Garden of Madness (38 page)
“Daniel tells me you are one of his wisest scholars, Pedaiah.” The king’s voice was strong and sure, despite his appearance, and Tia glowed at the praise. “When this over, I would learn more of our One God from you.”
Pedaiah smiled and dipped his head, clearly embarrassed. “It would be my honor, King, to open the holy word to you. And to your daughter, who also has forsaken the gods of Babylon for the One God.”
Her father’s eyes lighted on her, bright and joyous. “This is true, Tia? You are also a follower of the Judaean God?”
Her mother watched between them, speechless.
“Yes, Father. Pedaiah has taught me much.”
Her father glanced at Pedaiah again, and his eyebrows were raised in an obvious question. Pedaiah only nodded once, in the way of men who do not need to speak to be understood.
The king looked out over the darkened road, with the palace looming. “Then we shall have much to speak of.” He pulled her mother to him, and she was pliant in his arms. “As do you and I.”
They rumbled into the alley behind the palace. It could not have been more than an hour since they left. How was it possible that so much had changed?
One by one, they slipped into the palace and, by prearrangement, filtered upward to the level that would now be unguarded. It had been restricted for so many years that no one would think to search it for the fleeing royal family—the Hanging Gardens.
They assembled on the seventh tier, the entire family and Pedaiah, and to Tia, he felt like one of them already. The hydraulic lift at the summit of the Gardens churned its buckets into the topmost pool with all the regularity it ever had—as though the kingdom was not soon to be turned upside down—and the rhythmic splashes punctuated the still night air. The cheers and chants of the festival crowds seemed to belong to another place and time, so far off and faint.
Her father took command of the little band, a capable king once more. How strange, to be here in the Gardens with him, in appearance still so beastly, and yet to see his former glory pierce the façade.
His voice was low but commanding and took in each of the huddled group, family and servant alike. “Amytis tells me there are still many who are loyal to our family. This night we must separate faithful from treacherous and make an end of those who would bring destruction.”
Nabonidus had been silent for most of the escape and return, but he pulled away from Tia’s sister, his general’s training replacing fugitive’s fear. “We must be ready with force when the traitors are exposed.”
Her father’s countenance was grave, almost sad perhaps, at the thought of bringing military strength against those of his own kingdom. He nodded to Nabonidus. “You have men?”
Her sister’s husband lifted his chin and expanded his chest. “More men than we shall need, all of them ready to die for their king.”
“And you, Amytis?” His hand went to her cheek. “Do you know whom you can trust?”
Mother placed her own fingers over his hand against her face, her eyes warm. “Your advisors have become my own these last seven years. They have stood by you, and me, and helped rule the kingdom.”
“I owe them my thanks, but this night will require even more of them. Go. Find those of whom you have no doubt and gather them in the advisory chamber.”
He turned to Tia. “And of the young and faithful Tiamat, I must ask one more thing.”
She squared her shoulders. “Anything, Father.”
His lips twitched, a sad but affectionate smile that rewarded her for her seven-year vigil in the Gardens.
“Prepare for your wedding.”
Tia was loathe to leave her father, to leave Pedaiah, to break from the knot of familial security at all. And the task he had set her upon sickened her spirit. But they each had a part to play, and hers was vital.
The hastily constructed plan, pieced together under the stars, then broken apart and tasked to each of them, was risky. Perhaps impossible. But one look at her beautiful nephews and the image of them under the blade of Shadir was all the motivation necessary. They would save themselves and save the kingdom. There was great risk, but Tia had learned this: The One God was Most High and sovereign over all the ways of men, including hers. But the One God was also love and held her in His hands. To be held by a God of both love and power meant she could risk everything.
“Come, Tia.” Mother wrapped her fingers around Tia’s. Her voice was uncharacteristically soft. The time with the king had stripped her of the hard shell she had maintained since his exile. How had Tia not seen that it was mostly an act, a part she played to keep Babylon from falling victim to ruthless men?
