Tablet of Destinies

Tablet of Destinies

Rebecca Shelley

Copyright © 2012 Rebecca Shelley

Published by Wonder Realms Books

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission.

All characters, places, and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual places or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover photography © Volodymyr Melnyk | Dreamstime.com

Interior Art © Irina Shishkina | Dreamstime.com

Chapter One

Soaked in sweat, Gidd arrived on the altar in the temple of Anu, the Sky God, and opened his eyes to the world of men for the first time. Wind, heavy with rain, prickled his newly formed skin, making him shiver. A majestic vaulted ceiling of red stone curved over him. The scent of incense hung on the air. A humming chant drifted across the chamber.

Gidd coughed, and the chant ceased.

Footsteps shuffled across stone below him and continued up to where he lay. Gidd wanted to turn his head, to see what was coming, but his mind had not yet learned to control his human form. A face appeared over him—black skin, wrinkled and old, with long white hair and beard flowing down onto a white robe. It was the face of a human man, but the black eyes burned with immortal brightness, and Gidd knew he'd come into the presence of someone older and far more experienced than he—an Apkallu, a guardian of incredible power.

The old Apkallu put a gnarled hand on his bare shoulder. Welcome to Akkad, young one. My name is Shau. Anu told me you'd arrive soon. Sooner, it seems, than I expected. What is your name? Do you remember?

Gidd. He spoke with his mind as he always had in Anu's halls. Yes, he still remembered his past life, though he'd been warned that sometimes he'd forget when passing between.

Shau shook his head. I'm sorry young one. That will not work here. You must learn to use this body.

More footsteps sounded below and the whisper of many voices. Anu's human priests, Shau told Gidd. He unclasped a white cloak from his shoulders and settled the cool, flowing material over Gidd's body then stepped away to face the approaching men.

What is it, Shau? Who has interrupted our ritual? A deep voice said from below. You, boy, how dare you enter this temple? No one but a priest may touch that altar, not some drunkard. It is not a bed. The temple of Pa-gestin-dug is down in the city, not on the king's hill. Go worship your wine god there. The Sacred Goat must be sacrificed to Anu before the sun sets or we shall not see winter rains for our crops. Ber-chan, go fetch us a new goat. Shau, get him out of here. Do you need help?

No. Shau raised a wrinkled hand. I will handle the boy. Carry on with the sacrifice.

Should sacrifice him, the deep voice rumbled as it moved away.

Gidd shuddered. Shau squeezed his shoulder. No. I will not let them send you back to Anu so soon. He would not have sent you without a reason.

They are angry with me, Gidd thought. I will kill them if they touch me.

Shau shook his head. I already told you talking like that won't work. Try again. Breathe in through your nose then let the air out through your mouth. Use that air to form your words.

Gidd took in a deep breath. He'd not been aware of breathing before. It was a new sensation. He liked it. He let the breath explode from his mouth, but no sound came with it.

It's a start, Shau said.

The plaintive bleating of a goat echoed off the arches above.

Noble Priest Shau, the voice of a young man whispered from below. I have fetched the goat for the other priests. They are ready to restart the ritual. Should I stay and help you.

Yes, Ber-chan. Come help me lift him. I doubt he can walk at this point.

Heavy feet hurried up the steps. A human about sixteen-years-old with glistening black skin and a short white robe appeared beside Shau. The top and sides of his head were shaved, leaving a square of long black hair in the back. It had been braided, and reached almost to his waist. The boy's black eyes sparked with annoyance when he looked down at Gidd. Human eyes. Gidd reached for Anu's power to punish the boy for looking at him like that.

Don't. Shau said. This is Ber-chan, my most promising student. Ber-chan, this is my grandson. He has come to live with me.

Your grandson, noble priest? Surprise lit Ber-chan's face. I thought you said he'd arrive mid-winter.

So I said, but here he is. Not drunk. Just exhausted from his journey. Let's take him to my chambers. Shau started to put an arm under Gidd's shoulders.

It's all right. I've got him, Ber-chan said. He was big for a human boy, and strong. He pulled Gidd from the table, wrapped the cloak around his midsection, and slid a thick arm under his shoulders and around his chest.

