Happy Holidays, cassie-oh! Part 3

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Chapter 13: Outside the Temple

Siduri grabbed Iltani by the ear, hauling them away from the temple and grove. “…foolish, soft-headed—do you have any idea what you’ve done…” The lecture poured off her tongue like water rushing to fill the canals when the gates opened for the day.

“I—I don’t know what you—I was just curious—”

“I’m not talking about the revels.” She hissed the last word as she shoved them through the district gate and out into the city proper. As always, Iltani felt a chill just stepping over the line, leaving the world where they belonged. Even in the middle of the night, with no one else about, they hunched their shoulders defensively.

“Dunno what else…” They were hoping for the bold, haughty tones Dadasig sometimes managed while talking with other guards, but they wilted before the priestess’s eyes, mumbling the rest. “…what else you could mean. Ma’am.”

“Where is Elutil?”

Iltani’s head snapped up before they could stop it. “I—what? I don’t know. Isn’t she with you? Wait… obviously not. Er. Laying down, resting her back?”

Pressing her lips together, Siduri pushed them even farther from the district gates, into the shadows of the main road. A few unlit braziers were set up, marking the path the procession would take just before dawn. “Child. Did you dreamwalk or not?”

“No!” They bit their lip. “I mean… sleepwalk? Did you say—” She raised her eyebrows and they sighed. “Yes. You… you knew it would happen?”

Sighing, she rubbed a hand across her eyes. “I did. I was once cursed with far too much curiosity for my own good. As, apparently, you are as well. Did you touch anything while you were there?”

“I…” They thought of the two presences, clawing at each other through the starlight road. “It was a dream, I touched all kinds of things, I don’t know.” More pain rolled through them from the grove. Siduri’s distress was nothing compared to it, dust motes dancing in a sunbeam. “I… might have touched the demon. Can’t stop feeling it, and it… it’s wrong.”

“Wrong how?”

They pressed a hand to their forehead. “Dunno… just… twisted around, alien, like something…” The demon must have fallen unconscious, because the pain subsided, though there was still a strange ache in their chest. “Can’t you feel it?”

Siduri shook her head, crossing back to the gate to glance inside. When she returned, she had that strange bowed look again, the fire in her eyes extinguished. “Walk with me, child. Just down the processional way and back.” She didn’t wait for their reply, heading west towards the sinking moon, hands folded neatly in front of her. “What name did you choose for yourself again, child?”

The gala-priest frowned, running faster as they tried to keep up. “Iltani. Weren’t you listening…?”

“Iltani.” She slowed her pace slightly, so that they could walk together. “Where to start. I can’t sense what you can, because I am not a gala-priest. Not even close. But when I was younger, I spent… more time than was appropriate among them, much as Elutil always has.”

“Who else is she supposed to spend time with? The next-oldest priestess-in-training is not even nine summers old!” Once again, Siduri raised her eyebrows. “Sorry.”

“I never had thatexcuse, of course; as I said, I was merely curious. At the time, each portion of the priesthood had their secrets, and… it was not forbidden to share them. Merely, as I said, inappropriate.”

“Like how boys aren’t supposed to make girls’ crafts, or sing girls’ songs…?”

“Yes. I’m afraid even the gala-priests were, at times, subject to our tendency to… categorize. As a result, I… may be the last person in Uruk who knows even as much as I do. Certainly since Sabium’s last purge…”

“What’s a purge?”

She paused, looking sadly down at them. “It could mean several things. In this case, I suppose, it is a test to see how well you’ve been paying attention. Iltani. Why are there so few of the priesthood left at the temple? And why are they almost all men?”

The same question the demon had asked. Iltani pressed their hands to their chest. “The others… left.” Once again, they felt the aching loneliness. “Um. Sabium sends those who aren’t suited to priesthood elsewhere. They become administrators. Merchants. And… and the senior priests… minister outside the city walls.” They carefully considered their next words. “I… I used to think those were, you know. The holiest. His favorites. That’s not it, though, is it?”

“It is not.” Up ahead, the road turned north, not quite following the wall of the sacred district. It looped around a few clusters of homes built against the wall, meandering just a little, then straightened up for the final approach to the Ziggurat of An, a looming mountain in the darkness. “I cannot claim to be an expert on Sabium, though I have watched him for many years. But I believe his favorites are the ones who are now high-ranking priests of An, Enlil, and Enki.”

“Is…” Iltani tried to remember who they had seen among the revelers. “Is that why so many in the grove aren’t from our temple? They’re all the priests who left?”

“For the most part. There are also a number of men who were never trained as acolytes but support Sabium in other ways, and for other reasons.” Her hands twisted, though her expression remained neutral. “I believe they are all married to former priestesses at this point. It’s why Delondra has had rather a long wait for her husband.”

Iltani shivered. “Were… were they all forced into it, like Elutil? Yes,” they added before she could say anything. “I know what happened with Elutil.”

“I see. And no, her case was unusual. The rest were loyal, devoted servants of Inana, happy to submit themselves to the will of their husbands. Or at least, knew better than to show otherwise. The other women… a number of them are now courtesans of Inana, and that entire temple has been reduced to… let us say it is not what it once was.”

“Mattaki said… they used to attend the revels.”

“It was their ceremony,” she said a little sharply. “They prepared the sacred brew, they chose what men would attend. Every harvest, they recreated the marriage of Inana and Dumuzid, many times, under that tree. I never participated, but…” once again, her voice softened in memory. “I would chaperone sometimes. Make sure no one became too aggressive in their altered state. They never did.”

“That’s…” they hesitated, embarrassed. “The ritual Elutil… came from?”

“Oh, yes. Her mother was quite pleased. Such children were held to be especially blessed. She was born in the grove, too, under the apple tree, in sight of Inana. There was a great celebration, and…” she turned, looking back up towards the sacred district. The glow of the bonfire was still visible, all this distance away. “I imagine things looked quite different tonight.”

“They were so violent,” Iltani blurted out. “The demon hung from the tree, like… like Inana hung from the walls of the underworld. Helpless, but they kept hitting it. And Mattaki…” they shuddered, not wanting to think about it. “The men, the revelers, they were… did all the servants make it out?”

“I believe so. Normally, I would have checked in on them, but tonight… were Tigzar or Dadasig in the grove?”

Iltani shook their head, biting their lip.

“That is good, at least.” Siduri hesitated, then rested a hand on Iltani’s shoulder. “I am sorry. For… everything you saw in the grove.”

They watched the flickering of the fire in silence. Iltani could still feel, distantly, the demon’s pain. But now they could also sense an emptiness in Siduri, not entirely unlike their own.

**

The boat drifted beside the dock, bobbing lightly atop the water.

Drifted because Elutil and Tigzar had given up on trying to remember how to knot the rope that should hold it in place properly, so she had simply jabbed the punting pole deep into the soft mud below and held onto that. There wasn’t really any current, so it should hold while Tigzar ran up to the guard room.

“Hmmm,” Dadasig jerked, shaking his head as he woke. He shifted his head, which rested on her lap, moving it as far as he could to gaze up at Elutil with glassy eyes. “How long was I out?” He asked that every time. It seemed impossible for him to stay awake for long. She didn’t think that was a good sign.

“Not long. Tigzar’s just…” Elutil let go of the pole with one hand to point, grabbing it again quickly when the boat began to move away from the dock. “He’s just up there. Hasn’t been thrown out on his head yet, so I guess the guard was part of the hunt?”

Dadasig shifted a little, eyes searching the sky. His movements were tense, reluctant, and his cheek burning hot where it pressed against her. She’d tried to help him sit up when they first reached the docks, but he had groaned and gone stiff, clutching at her dress. Now he seemed hardly able to move his fingers at all.

“Dunno,” he finally said. “Didn’t the… hunt end hours ago?”

“Don’t think so,” Elutil said, studying the moon. “We… we got here quicker than I expected.”

“Nh. Boat’s not much faster’n walking.” He closed his eyes, as if about to fall asleep, then jerked himself awake. “Guard. Should… be back soon. By now. Gotta…”

“I’m sure Tigzar thought of that, too. He’ll be quick.”

With a heavy sigh, Dadasig nodded. “Water?”

Elutil frowned. There were a few water skins in Tigzar’s bag, but both her arms were occupied and her legs were underneath her. Well. She had to try.

Biting her lip, she hooked one elbow around the pole and reached with the other, as far as she could. The pain burst across her back immediately, and she pulled her arm against her chest to try and ease it, barely managing to swallow her scream. She tried again, more slowly, straining her fingers to get a proper grip, feeling the pull through her back as the boat drifted farther and farther.

Her fingers pinched the soft leather just as the punting pole began to tip. She tugged the bag against her knee, spilling apples and dried vegetables across the bottom of the boat, and tried to catch the pole with both hands. It slowly pulled free, so she jabbed it back into the mud again. The boat made one more attempt to drift away before settling down.

“There,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. “Just give me a second, and…”

Dadasig was asleep again.

She groaned, shifting her fingers. Probably just as well. She couldn’t give him a drink without letting go entirely.

Elutil wished Iltani were there. Not just to hold the pole while she took a rest. It seemed… impossible to leave without them. She kept expecting to see the gala-priest come running around a corner, perhaps chased by half the temple, jump into the boat at the last minute as they all shot downstream, rowing as fast as they could. Laughing and hugging as they headed off to see the world together.

Like something out of a story.

A nice story, where her back never hurt again and Dadasig was fine. Where no real danger would follow them, and Inana would smile on their journey.

She bowed her head over Dadasig, arms trembling as she held the boat in place, and felt a tear start to gather in her eye.

**

“Did you understand the purpose of your dreamwalk?”

Once again, Siduri walked briskly ahead, now back towards the sacred district. Iltani kept up a little better this time, but the question made them pause.

“Um…” Tugging their braid, they hurried to catch up again. “Sort of? There’s… there’s two Inanas, or many Inanas, or… or one Inana who can be many things. So she has many types of priest, for each… each identity. And the gala-priests… we… we walk the wall.”

“How poetic. Yes. In strictly mundane terms, the gala-priests negotiated the boundaries, mediated between the different groups. Ensured the peaceful running of a rather complex temple. They helped the people of the city deal with the great transitions of life, most particularly the tragedies they suffered, the deaths of loved ones.”

“The lamentations.”

“Mourning for all of Uruk. Yes. And some few… I don’t know if it is a predisposition, a choice, or some combination of the two. But some were able to do the same with… metaphysical boundaries.”

“Dreams and reality,” Iltani remembered.

“Among other things, yes. I cannot tell you much more than that, although you should be able to teach yourself how to close off the sense for others’ pain. I understand it can be overwhelming at times. You should also be able to dreamwalk at times, not every night perhaps but under… different sets of conditions, it is possible. That said, I couldn’t begin to tell you how to do so.”

They walked in silence again, the rest of the way to the corner of the sacred district. Iltani’s heart sped up. They knew once the walk was over, Siduri would likely never be so forthcoming again. They licked their lips, trying to find the right question. “What… what am I meant to do with the powers Inana granted me?”

“Nothing,” Siduri said, voice stern. “You are to pretend they do not exist. Continue behaving as you always have. Never mention them to anyone.”

“What?” Iltani stopped in the middle of the road, fists clenched by their sides. Some wholly new pain welling up in their chest. “Why did you bother telling me so much, then? I can do… something! I can stop Sabium, I can help!”

“Child! There were a dozen fully-trained gala-priests at this temple when he arrived. Do you think none of them tried? There is nothing you can do.”

“I don’t believe you!” They stomped their foot like a child. “You don’t understand what it was like, what I saw! I don’t have to be a—a stupid helpless child anymore, I can… I can make a difference!”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Then I’ll find someone who does!” Their whole body shook at the words, but they forced themself on. “I—I’ll find the gala-priests, the ones Sabium sent away.”

“No.”

“I get it! They aren’t really ministering beyond the walls. It’s a… an exile. But I can find them! Just tell me where to look, I—”

“They’re dead, child!”

Siduri clapped her hand over her mouth, looking horrified at her own words. Iltani wanted to argue, to deny it, but the wave of grief they felt from her was undeniable. Tears filled their eyes, altogether too suddenly. “W… why…?”

Her hands reached out to clasp theirs. Iltani realized for the first time how frail she looked. How old. “You know that, when you were a child, we lost our high priestess, yes? And Sabium arrived. He came from… far away, places with strange ideas about Inana. About how the world should work. Had we been strong, we would have turned him away immediately, but the city was in the grip of famine, and… he seemed to know what we needed. By the time we realized… it was too late.

“I don’t know how much he understands about the gala-priests’ power, but their very role was… antithetical to how his world worked. Strict organization, everyone in their role, nothing that was…”

“Liminal,” Iltani said softly.

“Yes. When the heads of the different priesthoods finally organized themselves to demand Sabium change his ways or leave… he always said they were exiled, but we knew. The lie was for you children, to convince you the world worked as he said it did. For us… it was a threat. We never knew who would be next. Eventually, we all learned that it was easier… less terrifying… to obey.”

“But not the gala-priests.”

“No. They never stopped fighting him, so they were… purged.”

Iltani pulled away. “All of them?”

“I’m sorry, child. Many of them would not have left for anything less.”

“No…” they pressed their hands to their eyes, trying to dig out the tears. “No… but… the other acolytes…” They had been the only gala-priest acolyte for almost five years, but there had been some. Once. “They’re… were they…”

“I quietly contacted their families, had them sent home. It was my last act of… I don’t even know if you could call it defiance. Sabium was happy to see them all go.”

“But they… they couldn’t be anything else, they… they all had to go back to being…” The panic Iltani had felt earlier in the day started to return. “We can’t be in the city, we don’t belong…”

Another thought cut through the panic and they stumbled back. Siduri reached for their shoulders but Iltani swatted her hands.

“They… my family…”

“I never heard—”

“They didn’t want me?”

“Child, no, I…” The priestess held out her hands again, but Iltani again stepped away. “It’s possible they simply weren’t where I thought they would be, there are… so many people in the city, child, so many—”

“Don’t call me child!” The world seemed to dim around them, their own grief threatening to engulf them entirely.

“Iltani, then. I remember your parents bringing you here, you know. They loved you—”

“Don’t lie to me!” When had their parents last visited? Years ago. Years and years. Had they ever visited? Had they only dreamed it, long ago, when Iltani still remembered their faces? “They… they left me here!”

