People of Babel (Ark Chronicles 3) (14 page)

10.

Two days later, Minos and Gilgamesh crept through a small forest of birch trees several leagues from the village. They held bows with strung arrows, crunching through snow and looking for rabbits to put into their host’s stewpot.

“
It’s taking too long,” Minos said. “People are becoming suspicious, wondering why we’re overstaying our welcome.”

“
Don’t you think I know that?” Gilgamesh said. “I’ve been unable to attempt it before now. Until the girl came out, the house was guarded like a treasure trove.”

“
She’s been out for two days,” Minos said.

Gilgamesh nodded, and he caught Minos
glancing at him sidelong.

“
You’re getting cold feet again, aren’t you?”

“
I’m thinking about my honor, if you must know. Do I stain it for mere gain?”

“
So that’s it,” Minos said. “You made such a fine speech our first day that now you don’t want to sully it. Well, that’s the wrong question to give yourself, if you ask me.”

“
Why would I do that? You wilted because Beor glowered. You became like snow before a summer sun.”

“
That will change,” Minos said, “believe me, it will.”

Gilgamesh lowered his bow
. “You say that as if you’re planning…” He squinted at the brother of Semiramis, the brother of the woman who hated Beor above all men. “What are you planning?”

“
Nothing.”

Gilgamesh shook his head
. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own worries that I’ve missed the signs. You’re up to something—you, Thebes and Olympus.”

“
Nonsense.”

“
What is it, Minos? Why did you really come to Magog Village?”

“
To help you,” Minos said. “But if you’ve changed your mind again and lost heart…”

Gilgamesh shot him a warning scowl.

“Are you going to attempt it or not?” Minos asked.

Gilgamesh hesitated, and that old and
, by now, familiar lurch in his gut told him that he dearly didn’t want to. But if he didn’t— “Tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll do it tomorrow. You and the others go hunting far a-field where the path leaves the valley, as we agreed before. I’ll meet you in the evening, and from there we’ll return to Nimrod.”

“
With the necklace?” Minos asked.

Gilgamesh swallowed, and he nodded once, sharply, wondering why he felt so wretched and dirty.

11.

That evening in their host
’s guestroom, Minos whispered to Thebes, “We lure Beor out tomorrow.” They sat on a bench, sharpening daggers, with the hypnotic whir of bronze on sandstone. A flame danced in a stone oil-dish.

“
You’re certain cousin Scyth knows his part?” whispered Thebes.

Minos grinned
. “They’re sick of Beor and his Scouts just like we were in Javan Village. He knows what to do.”

“
Yes, but will he do it?”

Minos set aside his sandstone and dagger, and from a leather pouch dangling from his throat
, he withdrew a glittering ruby, one found in the Zagros Region and traded two years ago for sheep. Semiramis had given it to him for the sole purpose of winning Beor’s death. “When I showed our cousin this, I swear the ruby-light blinded him to ought else.”

The door opened, and Thebes covered the ruby with his hand
. “Put that away,” he said out of the side of his mouth.

“
What are you two whispering about?” Gilgamesh asked, slipping off his cloak and shaking off snow.

“
Nothing,” Minos said, as he slipped the ruby back into its pouch. “Just that it’s cold tonight. Don’t you agree?”

“
I do,” Gilgamesh said, as he hung his cloak on a peg.

From the main room rang a bell.

“Suppertime,” Gilgamesh said. “Good. I’m famished for some rabbit stew.”

12.

The next morning, with his hands thrust in his pockets, Gilgamesh strolled through village lanes, nodding to people and pausing to pet leashed hounds. The first few days, these same hounds had barked and growled. But day by day, he’d slipped them pieces of meat and held out his hand for them to sniff. Some of the owners and he had talked many hours about good dogs and worthless dogs. Folk now joked that he got along better with hounds than he did with people.

Even though he smiled and remained outwardly calm, his stomach seethed
. He’d hardly slept last night, and his eyes had become bloodshot.

Minos and the others had left
. Enlil waited several leagues in the woods.

Gilgamesh knew his plan, had thought long and hard on it
. Slipping in at night, with everyone in the house alert to strange sounds, seemed like the height of folly. Craft and guile dictated a direct approach. His stomach lurched and knotted and thoughts of his honor made his hands shake.

“
Opis,” he whispered. “Think of Opis.”

He glanced around
. An older matron stepped out of her house and shook a blanket. A man staggered down the lane with a barrel of beer perched on his shoulder. A dog gnawed on a bone.

