Chapter 2: Bardrakeu's Secret

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Bardrakeu was not even at the villa when we arrived, but long, lanky Dusana and his short, squat shadow, Calendra, had shown up before us to help direct the servants in setting up for the party.

I sat on a polished black marble bench and Calendra (receding blond hair, brown bug eyes, and hideous overbite) rocked back and forth beside me.

“All the mythologies of the world are basically one great universal myth, Syndeeka,” said Calendra. “That’s Riso’s thesis. It has to do with racial memories.”

The atrium was bathed in the burnished bronze glow of the setting sun. I stared up at the changing colors of the clouds as they sailed past the panes of the skylight overhead. Dusana’s reed flute pierced the relative silence as Mala walked the rectangular perimeter of the rainwater cistern in the roofless part of the atrium, occasionally running a hand through the water and tasting it.

“And what,” I asked in my boredom, “are racial memories?”

Calendra stopped his rocking and looked at me with wide, bloodshot eyes and bared his crooked teeth in a rictus-- what for him was a knowing grin.

“Instincts! To put it bluntly. Wild animals live by instincts, and so do we.”

I smirked at him. “I thought we lived by reason and emotion. Although usually not simultaneously.”

“We do on a conscious level. But the mind has a kind of cellar where all the unused memories are hidden away. Beneath those memories you’ll find animal instincts.

“Think about it, Syndeeka. Why do birds migrate south in the winter? Why do spiders spin webs? Why do salmon swim upstream to mate? It’s all because of instincts. And we are animals too.”

I sighed. “Given all the things I have witnessed firsthand, I don’t deny we’re animals. But what does that have to do with myths?”

He spread his hands in the air. “Why do you think there are so many similarities between myths and legends from all over the world? So many stories about heroes and gods dying and being reborn?”

“That’s simple. What do people around the world have in common?”

“Instincts!”

I chuckled. “Astronomy. They all look up at the sun and the moon and the stars. They see the rebirth of the sun every morning. They see the endless cycle of the changing seasons. All the myths I’ve ever heard or read reflect that.”

“No!” He crossed his arms and frowned. “It’s the racial memories that come out of our root instincts!”

“Oh? Do you have proof of this?”

“Yes! Why do so many stories have a great hero descend into the underworld (the realm of the dead) and then come out into the light of day?”

“As I said, the sun sets and the sun rises.”

“It’s instincts!”

I stood up. “Oh, I know I shouldn’t be drinking tonight, but I’m beginning to think I may need alcohol after all.”

Calendra jumped up, grabbed my arm, tugging at it a little. “Why can’t you see that Riso’s theory makes the most sense in explaining human behavior? Beavers build dams. Birds build nests. Why? Why?”

I sighed heavily. “We are not beavers and we are not birds.”

He raised an authoritative finger in the air. “What about recurring images and symbols throughout the world? How do you explain them, Syndeeka? Like the cross. Why do so many cultures on three separate continents and quite a few islands have the cross as a religious symbol?”

I smiled. This was too easy.

“It’s what my master taught me from the very beginning. The cross represents the four cardinal points of the universe. The very city-state I was born in had that layout for its main thoroughfares, with the palace at the very center.”

“Have you ever wondered why? That symbol is ingrained in our blood!”

I couldn’t help but to emit a low groan. “Calendra, do you know much about astronomy?”

He laughed. “Astronomy is for farmers so they know when to plant their crops. It’s not important.”

I felt the blood in my face catch fire. “Is there anything to drink?”

I headed out of the atrium and to the kitchen.

The sun finally did set, and since Mala and I couldn’t catch a water shuttle back to the city till the early morning hours, we were sure we’d see it rise. Bardrakeu eventually turned up. He was tall like Dusana but his brown hair was shoulder length and tied in the back.

With him was Garsa, a muscular ex-pit fighter who always impressed his fellow students with the fact that he was neither the son of a merchant nor a politician. Aldro had told me that Garsa had an older male patron who sponsored his education, and so I understood that the hulking warrior and I had had more than a few things in common.

Rounding out the trio was a young woman named Eshendisa. This petite copper-headed maiden employed herself to the academy as one of the cooks in the kitchens of the main eating hall.

Mala ran up to her and gave her a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it, Eshendisa! Syndeeka, this is the girl I was telling you about.”

Eshendisa smiled at me and extended a small hand which I took in my own. “Syndeeka, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you! Mala’s told me so many wonderful things about you.”