“As you perfectly well knew,” she said more firmly. “And you’re hardly the only—”

“Leave me alone! You useless—old—!” Their words died on their tongue.

With one final scream, Iltani ran back towards the temple. Towards home.

Except the temple wasn’t home. The temple was full of enemies, people who would happily throw them away, people who would have them killed. People who pitied them. Mattaki, who tonight had wanted to rape them, who would do the same to Elutil every day if he caught her…

But she was gone. All of them, gone.

Iltani stumbled to a stop by the gate of the sacred district.

If they’d ever had a home, that was it. Elutil, Tigzar, and Dadasig.

And they’d sent them away.

They leaned against the wall, fighting to get their tears under control. They’d been so wrong tonight. Wrong about their family, wrong about the grove, wrong about needing to stay, wrong about their powers…

The only good thing they’d managed was to get their friends as far from Uruk as possible. At least they could be safe. Holding tightly to that thought, Iltani wiped their eyes and turned the corner.

To find the district filled with armed guards.

**

Inana’s temple, the temple of the goddess of war, was the only one to have its own guards. A little more than forty, more than the number of priests it had these days. The rest of the sacred district shared a few dozen more. As many again were city guards, who watched the main gates and patrolled the streets when needed. Some of the most powerful lords and merchants kept their own permanent guards, and everyone else drew from the guards-for-hire, mercenaries who went from city to city, escorting traders on long journeys and lending their spears where they were needed.

Altogether, perhaps three hundred men who dedicated their lives to fighting, and as many again who knew enough to join them in an emergency.

They were not all gathered in the streets of the sacred district. But it was certainly more than Iltani had ever seen, all standing in ragged lines, all listening intently to Sabium.

“Divide the districts among yourselves and check the city thoroughly. I expect it will come to knocking on doors and questioning residents, but take a moment to search the area first. There are plenty of places they could hide. Remember, the girl must be brought back alive to her husband. Anyone found helping her is a traitor to their city and, should they be one of Inana’s priesthood, to their goddess as well. Their lives are forfeit. Bring them back for a proper execution if you can, but do what you must.”

The gathered men responded with a shout loud enough to drown out the sounds of the revels.

“Whoever brings her back can name their reward, for themself and for all who aided them. The goddess provides for those who serve her.” He paused, giving the troops one of his rare smiles. “I thank you all for responding to my call. Your dedication to Inana’s cause above all else is truly inspiring.” Sabium rubbed his hands together. “I suppose tonight’s second hunt can begin.”

Another shout, this one even louder, seeming to echo off the buildings and down every street in the city, as the men poured out of the sacred district, weapons in hand. Iltani tried to get out of their way, but one still grabbed the gala-priest, shoving them against the wall.

“You,” the man said, pressing an arm across Iltani’s throat. “What are you doing out at night, child? What do you know?”

“I… what…?”

“Answer me!” A stone knife appeared in the guard’s hand. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Please! I don’t—”

The blade slid across their collarbone, almost too sharp to feel. Almost. “Tell me what you know, and I’ll stop. Otherwise—”

“What are you doing?” Siduri’s voice broke through the crowd. She grabbed the guard’s arm, trying to pull him back. “Unhand that child—”

A second guard seized her, pressing her against the wall. This one had a bronze knife, glittering in the moonlight. “Even better,” first said. “Tell me what you know, or we’ll slit her throat.”

“You’re not in charge,” the second guard snapped, his blade digging into Siduri’s shoulder. “I say we kill the child and interrogate the woman.”

“I found them first,” the first said, dragging his knife along Iltani’s jawline. “Besides, she’s ancient. Might die in the middle of it, and then we’d have no one.”

The color drained from Siduri’s face. “We are priestesses of Inana!”

“S’how I know you know something,” said the second. “Better start talking.”

“And what kind of priestess are you?” the first asked, blade now tracing around Iltani’s ear.

“Sabium!” Siduri called. Trying to sound angry, but her voice shook with fear. “Sabium! Get out here and control your men! Sab—!”

The second guard jerked her head back. “Fuck, she’s loud. Never mind, we can share the kid.” He pressed his blade to her throat.

“Not just yet.” A hand stilled the guard’s arm. Sabium’s hand. “I think you should start answering their questions.”

“They…” she gasped, throat still strained by the guard’s grip. “They didn’t… ask…”

“Didn’t they?” The high priest turned to Iltani. “And where have you been?”

“I… I…” The day dissolved around them into a blur, too much to keep track of, too much to take in. Worse, the demon chose that moment to regain consciousness, flooding their mind with chaos and pain again. They clutched at their head, sobbing.

“…bium!” Siduri’s voice, dimly at the edge of everything else. “…walk… braziers… please…”

The pressure on their body vanished, and Iltani dropped to the ground, trying to shield themself. They struggled under the weight of the demon’s pain, trying to push it away but it kept clawing them back. Desperately, Iltani imagined a wall, taller than the ziggurat, surrounding the strange, twisted being. It still tried to follow them, crawling through the last opening, but they pictured a gate heavier than that of the city wall and forced it shut.

The demon’s pain vanished. So did Siduri’s, and the background hum of the city they had already begun to get used to. Iltani was alone in their own head again.

Blinking their eyes open, they found the guards gone and Siduri kneeling beside them, talking to Sabium. “…in my old age, so I asked them to come along and help me finish setting up the procession walk. And they clearly haven’t recovered from the lamentations yet, so I thought some quiet would be good for them, right up until your… your…”

“Watch your tone,” Sabium said lightly.

“I’m sorry, high priest,” she mumbled, bowing her head. “I… I was simply worried…”

“You should worry more about your missing priestess. You hardly seem concerned at all.”

“Elutil is young, Master Sabium.” Siduri sounded as meek as an acolyte, her shaking hands clutching at Iltani. “She has no family in the city, nowhere to go. She’ll return, just give her time…”

“Inana’s patience grows thin. With her, and with these other brats.” Iltani looked up just enough to catch Sabium’s disgusted expression. “They never should have been elevated to priesthood. I should have thrown every one of them out onto the street—”

“No!” Iltani began to shake. “No, wait. I—I woke up and Tigzar was gone. I went looking for them and—and I wound up in the grove with… with…” They struggled for a breath. “That’s all I know, I swear…”

“Inana has a purpose for them,” Siduri said, quiver still in her voice. “You must know that, a purpose for all of them, a purpose even in Elutil running away…”

“Perhaps her purpose is to show all of Uruk that she will no longer stand for such weakness. That she commands nothing more or less than obedience to the role she placed each of us in.” With one last glare, he turned back towards the sacred district. “Finish your preparations. Dawn will be here soon enough.”

Something brushed Iltani’s shoulder and they jerked away, but it was only Siduri. Looking as frightened as they were. “Please, child, Iltani,” she whispered. “You must tell me where Elutil is. If I can convince her to return before any of these men find her…”

“He’s…” They sniffed and shivered. “He’s going to… to kill… whoever’s helping her?”

“Yes. He’s been growing more conspicuous. Perhaps he’s ready to drop the charade entirely.”

“How can you say that so calmly?” They hugged their knees to their chest.

“Because I have had many years to get used to the idea.” She tried to smile. “But also many years learning to placate him. If I can return her before dawn, with a proper apology, perhaps he will—”

“She’s with Tigzar and Dadasig,” Iltani sobbed. “He’ll kill all of them.”

Siduri closed her eyes. “Perhaps. Tell me where they are, and I’ll do what I can.”

“They…” The child curled up, pressing their head to their knees. “Dadasig was hurt at the reservoir. They went there. I told them all to… to take a boat and leave the city. But surely,” they spoke more quickly, trying to find a bit of hope, “surely if they’re no longer in Uruk, no longer a threat…”

“Oh, you foolish child,” Siduri said, and their heart fell again. “He can’t allow three members of his own priesthood to spread rumors of his cruelty. To possibly organize a resistance against him.”

“That’s not…” Iltani grabbed at her hand as she stood up. “All they want is to be left alone, to live a—a quiet life somewhere. They won’t… they would never…”

“I don’t think Sabium will see it that way. I’ll do what I can, Iltani, but if they’ve left the city, he will most likely order all three executed on sight.” She squeezed their shoulder. “If he asks, I’m bringing the incense to the sacrificial chamber. That should satisfy him for at least an hour. Get yourself cleaned up, and…” Siduri smiled sadly. “Good luck, Iltani.”

---

Chapter 14: Betrayal

Sabium had always enjoyed standing on the roof of his temple. It helped him to relax and, perhaps more importantly, focus. Down in the courtyard and in the temple itself, he was constantly inundated with the everyday worries of the world. People needed to be directed, needed to be fed, as if that wasn’t what he had administrators and stewards for.

It had become even worse since he declared that no priest or priestess could own property in the city until Inana had granted her approval. Certainly it gave him greater scope to ensure everyone followed his guidance on the correct ways to live, and it freed up the better homes for those he knew the goddess favored, but it also meant his temple was crowded day and night, priests and priestesses and guards packed into storage sheds and buildings only meant for temporary use. That, and the swelling of the acolytes’ ranks with the children of the famine, meant he rarely found a moment of peace anymore.

But on the roof, all that faded to a distant hum, and he could look out over his domain, the city Inana had granted him, had he but the power to seize it.

Pale shapes of buildings caught the moonlight, little islands glowing in an endless river of darkness. Outside the sacred district, smaller fires flickered here and there, indicating where bakers and fishers woke early to prepare for their morning work, or where his newest hunters prowled the street, looking for those who would defy him.

He’d been surprised—but gratified—how many had responded to his summons. The result of years of work, laying the foundations of his future rule. According to reports, more were joining the hunters as they searched, all eager to serve the goddess, all eager to have their bit of fun for a good cause. That, really, seemed to be the secret to it all. Be the arbiter of the rules, command their obedience, feed their fears, and then every once in a while give them a short breath of joy in the most cathartic way possible.

Inana’s whores had had the right idea, really, but his take on the revels was far more productive. The bonfire flickered in the grove, shadowy figures cavorting around it, riding through the emotions his concoctions brought on. Years of work perfecting the brew had begun to pay off, and he was quite satisfied with the men’s strength and aggression, even if they were still easily distracted from their task. Now he only needed a way to produce it in far greater quantities.

That, of course, was the difficulty. Once again, the harvest had arrived and he’d found himself with barely any power to spare. Much of it had already gone into creating the brew and summoning the demon, and the last would be needed to prepare the sacrificial blade.

If he could only find a way to gather more power. Sabium had sensed it, like the primordial waters, the eternal wellspring of fertility that only reached the earth in little trickles scattered across the endless desert. No matter how he clawed for it, though, it only slipped away. But Inana had led him to it, just as she had led him to this city. He was meant to conquer it, tame it, and bend it to serve her.

He was on the cusp of having all of Uruk in his grasp, but with such power there would be no need for these petty games. He could seize the city in an hour, disposing of those few who still stood against him. He could present Inana with her perfect soldiers, ready to spread her justice and her rule all across the floodplain.

And, perhaps most important, he wouldn’t be humiliated by some arrogant, willful child. He could drag the girl back to where she belonged with a flick of his finger, wipe her mind of all dissent, leaving nothing but her desire to serve Inana—and her high priest—until the end of her days.

Sabium took a deep, calming breath. No. It would do no good to think of such things. Elutil would go to Mattaki, who could be counted on to see her properly punished. Her accomplices—almost certainly the young priest and guard, still unaccounted for—would be no great loss, and would serve Inana better as an example to those who would reject her ways. But there had to be someone else. None of the three was especially clever, yet they continued to elude him.

He’d suspected the gala-priest, of course. Not that they were any less of a foolish child, but gala-priests always seemed to be at the center of trouble. Causing disruptions, marring his plans. But Iltani’s loyalty had always seemed irreproachable, and after their earlier episode on the street, they’d eagerly volunteered to support the search by running messages between the temples in the sacred district. Perfectly, unassailably dutiful.

Then again…

“Master Sabium?”

The high priest narrowed his eyes. “I asked not to be interrupted,” he said coldly, not turning around. “I will be down when my meditations are complete, and not before.”

“Yes… yes, sir…” The priest fumbled his words. “It’s just… we’ve had news. From the searchers. They’ve captured one of El… of the runaway’s accomplices.”

Sabium allowed himself a small smile. “Excellent. Now leave. I will join you in a moment.”

His eyes returned once again to the grove, where the revelers’ frenzy was reaching its peak. Once, they’d managed to pull the demon down at this point, and he’d entered the grove to find the creature torn to pieces. Such a waste.

This year, however, was far more promising. Sabium could sense the revelers, a faint pulse in his chest tying him to his loyal servants, like a second heart beating to the rhythm of their growing rage. More than that, he could feel the demon’s power coiling, building within her as she was purified. Almost ready to be harvested.

One last look across the city, imagining it torn down and rebuilt as a shining monument to Inana’s ruthless benevolence, her terrifying justice.

Someday.

First, he had a traitor to deal with.

**

Iltani hurried back from the temple of Mother Namma, where a group of young priestesses had searched every corner for some sign that Elutil had hidden herself there. It had been the gala-priest’s suggestion, in the vain hope that it would somehow distract Sabium until Siduri returned.

It hadn’t, but he’d been pleased at least, so that couldn’t hurt.

Well. Everything hurt, a weary, beaten-down exhaustion that inundated Iltani physically, emotionally, mentally, until all they wanted was to lay down and never get up again. Lock themself away somewhere, utterly alone, and let the world forget they ever existed.

They paused, just outside the courtyard of Inana’s temple. Something had changed. It took them a moment to realize—the revelers were quiet, or at least not louder than the general din of activity at the temple. It seemed impossible, somehow, as if it must indicate something far worse than a few tired hunters. They almost considered lowering the defenses they’d put up, seeing if they could sense anything.

Best not.

Pushing open the half-shut temple gate, they stepped into the courtyard and immediately froze. A crowd of people stood gathered by the corner of the temple, Sabium and half a dozen priests, four or five guards, all crowded together, looking down at something.

Run, Iltani thought, screaming in their own head. Get out of here, before they—

“Ah, Iltani,” Sabium said, walking towards them. “Good to see you return. Did you learn anything of use?”

