The Apocalypse Script (15 page)

Before he could stop himself, Ben
said, “What happened to King Sargon?”

“
He was chained to a stake at the
bottom of some dingy pit until he finally shriveled up and died. I
don’t know where but one pit is pretty much like another when
you’re wallowing around naked in your own feces with rats nipping
at your genitals, eh?”

“
Yes,” said Lilian coolly, her
face a mask of placidity. “But by then he was quite
insane.”

Ben’s expression darkened. He
stared at Moros but said to Lilian, “Your friend is being an ass.
Don’t encourage him.”

“
No,” said Lilian, “Moros is
right. You should know that my father was a king and my mother was
not his wife, yet she was Nisirtu - my genetic profile confirms
this. I was born a decade after his wife and legitimate mate, the
queen, had died. When I was still a child, my father went insane
and attempted to lay waste to the other Houses. He was captured and
imprisoned and is said to have died blabbering about nonsensical
things.”

She stopped and said to Moros pointedly, “That is
the abridged version.”

Moros snorted disapprovingly.
“Your version lacks drama and you have omitted some tasty tidbits.
You should have let me tell the tale.”

“
Time is short,” retorted
Lilian.

The eyes of the other man
sparkled. “Touché. But Benzira-”

“
Ben.”

“
Sorry,
Ben
, do you understand what that means? That ring is not just
the ring of Lilian’s father. It is a ring worn over thousands of
years by hundreds of kings. Much of the world was shaped by the men
who wore it.” Gazing at it lustily, he said, “I never thought to
see it again, especially not on the hand of a…well, you’re not
a
slave
anymore,
are you?”

Ben leaned foreword and said, “You talk too much,
Moros, and that thin veneer of civility does a poor job hiding the
asshole beneath it.”

“
Careful,” said the other man in a
subdued but menacing tone. He met Ben’s angry gaze. “I can have you
written out of the world this very night.”

“
He is Seven,” interjected Lilian.
“You cannot harm him.”

Moros shrugged, his face full of
contempt. “Accidents happen. Not everything that happens is
scripted,
bastardess
.”

Ben shot up from his seat, his
hands clinched into fists.

“
No!” pleaded
Lilian, clutching his sleeve. “No, Ben.
Please
sit down.”

The other man said in a bored
voice, “Calm yourself, Ben. I apologize, sincerely. I assure you, I
do grow on people-”

The Peth froze. Something like
fear flashed across his perfect face.

“
Yeah, like a fungus,” came a
girl’s voice.

“
Bitch
,” said Moros, his face
reddening visibly even in the dim light of the room.

“
Hey, Moros,” said the girl.
“Still angry about your broken toys?”

Pivoting, Ben saw the newcomer
strut around the edge of the booth and walk past him to Moros. She
was dressed in a girls’ prep-school outfit that consisted of a
plaid skirt, blue knee socks, black pumps, a white silk blouse, and
a black sweater with some kind of crest sewn onto the pocket. Her
hair was red and her face was as pure as virgin snow.

Still, Ben knew her. “Fiela?” he
wondered aloud.

“
Hi Ben,” she radiantly. “Fancy
meeting you here!”

“
Bitch,” Moros repeated, spittle
bubbling at one corner of his mouth.

Fiela reached out and playfully
pinched his chin, making the man recoil. “Lord Moros, I hear that
Mr. Fetch has been replaced,” she said sweetly. “It’s good to see
you are moving on with your life.”

She turned to Ben, adding, “The
Nisirtu are old-fashioned.
Very
old fashioned. The Code says an eye shall be
exchanged for an eye. Moros scripted the murder of my fetch, so I
killed his.”

Ben did a double take.
Killed?
That didn’t
sound
metaphorical
. Had what Lilian had told him the truth? Were these people
actually
killing
each other over a policy dispute? He remembered the incident
the previous night and thought,
maybe…

“
You have killed three of my
fetches!” seethed Moros. “Three, for your one.”

“
Mmmm,” the girl
hummed guiltily. “Actually,
four
. I planned on stopping at three
but then you sent the police after me. So now, four.”

“
Miss Fetch…” the man
whispered.

Fiela pulled a pair of spectacles
with little orange lenses from a sweater pocket, put them on, and
pulled the lenses to the tip of her nose. She went comically
cross-eyed and stuck her tongue out to one side of her mouth, the
living caricature of a corpse dangling from a noose.

She recovered and threw the
glasses to the table in front of him. “Yeah, Miss Fetch. But truly,
I saved that woman a lifetime of hell,
milord.
”

“
I just got her!” yelled
Moros.

“
You’ve got
others.
For now.
”

Lilian, beaming, said, “Fiela, I’m
so happy to see you.” She rose and kissed the other woman on both
cheeks. “Sit down.”

“
Thanks!”

Ben moved further into the booth
and returned to his seat, his anger dissipated. Fiela plopped down
unceremoniously at his side and the two stared at each other for
several seconds. At last, nodding at the stitches on his cheek, she
said, “I really am sorry about that.”

“
Forget it.”

She said to Lilian. “I was
listening - you’re wed at last?”

Lilian nodded toward the ring on
Ben’s finger. “With my father’s permission.”

Fiela glowed. “Brilliant! I
thought Ben was the one when I met him last night. Eventually,
anyway.”

Moros sniffled. “How did you get
in here? I have banned you from all Ziggurats. The guard should
have stopped you.”

“
I disarmed him,” replied Fiela,
still fixated on the ring.

“
How?” asked Ben, uncomfortable
with the girl’s newfound reverence.

She whispered, “I reached into his skirt and took
away his gun.”

Ben swallowed hard.
“Ah…”

“
But there are snipers,” protested
Moros.

