walked past her. Turning his back, he looked at the tapestries next to the fireplace.

{An interesting work of art, Merek, did the slaves make this?}

“How do you know my name?” she asked, amazed.

{I overheard your conversation with the other,} the false god replied, {He calls for the death of the slaves to avenge his brother.}

“He will be too busy to search for the slaves,” she said, eyeing her dagger, “with the death of prince Wikki, we will be at war soon.”

The false god had moved again, and was examining one of the several brown glass jars on a shelf. {Your people can make glass?}

“My people come from a very advanced society,” she replied, taking a step towards the statue, “Before we came to this world we had even harnessed the power of steam.”

{Impressive,} said the false god, picking up a jar of rocks and gently rolling them around, {But I see none of those advancements now. Why did you leave your world to come to this one?}

“We did not come by choice,” Merek said, taking another half step, “our ancestors found a gateway to this world many years ago.”

{Tell me of this gateway.}

“It was a long black slab of hard metal,” she said, “Even our hardest tools and weapons could not dent it. However, if you simply touched it, it flowed like water. When someone came out the other side, they were in this world.”

{Where is this gateway?}

“Why do you ask?”

{Because this is not my world either,} the false god said, {I have somehow become trapped here, and wish to return home.}

“The gateway has not worked in several lifetimes. If it did, I for one would not be in this wretched place.”

{But you have not answered my question. Where is this gateway?}

“I do not know. I was born many years after the gateway closed. Its whereabouts are lost in history.”

{Odd,} said the false god, handling a jar of large seeds, {If I were trapped on a lost world, and truly wanted to return home, I think I would remember where such an item was located.}

“Legend tells that the royal castle of prince Wikki’s father was built around the gateway,” said the concubine, wedging her dagger from the statue, “His city is ten times the size of ours, and has many scholars. If you traveled there, they may be able to help you.”

{Possibly,} the false god concurred, putting the jar of seeds back on the shelf and picking up the wooden statue at his feet, {Did your people make this? Or did the slaves carve it?}

“The king enjoyed woodcarving,” she said, moving towards the fireplace, “He would make one for me whenever we successfully mated.”

{And will the new king make these for you?}

“That is for him to decide,” she replied.

The dagger whizzed through the air with well-practiced precision. Gabriel simply held up the wooden statue. There was the sound of metal embedding itself into wood. Merek was stunned; she didn’t even see the false god look away from the jar of crystal rocks he was examining.

{Where is this city of prince Wikki’s?} asked the false god, pulling the dagger from the wood and putting the statue back in its place.

“It-” she began, but stopped as she watched the false god wrap the dagger around one of the long fleshy stubs at the end of its grip. It wrapped the weapon several times around, making the blade resemble a scroll of parchment.

{Your treachery is futile,} said Gabriel, tossing the curled dagger into the fireplace. He turned and faced the insect woman, {Now tell me where this city is.}

“It is a half dekka journey to the west of here,” she stammered, “across the great field.”

Gabriel thought for a few seconds, {Do your people know how to make maps?}

“Yes.”

{Then fetch me a map with the directions to this city.}

Merek turned to go.

{And Merek,} the false god added, {Whoever enters this room other than you will not leave here alive. It doesn’t matter if it’s one, one hundred, or the entire city.}

“I understand,” she said, and left.

When she returned, she had two maps in one of her claws. Spreading the first one out, she pointed to the right side of the map.

“We are located here,” she said, pointing to a marked dot on the cloth, “just east of the great field.”

She unfolded the other map and placed it over the first one. “Once you have traveled across the great field, then you will find these mountains,” she indicated several markings with her claw. “Follow the mountains north until you find his city.” She indicated another dot surrounded by three red "V" marks.

{Hopefully, this will be the last time we ever meet, Merek,} said the false god as it moved towards the balcony, {If I ever have to return to this city, it will be to destroy it.}

She was about to answer, but the false god jumped off the balcony, and disappeared into the rain.