“Not… not really,” they said, trying to force themself to think of anything but the way their heart raced with panic. “None… none of the priestesses had s—s—s—seen her, and we—we looked in the, the places that… that acolytes sometimes go to for, er, privacy.”

“Is there such a thing?”

They wiped sweating hands on their wrap. “Ah. Yes. It’s not—not much of note, just… I mean, we all used to hide behind the fermentation jars in the back shed…”

“And what did you do there?”

“Nothing. Talk.” Just pretend nothing in the world existed but them, just for an hour or two.

“Interesting.” Sabium tilted his head. “I’ve thought, lately, that the ways temples raise and train their acolytes is… disorganized. Too permissible in some cases. Perhaps something new is in order, a more centralized way to monitor them all, apply consistent discipline. As someone raised in the system, what do you think?”

Iltani imagined all the young acolytes penned up together like sheep, fed nothing but Sabium’s lies from the day they arrived. Doled out to the temples like rations of grain. “I… I have no opinion, sir. Whatever Inana finds best.”

They kept their head bowed, but could feel Sabium’s eyes on them. “Well. Thank you for the idea, at least. It certainly requires further consideration. In the meantime, since you’ve been so useful tonight, perhaps you can help me on another matter.”

“Of course, sir.” Their hands shook already.

Sabium placed a hand on their back, guiding them towards the crowd. “We have captured one of Elutil’s accomplices,” he said, and the men parted to reveal Siduri, crouching on the ground, badly beaten. One arm clutched to her chest at an angle that didn’t look completely natural. “Perhaps you could help us decide what to do with her.”

“I…” The priestess looked up at them, one eye clear, the other swollen nearly shut. Everything else was black, no sound but Iltani’s heartbeat thundering in their ears. “I…”

The hand slapped their back, drawing them back to the moment. “I know. Siduri, why don’t you tell Iltani what you told the rest of us?”

She lowered her head, nodding grimly. “Elutil has run away… with Dadasig and Tigzar.” Her voice was soft, broken. “Dadasig was injured at the reservoir. They were to meet there, continue along the channel, and escape through the water gate. Heading towards Ur, and… I know not where else.”

“Very clever.” Sabium stepped closer, leaning towards her. “And how did they manage to coordinate all this?”

Siduri’s eye darted about the group, and landed on Iltani. She opened her mouth, lips trembling.

“I don’t have time for this,” the head priest said warningly and nodded to the guards. They crowded closer, descending on the woman, kicking her in the chest, the leg, the head. She let out a high, keening wail, but they never slowed down, never stopped.

Iltani’s heart seemed to burst in their chest. They couldn’t take it anymore. “Wa—”

“I did it!” The men backed up, revealing Siduri now coiled around herself, unable to even sit, blood dripping down her chin. “I helped them, told them where to go. I’m sorry, Master Sabium, I’m so sorry. I tried to find them again, bring them back, but…”

The high priest bent over to clutch the front of her dress, and in one motion threw her across the courtyard, into the temple wall. Iltani screamed, certain she was dead, but they could still see her fingers twitching, her chest desperately gasping for breath.

“Inana does not tolerate this kind of disloyalty,” he said, walking towards her. “I believe such treachery deserves a swift and enduring punishment. What do you think, gala-priest?”

“Wh…” All eyes turned to Iltani, who felt smaller than ever, an undersized child, hands pressed to their throat. “Why… are you asking…?”

“Your actions tonight have inspired me,” Sabium said, now walking towards them. Eyes hard, sharp, cutting them to pieces. “You have shown yourself to be loyal and responsible, a perfectly devoted servant of the goddess. Unlike many others. I have thought it is time to revive some of the traditional duties of the gala-priests.” He grabbed their shoulder, forcing them forward. “That makes you our mediator, and the judge for those who break our laws. So tell me.” He leaned close, manicured nails digging into Iltani’s arms. “What should the punishment be? Death?”

“No,” they said, too quickly, too quietly, just a desperate breath.

“No? Something worse, then?” They couldn’t take their eyes off her, shivering on the ground, terrified. “Tell me, then. What’s the worst thing you can imagine?”

“Cast her out.” Once again, the words came from them without thought, torn from the depth of their heart. “Strip her of her rank. Not just that. Her name. Her identity.” Their eyes stung. “Leave her to spend the rest of her life begging on the streets for food, hardly even a person anymore. Forbid her name to even be spoken, so that all memory of her dies as well. When she dies, cast her bones into the wilderness so that she spends eternity wandering the desert, mindless and alone.”

In the silence that followed, Iltani could hear the horrified squeak of Siduri’s breath, the only sound she could make. Or perhaps that was their own voice.

“I am very impressed,” Sabium said, clapping their shoulder. “You’ll be better than Mattaki once we have you trained up properly. You heard the gala-priest. Get her up.”

Two guards hauled her up, balanced roughly between them. The high priest studied her, then ripped the remains of her priestess’s veil from her head. “I hereby strip you of all rank and title. You are no longer a citizen of Uruk. You are no longer anything. Lower than a slave, lower than a captive of war. Find a corner of the city and die at your own pace. Take it away. No, wait—” he held up a finger. “I need to make an announcement. Tomorrow, after the ritual. Hopefully we’ll have the other two by then as well. That will settle things in everyone’s mind. Throw it in one of the sheds until then.”

As the guards dragged the former priestess away, Sabium once again beamed at Iltani, looking far prouder than yesterday, when the gala-priest had stabbed the demon, and completed their initiation. “That was beyond admirable, my child. And just in time, too. I’ll get some guards to search the canal before I go to collect the demon and wake up the revelers. Why don’t you clean yourself up and rest for a few minutes?”

They nodded, feet turning to walk, shakily, across the courtyard to the little room they’d been given. Iltani didn’t remember arriving, it was more as though the world faded and reorganized itself with them sitting on the mat, staring out the door, rocking slightly.

Why couldn’t they stop interfering? Why hadn’t they simply stayed in here all night, pretending to sleep? Why… why…

The defenses they’d put up trembled under an assault, from their own emotions or the demon, they didn’t know. They rocked faster, burying their fingers in their hair, trying to say a prayer, but they couldn’t remember any, couldn’t remember the words of the lamentation. Nothing.

“Inana preserve me, Inana preserve me,” a mantra whispered under their breath until it became meaningless. “InanapreservemeInanapreserve—”

A second wave struck them, seeming to tremble through the physical walls as well as their mental one. Shattering their control. Burying them in an incomprehensible anguish that had no end, no beginning. A glimpse into a realm that was nothing but pain. Hell itself.

Did they deserve anything less?

**

Aziraphale.

The name drifted across Crawley’s mind.

She pulled away from it at first, hiding in the darkness. The world hurt. The world was nothing but pain, and torment, and despair, and…

Aziraphale.

But it didn’t matter. There was no Aziraphale, not for her. He wanted a proper demon, someone with real evil plans, someone actually clever, someone who didn’t just blunder into human traps over and over, somehow never quite failing badly enough to be destroyed.

She could do that now. Probably. Almost certainly. Nothing held her here but that small burning spark on her arm. If she could just… snuff that out, she could go out as well, like an oil lamp, flame turned to nothing but a twist of smoke, and then not even that, dissipating, fading, gone…

Aziraphale.

Ah, fuck.

One more time, she clawed her way back to reality, to be met immediately by every pain and torment humanity could imagine. She’d been burned, run through with arrows and spears, her legs shattered, and yet still she was here, still feeling it. And the seal, the bloody damn holy seal…

“Ah, good.” A voice below her. Crawley’s eyes wandered around the grove. Bodies lay everywhere, pale shapes in the night, simply dropped in the middle of whatever they’d been doing. Some still held weapons. Some held each other. Sleeping peacefully as babies. And there, next to the smoldering remains of the fire…

The priest. Fuck him. The one called… Sabium. Jabbing at her with a spear.

“I was worried for a moment they’d gone too far,” he said, tossing aside the weapon. “It doesn’t work if you aren’t awake.”

He glanced around and picked up a sword, turning it this way and that in his hand, then circled the tree. Someone had tied a rope there, connecting a root to… maybe a branch? Strange thing to do.

The priest tugged at the rope and Crawley’s body shook, pain doubling, tripling, how could it hurt so much?

He nodded and swung the sword, cutting the rope cleanly through.

The ground leapt up into Crawley, breaking every remaining bone.

Her world dissolved into smoke, leaving her only half-aware as Sabium pulled the hook from the leather that bound her wrists. It clattered as it hit the tree. “Now, if you could… on, for Inana’s sake, don’t fall back…”

She slid into the darkness, grateful for the peace it brought.

---

Chapter 15: The Priest and the Demon

“…What are you, dead? I said, come along.”

Iltani blinked, looking up into a girl’s face. Elutil? No, she was older, crosser, without the good-natured arrogance their friend used when she tried to take charge.

“Delondra?” The youngest of the priestesses. Youngest except Elutil.

“Of course it’s me. The demon’s ready for you. Come along.” And she walked out without waiting for them to stir.

How long had they lay there like that? Iltani touched their face, surprised to find no tears. Inside their mind, the defenses they’d built were shattered, but strangely easy to rebuild. Nothing interfered with their progress. They felt… nothing.

That was good, they supposed.

Outside, they spotted Delondra and Gemeshega bent over the shedu-demon. The priestesses had dropped it just shy of the temple doors, where they had bound and splinted its legs and pulled a large pile of arrows from it.

It looked even more dead than the last time Iltani had seen it. Not even breathing now.

“The wounds are healing slowly, but I’ve tracked their progress,” Gemeshega said briskly. “The major bones should heal straight enough for our purposes, but don’t have it stand until they’ve set themselves. Everything you need is inside.” She nodded and waved over some guards.

“I… But it’s dead.”

“It’s a demon,” Delondra said, as if that were obvious.

They stared at the creature, still feeling nothing.

“You’ll have to handle the rest on your own, since we have a great deal else to prepare. The guards are to make sure it doesn’t escape while it’s unbound, but I doubt you’ll have a problem with that.”

The guards lifted the shedu-demon, carrying it into the temple. Iltani watched them go.

“What’s wrong with you?” Delondra snapped, jabbing a finger at their shoulder. “Get moving!”

Out of the nothingness inside, an emotion started to bubble up. Something Iltani could feel. They didn’t like that.

“What’s wrong with you?” they growled back, swatting her finger away. “Been sour since the moment you came to get me. Haven’t you heard of the word please?”

She pressed her lips into a line, looking angrier than Iltani had ever seen her.

“We’re both a bit tired,” Gemeshega said, but there was an edge to her tone. “Since as I said we have a great deal to do. Alone.”

“And it’s bad luck to have less than three priestesses,” Delondra added. “For any reason.”

More emotions. They didn’t like this at all. “Oh, you’re tired. I’m sure none of the rest of us are tired, since it’s been such a perfectly normal and calm day. But here’s an idea. Why don’t you go do your job like you’re supposed to and leave me alone!”

They stormed into the temple, heart pounding. Not sure why. They were completely calm.

They followed the guards across the central chamber, feeling as though someone was watching them, but when they glanced up, they saw only the statue of Inana, ragged and forgotten.

**

Crawley felt herself coming out of the blackness, and this time it was… not quite as painful. All the pain was there, just… less urgent.

Probably meant they were about to do something worse. She braced herself, waiting for it.

“Good,” a kid’s voice said, flat and slightly echoing. “You’re up.”

With a struggle, she managed to get her eyes open. Dark, but less so. A line of braziers burned nearby, casting enough light to make out the shape of the room, a long rectangle mostly filled with an L-shaped pool. Probably inside the temple. The air had that holy feel to it, like just before a lightning strike. And just before her…

“Kid,” she mumbled, eyes drifting shut. “Fun day we had, huh?”

“Stop calling me that. I’m not a kid.”

She looked again. Iltani knelt in front of her as they had that morning, face clean, hair neatly braided. They’d changed into a yellow sheepskin, though there was some sort of red streak in the wool by their shoulder. They once again held a bowl of water and a wad of wool. Everything as it had been before.

Their eyes, though. They might have aged a decade since that morning.

“Y’r right. Iltani.” The demon sighed. “They sen’ju t’kill me?”

“No. I’m to prepare you for the final procession. We’ll take you to the sacrificial chamber by the Ziggurat of An. There, Sabium will perform the final ritual.” They dabbed the wool in the water. “Then he kills you.”

Crawley tried to nod, but she didn’t have the energy for it so she let her eyes shut again. So tired. No tears left. No fight. No emotions. Just waiting for the end. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“S’the first time… anyone’s… tol’me… wha’s hap’ning. S’good to know.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Jus’don’ tell’nyone I said that,” she warned, trying to find a smile. “Demons… never say…”

Aziraphale. Crawley had told him that. Long ago, at Eden. Kept her word, too. Never thanked him, not for anything.

Ungrateful wretch. This was really what she deserved.

The dripping wool touched her arm, spreading an itching burn across her skin that was echoed in the throbbing seal. “Sssssss.” She drew back. “What issss that?”

“Water from the healing pool. It’s supposed to heal. Inana’s blessing, through Sabium. Don’t know if it works.”

“Does somethin’.” The itch quickly faded. Not full holy water, but the blessings of the priest had had some effect. Not that she felt especially healed, but she wasn’t injured any more than before. “Should be fine. Don’ mind me.”

A quiet splash and the wool rubbed her arm again, harder and wetter than before, scraping against her as if to take off a layer of skin.

Clearly the kid had some emotions to work out, and just like everyone else in this fucked up city they’d decided to involve Crawley.

She lay on her side on the floor while they scrubbed her arm and hand, her seal pulsing along with every motion. Every pain. It all hurt so much she’d stopped feeling it. Her mind shutting down after too much… everything.

Dying would be a relief. She could feel her soul straining to leave her body. Couldn’t remember why she would even want to hang on…

Aziraphale.

She tried to cling to the memory. To imagine he was here, as she had the night before, in the kiln. Imagine he was holding her, singing to her, standing with her as she was led to her death. Maybe she could block it all out that way. Put herself someplace else. Her final thoughts, alone with her angel in her mind…

Except that the vision, so clear in the kiln, refused to come to her. Even that version of Aziraphale had abandoned her.

When she opened her eyes again, Iltani was a little further down, by her legs. Those were in bad shape. Damn hunters had really gone for them while she was hanging. Surprised they were still connected.

