Hours had passed in the quiet of the Labyrinth. She’d bided her time, taking to one servant, then the next, to ease the pain. But the time had finally come. Oh how she’d waited for this day. Months of waiting were about to bring forth her vengeance, her greatness… her heiress.
The chamber was prepared. She’d have smiled in approval had the pain been any less. She settled in a ceremonial chair in the center of the room, face stony to hide her suffering. A servant knelt at her side.
"What does my Goddess desire?"
"Alert my priests. It is nearly time for the ceremony."
The servant scampered off to obey. Alone, in the cavernous chamber, she leaned back and sighed, resting a spidery hand on her abdomen. Her servants had been at her total beck-and-call since she—their Goddess—was suddenly with child. Not that they’d ever been less than perfectly compliant. She smiled to herself, mostly ignoring the shadowy scufflings of priests and servants around her.
She opened her eyes. Standing in long ranks against the walls, silhouetted by the firelight, were perhaps forty-five of her fifty priests. Each wore black hoods over their faces, red and gold bands around their wrists, ankles, and neck, signifying total bondage to their queen. Every other one carried a banner—red, black, purple, and gold. Her servants stood at attention in rows like pews, each wearing white and gold. Five priests stood around her, four wearing the black hoods and red bands of the others. One, her high priest, wore a red robe with gold gauntlets. He bowed deeply.
"My Goddess…"
She nodded, acknowledging his allegiance. "Begin the ceremony."
The high priest turned, made a sign to the ranks along the walls. Slowly, quietly, then rising like nearing thunder, they began to chant in the ancient Babylonian tongue.
"Mes-ta-keth, mo-roh chin-she-for-ah Indira. Boh-ha-mat la-sha-mesh Ninaea! Mes-ta-keth, mo-roh chin-she-for-ah Indira. Boh-ha-mat la-sha-mesh Ninaea!"
She winced as a contraction—more powerful than the rest—seized hold of her.
She grabbed hold of three of the lower priests surrounding her, transferring to them her labor pain. Their faces hardened as they took on her suffering, but not one showed the pain. To show pain would be to dishonor their Goddess. The fourth priest knelt before her. To him was bestowed the blessed job of catching his Goddess’s child. Even as the chanting rose to thunderous heights, a small head was slipping into his hands.
The high priest made another motion and the chanting ceased, only to be replaced with every voice in the enormous chamber crying "Ninaea!"
"The Ninaea," the high priest boomed over the now silent mass of witnesses. "In ancient times, the most devout servant of the Great Goddess. The Ninaea was at once child, friend, sister, and heiress in waiting to the Goddess."
Unseen to most of the assembly, a tiny shoulder slipped into the world.
"Mau!" chanted the priests in rank.
"The Mau," spoke the high priest again, "The Goddess’s greatest warrior and protectress. However, the former Mau, chosen by the Goddess, has committed treason and has betrayed her Mistress. She has fallen out of favor with the Goddess. Therefore, the heavens cry for a new Mau!"
"Tar-kesh ho-shath Mau!"
The other shoulder. The three priests siphoning off their queen’s suffering were struggling to keep their composure.
"But now, all is about to right itself—now before us the Goddess bears a child, who for the first time since the Creation will bind together the spirits and duties of the Ninaea and of the Mau."
"Y’sho-bath ka-ta Ninaea el-la sha Mau!"
Completion! She breathed a deep sigh of relief as the birth completed itself. A slippery body rested now in the hands of one greatly honored priest. With practiced ease and speed, the cord was severed. Slowly, he rose, holding up for all to see the naked, trembling body of his queen’s child. At once, the child began to cry.
"Assembly of witnesses," roared the high priest, "I present to you in body—the NINAEA MAU!"
The entire assembly of servants fell to their knees, chanting the very words in awestruck reverence. They were echoed by the ranks of priests, the cry of "Ninaea Mau" falling from their lips and reaching the stony ceiling of the cavernous chamber.
Two servants brought forth a gold basin filled with water and an ornate jug, corked. The first held the basin; the second uncorked the jug and poured from it a tiny bit of purplish liquid into the basin water. It swirled mysteriously, then all but faded into the clear water.
"Bring forth the Ninaea Mau for her sanctification."
The priest holding the baby passed his tiny charge to the high priest, who proceeded to gently sprinkle the infant with the liquid in the basin. The two servants then departed with the basin and the jug, while another stepped forward with an ornately woven cloth, in which the child was wrapped with great reverence.
"And now, after many months, the Ninaea Mau shall at last be at the side of her Mistress. This is the dawn of a great new era!"
More chanting. She smiled, exhausted, as the baby girl was handed back to her. Yes. Life was good. The worship of perhaps a hundred servants and priests. The end of long and painful labor. A brand new heiress, nestled in her arm. And the delicious little fact somewhere in the back of her brain that the child she held was actually the genetic equivalent of her nemesis—her former Mau—Selene St. Vincent.
Yes. Vengeance would be sweet.