Gilgamesh swallowed
. Beor and his Scouts hunted today. Hilda stayed with the maidens, who were entertained by Gog and his friends at the wrestling pit. Gilgamesh sauntered near Beor’s house. It was a big, rectangular-shaped building, built on a foundation of stone and continued with dark-colored fir. It was like a fortress, heavy, solid and long, containing rooms for all the Scouts and their wives. It reminded him of Nimrod’s Barracks.

Gilgamesh knelt to check his sandal, slyly glancing right and left
. He saw no one. That didn’t mean no one saw him. He drew a deep breath, rose and pivoted. In three steps, he opened the front door to Beor’s dwelling, stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

His heart pounded so he heard the throbs in his ears.

A long table filled the main room, a table decorated with slender, wooden vases, with colored rugs on the walls and many strewn on the wooden floor. He glanced about, studying the closed doors on the left side of the room and at the end. They had stone socket-hinges and each seemed to be latched. He yearned to call out, to see if anyone was in the other rooms. He had excuses ready if someone came in, but most of them sounded lame even to him. So he crossed the room in several swift steps, wincing as floorboards creaked.

He depressed the latch to Hilda
’s bedroom, holding his breath, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. Dizziness threatened. He clenched his teeth and forced himself to study the room. A bed, a rug in the middle, an ivory figurine of an elephant that had to be a gift from Ham—guilt pounded now—a wooden chest, with a pair of sandals beside it. He lurched to the chest, knelt, opened it and moved aside articles of clothing and a dagger. He drew out a small box. He swallowed and lifted the box’s lid. His eyes widened, and he blinked repeatedly.

On black cloth lay the three beads of priceless amber, with a tiny fly embedded in the middle bead
. His hands trembled as he picked it up and shoved the necklace into a soft deerskin pouch that he stuffed inside his tunic. He closed the box’s lid, put it back in the chest and moved to the door, putting his ear to it.

His heart raced, for he heard the main door bang open
. A woman said something, something about it being in her…
in her bedroom
! He shrank against the wall where the door would hit if it were opened all the way. Footsteps pattered across the main room. Closer, closer, if he was found out… He wrapped his fingers around the bone hilt of his dagger. Could he stab a woman?

A
different door opened and moments later banged shut. “I have it,” the woman said, obviously not Hilda.

Air slipped out of him
. He sagged in relief. Footsteps sounded and then the main door opened and closed again.

Gilgamesh waited
. He found himself drenched in sweat. Swallowing, forcing himself to move, he opened the bedroom door and walked across the main room. He hesitated at the outer door, then flung it open, stepped outside into the cool air and shut the door behind him. His shoulders tightened as he waited that half-second for someone to shout, to accuse him of thievery. Although he yearned to sprint, to run for the village gate, he strolled in as normal a gait as possible. His heart raced, sweat still oozed from him, and the amber necklace tucked in his tunic seemed to burn against his side. Unbelieving that he didn’t stagger and lurch and laugh aloud like a madman, he nodded to the man on guard and then sauntered through the gate.

I did it
.
I have the amber necklace
.

He hurried through the fields, finally breaking into a jog for the woods in the distance
. As he ran, he felt relief, vast, flooding and giddiness. That lasted about two leagues, for the amber necklace seemed to burn hotter and hotter against his side. His mouth turned dry as he realized that he was a thief. No, more than that, he had perjured himself. He had spoken fair words and then done violence to his words. He shook his head, telling himself that was nonsense. But by the time he reached the woods, the guilt of his theft overwhelmed him. He hung onto a small tree, with sweat stinging his eyes.

“
I am thief,” he said. He hated the sound of it. He thought of the person who had stolen his fish-eyes. Loathing filled him. Oh, he wanted Opis, but he didn’t want to throw away his honor.

He wiped sweat out of his eyes, and he found himself
walking back to Magog Village. He broke into a jog and then into a sprint. Air wheezed into his lungs. His side exploded with pain. He slowed to a walk and let the sweat dry on his face before he reentered the village. He waved, but the person on guard didn’t wave back, but seemed to watch him.

“
Don’t panic,” he told himself. Remain calm. He approached Beor’s house. It was a little before noon. Hardly any time had passed since he’d stolen the necklace. Yet the house seemed sinisterly quiet. He wouldn’t go into the girl’s room. No. He couldn’t risk that. He’d just lay the necklace on the main table. Let them figure that out. He smiled, took a deep breath, hurried across the lane and opened the door.

Beor, standing by the head of the table, whirled around.

Gilgamesh stared stupidly at him.

“
Come to rape my daughter?” Beor asked.

Gilgamesh shook his head.

“Ah, I see,” Beor said. “You saw me and came running to speak with me, so excited that you barged into my house unannounced and without knocking first.”

Gilgamesh swallowed.

“Well, come in then,” Beor said.