Maybe they hadn’t been. Someone had splinted both together again below the knee. Iltani unwrapped the top one to reveal mangled skin and started scrubbing.

“Your bone feels whole,” they said, not looking up.

“Goo’job, bone.”

“You’re going to need to stand.” Scrubbing at something hard and black. Mud, blood. Maybe a burn. “Preferably walk. Can you do it?”

Crawley considered her body. She’d taken at least ten wounds that should have discorporated her, if not on the spot, at least within a few hours. She could still feel most of them, though nothing bled too heavily. Stupid body, still trying to heal itself. Still thinking she had a chance. Even that was failing, deep cuts getting little more than a rough patching, non-vital organs being completely ignored.

“Nh. Not easily. Not wi’out… somethin’ to eat…” Iltani’s hands froze, pressing against her leg. “Sorry. I know.” They didn’t say anything. Didn’t move, either. “I swear, I… I didn’… didn’ say a word. He… hit me an’shit, but… didn’ tell ’im. But. He saw th’beer, figured it out.” Her lung hurt. Only one seemed to be working, gasping and struggling. “And I—I ne’er… tried’t… to… bind you, ne’er tried t’do any—”

“Shut up!” Their voice echoed off the walls like a thousand broken-hearted children. “Just—shut up.” Iltani threw the wool at the wall behind her. “You did do something to me. I know you did. You—you asked questions.”

“S’what I do.”

“And you wanted me to ask questions. And I did! I—I asked questions, and I remembered stories, and I thought—I thought I could change things! I thought I could make a difference! But I can’t. And now everything is worse!”

“M’sorry. S’usually what I do. Make things worse.” Iltani just shook their head. “And… yer friend. Isshe—”

“Don’t!” They shoved her, just hard enough for Crawley to roll onto her back, though even that was enough to feel like being impaled a dozen times. “Don’t talk about her, don’t say anything! Just—Just shut up!”

So Crawley closed her eyes and shut up.

**

Iltani lost themself in the task, forgetting everything but the act of cleaning the shedu-demon. Arms. Legs. Face. Hair. That took the longest. Who knew hair could hold so much blood?

They didn’t think about the events of the day. The results. The cause. All of it from the one stupid mistake, taking pity on the demon. Letting its words get inside their mind.

Until they believed they knew better than everyone. Better than the priestesses, better than the temple rules, better than Sabium.

Iltani the gala-priest. So clever. Clever enough to change things.

Well. They’d certainly done that.

Siduri was gone. Forever. Might simply die of her wounds before dawn. Or maybe they would see her on a street corner, eating garbage. Wasting away.

By now, Tigzar and Dadasig must be dead or captured. Maybe Tigzar would be cast out, too. Abandoned again.

Everyone knew Dadasig could survive on the streets, though. Wouldn’t be a punishment for him, not the same way. He’d just be executed. Humiliated first. Let the other guards kill him. They’d already tried once.

And Elutil. Off to be raped by Mattaki for the rest of her life. What would he do when he got bored of her? He seemed the sort to break his toys. Irreversibly.

They rinsed the demon’s hair one last time and started wiping the blood off its neck.

And they would be alone again. Another family gone.

Their fault. All their fault.

Their eyes burned, but stayed dry. As if something had broken inside them.

“Iltani,” the demon said. “Are you alright?”

“Shut up, I told you, shut up!”

It crouched, cowering where it sat on the floor. But it was still thinking. Plotting. Scheming. They could see it in those eyes.

“I don’t want to talk to you, can’t you understand?” They grabbed a comb, digging it hard into the demon’s hair, dragging it back. “I’m not your—your friend, I’m not your lackey, I am nothing to you. Why do you even pretend to care?” Combing harder. Ripping apart the tangles. “No, I know why. So you can—can get inside my head. Confuse me. Corrupt me. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Shedu-demon. Well, it worked! You ripped my head open and you filled it with… useless… garbage. Is that not enough for you?”

“No.”

“Then what will it take?” They pulled the comb hard enough to rip out hair. “What will it take for you to leave me alone? What will it fucking take for you to be satisfied? Do you want me dead? Do you want me to suffer like you do? Is this some sort of fucking revenge?”

“Kid, I…”

“Because you can’t ruin my life any more than I already have!” They threw the comb aside. It bounced off a wall and clattered into the pool. Fuck. Well, the hair would have to be good enough. Iltani’s fingers burrowed into it, weaving a rough braid. “You have no—you have no fucking idea what I’ve been through! My family left me—threw me out—for nothing. For something I can’t control. And they never came to see me, never spoke to me. Never asked if I wanted to come home.” They dragged the demon’s head closer, braiding faster. “And I didn’t! But I wanted to be asked! I wanted them to care! I wanted them to love me! They said they did, but then they just… decided I wasn’t good enough…” They threw the finished braid over the demon’s shoulder. “Do you know what that’s like?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t lie to me!” They crossed the room to gather the demon’s ceremonial clothes, half-glancing back at its eyes. “And—and don’t you fucking judge me either! Because yes, I knew something was wrong! I knew it the whole time, every day, and it hurt. So, yeah, I lied to myself, I pretended it was fine, I pretended to be what they wanted, because what the fuck else was I supposed to do?” Iltani dropped everything on the ground beside the demon, the box of jewelry falling over, beads spilling everywhere.

“This temple is all I have! All any of us have! It sucks but what else was I supposed to do?” They kicked the beads, sending them to rattle off the walls. “What are we supposed to do if we’re not good enough? If we don’t obey? Get thrown back into a city that already decided it didn’t want us?” Gripping the shedu-demon’s hands, they hauled it up to stand before them. “So don’t you dare—don’t you dare question me. I did what I had to to survive, we all did, and it worked! It worked until you showed up with your questions and your snide comments, and you ruined everything!”

“Didn’t mean to.” It crossed its arms over the wounds in its stomach, wobbling a little.

“I don’t care!” Iltani grabbed its wrists and pulled them aside, trying to look at the damage, to focus. But their mind kept running on the road they’d set it on. “You know what the worst is? The hilarious fucking punchline? I had hope. For a few hours, I thought things could be better. That I could fix things, that we could all be happy. I thought I had a chance to be anything other than a screwed-up idiot kid.” They pounded their fist against their own leg. “But I was wrong. I was deluding myself! And now I’m alone, and everything’s worse, and it’s my fault!” Iltani grabbed the pin that held the demon’s wrap together. “So don’t tell me—”

They pulled it free, and the dress fell to the ground.

Iltani stared at the body revealed before them.

“I understand, Iltani. I really do.”

“You…” No breasts. Narrow hips. And between the legs… Iltani’s eyes drifted back up to the golden eyes, the lines of the face, and suddenly it was obvious. Very, very obvious. “You’re a… a… you’re a gala-demon.”

“You could say that.” Her eyes lowered, and she looked more tired than ever. “I… even by the standards of demons, I’m… all over the place. Can’t help it. S’who I am.” She rested a hand heavily on Iltani’s shoulder, almost falling, but regaining her balance. “And. More than that. Lost my home, too. Kicked out. Cuz I’m fucking useless. Piss everyone off. Screw everything up. Had one friend but couldn’t be normal for just one day. So he’s gone, too. M’a failure. Disappointment. And I can’t. Stop. Asking questions.”

“Me neither.”

“Does it help?”

“No. Every time it just. Makes everything worse.”

She smiled, though it was humorless. “Thought so. Guess that makes you a shedu-priest.”

Iltani’s chest hitched, holding in a sob.

Closing their eyes, they searched inside themself. Found once more the wall they’d built, keeping out the demon. Keeping out everything.

The wall disintegrated, leaving Iltani alone with the strange, terrifying emotions. Inside-out, upside-down, twisted, broken, endless pain.

But this time, they didn’t hide from it. They held out their arms, guiding it towards them. Let it flow all around, engulfing them.

It wasn’t human at all. There was nothing… stable, or solid. Constantly shifting, constantly twisting, every moment reshaping itself into something new.

And yet.

Inside that chaos, there was…

Loss.

Loneliness.

Doubt.

Self-hatred.

Despair.

All the same pains Iltani felt.

That’s why they kept feeling it. That’s why it was so much more powerful than anyone else. Not because it was an attack, not because it was so strong.

Because the demon’s pain resonated in Iltani. Begging them for recognition. Acknowledgment. Acceptance.

And what else could a gala-priest do?

They wrapped their arms around the demon and rested their head on her chest. Felt the demon hug them back, leaning her head on theirs.

And Iltani cried. For both of them.

“M’sorry,” they mumbled, sobbing miserably.

“Don’t need to apologize,” the demon said, running a shaking hand down their braid. “I get it, kid. Nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do.” Iltani pulled her closer. “I was horrible, I hurt you, I shoulda… shoulda realized…”

“You little shit!” A voice echoed down the corridor and around the room, like a weapon made of sound, an army. Surrounding them, charging in for the attack.

Mattaki stormed towards them, eyes burning with a fury unlike anything they’d seen before. And locked only on Iltani.

Before they could react, the demon pushed them away, stepping forward to meet the furious guard. “Hey, asshole—”

He backhanded her. It was already enough to make Iltani flinch, but the demon stumbled back, falling into the pool, into the blessed water.

It rejected the demon, hissing and bubbling as if to clean itself of the stain while she thrashed. Shrieking.

“Demon!” They tried to run towards the pool, but Mattaki grabbed them, hurled them to the ground.

“Fucking look at me!” He sat on Iltani’s stomach, pinning them and punched them in the face. “I know it was you!” Another punch, and another. “You might have Sabium fooled! Might have everyone convinced you’re so innocent. But I know! You sneaky! Lying! Arrogant! Shit-eating!”

They tried to fight back, feebly waving their hands, trying to push him away, but he was heavy as the earth itself.

Then the weight vanished. Iltani barely had time for a breath before Mattaki scooped them up and hurled them into the pool.

And held them under.

Iltani couldn’t remember much of what happened next. The pool wasn’t very deep, but they couldn’t push themself past the hands that forced them down. Steady grip, unbreakable, no matter how they scratched and struggled. Lungs burning and straining. At some point they tried to scream, or tried to breathe, or lost track as things went dim…

A jolt ran through Iltani’s stomach and they coughed out water, retching and gasping desperately. Mattaki flipped them over, kneeling on their back, pushing their face into the same water they’d just spat up.

“You better pray my wife is returned to me,” he hissed into their ear. “Today. Because I do not give one single, sacred fuck who believes you. I don’t care if Inana herself comes down to give your alibi. I have watched you little shits going around together for years, I know how you think, and I know how to make you miserable. And I will, over and over, day after day, and then I’ll kill you. Understand?”

They nodded.

“Good.” Mattaki pressed his lips to their cheek. A horrid chill ran down Iltani’s spine and they gagged, trying to squirm away. The man laughed, grabbing their braid, and whispered, “See you soon, brat.”

He stood up, kicked them in the jaw, and walked away whistling.

Leaving Iltani dazed and broken.

**

The water wasn’t strong enough to kill her, but it burned at her, bit by bit. Digging into her skin, clawing her apart. Stripping away everything that made her Crawley.

A hand grabbed her, hauling her to the surface and—a few pulls later—onto the floor beside the pool, where she lay coughing and spluttering.

“That—fucking—that—he—bastard!” she managed.

“I’m sorry!” Blinking her eyes clear, she managed to focus through the strange flashes of light to see Iltani bending over her. Face bruised, soaking wet, shivering from more than the cold. “I… I thought for a second… But I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” Crawley tried to push herself up, but the best she could manage was to get most of her limbs pointed in the same direction. The seal on her arm screamed, nearly as painful as when it had been freshly burned, aching all the way down to her soul.

“I can’t help you.” They clutched her shoulders, rocking in place. “I’m sorry. I… I’m just a kid. Can’t help you. Can’t help… anyone.” Tears ran down their face. “Stupid, useless kid. And I can’t… do anything…”

Her heart sank. “Iltani. No.” She managed to sit up enough to take their hand. “I wasn’t going to ask you to. You don’t need to… you… It’s ok. It’s…”

They cried harder, heartbroken, devastated. Crawley couldn’t understand, but every sob shattered her heart. Her soul. She pulled Iltani against her, holding them with what little strength she had left.

The despair she felt horrified her. Had she really been hoping a child would save her?

Crawley was a demon. She wasn’t worth anyone risking themself for. Not Iltani. Certainly not Aziraphale.

If she couldn’t save herself, she didn’t deserve to be saved. And she couldn’t. Which meant…

This really was it. The end. No one to turn to. No one coming to her aid.

Now she was starting to shake, too.

God and Satan, she was weak. Pathetic. Stupid, useless demon.

“Iltani. There’s… there’s one thing.” They looked at her miserably. “I… I shouldn’t… ask anything, but I don’t… I don’t wanna die alone. Will you… Will you stay with me?”

The kid wiped their eyes. “Wh… What’s your name, gala-demon?”

“Crawley.” She felt herself really smile for the first time in ages. It hurt. “I’m Crawley.”

“Yeah, Crawley. I’ll… long as I can. I’ll stay with you.”

She nodded, and started to cry.

Too tired, too ashamed, to hold herself up anymore, Crawley curled up on the floor, her head in the lap of the shedu-priest, and closed her eyes. Crying hurt, but so did everything, her body, her fear, the loss of her angel. It was too much. It was all too goddamn much.

Then she felt Iltani’s fingers gently brush through her hair, and as they began to hum, Crawley found herself drifting off to sleep.

---

Chapter 16: Iltani’s Curiosity

“You said it was… a different temple?”

Iltani nodded, carefully tracing the kohl around Crawley’s eyes. “Yeah. Not really a temple, but… it’s a sacred space. Outside this district, at the bottom of the ziggurat.”

They stepped back to look at the results. Her face was still pale and exhausted, but Iltani had done their best to hide the bruises. The black kohl and bright red lips certainly drew the eye, as did the red curls across Crawley’s forehead. Even though it wasn’t required for the ritual, they had re-styled her hair, carefully pinning the knot of braids in place before covering it all in an elaborately colored headscarf.

“Is it… is it far?”