“Let me get another drink,” said Mala. “Syndeeka, do you want anything?”

I shook my head. “No, thank you.”

She left us to talk.

Eshendisa beamed at me. “You’re an astronomer, correct?”

“Uh, when I can find the time to be one, anyway. My work seldom lets me pursue my true passion.”

Her eyes and her smile went wide. “That’s right! You’re a warrior, too. A mercenary, I believe.”

“We’ll have to trade war stories then, sometime,” interjected Garsa. “I thought you were just a tutor.”

I smirked and ran a finger down the scars on my face. “Where do you think these came from?”

His oddly boyish face registered confusion. “Do you think it’s natural for women to fight?”

“Oh, we do it all the time. It’s just that most of us aren’t trained in the sword.”

His features became a stone mask. “Just the dagger. Most men wouldn’t stab someone in the back.”

I felt a chill as he stepped into the living room.

Eshendisa watched him exit and then returned her gaze to me. “I don’t really know him very well, Syndeeka. He’s mostly just a mutual friend of Bardrakeu.”

I sighed. “If he doesn’t like women so much, I don’t see why he’s always trying to bed them.”

“Especially when you consider they never pay his bills.” She chuckled.

“I know what it’s like to whore oneself out for money. But I just did it so I wouldn’t starve.”

“Oh, but tell me about being a stargazer. I always like to learn from students at the academy.” Her eyes looked down. “I would like to become a natural philosopher myself. When the students ask me out to dinner or to a dance, I don’t mind going with them. So long as I can learn as much about their studies as they’ll tell me. On my breaks, I always go to the library to read the scrolls and books.” Her eyes met mine. “I only wish I had more time to read them all.”

I patted her shoulder and smiled. “If I ever did get my own observatory, I’d gladly make you my apprentice.”

Eventually, the festivities moved out to the terraced solarium overlooking Bardrakeu’s father’s vineyards. Guests made themselves comfortable on stone benches, cushioned divans, and stools. I leaned against the stone railing to get a broad view of everyone. Several braziers dotted the flagstoned terrace and torches flickered in sconces on the outer wall of the villa. More guests arrived as the sky’s dark blue dimmed to starry blackness.

I stared up past the roof tiles to the pearly light bridge that linked earth to the heavens, what the Equoci referred to as the Divine Diamond Highway. The petty musings of pampered rich sons and their potential female companions meant little to me against the backdrop of infinite cosmic splendor.

Bardrakeu stepped to the center of the solarium and raised gangly arms skyward, a goblet of wine in one hand. “Thank you, one and all, for gracing my father’s summer estate with your esteemed presence.”

I felt like laughing at his ornate choice of words, but held myself in check.

Just then Mala crossed over to me and patted my shoulder. I smiled at her and looked back to Bardrakeu.

“As most of you know,” he continued, “my father is one of the few members of the Senate who is still not afraid to speak out against the despotic policies of the so-called Deity Imperator. This of course is nothing new to my family. I believe it was a little over a hundred and fifty years ago that my great grandfather convinced his fellow senators to finally vote for legislation banning the insidious practice of slavery.”

Light, scattered applause echoed through the solarium.

“Of course”-- he dropped his arms-- “that was when we still had a Republic. Thanks to Fodineo’s drunk of a father those days seem to be far in the past.” He raised a finger. “Or are they? Our parents’ generation gave up the self-determination of the Republic in exchange for the thick-headed tyranny of madmen. But we can take the Equoci Empire back.”

More hollow claps from the guests. Bardrakeu took a long swig from his goblet and many in his audience also drank.

Mala leaned towards my ear and whispered, “Maybe he knows where we can find the Sepulchral Giant.”

I looked at her in surprise.

“What?” asked Mala. “The Emperor doesn’t like the Giant.”

“Mala, you seem to have a gift for the art of logical deduction.”

Finally, Bardrakeu took the goblet from his lips and scanned the crowd. “Where is the other son of a senator?”

I looked around for Aldro, but he was nowhere in sight. I felt both relief for myself and pity for the awkward young man I tutored.

“I’m afraid he hasn’t shown up yet,” called Dusana from where he reclined on a divan, a goblet in one hand and his flute sandwiched between his knees.

“Pity,” said Bardakeu, taking another, shorter draught from his goblet. “I should like to hatch a plan to try and get the ears of our fathers.”