Tia looked to Pedaiah, reached for him, and he grasped her other hand. She stood that way, torn between duty and love, for a long moment. His eyes on her were understanding, loving. Had she ever believed him arrogant and sullen? Impossible.
Tia pulled from her mother’s grip, sought his arms for a last embrace, heedful of the disapproving eyes of her family. Pedaiah wrapped her in a tight clasp and whispered against her hair.
“You must go, little Tia. But you do not go alone. Yahweh Himself is your protection, your sword, and your refuge.”
Her cries escaped against his chest, and he leaned away to cup her face in his hands. “Go, Princess. Do what you must.”
They left, she and her mother. Left the men they loved, unsure of the destiny that awaited them all.
On the main floor of the palace, in the first leafy courtyard, they parted company, but not before Mother also embraced her—a stiff, awkward embrace, unpracticed but with implicit promise to improve. She ran her hands through Tia’s long hair, a caress Tia would have believed ridiculous only a few days ago.
“Be safe, Tia.” Her voice caught on the words, and a corresponding swell of emotion choked Tia.
“And you, Mother.”
It would take some time for both of them to complete their tasks. They must act in stealth but act with speed, and as they parted Tia’s stomach fluttered with anxiety.
Where would Amel be by now? Still about the city, searching for the fugitives?
The palace was unnaturally silent, a counterpoint to the chaos that swept the streets of Babylon. She found only a few guards stationed at the entrances, and these with eyes trained outward in curiosity more than protection.
In response to her sandal slaps across the courtyard, they turned, immediately vigilant.
Tia kept her voice steady, in spite of the beating heart and shaking hands that could betray. “I have need of you both.”
A few directives, and one of them nodded and left his post while the other still covered the palace entrance.
For her part, she slipped from the palace, down the wide stairs, and got lost in the crowds, hoping no one would notice a princess who was not where she was expected.
She reached the Temple of Ishtar within minutes and crossed the torch-lit outer court and the dusky antechamber. She would wait here for Amel, and hope that the guard she had dispatched would find enough colleagues that his task would not take long.
The temple was quiet. With the statue of the demon goddess gone—pulled in her chariot to the Akitu House for the ceremony earlier—it had seemed a safe place to rendezvous with Amel. But as Tia slid to a seated position against the stone wall of the main chamber, she felt the weight of the so-called gods of Babylon pressing against her all the same.
Yahweh is my protection
. The words seemed less convincing in her mouth.
Pedaiah, I should have brought you with me
.
But that had been impossible. She must do this alone.
Only one torch in a wall socket remained lit in the deserted temple. Not a priest, a slave, nor a prostitute crossed the threshold. She was alone with the demon gods. She focused her gaze on that single flickering torch, willing its light to banish the darkness that seemed to crowd her soul.
The minutes dragged. Her limbs grew heavy and chilled, and a hopelessness stole through her—a whispering, otherworldly dread that all was lost, that this night would be her last, that not even Yahweh could save her now.
These thoughts she tried to ignore, then to push away, to hold at arm’s length. But they slithered through her heart and mind like tenacious little worms, spreading their filth.
At last, at last Tia heard a sound beyond the chamber and braced her hands against the stone floor, senses alert.
“Tiamat?” Amel’s harsh whisper held contempt but also inquisition.
She scrambled to standing, her cold legs shaking. “Here.”
His beautiful face appeared, lit by the torch, and his elongated shadow on the chamber wall hovered over him like an unearthly presence. “Where are the rest of them?”
“Safe. Hidden. Until we have spoken.”
His eyes narrowed. “What is there to speak of?”
“Our marriage.”
Surprise flickered across his features, gone in an instant and replaced by a cool hardness. “You have come to your senses?”
She swallowed the harsh reply she wished to give and instead nodded. “I have changed my mind. I see now that the best thing for Babylon is a prince upon the throne and a princess at his side.”
He folded his arms. “I have heard this once before.”
“I—I grew frightened that you would not keep your word. Ensure the safety of my family.”