They brushed their hands down her flowing linen dress, adjusting the pins. Regular straight pins at both shoulders to hold it in place, concealed behind enormous egg-shaped beads of carved lapis lazuli from a distant land. There was also a double-string of lapis lazuli around her neck, and a wide pectoral nearly as wide as her shoulders, a wide arc of gold and jewels running from her collarbone to the middle of her chest. All as required, but they’d added some beads of polished obsidian and carnelian to the demon’s ears. Red and black. Crawley said those were her colors.

“Not far. Just—the road sort of circles around the sacred district.” Her nails were ragged and broken, and Iltani had only had time to quickly tint them with henna. They gave them one last polish on the wool of their wrap, and slid a golden ring onto her finger. “It’s a quick walk. Even with… ummm…”

They took Crawley’s hands. She leaned against the wall, standing but not quite able to support herself. Her eyes fluttered open and she tried to smile.

The transformation was stunning, really. From the right angle—if you didn’t look too closely for scars and bruises—she hardly looked like a prisoner at all.

Every demon Iltani had watched walk towards their death had looked… awful. The outfit was the one Inana had worn in her invasion of the underworld, and the demons had been paraded before the people of the city as a twisted mockery of their goddess. No wonder everyone had been happy to see them die.

Crawley didn’t look that way. She looked beautiful. Dignified. Like a goddess herself, at least when she had the strength to raise her head. Iltani wanted everyone to see her that way. It was the last thing they could try.

But, of course, she still had to be bound.

Sighing, she nodded. “Go ahead.”

They still hesitated. “I’m so sorry. That it took… being beaten over the head with it… to see you for who you are…”

One more time, they hugged her, feeling all the pain and fear, feeling the way she tried to hide her trembling, feeling her ragged heartbeat. Hating themself again for not being able to do more.

“S’alright, kid,” she said softly. “It really is.”

They nodded, then stepped back and began to restrain her.

First, the symbols of Inana, the lapis lazuli measuring rod and line, tied to her arms. The priests had learned not to allow the demons anything that could be used as a weapon, no matter how worn down and defeated they seemed. The tools would keep her from bending her arms much, and then her wrists were tied together before her.

Then they knelt to bind her ankles. Not too tightly. Didn’t want to slow the procession too much. Of course, even with all the time she’d had to heal, her feet still looked painfully split and swollen. Sandals were forbidden, apparently for no other reason than to be cruel.

“Are they…” She swallowed, lips quivering. “Are they going to… to tie me to the posts and… and beat me until…”

“No.” They stood up, holding her shoulders, trying to meet her pained eyes. “Um. Knife through the heart. But. It… it goes easier than you might think…”

She nodded, closing her eyes as a tear ran down her face.

“I wish…” They carefully wiped the tear away so as not to smear the makeup. “Crawley, I wish I could be more—more comforting, or…”

“Kid. I just don’t want to hurt anymore.” Her eyes opened again, and Iltani could feel the centuries of pain she carried. The void where her hope should be. “It’s… everything hurts, like… like it’s all coming back all at once. I can’t even…”

“That’s good to hear.” Sabium. Coming into the room, eyes all but devouring the demon’s face. Trailed by the two guards who had watched the door… and Mattaki.

Iltani stumbled back, shaking. The guard commander’s eyes followed them, glittering in the dark, and he smiled in a way that chilled their heart.

But Sabium never even glanced at them. “The more pain you’re in now, the better the harvest will go.”

“Harvest?” Crawley spat the word, trying to draw herself up arrogantly. “Don’t you mean sacrifice? Or is that too messy a word for you?”

“Nothing of the kind.” He ran his fingers up her arm, inspecting the seal. It looked the same as ever, but Sabium grew excited. “Look at this! It’s beyond anything I… What did you do differently, child?”

“I…” Iltani shrank back. “I don’t know what you…”

“The power! There’s more collected here than ever before. Back in the grove it was a bit above average, but—Mattaki, can’t you feel it?”

He shrugged, glancing at the other two guards, who both shook their heads. “You sure?”

“It is quite unmistakable.” He ran his thumb over the seal again, and Crawley shuddered with pain, nearly collapsing.

“Oh, hey. I pushed her into the pool. Think that did it?”

Sabium rubbed a finger across his lip. “That was a dangerous thing to try, particularly when she’d already managed to eat more than once. It could very well have dissipated everything we’d gathered but instead…” He stepped back, nodding to the guards. “I would say this demon is quite thoroughly ready for harvest.”

As the guards stepped forward, collar and leash in hand, Crawley went tense, surging towards the high priest, shouting incoherently. He caught her by the throat and slammed her back against the wall, skull rattling.

“Do take care of yourself,” he told her as the guards took over. “I would genuinely hate all that to go to waste.” With a distracted nod towards Iltani, Sabium walked back up the hall, Mattaki close behind. “It’s astounding,” he said, hissing voice echoing back. “I’ve never been so close to the primordial waters. We could very well…”

As soon as they were out of sight, something in Iltani relaxed. They ought to go back to Crawley, take the leash from the guards. Try to prepare her for her final walk.

But…

Once again, that curiosity was growing in them. The need to find answers.

“I…” They looked down the corridor, but the two priests had already reached the main chamber of the temple. “I have to go…”

“Sure, whatever,” said one of the guards carelessly, his voice nearly concealing the demon’s quiet gasp. They looked back to see her eyes wide and fearful.

“I’ll be back for the procession, I promise.”

Crawley nodded, lips pressed together. They knew she was shaking again; her fear beat in their heart.

“Look, kid,” said the guard, tightening the collar, “Sabium’s already in a mood to rip someone’s head off. You wanna try disappearing now, that’s your business. Just don’t expect me to cover for you.”

“Don’t worry,” they said slowly and clearly, eyes still on Crawley. “This will only take a minute.”

Then, quiet as they could, they slipped down the corridor and through the temple.

**

Sabium was still babbling about his damn magic tricks as they crossed through the courtyard. Mattaki did his best not to roll his eyes. The high priest could go on about this for days, but all it ever seemed to amount to was a couple flashy tricks each year and, of course, the hunt itself. Mattaki knew exactly which part of that he cared about.

They stepped through the temple gate, Sabium pulling it shut and glancing about the sacred district as if anyone else might care. “Do you understand what this could mean?”

Mattaki shrugged. “Not at all.”

“Fool.” He lowered his voice further. “I always assumed the path to more power would be to incorporate more purification into the seal’s time frame, but we’re already nearly at the limits of that with very little progress.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He scratched his ear, looking at the grove. He and his men had managed a lot of “purification” in the few hours they’d had, but the demon had spent most of the day just hanging between two posts. “What about all that time before the hunt?”

“No, no, that wouldn’t work.”

“We’ll leave it time to recover. We can fit a lot of pain and fear… sorry, purification into an hour or two.”

“There needs to be balance,” Sabium insisted. “Believe me, I have calculated this carefully. Every moment of the demon’s time is accounted for.”

“If you say so.” The old man had been furious the demon had managed to get even a few sips of beer. Said something about it almost dissipating the entire night’s collection. But that had worked out fine in the end.

“My point is, I knew we needed to try something new, and it seems you found it. The harvest is nearly doubled. How long was she in the pool?”

“Not long.” He remembered the brat’s struggles, slowing and growing still. The demon had done that too, in the grove. Certainly made his blood pound. Something to look forward to experimenting with, should his wife ever arrive. And if she didn’t, well, he knew where the brat slept. “One near-drowning.”

“That shouldn’t be hard to incorporate.” The head priest paced. “If we can find time for two, perhaps three such baptisms, we may be able to charge a second seal.”

“Meaning?”

“We won’t know until we try. It could cause the demon to explode…”

“That’d be fun.”

“Or, it might allow both of us to be empowered during the harvest. At a level far beyond what I’ve received in the past.”

Now that got Mattaki’s attention. He didn’t care much for the magic tricks, but Sabium was capable of incredible speed and strength at times. So far, the guards had only been able to experience that during the revels and for a few hours afterwards. Already, he could feel it fading. To have that all the time…

“Tell you what, I can go chuck the bitch in the pool right now. Got your stamp?”

“No, I told you…” He looked up at the stars, lost in thought. “We must do this right. First, I need to see how this affects the harvest. In all likelihood, this will just increase what I can access, but… I can feel how close she is to the primordial waters, to the source of the power. If we can just… push her over the edge as she dies…”

“That also going to make her explode?”

“Perhaps. But if I can fully access that source, we won’t need a second stamp. I could empower everyone in the sacrificial chamber at once.”

“Everyone?”

“Well… I’ll need to get used to channeling first. If nothing else, I should be able summon additional demons this year and run some experiments. I assume you have a few trusted guards who could assist us?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Mattaki rubbed his hands together. Sabium was always talking about seizing lands in Inana’s name, then saying the time wasn’t ripe. Needing to spend more time with politicking and creating all those brews that didn’t last nearly long enough.

But with a handful of permanently superpowered soldiers, Mattaki could conquer every city up and down the rivers, with or without the high priest’s permission.

For Inana, of course. Any wealth seized in the process would simply be a bonus.

“How much more time you gonna need? Two months? Five?”

“One thing at a time.” He moved back towards the gate. “First, we must see what happens when I—”

Sabium seized the door, slamming it hard into something on the other side. Then he leapt through and a moment later dragged out one struggling, undersized gala-priest.

“Oh, look who it is.” Mattaki felt the excitement building again. This year’s brew really was the gift that kept giving. “Told you they were up to no good.”

“I am fully aware,” Sabium said, easily dragging the kid across the square one-handed. “Well, child? What do you have to say for yourself now?”

“I—I—What were you talking about?” they demanded, fingers scrabbling weakly at the high priest’s hand. “Power? Channeling? Experiments?” They tried to dig their heels in, but Sabium simply lifted them entirely. “You… you said Inana demands the sacrifice…”

“Must I be surrounded by ignorant fools?” He slammed the kid into the wall, the brick crumbling behind their skull. Then he clamped a hand over their jaw and squeezed. “Did you not hear me? We all take part in the ritual so that all will share in the reward when Inana conquers the underworld and breaks the power of the demons? What did you think that meant, you stupid child?”

“But…” Their voice squeezed through the hand. “Nana…”

“She conquers the underworld through me. Just as she will conquer the world through me And any other worlds we uncover along the way. All hers for the taking. And mine. But not yours, you ungrateful, pathetic, deviant, nobody.”

“So I can kill them now?” Mattaki cracked his knuckles. “Or we going to need a bit of interrogation?” He was very good at interrogation. Even when there wasn’t anything in particular to ask.

“We already know where the girl went. I doubt this wretch knows anything else of value.”

“Oh, you know what I always say. Everybody knows something.”

A low echoing note filled the air. The procession horns, followed quickly by the drums.

“Apparently there is no time,” Sabium sighed, loosening his grip.

Immediately, the brat began shouting. “You can’t do this! You can’t kill Crawley for your own—stupid—help! Someone help—!”

Sabium slapped them hard enough to split their lip and dragged them off by the braid towards the gates of the sacred grove. “You can deal with him when we get back.”

One shove sent the little ingrate sprawling in the mud. Sabium slammed the gate, locking it again, as the brat started shrieking again, scratching at the door and yowling like a cat. “Let me go! Let me out of here! You monster! Crawley! Crawley!”

“I knew keeping him around would be trouble,” Sabium sighed. “Though I never suspected Enmerkar would betray us this quickly.”

“Now will you listen to me about weaning out the puny ones?”

“I suppose in the future…oh. You hear that?”

Mattaki had to furrow his brow and concentrate but yes, between the screaming and the drums there seemed to be, very distantly, the sound of combat. Perhaps at the reservoir?

“I believe your wife will be here by the time we return. Looks as though you will have a very busy day.”

“Looking forward to it.” Mattaki stretched his arms, wondering how long the effects of the revels would last. Long enough to have some fun with both of them. “You need me to deal with the brat quickly, or…?”

“Oh, take your time. I suspect the others will give me enough to deal with. Though we can’t have anyone knowing what he overheard, so be discreet.”

“Please. Has anyone found any of the bodies yet? I know what I’m doing.”

**

Going quietly didn’t make things any easier for Crawley. The guard still jerked on her leash, urging her faster as he led her from the temple to the sound of blaring horns.

It was much as when the night had started. Priests, priestesses, guards. Some with instruments, some with standards. No acolytes this time, but a few priests wearing the symbols of other gods had joined the parade.

Then Sabium and Mattaki appeared and the procession began to move, drums and pipes and voices shouting about their goddess and all. The guard jerked her leash, and Crawley began her final walk.

The great-hearted mistress,¹¹
Impetuous lady,
Proud among the Anunaki,
Pre-eminent in all lands…

The pain grew worse with every step. Every fall of her foot, every tug of her leash, every throb of the latest head injury just added to the cacophony of burns, cuts, bruises, lacerations, perforations…

Magnificent lady who gathers
All divine powers in heaven and earth.
She rivals An, mightiest of gods,
No decision is made without her…

She wasn’t coughing up blood anymore, but every breath hurt in five different ways. There was a constant pain all through her body, like she was riddled with flaming hot arrows. The seal burned like a star. And yet she was cold. So very, very cold.

The Anunaki crawl before her august word.
Her course she does not let An know.
He dares not proceed against her command…

A tremor ran through her legs and she collapsed, curling up on herself. Not fast enough. The guard kicked her stomach, shouting, and when she didn’t immediately stand he kicked it again, over and over. She wanted to scream, beg him to stop, tell him she couldn’t walk, but he just kept laying into her until something tore and she gagged, coughed and…

Oh. Blood. Well, at least that was familiar.

Someone hauled her to her feet and slapped her face. “Try that again and we’ll drag you the rest of the way.”

“Yes,” she mumbled. Still couldn’t walk, but she sort of fell forward, letting her feet catch her. It kept her upright.

She is a huge shackle clamping down
On the gods of the Land.
Her awesome might covers mountains
And levels roads…

Iltani hadn’t returned. Of course they hadn’t. With less than an hour to live, trust Crawley to still find time to fuck everything up. Pathetic.

Except.

Shouldn’t they still be in the procession? As they stepped through the gate into the sacred district, she looked up and down the line. Two priestesses with veils. Dozens of bald priests. No braids.

At her loud cries,
The gods of the Land know fear.
Her roaring makes the Anunaki
Tremble like reeds.
At her rumbling they hide all together…

“Where’s Iltani?” she asked a priest walking near her. He stared ahead without responding. “They’re supposed to be here. Did we… leave them behind?”