Mala smiled at me. “Does he think the Senate can just vote the Deity Imperator out of power?”

I returned her smile. “Oh, let him have his daydreams, Mala. He’s obviously drunk.”

“Let’s find the wine cellar.”

“Anyway,” continued Bardrakeu, “I want you all to know that we…we of all people, can strike a new path for the Equoci Empire. A return to Republic.” He triumphantly raised his goblet to the stars, many of his listeners reciprocating with their own drinks.

Bardrakeu staggered into the house and I waved Mala to follow. We soon caught up to our host in a corridor and I touched his arm.

He turned back and grinned at me. “Syndeeka, how are you enjoying the festivities, you gorgeous dusky wench?” He gently squeezed my shoulder and I quickly disentangled myself from his groggy grip.

“Um, Bardrakeu, Mala and I would like to know where the wine cellar is.”

The look he gave me was both quizzical and cockeyed. “Why? Why should you two need to know that? Wine is handled by the butler. My father pays him enough, so the old fool should at least do his job.”

“I like fine vintages when I can get them,” said Mala. “I’m curious to see what you have.”

Bardrakeu’s smile was drowsily sly. “Two beautiful young ladies like you want to see my family’s choicest wines? I’ll get the butler to open the cellar for us and then send him away.”

He guzzled the remaining contents of his goblet and waved us to follow him.

We entered a small room and descended stone steps till we reached a long corridor lit by a meager torch. At the end of the corridor was a large wooden door and sitting before it on a stool was a tall, graying man dark enough to be from my father’s country. Seeing us approach, the older man stood and bowed in his crimson robes.

Bardrakeu clumsily patted the man on the shoulder. “Nebiat, these fine young ladies would like to take stock of all of my father’s most venerated wines. Let me have the key to the wine cellar, won’t you?”

“Good sir, I am required to maintain my post should any additional requests for spirits arise.”

Bardrakeu laughed heartily and crushed Nebiat in a bear hug. “Oh, but you are a dedicated servant, aren’t you, Nebiat?” He looked to me and Mala, grinning. “This, beautiful ladies, is true dedication.” Turning back to Navon, he said, “Old man, we need entry into the den of choice poisons. Would you deny these lovely, lovely maidens their wish to get appropriately soused? Would you? Would you?”

He grabbed at the keyring on Nebiat’s belt, practically yanking the poor man off his feet.

“Very well,” said Nebiat in an agitated tone. “Here, then, take the key.”

He gently pushed Bardrakeu’s big hand off of the key ring and detached it from his belt before handing it to the young man.

Bardrakeu looked back to Mala and me with another cockeyed grin. “Loyalty, my dears. Such loyalty. Nebiat, you shall get this sacred key back... um, well, when I’m good and ready to give it back to you. Who pays your wages, anyway?”

“That, good sir, would be your father.”

Bardrakeu gently but firmly pushed Nebiat aside and unlocked the door. “Go upstairs and get yourself something to eat, you old rascal. And mind you don’t go talking to these two beauties-- they’re taken!”

The wine cellar was a long hall with bottles cubbyholed in wooden shelves on either side of the two walls. In between them were an oak table and red satin stool. Casting a flickering yellow light on the table’s plank boards was a lone candle on a clam shell.

Bardrakeu stepped up to the table and took the candle and smiled at us. “Well, which vintages would you two like to examine first? On the left wall are wines my father’s servants bottled in the last two years. On the right--”

“What’s at the end of this hall?” asked Mala pointing to what I realized were the folds of a dark gray curtain on the far end of the cellar.

Bardrakeu glanced at the curtain and gave Mala an uneasy look. “Oh. That. You shouldn’t go past the curtain. I was hoping you would just think it was a stone wall.”

Mala cupped her chin with her hand and smiled. “I can see that. In this dim light it does look like a stone wall.”

“The cellar used to have a wall made of wood, but it was destroyed in a fire when I was barely out of my infancy. Nebiat always insisted to my father that a curtain was best since it would let the air down here circulate better.”

“Are the choicest wines on the other side?” I asked, smiling.

Bardrakeu cleared his throat and grimaced slightly. “No. There aren’t any spirits there. At least not the kind you uncork from bottles. Beyond that curtain is a dark passage. I don’t know how far it goes.

“When I was a boy, I’d creep up behind Nebiat when he went to get a bottle and hide under this table till he left. Then I’d go exploring.” He laughed. “Several times, I found myself locked in here.”