How dare you touch me? Gidd thought. Human. Do you know who I am? A servant of Anu. An Apkallu. I could stop your heart with a mere thought.

Don't be grumpy, Grandson, Shau said. Ber-chan is only trying to help. Once you've been here for a while, I think you'll find the people of Akkad very much to your liking. This is a splendid city and a beautiful land.

Ber-chan lifted Gidd down the stairs, Gidd's feet thumping against one of the steps. He groaned. Surprise shot through him. He'd made a sound come from his mouth. He tried it again. More sound. He barked out a laugh. It echoed around the enclosed hall, bouncing off the stone columns.

Shhh, Ber-chan whispered. This is Anu's most sacred hall. The place of his dwelling in our realm.

Gidd laughed again. Anu seldom came to Akkad, this self-aggrandized city on the edge of the human world. Anu had far better things to do than dote on these prideful humans. Shau, as a senior guardian, cared for their needs and accepted their sacrifices and rituals. Yet Ber-chan and the other humans did not seem to recognize Shau for what he was.

You have much to learn, Shau murmured. Your training as a guardian in Anu's realms taught you nothing of the human world. You should listen to Ber-chan. There is much you can learn from him. Shau's thoughts were almost inaudible in Gidd's head, like a whisper of wind, gone before Gidd could fix his mind on them. But the message came through. Gidd burned with anger. He would learn nothing from this human boy. Gidd was the one who had come to teach humans.

Ber-chan carried noble priest Shau's grandson to Shau's quarters. The grandson was taller than Ber-chan, but weighed less, like his bones were lighter than other's. Though sweaty, he smelled like the sweet wind after a rainstorm. Ber-chan thought it strange, but didn't say anything. Shau's grandson didn't seem to like him much.

Put him there. Shau motioned for Ber-chan to lay his grandson on the bed in the bed chamber.

Ber-chan set the older boy down and nodded a greeting. Welcome to Akkad.

The grandson glared at Ber-chan, and Shau rushed Ber-chan out of the quarters. Ber-chan hurried away to attend to his other duties, disturbed by his encounter with Shau's grandson. He returned later that evening with the slaves that carried dinner for noble priest Shau.

 How is he? Ber-chan asked Shau.

Gidd is recovering, Shau said. I'll take dinner to him in his room while you eat. Perhaps he'll join us for breakfast in the morning. Shau sat at the table in the center of the reception chamber and motioned for the awilum slaves to set down the silver trays, piled high with fruit, goat cheese, meat, and bread. The awilum kept their golden eyes to the floor and slid the trays off their olive-skinned shoulders.

Ber-chan's mouth watered. He usually took dinner with noble priest Shau, but had doubted that would continue now that Shau's grandson had come. He was glad to see he would still get to eat with Shau.

The last awilum, an older man with a limp, sloshed red wine onto the table as he set the decanter down. Ber-chan hissed. The awilu glanced up for a fleeting moment, his wild eyes filled with fear. Ber-chan cuffed him on the shoulder. The awilu cringed from Ber-chan's blow and knocked the decanter over, spilling the rest of the wine.

Ber-chan groaned. The awilum were perpetually clumsy. As a people they lived on the eastern plains and north-eastern mountains. Wild. Hunting and gathering for food. Uncivilized, untaught. The Akkadian king, Sargon, had decreed that they be brought in from their wandering and trained to plant and build and craft. But niceties of civilization seemed to elude them.

Shau rose from the ornate wooden chair he'd been sitting in, grabbed a linen cloth from the table, and stepped around to the spilled wine. The awilu dropped to the floor, attempting to lick it up as it dripped from the table.

Shau grabbed the awilu's arm and murmured soothing words to him in the awilu language. Shau knew every language under the sun and had started to teach some of them to Ber-chan. He'd insisted Ber-chan learn awilu, though King Sargon's decree had been for the Akkadians to teach the awilu, not the other way around.