Gilgamesh licked his lips, hesitating.

A scream came from Hilda’s bedroom. A moment later, the door swung open. White-faced, Hilda blurted, “Daddy, my necklace is gone. It’s stolen.”

Gilgamesh went pale as Beor studied him
. A grim smile stretched across Beor’s face. Gilgamesh tried to back out the door, but a man shoved him hard in the middle of his shoulders, sending him staggering near Beor.

“
I’ve caught you red-handed,” the massive son of Canaan growled.

Gilgamesh whipped out his dagger
—something hard and heavy struck the back of his head. He crumpled to the floor and his dagger went clattering. He crawled for it, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw motion, a boot. The boot struck him in the head, and Gilgamesh sank with a groan, everything turning black.

13.

“Do you see anyone?” Thebes asked, a burly youth with a thick red mustache hiding his lips. He had a fleshly face and crocodile-like green eyes, unblinking and cruel. Like the others on the steep slope, in this small hollow, he crouched behind a half-buried, mossy boulder. His deerskin garments blended with the pine trees and the needles lying everywhere. Below him, thirty yards down, ran a path, a dirt track, which Beor, they had learned, often used to negotiate to the next valley.

Minos glanced halfway up a tree at Obed, who balanced on a swaying branch
. The Hunter had one hand on the trunk as he peered into the distance. Obed shook his grotesque head.

“
Beor’s not coming,” Thebes said. “Your plan failed.”

Minos shifted uncomfortably
. It was cold in the shadows of these tall firs, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. Beor should have shown by now. Minos chewed the inside of his cheek. Gilgamesh and Enlil should have joined them.

Beside him, Olympus blew into his cupped hands and stamped his feet, while Zimri, a lean man, sat cross-legged against a boulder
, as he rubbed fat into a spare bowstring.

“
You ruined our one chance,” Thebes said. “You failed.”

“
Me?” Minos asked. “At least I had a plan.”

Thebes blew through his mustache
. “What are you saying? I had a plan. My plan was to fall on Beor in the village at night. Stick him in the back and let him bleed to death.”

“
That’s a stupid plan,” Minos said. “The reason no one agreed to it. One shout from Beor and everyone comes running.”

“
Let them run,” Thebes said. “I told you that. I’d be gone by then, with a dagger planted in Beor’s kidney.”

“
And if you didn’t stab his kidneys? If you missed and just cut blubber?”

Thebes sneered
. “That’s the point, isn’t it? You make sure your first blow counts.”

“
Which is a poor bet against Beor,” Minos said. “It’s like saying: Oh, just stroll next to a cave bear and stab him in the back. A plan like that only enrages, it doesn’t kill.”

“
Why don’t you admit it?” Thebes said. “You lack the guts to place everything on one roll of fate. One thrust of the blade. Maybe that’s because your knees knock whenever Beor glances at you. You see him as your father, come to beat you for being bad. So you wet yourself.”

“
That’s fine poetry from you,” Minos said. “You, who ran as hard as I did that day by the boulder. In fact, you ran even harder than I did, the reason it was I who took the javelin in my thigh and not you.”

Thebes
’s unblinking eyes hardened as he slid his dagger out, rising from his crouch.

Minos scrambled to his feet, leveling his spear
. “Don’t come any closer.”

Lean-limbed Zimri cleared his throat once and then twice
. The cousins glanced at him. “Maybe you two never heard of Nimrod’s first rule of Hunters.”

“
What is it?” Minos said.

“
Patience,” Zimri said.

Thebes scowled
. “Are you saying Beor’s coming?”

“
No,” Zimri said.

Thebes laughed at Minos, before asking Zimri,
“You don’t think Beor’s coming either, do you?”

“
I don’t know,” Zimri said. “That’s what we’re waiting for.”

“
So you think he is coming?” Minos asked.

Zimri stared at Minos
. “I said I don’t know. That’s what we’re waiting for.”

At that moment
, a rock rattled from farther up the mountainside. It struck boulders, bounced off trees and sailed past them to strike the path below.

Zimri strung his bow, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the tall pines upslope
. Minos and Thebes whirled around, frozen in a crouch, also staring upslope.

“
What caused that?” whispered Minos.

Thebes glanced at Zimri, who continued to watch
and then told Minos, “Probably a squirrel or a fox. It’s nothing to get jittery about.”

Obed whistled, and when he had their attention
, he motioned down the trail, before beginning to climb down the tree.

“
Beor comes,” Minos said, with a nervous grin.

“
Perfect,” said Olympus, picking up a bundle of flint-tipped javelins, positioning behind a boulder.

