Civilization

Ak-a-Kartam was only ever counted among the great cities of Nod as an afterthought. Dukes and marquesses in Vetania had seats of power that were either larger cities or more imposing fortresses, though admittedly they were seldom both. The satellite cities around Xinqian, Lugo’s capital, outdid it on both counts, of course, to say nothing of the imperial seat itself.

But to Ashset, the capital of Jalabarta seemed a more than fitting place for a god to reside. The walls came easily twice as high as the gatehouses of Ak-Toum, with stepped crenellations, relief carvings of magical beasts, and towers and gateways tiled in turquoise and lapis lazuli. Above the gate where he and Uzdel entered, a massive gold-and-onyx mosaic depicted a black canid creature whose tall ears had squared-off tips, whose tail was forked at the end, and whose snout drooped like an anteater’s. Rarely, Ashset had seen this beast, a nocturnal scavenger and predator, stalking outside the walls of Ak-Toum. They were said to portend drastic change, and rarely for the better. Most recently, he had spotted one on his way to rescue Yuya from his crucifixion. Beasts of Seth, they were called, though who or what Seth was numbered among the great many mysteries woven into the very language of Nod. The name was rendered in the Jalabartan dialect as ashset.

Ashset expected the gleam of prosperity to continue shining as their carriage wove among the streets of Ak-a-Kartam. Instead, this gate dumped out into a neighborhood where paint flaked from the mud brick houses, where shirtless boys with every rib visible cast evil eyes on him and Uzdel. And the smell… Ashset had been told great cities tended to stink, that they were no less packed with livestock and beasts of burden than smaller towns and tended to have trouble managing human waste besides, but there was more than goat-stench and feces on the wind here. There was a rot in Ak-a-Kartam.

“My lord, is there a plague afflicting the capital?”

“A famine. I suppose you might not realize it, as you would not have any business in the halls of power or anywhere outside your region, but the eastern province has been uniquely blessed these last few years. Its harvests have declined only into mediocrity. It is as if some vital essence has been sapped from the whole of Jalabarta, that the land no longer gives life as it once did. For this reason, the select Temple priests I wish to present with your may take some time to attend to us. You will not make trouble in the meantime, I trust?”

Ashset turned back to the emaciated figures on the street. Some eyes pled with him pitifully. Some were predatory, probing him for weakness. Many were vacant, staring thoughtlessly into space. Those frightened him most of all. He turned back to Uzdel and shook his head.

“Good. We will be staying in the villa of Zeffar ba-Zefsin, my mentor in the binding of djinn. I expect you to be a courteous guest, and above all, quiet.”

Ashset nodded.

The villa laid at the base of the Temple Mount. The seat of faith in Jalabarta had an outer wall of yellow sandstone enclosing a courtyard and wider temple complex covering a whole sprawling acropolis. The walls of the main temple structure within were built of only twenty gargantuan blocks of white marble, each twelve cubits tall and twenty across. They were stacked two blocks across the face of the temple, three deep, and two tall, with sloped faces on the lower blocks forming a ramp on the exterior up to the sheer, perfectly rectangular upper blocks. The roof was shingled with gold tiles.

The villa, though larger and more elaborate than any structure in Ak-Toum, was dwarfed by the god’s house, in size by the whole complex and in opulence even by just the main temple building itself. It had two floors throughout, with one wing having a third, and it encircled two courtyards. Its roof was of red clay tiles, and its front door was of richly-stained cedarwood painted with a gold Antediluvian seal.

Uzdel approached, bidding Ashset and his soldiers follow. The magic character glowed red, and a man-shaped figure made of fire sprung from it to stand guard on the top step. The man of fire wore a vest, girdle and baggy pants, with a large scimitar sheathed at his hip. He had upswept points to his ears, a single vertical ponytail tied up on his otherwise-bald head, and a long beard rolling down from his chin. He stood with his arms crossed, and demanded in a voice like popping embers, “What manner of man do I see before me?”

“A djinn-invoker.” Uzdel replied levelly.

“Confess your sin, invoker, so that you may enter pure.”

“Pride, good djinni.”

“My master bids you welcome.” The djinni disappeared, and the door swung open of its own accord. Uzdel stepped over the threshold, then from the antechamber tilted his head expectantly at Ashset and the guards until they followed. A second djinni floated down from an upstairs loft, this one at first appearing to be a thin silk dress caught in a current of air before gaining substance and color, becoming as a girl with the eyes, ears, and tail of a black cat. Something about that sight made Ashset think of Yuya. She removed their shoes and bathed their feet in a bronze bowl of water and scented oils, before leading them into a dining hall beyond.

As they entered, a woman older than Ashset but younger than Uzdel– who, now that Ashset thought about it, was probably in his early thirties, though he had the sort of face the years changed little– came in from a door opposite. Her wavy copper-red hair and bright green eyes were about what Ashset would have expected a talented artist to have painted, if asked to depict an archetype of Jalabartan feminine beauty. Her motions, however, conveyed a grace that he doubted any still image could capture. This was a skilled dancer, if the velvet dress carefully tailored tight about the waist and bosom and loose about the shoulders and hips wasn't indicator enough. Uzdel bowed twice to her, and Ashset imitated the gesture.

“You must be Uzdel.” she said with a note of bemusement. “Has Zeffar mentioned me in his letters?”

“He was eager to speak of his concubine’s beauty and charm, Lady Faharzi. You have that seducer of spirits thoroughly under your spell. I am honored that you would wait upon me, but is my master not in attendance to receive his apprentice?”

“He has been called away by His Majesty, may he reign a thousand years. The king and all of the chief priests have gone out to the southern border, to receive a visitor from Lugo.”

Ashset could think of only one man who would merit such a reception. “The Eternal Emperor is coming here?”

Uzdel shot him a glare for speaking out of turn, and Ashset hastily amended, “May he reign forever.”

The concubine laughed. “Not the emperor. A mere man, even one with the Mandate of Heaven, would not deprive the god of Ak-a-Kartam of all his most trusted servants. Another god is coming to grace us with his presence. Bulan, the Giver of Humility.”

All three of the Jalabartans bowed five times at the name of the Vizier of the Gods, their ruler except when the will of Heaven saw fit to be distilled into the person of the Turquoise Emperor. Only the greatest of nations became the residences of a god, and only Lugo hosted two. For a foreign god to bring his blessings to Jalabarta, even for a short visit… Ashset would speak of this to his grandchildren. Any except the Bekhites’ cruel Yog, the fallen demon-goddess once called Giver of Temperance, or the Cainites’ formless Lord of Death would be guests honored above any king or emperor. Bulan, the greatest of all things except transcendent Heaven…

“What have we sinners done to deserve such an honor? Does he come to relieve the famine?”