Word Fulfilled, The (20 page)

The
baru
raised an eyebrow. “Kabti?”

The apprentice flinched but didn’t look up.

Kasiru shook his head. “Now, move around here and tuck your hands under both sides of the intestines. Good. Now move them here, like this. We must not break the organ open and spill its bile, or it will spoil the reading. Well, go ahead . . . slowly—no! . . . That’s right. Now lift. . . . I said lift. Kabti, are you all right? You don’t look—by the gods, turn your head!”

Fortunately, Kabti missed the carcass.

Kasiru sighed. “Go home, boy. I will finish up here.”

Without a word, the ashen-faced youth staggered to his feet and stumbled off. He held his blood-soaked hands at arm’s length in front of him.

The haruspex looked around for any of his associate
baru
seers, but they had gone to clean instruments and dispose of remains from earlier rites. He repositioned himself at the ram’s side and glanced over his shoulder toward the altar. “Sasi, some help, please?”

The temple priest laid his swabbing cloth on the half-cleaned altar and joined Kasiru. He steadied the carcass as the
baru
reached into the hollow. Kasiru shook his head while he worked. “I don’t know where we get our apprentices, Sasi. Kabti was a disaster from the moment he set foot in the temple.”

Sasi chuckled. “Kabti’s father is intent on his son becoming either a priest or a seer. And since only the king can appoint priests, that leaves seer. He’d already bumbled through four failed apprenticeships before they sent him to you. Zakir has forbidden him to come near the observatory just on reputation.”

Kasiru grinned and shook his head. “Zakir is a wise man. I can just see the boy fumble with a stellar measure. It would be in pieces on the floor before he ever got it up to his eye.”

Sasi glanced up at Kasiru. “The boy emptied his stomach on purified soil. Will that affect the reading?”

The
baru
shook his head. “Prayers have already been said and the animal opened. His discharge did not touch the beast. All should still be in order.”

The priest nodded.

Kasiru lifted the entrails and untangled them, careful to note their original configuration and not to disrupt any twists or marks. He traced its surface with his fingertips, lingered over bulges and probed hollows. Finally, he piled the tubular organ on the ground beside the ram’s corpse.

“Nothing here. Everything appears as it should.”

Sasi took the cue and peeled back the upper two flaps of hide. Kasiru squinted into the cavity as the stomach came into the light. He performed the same fingertip examination over the surface of the organ, but he didn’t shift it from its position.

“Nothing of note,” he concluded. “Except . . .”

“I was just going to ask,” Sasi interjected. “The color?”

“Yes, exactly.” He looked up at the priest. “What do you see?”

“Well, extispicy is not my art, but the stomach seems off-color. It looks to me to have a gray tinge.” His eyes questioned the senior
baru
.

Kasiru nodded. “You are correct. The surface is discolored. Notice, it becomes more so toward the top. We may need to open it.” He slipped his hands around the top of the organ and began to shift it to the lower part of the abdomen.

“I did notice that.” Sasi leaned closer as the entire stomach slid into view.

Kasiru smiled. “Have you considered a change in careers, Sasi? I appear to have an opening for an apprentice—by the gods!”

Sasi jerked his head. “What? What is it?”

For a moment, Kasiru said nothing. He stared at the shaded hollow above the stomach, then slowly removed his hands from around the stomach. When words came, his voice was low. “Pull the hide back farther.”

Sasi complied, and then he, too, went still as the liver came into view. Normally a dark reddish-brown, the principal organ of the ram appeared piebald gray and black, and mottled with white lesions.

Kasiru found his voice first. “It’s diseased. I’ve never seen one this bad. This wasn’t a sacrifice; it was a mercy killing.”

The odor of rotten tissue wafted from the cavity, and Sasi turned his head away. Kasiru pushed the stomach back into position. “Burn this. Everything. Now.”

Sasi nodded. He stood and shouted to two priests who stood by the temple door. “Bring wood. And fire. Quickly!”

Kasiru rose to his feet and inspected his hands. He whitened at the sight of decaying liver tissue that lodged beneath his long fingernails when they scraped the surface of the diseased organ. Sasi nudged Kasiru’s shoulder and nodded toward a stone basin near the altar. Both men crossed to the cistern and scrubbed their hands. The clear water turned to a putrid pale red swirled with shreds of gray flesh.

Sasi looked up at the
baru
. “What does it mean? Do you know?”

Kasiru shook his head. “I suspect, but I’ll need to confer with others before I am certain. The diseased ram and the earthquake together worry me. Have we heard anything from Zakir?”