“So, what’s in this dark passage?” asked Mala.

Bardrakeu walked to the end of the cellar and pulled the curtain back. “The catacombs.” The light from his candle danced on the stones of a corridor that curved eastward into utter darkness.
“You don’t bury dead there?”

Bardrakeu chuckled. “We’re Equoci. We practice cremation. No, those are the dead of an older civilization. The Samarthoph. They were a people living in this country when my ancestors first came here a little over two thousand years ago.”

He spread his hands in the air. “This whole area-- the hill where you find the academy and the neighboring farms and villas-- once held a city-state. That’s how the Samarthoph lived. They weren’t organized like the Empire. Just a loose confederation of independent city-states. I believe that’s how my ancestors were able to defeat them.”

“Our people, the Ushe,” I ventured, “have a similar set-up. I suppose the Deity Imperator doesn’t want to trouble crossing the vast desert to the north of Usheland to bother conquering us.”

Bardrakeu raised an eyebrow. “Who knows? The Empire controls the northernmost lands of your continent. And we of course do a lot of trade with your people.”

“The ones who lived here before, what were they like?”

Bardrakeu shrugged and placed the candle back on the table. “If I recall correctly, they were a decadent lot who worshiped a serpent goddess. In fact, I think they used to sacrifice babies to her.”

“Really?” asked Mala. “What about the giant snake in Suhodeten’s statue at the academy?”

Bardrakeu chuckled. “It’s not a sculpture. It’s an automaton. There are water pipes beneath the campus that animate it. It’s all water that the aqueduct brings in from the mountains.”

“But,” I asked, “is the snake in this automaton the same one that the Sam…”

“Samarthoph.”

“Yes. Them.”

“I don’t know. The Celestial Lord and Lady were siblings who rose out of the dark ocean of chaos when the only living thing was an evil sea dragon that floated on its waves.” Bardrakeu sat on the stool, placed his elbows on the table, and cradled his chin in his hand. “I suppose they could be the same.”

“Waite,” said Mala. “They were brother and sister?”

Bardrakeu laughed. “Yes, and they sired all the lesser gods, who in turn pulled the earth from the ocean and created Mankind. Nothing good comes of incest.”

“What did they do with the snake?” I asked.

Bardrakeu drummed his fingers on the table planks. “Do you girls actually want wine?”

Mala approached the table. “I’m very curious about your father’s vintages, Bardrakeu. But do answer Syndeeka’s question. I’d also like to know what the Celestial Lord and Lady did with the serpent.”

“They killed her. Fed off of her insides, used her backbone to create mountains, and stretched her skin across the black sky.”

“And thus created the Divine Diamond Highway,” I added.

Bardrakeu rubbed his temple and closed his eyes. “Yes. It acts as both a pathway between Earth and the abode of the gods, and it’s also a flimsy barrier between our world and the dark chaos beyond. You know, keeps the devils out.”

Mala approached the curtain and pulled at it. “May we explore the catacombs?”

Bardrakeu stood from the table, scowling. “I already told you that would be a bad idea.”

Mala laughed gently and walked to my side, sliding an arm around my shoulders. “I’m just playing with you, Bardrakeu. Actually, I have an ulterior motive for coming down here.”

“Oh?”

I felt Mala’s tongue tickle my earlobe and flinched in surprise.

“Oh…” Bardrakeu grinned slyly, approaching us. “You two are like that, huh? You should know that in my society the love between two men is considered the highest form of love. But…”

“The love between two women?” Mala squeezed my shoulder but gave me a reassuring glance.

“A perversion.” He chuckled and gently slapped Mala on the arm. “But I’m no one to judge.” He took the keyring off his belt and handed it to me. “You girls try not to stay down here too long. Come up for air now and again; people at the party would like to see you.”

“We can go up soon,” said Mala, pulling off of me. “We’ll just need a private rendezvous point for later.”

Bardrakeu laughed boisterously as he headed for the door. “I can respect naughty girls.”

He opened the door and left us alone.

I looked to Mala. “Are you still interested in me, Mala?”

She sighed and smiled sweetly. “I’m sure I’ll always feel something for you, Syndeeka, but that’s not why I acted so before Bardrakeu.”

“Oh. Well, now we have the key to the wine cellar.”