“
Yep,” the girl said distractedly.
“There were.” She reached toward Ben’s hand, floated a finger above
the signet ring. “So, you are a prince!”

Moros gasped. “A prince?
A prince!
You cannot
give a member of the underclass the ring of a disgraced madman and
call him a prince!”

“
He is no longer of the
underclass. It is a king’s ring and the ring gives Ben the king’s
authority and he is wed to a king’s daughter. How is he not a
prince?”

“
He is wed to a
bastardess and the ring belongs to a corpse in a pit. It
gives
Ben
no more authority than would a plastic ring from a box of
cereal. It seals his marriage and that is all. The Fifth Kingdom
has no prince, only a king, and even he…”

Moros applied the brakes to his
run-away tongue.

“
What of the king?” asked Lilian
with obvious interest.

“
Never mind,” replied Moros.
Looking suddenly weary, he rose. “I have business to attend
to.”

“
But I just got here,” whined
Fiela theatrically.

“
Exactly.” He
straightened his coat. “Benzira -
Ben
- a pleasure meeting you.” Moros
executed a curt bow. “Lilian. My apologies if my words earlier this
evening were indelicate. I’m sure we’ll meet again.
Soon.”

He began to walk way.

“
Fetch you later,” said Fiela,
waving lazily at her retreating enemy.

Moros having departed, the
remaining Peth slumped and cozied up to Ben, putting a hand on his
chest. “Prince Charming,” she said. She slid two fingers between
the buttons of the man’s shirt, stroked the flesh underneath and
said in a low, husky voice, “I need to make amends for last night.
Don’t I, Ben?”

Lilian sighed, “Fiela, you must be
more diplomatic when dealing Lord Moros. He is your
superior.”

“
Ha! Only on
paper. Besides, if it wasn’t for me he’d never meet his quota of
rebel kills.
He needs me.
In more ways than one, unfortunately.” She sat
back. “Is the contract completed?”

“
Tomorrow.”

“
And my name shall be included as
protector?”

“
Rest assured, Fiela. Ben has
already agreed to that.”

Ben was confused. “Contract? I
don’t remember agreeing to a contract. We discussed a
sponsorship.
”

“
The marriage
contract accomplishes that, Ben. It documents that Fiela and I are,
in a way, responsible for you, so long as you are part of our
society. It also dictates the parameters of the marriage. It
governs what is allowed
during
the marriage. Who has
authority over what, who is in charge of what fetches, whether the
marriage will be monogamous-”

“
Monogamous?” interrupted Ben,
baffled.

“
No one does that anymore,”
replied Fiela helpfully.

“
Yes, and if it is not monogamous,
who the other partners are.”

“
Like me,” offered Fiela. “I will
protect you, too, of course.”

“
Thank you Fiela, but I can
protect myself.”

Fiela shook her head. “Against the
Ardoon, I’m sure. Not against the Maqtu, Ben, not yet. Right now,
your enemies are invisible to you.”

Lilian nodded. “She’s right. You do find her
attractive?”

Ben looked back and forth between
the two women, waiting for one of them to burst out laughing. It
didn’t happen. Both were perfectly, honestly, expectant.

“
Well, yes, she’s - I mean, you
are - very attractive. And I’m sure you would make a great
sponsor.”

Fiela’s face went blank. “Sponsor?
What’s-”

“
Yes,” Lilian said hurriedly.
“Your uncle has agreed to it, as has Ben.”

“
No,” Ben said, “I said it was
weird and I wanted Fiela to tell me that she was okay with her
uncle’s decision.”

The girl looked at Ben and said,
“Of course I’m okay with it! We would be together
all the time
.
Wouldn’t that be fun?”

He gaped at her. “If by fun you
mean extraordinarily dangerous, yes. Fiela, give us a moment,” he
said. Turning his back to her, he whispered to Lilian, “This seems
unnecessarily complicated. What does she mean when she says ‘live
together?’”

“
She means,” said Lilian, “that
she would stay at Steepleguard until your studies are
complete.”

“
What are you guys talking about?”
asked Fiela, peering around Ben.

He held up a finger. “Give us a
minute, Nancy Drew.”

“
Who’s that?” the girl asked,
perplexed.

“
Mutu,” said Lilian, “Fiela can be
a little erratic, but-”

“
You guys know what you’re doing
is rude, right?” came the girl’s voice. “Anyway, I can hear
everything you’re saying. I’ve got really, really good
hearing.”

Ben let out a breath and sat back.
Fiela nudged closer to him, ending up almost in his lap.

“
Ben, please?”
she pleaded, the killer turned maiden in distress. “Let me be your
protector. I am offering myself to you. To refuse would be very
rude. Surely you would not treat
me
that way.”

The man barked a laugh. “Treat you
that way? Fiela, we met twenty-four hours ago and our relationship
so far consists of you maiming me with a mop handle. Now I’m
supposed to…what? Live with you?”

“
Did I not apologize and cook you
breakfast? Besides, Lilian and I grew up together. We are like
sisters. I think she would like for us to live together
again.”

“
I would,” agreed Lilian. “We were
inseparable after our parents died.”

Ben raised his eyes to the
ceiling. “You’re going to use the orphan angle? Really?”

“
But
we
are
orphans,” said Fiela, exchanging a look with Lilian. Her face
was abruptly filled with melancholy. “We had only each other for
the longest time.”

“
We cried a lot,” added Lilian in
a suddenly somber voice.

“
I don’t know what I should have
done without Lilian,” added Fiela, looking down at her wringing
hands before rolling her violet eyes up to meet the man’s. “It
would be so very nice to have a bed again. And food.
And-”