Fuck, it hurt to talk. Couldn’t the damn priest even acknowledge her? Lurching and stumbling, she managed to go a little faster, catching up to the guard that led her. “Iltani!” She could barely hear her voice over the music. “They said! They’d be here!”

“Not my problem,” the guard snapped. “Told them that when they left.”

Without Inana
Great An makes no decisions
And Enlil chooses no destinies…

“Iltani!” Crawley tried to shout, but her voice was hoarse, weak. “Where are you? Iltani!”

No sign of the gala-priest. Instead, Mattaki stepped into the line beside her as they passed the grove gate. “I’ve heard enough out of you,” he growled.

“What did you do? Where are they? Ilta—”

He punched her in the throat.

Who dare oppose the mistress
Who holds her head high,
Who is supreme over mountains?

Crawley dropped like a stone, coughing, gagging, her throat seeming to collapse into her lungs.

And still, the bastards kept on, jerking the leash until her head snapped back, dragging her down the path, kicking and struggling, trying to breathe…

…cities become ruined mounds, haunted places
Shrines become wastelands.
When her wrath makes people tremble
They burn with pain
Like an alu-demon ensnaring a man…

Crawley barely got her feet under her before they reached the gates of the sacred district, but she managed to step out into Uruk on her own power one last time.

Ahead, people lined the street, watching the procession pass.

Some of them held rocks. Or clubs. And every one of them looked pissed off.

“Iltani,” she managed one last time, voice only a squeak.

She stirs confusion and chaos
Among the disobedient.
Speeding carnage, inciting the flood,
Clothed in terrifying radiance…

**

Iltani hammered at the gate as the procession went past, screaming. “Someone help! Help! I’m in here! Help me! Delondra! Gemeshega! Anyone! Help!”

One voice rose above the singing: “Iltani! Where are you? Iltani!”

“Crawley?’ They tipped their head back and shouted with every bit of voice training they had: “Crawley, I’m here! I’m right here!”

They listened desperately, but apart from a cut off “Ilta—” there was nothing more.

“Crawley! Anyone! I’m in here!” They threw themself against the gate, but it didn’t so much as budge. So they tried again, stepping back, taking a long running jump, slamming their full body—

Oh, that hurt.

They fell to the ground, clutching their shoulder. “Help. Someone, help…”

The sounds of the procession left the sacred district, turning right and fading into the distance. A shout rose up, jeers and insults for the demon…

Iltani buried their head in their arms. They’d failed again. That must be the fastest they’d ever screwed it up.

For years and years, they’d kept their curiosity locked away, kept their suspicions even from themself. But now it was free and they couldn’t control it. Couldn’t stop asking questions. Couldn’t stop hurting everyone.

¹¹ From “A Hymn to Inana” (Inana C), by Enheduana the priestess

---

Chapter 17: At the Water Gate
Shortly after Midnight
“Psst.” Elutil’s head jerked up, sending another lancing pain through her back, but she managed to hold in a scream of warning. Which was good, since it was Tigzar who was hissing at her, leaning out the door in the wall just above.

“Glad you’re not dead.” If she squinted, she could just make him out, a slightly paler shadow against the blackness of the room. She was fairly certain it was her friend, and not just the shape of the railing that ran along the stairs. “How’s it coming?”

“No one in here. It’s weird, I didn’t think guards ever slept.”

“Tigzar!” She tried to gesture at Dadasig, sleeping with his head on her lap, without letting go of the pole that anchored the boat by the dock.

“Shit. Sorry. Um. I had a good look around, though, and I think I found them. Like Dadasig said, two crank things—”

“Winches.”

“Sure. One for the inner gate, one for the outer. So, uh, here’s the plan. I’ll open them, come down, and then we… go.”

“Solid plan.” Elutil shifted her fingers. She’d never realized they could cramp that way. “Please hurry up. I can’t wait all night.”

“Right. Sorry!” And he vanished back inside.

Deep breaths. That’s what the priestesses said, right? Focus on the way he air moved across your lips, and not the fact that your fingers were about to twist off like—

Dadasig flinched and pulled in a deep breath. “H’w…” His eyes half opened. “H’w long…”

“Only a minute or two that time. Tigzar’s getting the gates open.”

“Good.” Though he felt burning hot to her, he shivered, drawing his legs and arms closer. The movement made the arrowhead stuck in his back shift and he almost concealed a whimper. “How’s your back?”

“Mmmm.” Blood was dripping down her back, a single cool trail, and the deepest cut seemed to be pulling itself apart. A strange tenseness ran through her muscles, and any time she stopped to think about it, her stomach turned. “Stings a bit. You?”

“M’barely bleeding anymore.” He turned one arm, inspecting it. Deep gashes ran up it, black in the moonlight, seeping here and there with what she hoped was blood. More covered his face. And then, of course, there was the length of bronze almost two fingers long projecting from his back…

“It… it really doesn’t look good, Dadasig. Tigzar brought a couple jars of Siduri’s honey to cover my wounds, we can try…”

“Nh. Too deep. Need…fire. Burn ’em shut.” He tried to roll his shoulder. “Mmmh. ’Specially th’arrow. Gonna be… all th’rest of my blood when you cut it out.”

It all seemed very sane and straightforward when Dadasig explained it in his calm voice. Fire would close the wounds, melting them like a candle melts wax, and driving out the demons that cause sickness. It would leave a scar, but he could recover. She’d even seen the priestesses perform a treatment like that once, years ago, though she’d been very sick afterwards. She could still remember the smell of burnt flesh…

Elutil firmly grabbed the memory and shoved it to the back of her mind, along with all the other ones she wasn’t thinking about. She’d accumulated quite a collection this day.

Forcing herself to smile, she took one hand off the pole just long enough pat Dadasig’s mostly-undamaged back. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you. And I’m sure you matched that demon wound for wound.”

“Yeah, I…” He shivered again, though this time it didn’t seem to be from the cold. “I asked her t’yield. Three times.”

“Why?”

“Seemed like th’thing to do. An’the third time, she said… Nhhh. Don’t matter. Point is. I… I coulda done it. Drowned’er. Slit’er throat.”

“Would that have killed it?”

“Nah. The, um…” He was quiet so long Elutil thought he was asleep again. “The seal. On her arm. Keeps her… here. In her body. Til Sabium releases her.”

Elutil tilted her head back to look at the stars. If she moved the right way, it eased the pain a little. “Have you ever thought,” she said slowly, uncertainly. “Have you ever noticed that the… the harvest rituals aren’t like any others? More… storytelling than prayer. Secretive, too.” Every ritual had a portion acolytes weren’t allowed to know about, and a portion they were expected to participate in. But none quite like these. “And they… they change. Siduri told me, no two years are exactly alike. What sort of rituals change that often? The only thing that doesn’t is…” Two days, purifying the demon. They didn’t do that for any other sacrifices. “And I just wonder… what is it all for?”

“Nnnnh,” was all he managed, drifting off.

“Yes, that’s a good point,” she said, mostly so her voice could keep her company. “Where does one find a ready supply of demons? They must be everywhere,” she glanced down at Dadasig’s wounds. “Since they cause so much evil. But the only ones I see are…”

As she brought her head down, something flickered on the edge of her vision. She jerked her head that way again, suppressing a squeal as it sent pain through her once more.

But it had been there, a flicker between two buildings near the docks. A person…

Or something person-shaped. A demon, perhaps, out to trap the unwary. Like the lilu-demons, who walked the desert at night, searching for—

“Alright, that’s one!”

Elutil screamed, once from fear, and again because the way she tensed her back shot pain all the way down to her toes. “Tigzar! Could you just… not… ugh!”

“Just… I just thought…” She couldn’t even turn to face him, so she glared directly ahead. That seemed to do the trick. “I’ll just. Um. Getting the other now.” A moment later, with a creak of damp rope, the wooden planks of the inner gate began to rise.

“Moves pretty quick,” she commented, then glanced down at Dadasig. He mumbled to himself, but hadn’t woken even when she screamed. “Don’t worry. We’ll be out soon.”

Her eyes drifted back to where she’d seen the shape, but nothing there now. Maybe a flicker of light in the distance, but she imagined people in the city would be about some sort of business at night. They didn’t have midnight rituals but… surely they did something with the hours between first and second sleep.

A jerk ran through her arms as the boat began to drift again. She tried to pull them back, but it was so hard…

“Hnnnnn.” Dadasig shivered again. “Hrrrn… door… szzngk… water…”

“Yeah. He’s opening the water gate now.” She glanced at the rising gate—

The lower lip was emerging, breaking free of the bubbling, rushing water that churned beneath it—

Another jerk at her arms. The boat was moving, more than before. Not just pulling away from the dock, but turning, the far end swinging towards the gate, faster and faster, as her arms twisted around her body, palms sliding across the pole.

“Tigzar!” she yelped, her fingers losing their grip.

Dadasig’s eyes flew open. “The water level!”

“Almost… there…” but Tigzar’s voice was distant and faint, lost under the rush of water.

“Stop!” Elutil shrieked. “Stop!”

The gate was now an enormous black hole in the wall, water moving through it faster than she’d ever seen the canals move, like water rushing from a jar. Racing away, and pulling the boat with it. “Tigzar!” She called, desperate.

And lost her grip on the pole.

**

The scream confirmed for Siduri what her eyes had been too weak to tell for certain: Elutil was at the docks. Almost certainly the boys, too, but she’d only seen one body as she slipped between the shadows of the buildings.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one who had heard the scream.

A pair of guards had been walking past the fishmarket, one carrying a torch, the other with bow and arrow drawn. All Siduri could see of them at the moment was the flash of light, but she’d nearly crossed paths with the two men several times since leaving the sacred district. She knew what they looked like.

And once the light of the torch vanished, she knew they were coming to investigate.

Siduri really was too old for this. She hadn’t flitted about the shadows of buildings since she was a child, younger even than Elutil. A tiny slip of a girl, always sneaking away from her studies to listen to the stories of gala-priests or play games with the children of servants. Back when propriety was just a funny word adults used, and she had dreams of being the greatest high priestess the temple had ever seen.

Back before Sabium had arrived, robbed her of everyone she’d cared about, and not least of all, robbed her of herself.

She took a breath and looked again towards the fishmarket. Without the torch, the guards could be anywhere. And there could be any number of them; Elutil’s voice carried farther than the girl knew.

But, after walking so long with a torch, the guards’ eyes would still be adjusting to the moonlight, and at the moment all they knew was that they were looking for a woman.

One more moment to stretch her legs, and say a quick prayer to Inana that her knee didn’t act up. Or her hip. Or her back. Perhaps a few prayers to the goddesses of healing were also in order…

Siduri pushed off the building and dashed forward, along the docks, through the fishmarket, making no attempt to be silent. Halfway across, she heard the zing of an arrow close behind. She could have sworn it sliced the veil from her head, but she didn’t slow down.

Drawing on memories from decades past, she darted from one empty stall to the next, trying to remember the path that let one circle the whole market without being seen. Now and then deliberately breaking the pattern, allowing the men to catch sight of her, then putting on another burst of speed as something whistled through the air. Hoping for once the children had a better plan than—

“Tigzar!” The voice cut through the air, and through Siduri’s heart. “Stop! Stop!”

Of course not.

Her eyes darted in the darkness, looking to see what was stored in the corner where she hid. Several jars of… fish oil, perhaps. And a large one to hold grain, currently empty.

The first jar, thrown against a wall, made the two guards hesitate.

The second, shattering not far from where they stood, drew their attention towards her corner. They gestured to each other and crept forward, ready to charge.

Then the large jar struck them both in the head.

“Oh, Inana preserve me,” she muttered, hurrying back towards the docks, forcing herself to run again even though her lungs had begun to burn. But she had a good idea of her own strength, and the guards would not be stunned for long.

Now the rush of water through the gate filled the air like the wind before a storm. And she could no longer hear Elutil’s screams.

**

Tigzar turned the crank as fast as he could. He was surprised at how easily the rope moved, but everything stank of fish oil, so he had a guess why. The first handle had been slippery and hard to grip, but the second worked almost alarmingly well, apart from the piercing creak that accompanied every turn.

It was only when he stopped turning the crank and still heard the piercing sound that he realized something was wrong.

“…Stop! Tigzar!” Followed by a very loud crack.

He ran back to the door, tripping over his feet and colliding with the railing. He looked where the boat should be, but the moonlight shone down on nothing but a pole, standing on its own.

The shouting was coming from directly below him.

He bent over the railing to see the water racing, fast and turbulent as the river breaking through the levees during a flood, and one small boat spinning wildly. “Oh, fuck!” Before he could say anything more, it vanished below him, swept through the gate.

“There! I see them!”

His head jerked up, looking for the source of the voice. It had sounded angry. Guard-like.

And all at once there seemed to be a lot of shapes moving in the darkness.

Shapes, and at least one arrow.

“Fuck!” he shouted when it blossomed from the railing next to his hand. Then, deciding he wasn’t going to die without getting his fair quota of swearing in, followed up with: “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

On the last one, he managed to swing his body over the railing.

Halfway to the water he realized he didn’t have a plan.

And that the water seemed to be moving even faster up close.

Then he hit it, and didn’t have time for thinking.

**

Dadasig opened his eyes just in time to see the front of the boat swing into the dock, striking a post with a resounding crack that jolted through every aching fiber of his body. Then they spun away into the current, the boat rocking wildly from side to side.

“What do we do?” Elutil called, clutching the sides of the boat, trying to stay calm. Trying, but not succeeding. Her eyes were bigger than he’d ever seen them.

“I don’t know!” He braced himself, trying to sit up, trying to find balance. Panicking so hard he very nearly failed to notice how much everything hurt. “I don’t know! I’ve never—!”

“Oh, fuck!” Tigzar emerged from the door above just in time to watch them vanish under the gate. Everything seemed to slow down, so Dadasig could really appreciate the terror on his face.

Then they hit the rough water, and the empty end of the boat began to rise…

“Hold on!” Elutil lunged, her knee slamming into Dadasig’s shoulder as she threw her weight towards the rising floor, scrambling to get as far as possible. The impact knocked him down, rattling his head against solid wood, driving the arrowhead deeper into his back.

Then everything went dark.