Amel had long deceived her and she had been a fool. But tonight, after all that had happened, she was wiser. The slight leftward shift of his eyes, the twitch of lip and hand—these were enough for her to know the truth. He would never keep Shadir from swallowing her entire family in his ambition.
“I seek only your happiness, Tiamat.”
She smiled, ready to play the part of deception herself. “You will make a fine king. And I will be proud to rule with you.”
He held out a hand and grasped her icy fingers. “Then let us join the festival and give the people the ceremony they have long awaited.”
They left the Temple of Ishtar together, Amel following Tia, and threaded through the streets crowded with revelers toward the Akitu House.
She called over her shoulder, “Shadir knows that our family fled and yet awaits us there?”
Amel’s voice lifted above the music and shouting. “He was confident that you would . . . see the light.”
Confident I would be dragged back against my will
.
They approached the Akitu House and encountered guards with drawn swords who held back the people. They recognized her, if not Amel, and lifted their weapons to allow them to pass, then resumed their positions before any should follow.
The Akitu House was large enough for a small crowd of worshippers, though not as large as most of Babylon’s temples. Tia passed under the lintel into its shadowy depths, and familiar oppression settled on her shoulders.
Shadir waited with two others—magi she had seen but did not know—at the back of the main stone chamber.
“Ah, Princess.” His words held a sickeningly warm welcome, and no surprise, which infuriated her. Her muscles tensed, fingers curling. Ready to flee or to attack?
She squared her posture, lifted her chin, and shot venom from her eyes. “You shall have your ceremony, Shadir.”
He bowed, those slack facial muscles undisturbed. “As you wish, Princess.”
“But my mother insists upon an audience with those loyal to your cause. Gather them here.”
His right eye twitched. Did he sense a trap?
“They are in full understanding of what shall transpire—”
“Gather them, Shadir.” Tia steeled her voice. “It is our one condition of cooperation. She will appeal to them on behalf of our family. She does not trust you to honor their safety. They must hear her out.”
Shadir hesitated, his body inert, watchful. When he spoke to his colleague, his voice was flat, resigned. “Send word to the others. Have them assemble here in the Akitu House at once.”
The mage bowed and escaped, giving her wide berth as he passed, which pleased her greatly.
She nodded once and turned to leave. “And I shall bring my mother here.”
Amel stepped in front of her, his face hard. But it was Shadir who spoke. “You should not be burdened with errands on your wedding day, Princess. I will have a slave fetch the queen, if you will but tell me where she waits?”
So. I am to be a prisoner, one way or another
.
She returned her gaze to the older mage. He had pressed his fingertips together before him, and almost that cage of fingers felt as though it closed upon her heart, or perhaps her throat. She swallowed and stretched her neck, attempting to relax the threatened muscles.
“Your kind attention is appreciated, Shadir. Your slave will find her in her chambers, I am certain.”
Shadir jerked his head toward the shadows, a slave appeared, head down and listening to Shadir’s whispered instruction.
She prayed to Yahweh that the instruction was for her mother’s retrieval, and not her execution.
And so they waited.
The magi left her to her thoughts, to stand at the entrance of the Akitu House, half hidden in the doorway, and listen to the celebrations that drifted, crescendoed, and then waned throughout the city. Would they grow impatient, waiting for the ceremony that was long overdue? It was vital that they still roamed the streets when the plan bore fruit.
Wise men filtered into the Akitu House over the next hour. Some she recognized, men she had believed loyal to her father, to her family, but whose eyes on her as they passed betrayed their enmity. Others were part of that great company kept in the palace and largely invisible to a princess who had not cared to be observant.
Finally, when the Akitu House buzzed with the voices of dozens of magi, there came a contingent of palace guards, marching in a formation that signaled her mother’s presence within their ranks.
She straightened, inhaled courage. The time had come.
The guards left the queen beside Tia at the door. Mother’s large eyes flicked toward hers only briefly, and only the barest of tremors betrayed her fear. She clasped her fingers for a whisper of a moment, then pushed through the crowd of enemies to reach the back of the Akitu House. Tia followed.