Mala grinned. “That was always the plan. We’ll be here till sunrise; let’s just go back up to the party and then wait till everyone either leaves or is passed out drunk.”

I stared at the gray curtain. “You think we should explore the catacombs?”

“Well, we want to find the Sepulchral Giant, right? Either that or we can just wait for the Emperor to spill our blood.”

“Mala, this just occurred to me– shouldn’t you have already known about the Celestial Lord and Lady?”

Mala chuckled. “If my husband had been a religious man. And we lived with the heathens up north.”

“Oh. I suppose that makes sense.”

“Shall we return to the festivities?”

“Let’s be good with our pretense and bring up another bottle of wine for the party.”

“The more recent vintages. I don’t want Bardrakeu getting angry with us.”

The evening wore on and my impatience began to grow. Bardrakeu complimented Mala on her superior choice of fine wines, but then kept asking us when we were planning on returning to the wine cellar.

I smiled at him and patted his shoulder. “Not for a while, my gracious host, but I assure you that we’ll lock the door behind us when we do.”

Bardrakeu laughed. “It only locks from the outside, dear.”

Aldro had finally arrived by the time we’d resurfaced and was already sitting next to Eshendisa on a bench and talking astronomy with her. I smiled at him and he replied with a cursory wave before returning to his conversation.

Eventually, Bardrakeu decided to regale the partygoers with a rendition of an epic poem about Vibilaheh, the one-legged bastard warrior who murdered half of his own family before founding the Equoci Empire. Dusana played accompaniment on flute with Calendra on bow harp. I was pleasantly surprised that even in his soused state, Bardrakeu could sing in such a honey-sweet contralto.

I kept making repeated trips to the living room to check the hour on a time candle placed in an alcove. It wasn’t till the wax cylinder had melted down to four hours past midnight that the party ended.

Mala and I worked our way through the tangle of sleeping guests, pulled the two torches (extinguished by the servants) from their sconces on the solarium wall, and snuck down to the wine cellar. Closing the door behind me, I looked back at the latch and realized Bardrakeu had been telling the truth. I then asked Mala to help me slide the table against the door.

“Why?” she asked. “Bardrakeu is passed out. He won’t bother us.”

“I’m not about to let his perverse curiosity get us caught in the act of stepping through that curtain.”

We barricaded ourselves in and then used the candle on the table to relight the two torches we’d taken from the solarium. Mala held open the curtain for me and I set foot into the catacombs.

The corridor we had entered was an extension of the wine cellar. We followed the stone walls as they began curving eastward, our torch flames casting a wavering yellow light on the stones. Mala and I continued our trek for some time with no surprises. Then we happened upon a fresco painted across both walls and the ceiling.

Large eyed, dark-haired, olive-complected men and women draped in loose-fitting robes ate bundles of grapes, drank wine, and played lyres and horns. Arching above them and crossing over the ceiling was a giant green serpent. Its body coiled round the ceiling, walls, and floor, spiraling off into the shadows before us. We crept forward a long time before we finally found its head on the right-hand wall. Between its great jaws was what appeared to be a large green egg.

“Hmmm…” mused Mala. “I thought Bardrakeu said it ate babies.”

I crept up to the painted serpent’s head and examined the egg nestled between its teeth.

“You have to look closely,” I said, raising the torch to the egg, “but it appears there are faded stars on the shell.” I turned to Mala. “I think this is supposed to represent the night sky.”

Mala stared at me with wide, confused eyes. “I don’t think the sky was ever green. I mean, I certainly wasn’t around two thousand years ago, but I’m pretty sure nighttime was always black.”

I looked back to the painting. “It must be symbolic. But look.” I touched a fingernail to the egg. “The stars are clustered together along the rim of the egg. It’s a zodiac!”

My discovery only made me wish Tulonan had returned that scroll to the library at the time he’d promised. It was becoming obvious that whoever stole his notes was concerned with how the ancient Samarthoph viewed the heavens.

As Mala and I continued our journey down the catacomb tunnel, my mind tried to join what few puzzle pieces I already had in my possession. Fodineo wanted a nine foot tall man dead. This giant was apparently living beneath the grounds of the philosophy academy. Bardrakeu, a senator’s son, was preaching to his friends the need to overthrow the Deity Imperator and reinstate the old Republican form of government. The minions of the Sepulchral Giant were stealing things from the academy’s campus and may have taken the head Astronomy instructor’s lecture notes on the constellations of different cultures. Bardrakeu admitted to exploring these catacombs as a child, but also warned us not to bother.