All Dadasig knew was the throbbing pain in his back, the hot-cold shivers in his limbs, the sound of water rushing and rushing. A jolt knocked him against one side, then somehow rolled him the other way.

Something crunched under him, and he thought it was his elbow shattering. No, his arms could still move. He blindly groped around him and found himself clutching the bag Tigzar had brought.

That seemed… really important. He pulled it against his chest trying to shield it as the boat rocked and something hit the water behind them with a splash.

Everything started to shift and roll again, Elutil shouting at him. “Lean, lean, lean!”

“Can’t… move!

The side of the boat became the bottom, and water rushed in.

**

Elutil gripped the sides of the boat, dizzy and disoriented as they spun through the darkness. Something splashed behind them, and the shock of it tilted them right, too far right.

“Lean, lean, lean!”

“Can’t…move!”

She rolled left, trying to push the boat back into position—

Water rushed in around her—

Everything went completely still, as if the water had vanished from under them—

And then the boat struck the water of the canal, tipping them the other direction.

Somehow, they emerged back into moonlight with the boat intact and balanced—if still spinning—and Elutil sitting in waist-deep water. Something down the far end was thrashing.

“Dadasig!” She scrambled towards him, clutching one flailing hand and pulling him upright. He cried out in pain before his mouth had fully cleared the water, and he wound up coughing, clutching Tigzar’s bag in his other arm. It seemed more than half empty.

“What happened?” Elutil shook her head, trying to find something solid to focus on as the fields swung around them. “Why is it moving so fast?”

“Dunno… water…” His eyes looked more than feverish now. They were dazed. He blinked, brow furrowed. “Oh, shit.”

Over his shoulder, Elutil could see where the canal met the main body of the river. Several apples that had escaped from their supplies bobbed into it, and were swept away by the current into the darkness. “Inana save us,” she moaned.

But Dadasig pointed over her shoulder. “Inana, savehim!”

Elutil twisted around just in time to see a figure emerging from the wall amidst the swirling water bob under… and vanish.

“Tigzar!” His head appeared briefly above the water, but was pulled back under immediately.

“He needs help,” Dadasig called.

“What? I—I can’t… why don’t you—” She turned back to see him paler than ever, struggling to even take a breath.

“You… can swim… right?”

“Not in water over my head!”

“S’easy,” he said, smiling, and even that looked ghastly. “S’ezactly th’same. Jus. R’member t’breathe.”

“I… maybe I can…” she started to rise and the boat tipped again. Elutil dropped back with a scream, crouching in the water. “I can’t, I can’t, I don’t—”

“GO!”

Before she could think better of it, she threw herself over the side, into the cold water.

The pressure of the current was gentler than she expected. Or so she thought, until she tried to swim against it. No matter how she moved her arms and legs, she seemed to stay exactly in place. The leather of her dress somehow soaked in half the river, weighing more every second, turning into a hand that gripped her around the middle, pulling her down.

“Tig—” Water hit her face, and when she tried to wipe it away, she felt herself pushed away from the city, pulled under.

A kick and a frantic wave of her arms brought her head up again, but now she couldn’t see anything. “Tigzar!”

Something knocked into her and she screamed, pulling herself to the side, only to realize as it bobbed past that it was a body, floating face-down.

She raced after it, suddenly finding it almost too easy to move, everything shooting past in a disorienting blur. Her hand hit the body again, and this time she grabbed him around the waist, hauling his head above the water.

Tigzar came to life immediately, coughing and gasping, hands clawing at her—

“No, don’t—!”

They both went under, the current flipping them around, propelling them forward. Elutil wrapped her arms around Tigzar, pressing his back to her chest, and kicked as frantically as she could. Hoping her head was pointing up, it must be up, the sheepskin she wore was heavy, dragging her down, her lungs burned—

Elutil broke the surface gasping, the air like a slap across the face, only refreshing.

“You—” she managed before her lungs seized, coughing desperately. She might have spat up water. She was too wet to tell. “What were you thinking?”

“Wasn’t!” Tigzar coughed until she thought he’d vomit.

“Where’s the…” She slipped under, but managed to pop up quickly with a kick of her legs. “Boat?”

“Ahead.”

They were in the main body of the river now, natural levees seeming to race past them on either side, but at least the water was less choppy, and up ahead the boat no longer spun or tipped. Once Tigzar felt strong enough to swim on his own, they made their way towards it, bobbing and splashing, helping each other keep their heads clear.

But Elutil could barely feel her arms and legs anymore, a cold exhaustion starting to creep into her mind, as it had before, just after Mattaki—

She dunked her head, trying to clear it, but barely managed to rise again. Her wrap pulled at her, more than a hand, another body, clinging, wrestling, forcing her down…

Finally, mercifully, they reached the boat. She grabbed the side of it, pulling—

“Wait!”

A cascade of water struck her in the face, and down she went, lost in the current.

Dark water embraced her, and she drifted down, down…

**

Siduri staggered up the stairs towards the guard room, praying she hadn’t seen what she thought she’d seen. She’d been fairly preoccupied with the dozen men chasing her, chasing each other, everyone shouting accusations, arrows flying through the night.

But she thought she’d seen a boat swept away in the wild current, and a child fall from the stairs.

The empty guard room suggested she was right.

She doubled over, pressing her hand to her chest. She hadn’t prayed for her heart to hold out, but then, she’d never had heart trouble before.

Think, girl, think! She had moments before the guards arrived. What could she do?

Run back down, find a boat. Chase after the children. Hope they weren’t dead yet, hope she could control it, hope she could pull them out of the water. Hope the guards were farther behind than she thought, or too stupid to figure out what to make of the open gate. Maybe, maybe get everyone to shore so they could live a few hours longer before Sabium killed them all.

Or.

Shut the gates, try to draw the guards away, and hope they thought the children were still in the city.

The longer she waited, the more of them would notice the gates were open.

Her legs trembling almost too hard to move, she wandered into the dark room. Not someplace she’d ever been before. Not the sort of place priestesses were supposed to visit. The mechanism for the gates seemed more complicated than anything she’d ever seen in her life.

But. Next to each crank was a sort of lever. And when she pushed it, the rope rapidly unspooled, and the gates crashed shut.

One last prayer that the children find safety, or barring that, a better death than their vengeful high priest would give them.

Then Siduri stumbled down the stairs, running as far as she could from the water gate before her entire body gave out.

**

Darkness.

Cold.

Elutil floated in nothing.

It was a little disappointing. She’d been hoping Iltani would be here somehow, to lead her down a path to the underworld. Dadasig had gotten that. She hadn’t even gotten a path.

Then the darkness shattered into a confusing grey light. Air rushed into her and she coughed, struggling and dripping as she hung in the air.

The air?

Forcing her mind to focus, Elutil shook her head until the grey resolved into shapes she recognized. A silver line below her, the river. Tigzar and Dadasig hovering nearby in their own near-drowned stupor. Dadasig still clung to the empty sack. Far away the upside-down boat drifted downriver.

And right below them, a man all in white clutched a black bag of his own and frowned up at them in concern. “Good lord,” he said. “What is going on here?”

---

Chapter 18: The Stranger in White
Aziraphale was wasting time.

He could feel it. Every second he waited, Crawley was slipping away.

The strange vision he’d had in Heaven was still vivid. He could feel her in his arms, clinging to him in a way she never had in reality. He could also feel her giving up hope. Fading.

She needed him. He’d never been more certain of anything, which was rather a terrifying thought, because angels were supposed to be certain about many things, and none of them related to demons, at least not in this way.

Though not as terrifying as the thought of losing her.

He could walk away. He should run away. Tear the city apart searching for her…

But the three children were half-drowned. Two of them already injured. It was dark and cold and there were lions about. To leave them here would be… well, unthinkable.

So he miracled up a campfire for them, even though he was already beginning to feel tired, and paced at the edge of its glow, waiting for them to recover.

Eventually, the girl stirred, looking up at him with exhausted eyes. She’d been the first to recover when he’d pulled them from the water, too, but they’d all slipped back into their daze shortly after. Something like recognition crept across her face.

She was a mess. Her hair was a ragged clump of long tendrils escaping from a braid that had once been as neat as any Crawley had woven. Her dress dripped with enough water to turn the entire field to mud. And she shivered, despite the fire being as hot as Aziraphale could safely make it. But she nodded her head and managed, “Th—th—thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, as warmly as he could in his distracted state. “But what on Earth were you thinking? Going out for a—a swim and a row at this time of night. It’s almost certainly past your bedtime!”

“S’fine,” grunted one of the boys, the uninjured one, who seemed to be warmer despite wearing the lightest clothing of the group. “S’the harvest. No one sleeps.”

“Tigzar,” the girl said warningly. “Be serious.”

“Wha? They don’! N’it’s a g—great time to… to go see th’world.”

“And why is that?” Aziraphale came closer, crouching to study the children.

“Cuz righ’ now, Uruk sucks.”

“Tigzar!” The girl glared, then smiled at Aziraphale. “He’s right, though. It really is terrible at the moment.”

The angel chewed on his lip. It seemed his suspicions were correct; something horrible was happening here. Should he outright ask them if they’d seen a demon? That might frighten them, or make them reluctant to talk. Perhaps he should be more indirect, encourage them to tell their story, and try to pick out details? Or he could simply tuck the three of them under his arms and march them back, hand them off to the first moderately responsible human he could find, rather than waste another moment here.

As he thought about it, the two children recovered enough to try rousing the third, the one who had been badly injured. The taller boy lay by the fire, curled on his side, holding a sodden near-empty bag as if it were a precious treasure. Breathing shallowly. They called his name over and over, but he hardly even stirred. “Please, wake up,” the girl begged, shivering harder. “Say something.”

The boy appeared to have gotten into a fight with a wild animal, which was frightening. He also appeared to have been shot in the back with an arrow, which was alarming.

And the other two were beginning to cry.

Aziraphale stood with a sigh, circling the fire. He’d already used two miracles on the children—one to pull them from the river, and one to start the fire. He didn’t know how many more he could spare; he’d never pushed himself so hard in a single day.

But no matter what he chose to do, he couldn’t proceed leaving the unconscious boy and the girl so badly injured. He needed to help, to heal, to gain their trust. And if Crawley were here, she’d agree.

Or rather, she’d loudly complain a great deal about being slowed down, while hovering over them like a mother raptor, biting anyone who came too close.

The angel settled beside the girl, taking a quick glance at her back. The wounds weren’t visible under her dress, but he could sense them. Two actively bleeding, one that had just missed damaging a nerve, the largest one running down her left flank, cutting through the muscle. That was bad enough, but she hadn’t rested, allowed it to heal, and he could see where the damage had grown worse with activity.

They would have been frightful enough on a grown man, but on one so small…

His hand hovered over her shoulder, not touching, just drawing her attention. Even that made her flinch. “My dear, er…?”

“Elutil.”

“My dear Elutil. How is it you came to be injured?”

Her face crumpled, a horror creeping across it far worse than he’d pulled her from the water, gasping as if she thought each breath might be her last.

She stopped crying, her face taking on a strange sort of stillness as she stared out at the darkness at something only she could see. Fingers twisting in the mud, rocking in place. Lips moving without making a sound.

This was worse than he’d thought.

“Leave her alone!” The boy Tigzar shouted, voice nearly as panicked as Elutil’s face. He crouched as if about to jump, but when Aziraphale waved a hand sternly, he reluctantly settled down.

“Look at me, dear girl.” After a moment, her dark eyes focused on him. She looked terrifyingly young, no more than twelve years old. Perhaps less. “Just tell me one thing. Are you trying to get away from the person who did this to you?”

She nodded, then curled forward, breaking into sobs.

He remembered Crawley’s words in his dream: They pulled up Hell and they put it on Earth. It seemed his guess was right on the mark, and his demon wasn’t the only one who suffered.

“We’re not going back,” Tigzar said, not rising this time, but still looking ready for a fight. “If you try to force her, I swear to Inana—”

“Young man. Please settle down. Your worry does you credit, but I am trying to work here.” Then, back to Elutil again. “I can help, if you like.”

She scrambled back, one hand rising to clutch at the pin that held her wrap closed. Hiding it from him. Hardly able to breathe as the tears rolled unheeded down her face.

“Oh, there’s no need for any of that,” he said soothingly, holding out his hand. “Why don’t I give you a little demonstration?” He could see some minor friction burns rubbed into her palms. “Just put your hand in mine, no more than that.”

Through the panic, she studied him, clearly trying to figure out how this was a trick. Eventually, she swallowed and slowly, still holding tightly to her pin, stretched out her shaking hand towards him.

Aziraphale touched her palm as lightly as possible, sending the smallest spark of heavenly energy down his fingers and into her skin. The tears across her palm closed, healing themselves smooth.

Elutil jerked her hand back, studying it in wonder, tilting it this way and that before the fire. “It… it’s healed. Completely healed. How…?”

“That’s rather a complicated question. But I can heal the rest, if you like. It will only take a moment. I will need to put my hand on the back of your dress, but nothing worse than that.”

“I…” She stared at her palm, then looked up at Tigzar. “Y… yes.” Then, belatedly, “Please.”

Aziraphale settled behind her, resting one finger between her shoulders. Yes, the wounds were even worse up close. She must be in terrible pain, perhaps only numbed by shock.

Trying to conserve his strength, Aziraphale closed each wound individually, just a small trickle of power. Only using precisely what he needed to seal each up entirely. Elutil gasped at the first, then sighed as he worked, all the tension bleeding out of her shoulders.

Last of all, the large wound down her side. He let his fingers drift closer, sending quick pulses that knitted everything back together. Ensuring it healed neatly with no lingering pain before finally directing the skin to fold back together.

“Would you like a scar? Some people prefer to have evidence of the injury, something to connect to the memory.”

“No,” she said quickly. “I—I don’t want to remember.”

“Alright then.” He wiped away the last of the evidence. “Good as new.”

She cautiously stood up and rolled her shoulders. “Tigzar! It—It doesn’t hurt!” She spun, twisting her body this way and that. “It doesn’t hurt! It’s—it—” She dropped to sit beside the boy and pulled the pin from her dress.

His face turned a little red, but he gently peeled back the wet sheepskin, running a thumb down her back. “Inana’s sacred tits! It’s—you’re fine!”

“Don’t cuss like that,” she said cheerfully.

“I think your dress is doing more damage than—how?”