Minos strung a bow
. “I told you he’d come,” he told Thebes, who crouched beside him. Thebes pointed with his chin at Zimri. The lean Hunter still watched upslope. “What do you see?” Minos whispered.

Zimri said nothing
. He crouched motionlessly, like a preying mantis waiting for a fly to move.

“
All the Hunters are a bit strange,” Thebes whispered to Minos. “They’ve made a cult out of this woodcraft.”

“
Maybe,” whispered Minos. “Or maybe he knows something.”

“
Don’t let him make you nervous,” Thebes said. “He’s just trying to show off, show us how patient he is.”

Obed slid beside them into the hollow, the small hideaway on the mountainside
. He held a spear.

“
Did you see Beor?” Minos whispered, letting his gaze slide off Obed’s ugly features.

“
Bouncing in his chariot,” Obed said, his left eye open far too wide because of a scar and his lip pulled up in a permanent sneer that showed his teeth.

“
Alone?” Minos asked.

“
With a driver, a Scout,” Obed said.

“
Someone’s up there,” Zimri hissed over his shoulder.

The four of them crouching behind the boulder over the trail glanced at Zimri, who crouched at the upper edge of the hollow, facing upslope
. All they saw was trees. Tall firs pointed straight at the sky, even though they grew at a sharp angle on this steep, pine needle littered slope. Packed tight trees as far as the eye could rove. The top of the mountain wasn’t visible from here.

“
People?” whispered Thebes. “Do you see people?”

“
I sense them,” Zimri said. “They’re waiting.”

“
You mean you don’t see anyone,” Thebes said. “Is that what you’re saying?”

Zimri didn
’t answer. He kept focused upslope, watching, ready to shoot.

“
Do you think Scyth gave us away?” Thebes asked Minos.

“
Impossible,” Minos said. “He salivated every time I showed him the ruby. He’s crazy for it.”

“
Here he comes,” Obed said, his hands tightening around his spear.

Thebes glanced over his shoulder at Zimri
. “I don’t like this. Something is wrong. Zimri is right.”

Minos laughed
. “Now it’s you who are getting nervous. Maybe you’re afraid Beor might hump up the slope with his peg leg and kill you.”

Thebes glared at his cousin.

“Get ready,” whispered Obed.

Minos peered past closely grown pines and down slope
. He glimpsed a chariot. Through the many trees, he saw it; it disappeared, it showed up again past other trees. Beor and the Scout stood in the car. They moved at a slow pace. Then the Scout drew rein.

“
What’s he doing?” Minos whispered, craning up to see better. “Why is he stopping?”

“
Get down,” hissed Thebes, pulling him back behind the boulder.

“
Ambush!” shouted Zimri. “It’s an ambush!” He rose and his bow twanged.

Minos whirled around as his bowels threatened to unloose
. An arrow thudded into Zimri’s shoulder, spinning him, knocking him back, to trip, tumble and strike his head against a rock. Hidden men upslope yelled. They shouted abuse and sent whistling arrows.

“
Ambush!” screamed Olympus. He jumped up and sprinted out of the hollow, staggering along the slope and parallel with the trail. Arrows whizzed past him. One sank into his leg. Olympus screamed, tumbling head over heels.

“
This way,” Obed hissed, running bent-over and zigzagging the other way.

With terror clutching his belly, Minos ran after him
. Arrows hissed and thudded into trees as his feet slipped and slued. He fell, and he scrambled on his hands and knees. Then he leaped up. In a burst of speed, Minos ran past a slipping Obed. He panted as tears poured down his cheeks. Time disappeared. There was just motion. There were trees, needles, slipping, falling and crashing full into a pine. He lay stunned. Mouths moved in front of him, but he heard nothing. Stinging slaps snapped his head, first one way and then another. Obed hauled him upright, and Minos now heard roaring.

“
That way,” Obed seemed to say from far away.

Minos
’s thighs burned and his lungs ached. After a time, he realized Thebes ran beside him, but not Olympus and not Zimri.

Later, he didn
’t know how much later, they stopped. Sweat poured off him and he wheezed like a dying ancient.

“
We lost them,” Obed said, who squatted against a tree.

Thebes grunted
. He lay sprawled on the pine needles.

“
We’ve got to keep moving,” Obed said. “They might track us.”

Minos
’s thoughts reeled. He’d never be able to move again.

“
Where are your weapons?” Obed asked.

Minos
’s teeth rattled as someone shook him.

“
I said, ‘Where are your weapons?’”

“
He must have dropped them,” Thebes said.

Minos realized they were talking about him, talking to him
. He flexed his hands. Empty. They were devoid of dagger, spear or bow. Then he groaned as they pulled him upright, and they continued to trek out of Magog’s wretched valley.