The serpent goddess worshiped by the Samarthoph (possibly skinned by the Equoci’s incestuous elder gods and turned into the Divine Diamond Highway) was depicted in a catacomb fresco as holding a cosmic egg in her mouth, which displayed the Samartoph zodiac. It seemed obvious to me that the Sepulchral Giant needed to correlate the night sky with how an ancient people (defeated several millennia ago) would have seen it.

Then I considered the final piece of the puzzle. Why would the Emperor ask me-- a trained astronomer-- to hunt down some strange man who hid beneath a school dedicated to all forms of philosophy?

“Syndeeka, you look even more lost than I feel.”

“What?” I broke out of my reverie and stared at Mala’s smiling face.

She was holding her torch low and the shadows danced eerily across the contours of her cheekbones and her upturned lips.

“We’ve reached a fork in the road, as it were,” she said, pointing to two tunnels ahead of us with her flaming brand. “Which one do you think it wise to take?”

“Oh, the one that’s continuing to head east. I figure that should get us closer to the academy.”

Mala sighed. “Do you think we should have brought weapons with us?”

“I must admit, Mala, I would feel much better if I had my sword on me. Do you want to just go back?”

Mala opened a pouch on her belt and retrieved the iron key ring. “I’m sure Bardrakeu will be missing this.”

“Let’s just continue exploring. We can always return the key to the wine cellar in the early dawn.”

Mala laughed nervously. “If we’re not killed down here.”

“Are you still a good girl with a dagger?”

Mala returned the key ring to her pouch and then pulled out a jagged-bladed dagger with an iroko handle. “I’m only a free spirit when I’m armed.”

Going down the eastern tunnel we discovered the reason these passageways were dubbed catacombs. Skulls lined the walls, painted in carnival colors (red, green, blue, and yellow) and stacked row on row like bottles in the wine cellar. Now and again we would find against a wall a stone table covered with cobwebbed plates, bowls, spoons, and drinking cups.

As our quest through the catacombs continued we finally came upon a table free of spider’s silk. I lifted an iron spoon out of a ceramic bowl and noticed a porridge-like substance clinging to it. Touching a finger to the grains, I was startled to realize they were still moist.

I looked to Mala.

Her eyes widened as she grinned. “Maybe we’re close?”

I replaced the spoon in the bowl and slowly inhaled. “I really do wish I’d brought my sword.”

The rainbowed gallery of deathly faces stared us down with empty sockets as we pressed on. Then we reached a cavernous circular room. Its curved wall was free of skulls but had a mesh of iron pipes scaffolding its heavy stones. I pulled my head up to stare into the shadowy upper regions. Raising my torch above my head, I noticed the pipes ascended the round well of the chamber until they were cut off by a dusky ceiling blanketed with stars.

I glanced at Mala. “Well, we’ve reached some sort of opening.”

Mala lifted her own torch above her head and peered up. “The pipes end at a certain point.”

I followed her gaze and confirmed her claim. “You’re right. Those look like concentric rings up there. I think they’re green!”

“Let’s just keep staring up at the stars. I have a notion.”

I followed her advice and watched for several minutes until, to my shock, the stars were blotted out by two dark silhouettes coming from north and south and meeting briefly, then separating again.

“See!” continued Mala in a satisfied tone. “I know where we are. This must be the base of the statue on the campus.”

“Automaton. Like Bardrakeu said.”

“Oh,” Mala tapped her temple rapidly, “that’s right. The Celestial Lord and Lady kissing from atop the coiled serpent.”

I walked the circumference of the chamber, looking about. “I wonder if there’s some way to climb up to the surface.”

Mala walked up to the masonry rimming the chamber and clamped her free hand around a pipe. Looking to me, she asked: “Syndeeka, my good woman, would you be so kind as to hold my firebrand as I attempt an ascent?”

“Mala…are you sure that’s safe? By my estimates, this chamber rises maybe three stories.”

Mala grinned, holding her torch out to me. “I never told you, Syndeeka, but before I became a whore I used to be something of a petty thief.”

“Really? When was this?”

Mala’s eyes rolled up as she considered. “Well, I’m pretty sure I would have been ten. So a year before I tried prostitution.”