“As I said,” Aziraphale told them while the girl pinned her dress back together. “It’s all a bit complicated.”

Elutil gazed at him in wonder. Even a hint of worship.

Oh, dear. He’d have to take care not to accidentally spawn another religion. That was always very awkward.

“Can… can you heal Dadasig, too?”

“I can. But,” he cautioned, “your friend’s injuries are rather more extensive. It will likely hurt a bit. But not, I think, too much.”

The children glanced at each other, and together stood up, moving over to kneel by the other boy’s head. Elutil gripped Tigzar’s hand and said, “He’s not our friend. He’s our brother.”

Aziraphale could see, quite plainly, that the children shared no recent ancestors, not for a significant number of generations. “I see,” he said gently. “Your brother will be in safe hands with me.”

Elutil nodded and moved to more comfortably take the other boy’s hand in both of hers. “Dadasig? Can you hear me? We… we’re getting you help.”

His eyes opened, glassily staring at the fire. “Gotta… burn ’em shut,” he mumbled, as his eyes closed again.

Burn them shut? Was this where human medicine stood? Quite barbaric. “It should certainly hurt less than that,” Aziraphale assured them, settling by the boy. He wondered what sort of animal could have caused those wounds. Not neat enough for any sort of cat. Perhaps a very small bear? “The arrow is the worst of it. Nerve and muscle damage, but it missed the arteries. Could have been far worse. He’s lost a lot of blood, and there’s only so much I can do about that, so make sure he eats well the next few days. I’ll start…”

His hand brushed one of the face wounds, and he sensed something deep in them. Not a toxin, but a clear marker of what had attacked him.

Not a bear.

Aziraphale stood up, discarding the pleasant facade he used around humans. “Young lady.” His words shook the air and she drew back. “How is it your brother was wounded by a demon?”

**

The man in white stood up, and suddenly he was… different. Cold. Distant. Utterly inhuman. “Young lady,” he said, voice echoing in the night. “How is it your brother was wounded by a demon?”

He seemed to unfold across the sky, growing larger than reality. Elutil didn’t realize she was shrinking away until she bumped into Tigzar. He clutched her shoulders, shaking just as much as she was. “The demon attacked him,” he said angrily. “Tried to tear him apart. Would’ve done it, too, ‘cept he got lucky.” Tigzar’s breath shuddered in his chest.

“Attacked?” The word struck them like a physical force. Disbelieving. Disdainful. “Why would she attack him? What did you all do to make her attack?”

“Nothing!” Tigzar snapped. “We didn’t do a damn thing! Don’t you blame Dadasig, not when he’s…” Another shuddering breath, his fingers tightening, seeking comfort more than giving it. “For fuck’s sake. It’s just a demon, a bloodthirsty—”

“Don’t lie to me!” The man… not man, being… began to glow with brilliant white light. It surrounded him, framing his head like a star, stretching behind him like wings. “Don’t tell me she would attack a human—a child, unprovoked.” A wind stirred Elutil’s hair. “She would never do such a thing!”

A verse echoed through her mind. The Lilu who wanders the plain at night…They come nigh unto a suffering man… “Are…” Elutil’s voice trembled with something between fear and awe, even she didn’t know what. “Are you a demon?”

“I am something far worse. Tell me what you did to my Crawley, now.”

“It…” Tigzar whispered hoarsely. “It’s named Crawley?”

“SHE IS NAMED CRAWLEY.” The light burst, and suddenly the being was brighter than the fire, brighter than the moon. “FORGET THAT AGAIN AND I WILL THROW YOU BACK IN THE RIVER FOR THE CROCODILES. IT WOULD BE A MERCY. NOW TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO HER.”

“It was the ritual,” Elutil blurted out, somehow getting to her feet before the terrifying being of light and rage. “Everything we did was part of the ritual. To purify her.”

“WHAT RITUAL?”

“The harvest,” she said. “It… it…” She scrambled to remember everything she’d ever been told about the ceremonies. “It’s to praise Inana and… thank Dumuzid for the harvest, mourn his death. It protects us from the demons and… and weakens their power in the city.”

The being paused for a heartbeat that lasted an eternity. “THERE IS NO SUCH RITUAL. NOT ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD.”

Her mouth hung open in shock “You’re… wrong…”

“I AM NOT!” With absolute certainty. “YOU ARE LYING TO ME!” The wind whipped around her now, threatening to throw her to the ground entirely. The air smelled of lightning, and she could feel the charge running up her skin. Tigzar grabbed her hand, trying to pull her down. “YOU ARE LYING TO PROTECT A MURDERER! HOW DARE YOU!”

“How dare you!” Everything inside Elutil screamed in terror, wanted to flee, hide in the farthest reaches of the desert. But at the moment she was the only thing that stood between her brothers and this creatures and she was so sick of being afraid. “How dare you accuse us! How dare you call Dadasig a child in one breath and a murderer in the next! How dare you speak on something you know nothing about!”

“I AM OLDER THAN YOUR CIVILIZATION, CHILD. I HAVE WATCHED YOUR PEOPLE SINCE LONG BEFORE THEY BEGAN TO WORSHIP THE EVENING STAR. I KNOW ALL THINGS.”

“You! Do! Not!” She took a deep breath, throwing back her shoulders and standing as tall as she could. Looking it in the eye—or where she thought the eye was. As Siduri used to do to Sabium, before her back became bowed. As Jushur and Aruru and a dozen others had done, until one by one they disappeared. “You don’ know everything! If you did, you’d know about the harvest! You’d know that every year our high priest captures a demon! That for two nights we… we purify her. Through pain.”

“WHAT?”

“The stoning. The initiation. The hunt. The revels. He directs it, and all of Uruk takes part.”

“TO WHAT END?”

“The harvest of evil. At the end of the second night, Sabium takes the purified demon, and…” For the first time her voice fumbled. “And… sacrifices her… to Inana.”

“WHAT?” The earth shook under her feet. “HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON?”

Elutil shook her head as the fear finally started to win the fight for her mind. “Seven summers? Eight? Almost as long as I can remember.”

“AND YOU DID NOTHING TO STOP IT?”

“We were children!”

“ARE YOU CHILDREN NOW?” The being grew larger, until it was the entire sky, the entire world. “WHAT DID YOU DO THIS HARVEST? DID YOU OBJECT TO THIS CRUELTY? DID YOU DO ANYTHING TO STOP IT? ANYTHING TO EASE HER PAIN?”

Elutil tried to speak, but her voice was gone. But the being read the answer on her face.

“NO! YOU HURT HER! WITHOUT QUESTION! WITHOUT HESITATION! WITHOUT REMORSE! DID YOU DO ANYTHING TO EASE HER SUFFERING? DID YOU SHOW A SINGLE MOMENT OF MERCY? OR WERE YOU HAPPY TO HURT MY CRAWLEY, KILL MY CRAWLEY, WITHOUT SO MUCH AS A SECOND THOUGHT? WELL?”

She trembled, no longer able to hold that eternal being’s gaze. “I… I…”

“THEN WHY SHOULD I TREAT YOU OR YOUR CITY ANY DIFFERENTLY?”
There had to be an answer. A reason. A plea she could make.

Instead, Elutil dropped to her knees and shook her head. Filled with something far beyond shame. Ready to be judged.

When the hand touched her shoulder, she flinched, certain she was about to die.

But it wasn’t the being that burned before them, spanning eternity. It was Dadasig, pale and weak, pushing himself to his feet. “I…” He looked up to meet the creature’s eyes. “I tried to kill her.”

**

“I tried to kill her.”

Dadasig couldn’t remember when he’d become aware of what was going on. The last thing he remembered clearly was Iltani saying something about getting help. Everything after that was increasingly bizarre.

And yet.

He squeezed Elutil’s shoulder and shuffled forward a step. “I tried to kill her. Your… your Crawley.”

He knew the moment the being’s attention turned to him. The entire universe shifted, pressed against him, held him under scrutiny.

“I thought… f’I was the one to… to do it, to catch her, my friends wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. Elutil wouldn’t have to suffer. So. Laid a trap. Held her underwater. Beat her. Put my spear t’her throat.” It was so clear in his mind, as if it had happened just a moment ago. The burn of talons in his flesh. The feel of her skull in his hands as he smashed it into the ground. “An’I knew. It wouldn’ kill her. But it would hurt… just as much.”

The being screamed.

A thousand voices shouting in the night, a million, all of Uruk crying out in pain at once, would have been nothing compared to that sound. It threatened to tear the walls of the city to rubble. To tear Dadasig apart.

A scream of pain he couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“And then,” he continued, softly, when all sound that had ever existed had ceased, “When I had her. I let her go. Cuz I looked in her eyes an’ she… she was… so scared.” Dadasig’s eyes dropped to the girl beside him, the girl he’d promised to keep safe. “M’sorry, Elutil. I wanted to help you, I wanted… But I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t hurt her again.”

Her mouth fell open, but it wasn’t her who spoke.

“YOU THINK THAT’S ENOUGH? YOU THINK THAT MAKES IT BETTER?”

“No. Makes it worse.” He tried to look the being in the eye, but it didn’t have a face. Its face was the sky, every star an eye, beautiful and terrible and distant. “Cuz that’s what it… it took for me to… realize she’s a person. I had to see her hurt an’ scared, too scared to even… beg for her life. After I’d already hurt her. More’n once. I felt sick. I felt… Never shoulda taken so long. M’disgusted wi’ myself. An’ I’m… so sorry.”

Again, reality shook, this time with the being’s wail of grief.

**

The wail struck the city, burrowing into every stone.

It found its way into the heart of everyone who had ever lost someone.

It broke through the defenses of an overwhelmed gala-priest, cowering in their room, nearly breaking their mind.

It brushed past a priestess who had hidden from her pain until it took everything from her, and she mourned for the life she’d never gotten to have.

It touched the head priest, who brushed it away like an irritating fly.

And it embraced a demon, hanging in a tree, ready to give up, and whispered to her the name she had forgotten.

**

The light faded, flickered, extinguished, and then there was just a man.

An old man dressed in white, kneeling in the mud. Hand pressed to his mouth and tears in his eyes.

“My Crawley…” he said softly, voice shaking. “I’ve taken so long, I… I let her be hurt… I… failed her.” He curled in on himself. “I failed her. My Crawley. I’m sorry, I’m so…”

Elutil’s mind still reeled from the grief that had struck it. It took her a moment to realize she wasn’t the man in white, barely holding himself together as his heart broke, shattered as no other being’s ever had. That she knelt some distance away, across the fire, arms around her brothers. That she still had two of the three beings she cared for more than anyone in the world.

And one of them had said…

“Dadasig.” She latched onto the emotion, the one that was hers alone, following it back from the wasteland of despair to her own mind. “You… you didn’t fail, you… don’t have to be sorry.”

“Said I’d protect you,” he mumbled stubbornly. “Said I’d keep you safe.”

“I know. And that… it meant so much to me. When I was scared. Not that you were… strong enough to… fight a demon, or Mattaki, or Inana… Just that…” She dropped her head to his shoulder, feeling more tired than she ever had before. “Just that you cared enough to say it.”

“Course I did.” He tried to put his arms around her, but they felt clumsy, strange, even to her. “An’ I meant it. I mean… I always…”

“Shhh,” she pressed a hand to his back. He struggled to speak, but she swore she could feel what he meant. “I know, and I… I…”

“Shoulda made Iltani come,” Tigzar said, pulling himself closer, apparently not even aware of his own tears. “Shoulda… woken them up, dragged them…”

“Their choice,” Dadasig said, eyelids drifting shut. “Not ours.”

“Wrong choice,” he sniffed. “We should all be together.”

Elutil nodded, grieving for their missing piece. “I knew… I felt it the whole time…”

Only it was worse now, worse even than the wounds on her back had been. As if her heart had been torn from her body, leaving her hollow and…

She traced the emotion back to its source. It was hers, mostly. A little of it came from Dadasig, a little more from Tigzar, but the rest… Her eyes drifted up to where the man knelt, hands pressed to his chest, quietly crying. Alone.

It wasn’t until the cold night air made her shiver that Elutil realized she’d stood up, moved away from her brothers. That she was walking around the fire. The man didn’t look up towards her, even as she settled beside him, even when she carefully put her fingers on his shoulder.

He felt warm. Soft. Solid. Flesh and blood, an ocean of power, and a bottomless grief concealed below.

“I…” What was there to say? Instead, she carefully took one of his hands and pressed it to her own heart. Hoped he could feel the endless chasm in her, as well.

His face seemed to flicker, eyes coming to focus on the world again, turning to meet hers. Paler than any eyes she’d ever seen. “My…” he managed.

“I know.” It hurt so much. “I’m sorry.”

“My Crawley…” He slid into her arms, moaning in pain.

“I know,” she whispered, looking back across the fire. Dadasig slumped against Tigzar. They both looked so frail. So lost. The same as she felt. “I know.”

“She… she was always so…” He shuddered against her. “I should have never… should have told her…” With a gasp, his head snapped up, tear filled eyes searching as if lost, scanning the fields, the desert, the fire. “Child. Boy! Dadasig!”

At the sound of his name, Dadasig’s eyes flew open, head jerking towards the stranger as if tied to him by a line. “You… you let her go? You let my Crawley go?”

“Yeah.” The boy tried to stand, but he lost his balance, falling, Tigzar barely catching him in time. “But. Others. Caught her anyway. In th’end. Words aren’t… aren’t enough…”

“But it isn’t dawn yet,” Tigzar said suddenly, fidgeting anxiously as those strange eyes turned to him. “It isn’t. Still have… an hour, at least. And we know where she is.”

“You do?” As if he’d never considered this. “You can tell me…?”

“Mmmmh,” Dadasig lifted his glassy eyes one last time. “F’we… help you save her… will you… can we… stop it… from hap’nin’ again?”

“Yes.” The stranger stood up, transforming once again from a frail, shaking man to something almost inhumanly powerful, though nothing about his shape changed. “I will stop this. All of it. Just. Get me to Crawley, before it’s too late.”

Then he picked up his bag and started towards the city.

“Wait!” Elutil called. “I—You can’t—! Dadasig can’t walk! We need to—to get a boat, or—”

“Ah, yes.” The man glanced back and raised a hand over his head. “Brace yourselves.”

Next: Part 4