Shau lifted the awilu from the ground and showed him how to mop up the mess with the cloth. He'd shown the same man the exact same procedure twice already this month. Shau's patience never waned. Ber-chan doubted he'd ever grow that patient. The awilum irritated him.

Shau patted the awilu on the shoulder and sent him and the others away. He handed a plate to Ber-chan and motioned for him to sit.

Gidd? That's your grandson's name? How old is he? Ber-chan asked while he filled his plate.

Older than you by a few years and deserving of your deference and respect. Despite his inauspicious arrival today, you must treat him as your superior. With other boys you are free and familiar. With him you must not be. He will not tolerate it. At least not at first. Give him some time. Someday you may become friends. While Shau talked, he filled a plate with large helpings of food. He lifted the empty decanter to pour a glass of wine then set it down. Ah, he said, disappointed.

I'll get some more. Ber-chan leaped to his feet and grabbed the decanter. He raced out of the temple and down the steps of the ziggurat the temple stood atop. Shau still planned to let Ber-chan dine with him. It was the greatest honor Ber-chan had yet received. All the other boys who served in the temple were jealous. Though Shau treated all of them gently and taught many of them, Ber-chan had been Shau's favorite student.

Learning, particularly writing, did not come easily to Ber-chan. He had studied twice as hard as the other boys, but always failed to measure up to the other teacher-priests' expectations. He'd been beaten with a cane every other day for his stupidity until Shau had taken over Ber-chan's studies. Shau praised Ber-chan's efforts and rewarded his diligence in studying.

When Shau had said his grandson would be coming to the temple to study with him, Ber-chan had been frightened. He still had scars on his back from the beatings the other teacher-priests had given him. He didn't want to go back to that.

Ber-chan stopped at the lowest level, passed the red stone pillars at the entrance, and slid into the kitchen. He bowed to the priest who oversaw the kitchen workers. The brown-skinned workers chopped vegetables, turned sheep carcasses on big spits, and shoved bread into the hot ovens that made Ber-chan break out in sweat whenever he stepped into the kitchens.

The awilum washed the growing pile of dirty pots and plates, hauled in wood for the fires, and carried away the refuse. The awilu who had spilled the wine saw Ber-chan arrive, shuddered, and slipped out of the kitchen with a basket of turnip stems.

Shau needs some more wine, most noble priest, Ber-chan said, holding out the decanter.

Priest Kirsi frowned and glared after the disappearing awilu. Again?

I'm afraid so, noble priest. Ber-chan kept his eyes down in deference to his superior and held out the decanter.

I'm going to have to punish that one, Kirsi said.

Noble Priest Shau would not want that, Ber-chan murmured.

Shau, Kirsi snorted. Shau would let them all run around naked and eat off the ground like they do in the wild. Shau would not even cane the most stupid boy he ever taught.

Ber-chan winced and stumbled back.

Phaw, Kirsi said in disgust. He grabbed the decanter from Ber-chan and ordered one of the kitchen workers to fill it.

Ber-chan edged to the doorway and waited. A few moments later the worker pressed the filled decanter into his hands. Ber-chan took it and ran back to Shau's quarters.

Shau lifted the decanter from Ber-chan's hands. Thank you. He poured a glass of wine. The plate he'd been filling before had already disappeared into Gidd's room. I will be a while with Gidd, I'm afraid. He motioned Ber-chan into a chair. Eat as much as you like, and then get to your studies. I expect you to have that tablet finished for me by morning.

Ber-chan sat and filled his plate with dates, olives, and grapes. It was custom to eat the fruits first and the meats and breads after. He had just bit into the last date when the sound of a plate clanging against a wall and clattering to the floor came from the other room. The door jerked open and Gidd stood there dressed in one of Shau's fringed robes.

Ber-chan leaped to his feet, bowed, and backed away from the table, keeping his eyes down in deference to the older boy.

You, Gidd said, his voice thick as if the words were new to him. What are you doing here?

Eating, Ber-chan said. He somehow managed to keep his annoyance out of his voice. I am your grandfather's student. I am always here during the day, working on my lessons and serving noble priest Shau.