Still holding the first pipe, she reached her other hand up to another one maybe two feet higher. I watched nervously as she eventually got a foothold on the original pipe and started working her way up the chamber rim like a spider.

“Be careful, Mala.”

She looked down at me and smiled. “I’ll do my best, Syndeeka.” She shrugged. “Or die trying.”

As Mala made her way up the water pipe scaffolding I looked back down the tunnel we had entered from. The spectrum of skulls seemed to twitch in the dancing light cast by the two torches in either one of my hands.

I wondered where the rest of the skeletons lay. Or why the people who’d placed our ghastly audience down here had decided to paint them such vibrant festival colors. The Samarthoph seemed to have a less morbid view of death than most cultures I’d come across. Why else would they place tables with dishes down here where they kept corpses? My own people were known to pour libations for the dead, but we weren’t so enthusiastic about having a picnic with them.
“Syndeeka!”

I looked up and saw that Mala had reached the first serpent coil at the head of the chamber.

“Mala, I didn’t realize you could climb so fast. Are you okay?”

Holding onto a thick pipe running horizontally across the chamber wall with one hand, Mala flicked her other hand nonchalantly. “I’m years out of practice, but I used to scale houses in the rich parts of Aki Gbijime.”

“I’d rather you keep both hands on the pipe work, dear. I don’t want you to come plummeting down.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Syndeeka.” She replaced her free hand onto the pipe and gazed downward at me. “The problem I’m having right now is that I can’t seem to find any handholds where this snake begins. He seems to have a smooth coat of scales.”

“I think it’s a she.”

Mala chucked. “Regardless, I may have reached the upper limit of how high I can climb.”

I sighed in exasperation. “Then come back down. You’re bound to break an arm or leg or even your neck if you should slip.”

Mala looked up. “Hmm…I think the sun is starting to rise. There’s a faint orange glow behind the Celestial Lord.”

“That’s impossible. The Celestial Lord up there has his back to the North Star.”

Mala quickly started working her way down.

“What is it, Mala?”

Mala glanced at me and placed a finger to her lips.

That’s when I noticed the orange glow myself. It was indeed coming from the north, and now it was beginning to bathe the topmost coils of the serpent.
I quickly turned the flaming brand of one of my torches down and tamped it into the flagstones till the fire was extinguished. In the light of the other torch I could see that Mala was almost at ground level. I swiftly crept up to meet her as she stepped from the lowest pipe and onto the floor.

“We need to go,” I whispered. “Now.”

Mala nodded and we both retreated into the catacomb entrance. Kneeling down amongst a small mound of skulls, we stared up into the circular chamber.

The orange light seemed to be swaying back and forth across the upper chamber stones. Then it swooped down and a smoldering torch clattered onto the floor.

I immediately tamped out the other torch in my hand.

“What do we do for light?” Mala asked.

“Shhhh…”

There was a scraping metal sound echoing from the above, followed by the smack of something against stone. After a minute, a dark figure dropped into view. It was lit from below by the discarded torch and seemed to be repelling down the chamber wall in a rocking gate. I realized suddenly that the figure was lowering itself with a rope that must be secured near the top, possibly tied or latched to part of the automaton. As it descended into the torchlit chamber, I noticed it was about the height of an average-sized man and draped in a flowing cloak with a hood pulled over its head. Slung on its back was what appeared to be a large cloth sack.

In the faint light cast by the figure’s torch, I turned to look at Mala. “Can I have your dagger?”

My voice was a hissing whisper.

Mala peered down at her belt pouch, reached a hand in, and pulled her weapon out, hilt-first. She placed the iroko blade into my outstretched hand and I looked to the figure in the chamber.

Given this mysterious person’s height and build, I figured he must be a man. He knelt and retrieved his torch, holding it aloft over his head. He then began briskly walking in our direction.

I realized the light from his brand would soon reveal our meager hiding place, so I took action. Hefting one of the extinguished torches over my head, I hurled it at the man. It spun through the air and smacked into his hooded head.

The man yelled as the wood made contact and he toppled backwards, his own torch rolling along the flagstones. Quickly, I sprang forward and landed a knee on his chest. I heard the wind go out of him as I leaned in and poked his throat with the dagger.

“Who are you?”

No answer. The man breathed heavily, spastically, probably trying to refill his flattened lungs with air. His right hand reached for something at this hip and I immediately intercepted it, locking my fingers around his wrist.

“What is it you have here?” I squeezed his wrist as tightly as possible till something clanged on the flagstones.

It wasn’t long before I’d grabbed a gold hilt and hefted the man’s sword into the air.

I looked to Mala. “Get the torch.”

Mala complied with my request and held the torch over the man’s hooded face. A shiny black mask covered his eyes and nose. His pouty lips spasmed back from crooked teeth.

I continued my line of questioning. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

“We serve the one who will lead us to a new way,” he said in strained tones.

I raised my knee to take some of the pressure off of his chest. “The Sepulchral Giant?”

Before he could answer there came additional sounds on the upper stones of the chamber. Soon another person could be seen repelling down the rope into the room before us.

I glanced back at Mala. “Can you hold him for me? I’m going to go and meet his friend.”

Mala came up beside me and whispered, “Do you want me to knee his chest too?”

“Try not to hurt him if you can help it. But do keep your dagger to his throat.”

I lowered the sword blade to his neck as I got off of him. Mala soon took my place, and the man let out a gasp as her knee pressed into his ribs.

To my frustration, I realized that our new visitor probably heard his compatriot just then. I charged into the chamber, the sword held at the level of my waist and pointed forward. The new arrival had little time to assess the situation (not knowing if the person coming at him was friend or foe) but instinctively unsheathed his own weapon and raised it in a defensive stance.

I swung my sword and just barely parried my opponent’s blade. I pulled back and prepared another lunge at him, but he just ran away from me and pressed himself against the stones at the far end of the chamber.

“Who do you work for? The Sepulchral Giant?”

I trotted up to him, prepared to strike.

He raised his free hand from his belt and batted the air in front of me.

Something granular like sand hit my eyes and ran down my nose and lips.

That’s when I made the mistake of inhaling. Instantly, my eyes, nostrils, and throat ached with an intense burning. Soon my eyes began watering, but I could tell the man was raising his sword to strike me down. I swung my own steel where I estimated his would be and managed to block his swing.

But then I felt a prickling in my skin and became numb. The sensation was like when one’s foot falls asleep, but my whole body (limbs, torso, and head) was affected. Dizziness overtook me and I stumbled. Knowing he would take advantage of my disoriented state, I threw all my energy into hurling myself onto the flagstones and rolling away from my opponent.

I desperately wiped my eyes with my sleeve, but the burning sensation brought more blinding tears.

Boot soles clopped across the flagstones towards where I lay.

Numb and dizzy, I pressed a sweaty hand to the floor to push myself to a standing position. Instantly, my head reeled as if my skull was filled with a sloshing liquid. Feeling like I was about to topple over, I hurled my sword into the air before me like a throwing knife, hoping it would strike my opponent.

I heard metal clang onto flagstones, and realized hope was lost. Additional footsteps came in from the side. The man screamed and then there was another clang of steel on stone.

In my dizziness I fell to my knees, numbness deadening the pain of slamming into flagstones. Crumpling with exhaustion, I landed on my back, my eyes, nose, and throat still aflame and my whole body spinning through infinite space.

The man continued screaming, his voice increasingly shrill and yet fading away as if he were falling down into a bottomless pit.

“Syndeeka! Syndeeka, are you okay?”

Mala’s voice echoed in the chamber, but it seemed to be calling across a canyon-sized gulf.

I had the vague sensation of hands pressing my shoulders, but through a thick barrier of numbness.

“Syndeeka, wake up! Oh, please don’t die…”

The numbness began to fade and the weight of Mala’s clammy fingers became fuller.

“Mala,” I finally managed to gasp.

“You’re alive! Thank Mother Spider and all the Amu.”

The prickling in my body faded, as did the burning sensation. I blinked my eyes rapidly till tears rolled down the sides of my cheeks and my vision cleared.

Mala stared down at me with wide, sad eyes. The side of her face was aglow with an orange light.

I took in a large draught of air to refill my lungs. That’s when I noticed the smell of singed flesh.

“Mala, what happened?”

Mala sat back, her face becoming more defined by the orange light.

“I killed him,” she said. “The man who was about to kill you.”

“How?”

Mala shifted to the side and glanced over her shoulder.

There was a fire dancing behind her.

“I repeated your move,” she said. “But my torch was lit.”

“Oh…” I said, understanding her words. “What about our hostage?”

Mala sighed. “There was no time to do anything else.”

I managed to pull myself into a sitting position and placed a hand on my temple. “What do you mean?”