Gidd staggered across the room, his unsteady steps knocking over one of the chairs at the table, tripping on the black tassels at the edge of the gold and red rug, barely missing the stone shelves that held Shau's clay tablets and writing tools. Gidd came at last to the window and pulled aside the heavy curtains. A humid breeze stirred the room, spilling in with night's darkness.

It's no longer day. He pointed to the door and glared at Ber-chan.

As you wish, Ber-chan said. He crossed to the door, but paused before going out. You've had a long journey. All the way from Mohenjo-Daro, noble priest Shau tells me. I can scarcely imagine traveling that far. Is there something I can fetch for you to speed your recovery? There are herbs for sore muscles. Fresh water for washing. A comb for your hair. Though Ber-chan kept his eyes on the floor, he could see in the edge of his vision that Gidd's hair was frizzy and untamed. Shau had not yet shaved the top and sides, marking Gidd a priest in training. Perhaps Gidd would pursue some office in the king's court instead.

Insolent whelp, Gidd said.

An unseen force slammed into Ber-chan, knocking him into the hall. Ber-chan hit the floor and rolled back to his feet. Gidd had used some kind of power against him.

Ber-chan lowered his head, bunched his shoulders, and barreled back into the room. Gidd was only a few years older than Ber-chan and held no rank in the temple yet. Ber-chan had shown deference because Shau had asked him to, but Ber-chan hated to back away from a fair fight. The other boys in the temple might think of Ber-chan as stupid, but they'd all learned not to say it out loud.

He struck Gidd in the chest, knocking him to the floor and landing on top of him. He'd punched Gidd in the face twice before Shau grabbed him and, using strength Ber-chan wouldn't have guessed possible for the old priest, dragged him off of Gidd.

Gidd groaned and put his hand to his bloody nose and split lip. He looked up wide-eyed at Ber-chan. Ber-chan stared back, refusing to drop his gaze.

Boys, Shau said. His words drove daggers through Ber-chan.

Ber-chan gasped and stumbled back, hugging himself to fend off the sudden pain. Gidd winced as well. Ber-chan knew Shau could call on Anu's powers. He'd seen Shau fill an empty wine jug, heal a hurt bird, and reform a broken tablet, but he'd never guessed Shau was capable of this kind of punishment.

Shau flicked his wrist and the pain vanished. There will be no fighting here. He glared at Ber-chan and then Gidd.

Forgive me, noble Shau. Ber-chan dropped his gaze to the floor. His heart beat high in his throat. He'd only wanted to protect himself. Gidd had attacked him without cause.

Gidd scrambled to his feet, shaking. He pointed at Ber-chan. Th-that boy—

That boy offered to give service to you, to make you more comfortable. He meant no insult. Shau righted the fallen chair and kicked the rug straight.

Gidd blinked his eyes and rubbed his arms as if messaging away the same pain Ber-chan had felt.

Ber-chan swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke in a cracked voice. Forgive me for fighting you, noble Gidd. May I go to my quarters now, noble priest Shau?

Gidd turned his back. Shau stared hard at Ber-chan for a long time. Ber-chan felt as if a snaking black power emanated from Shau's eyes and slithered into his mind and heart. Ber-chan gasped, unable to breathe until Shau turned away. You may go, Ber-chan. Do not fail to bring me that finished tablet in the morning. Shau's words held a threatening edge to them that they'd never had before.

Ber-chan bowed and scurried away, out of the temple and down the long steps to the halls of the ziggurat. He crept down the stone hallway to his quarters. Most of the other boys had already gone to sleep, their snores sounded through the hanging leather doors and down the dusty hallway. Ber-chan slid into his own room and let the door flap fall behind him.

One of the awilum had lit his clay lamp for him and left it on the stone desk along with a jug of clean water next to his wash basin.

A sleeping mat made of woven rushes waited for Ber-chan on the floor. Ber-chan stretched. No sleeping yet.

He sat at the desk and peeled back the leather wrap that kept his clay tablet soft. The earthy scent of the clay filled the room. In the flickering lamplight, Ber-chan picked up his bone stylus and ran his thumb along the smooth side then down to flick dry clay from the tip. He moved Shau's