Sasi shook his head.

“I wonder if there have been any signs in the heavens. If so, the king needs to know.”

“Kasiru!” The call came from a temple steward at the doorway. “The king’s vizier summons the court seers at the palace.”

Sasi frowned. “Something’s wrong.”

Lll

Ahu-duri scanned the group of advisors though bleary eyes.

Zakir and—what was his name? oh, yes—Urdu were at the front, still laden with the writing boards he carried earlier that day. Kasiru stood close behind them. The
baru
leaned forward and whispered something into Zakir’s ear. Ahu-duri thought he saw the senior astrologer’s brow crease at one point, but Kasiru stepped back a moment later without a response. Two
muhhu
stood off to the side, the shorter one—presumably the junior diviner—carried a cedar box. Ahu-duri recognized the container as one in which the seers kept the instruments of their trade: various lots of wood, bone and ivory they would cast before the gods for divine direction. They might also scatter dried herbs and tea leaves to discern patterns, as well as employ sundry other articles to attract the attention of a particular god or group of gods. The art fascinated Ahu-duri, and he wondered if he might not have undertaken divination, had he not become Adad-nirari’s Senior Scholar.

Ahu-duri stifled a yawn, then addressed the small assembly. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. As I’m sure you’ve gathered, the king is concerned over the recent earthquake. He has asked me to convene you to advise him on its significance—if, indeed, there is any significance. I must caution you of one thing, though. The king suffers from one of his severe headaches. It is abating, but his temper remains short. When he questions you, be succinct.” His eyes flicked involuntarily toward Zakir, whose own eyes twinkled in return. He subdued a smile and continued, “The king will address you in turn. Zakir, you will be first, followed by you, Kasiru. Again, please be brief.”

The vizier turned to the door and rapped twice, more gently than usual out of respect to the king’s condition. A muffled “Enter!” slipped out beneath the heavy wooden panel. Ahu-duri pulled it open and the group followed him into the king’s antechamber. They remained clustered in the entryway while the royal advisor approached the king.

“Your chief advisors have assembled, my lord.”

Adad-nirari sat with a cloth draped across his forehead. The windows were curtained; the room’s only light flickered from four oil lamps and what little daylight slipped past the heavy fabrics. A steward removed the cloth and dipped it into a bowl of water on a small table beside his chair. He replaced it on the king’s forehead and stepped back.

“My lord?”

“Yes, yes. Just a minute.” Adad-nirari gritted his teeth. “Curse this head of mine!”

Ahu-duri glanced at the group by the door. “My lord, perhaps it would better tomorrow—”

“Nonsense. Continue.” Adad-nirari pressed the wet cloth against his skin and let the cool water stream down his temples onto his neck. He nodded, and the steward stepped forward. He removed the cloth and laid it over the bowl. The king tilted his head forward and squinted at the assembly across the room.

“I assume Ahu-duri has informed you of my reason for convening you today. Therefore, I will dispense with formalities. Zakir, what have you for me?”

The astrologer signaled his apprentice to stay put and stepped forward. “My lord, it pains me to see you in such . . . pain.”

Ahu-duri rolled his eyes and shot his friend a warning look.

Zakir missed the cue. “I pray for your quick recovery from—”

“Yes, yes. Thank you, Zakir. What say the heavens, man?” The king grimaced at his own raised voice.

“Of course. My apologies, my lord. Three days before the earthquake, we observed an anomaly in the face of Sin. A darkening, my lord, that is unusual for his phase.”

“And this means . . . ?” Adad-nirari tapped his fingers on the table.

“By itself, probably nothing, my lord. However, the occurrence of the earthquake so soon after Sin’s dimming—and the close association of Sin and Nin Ur—give me pause to consider. Before I go any further, though, my lord, it may be good to hear Kasiru.”

“Very well.” The king lifted his hand in a weak gesture, then let it flop back onto the arm of the chair. “Kasiru.”

The
baru
stepped to Zakir’s side. “Good health to the king, my lord. May your days be forever. My—”

Adad-nirari silenced him with a wave of his hand. “Kasiru, I know this is your first visit to my chambers. Save the honorifics for the formal court. I need to trust your counsel. To begin with a shallow wish we both know will not come to pass does not further my confidence in you. Tell me only the truth, not what you think I want to hear.” He grimaced at another stab of pain. “And be brief.”

Kasiru reddened, then nodded. “My apologies, my lord. There appeared a most disturbing sign after today’s sacrifice to Marduk. The sacrificial ram was diseased—badly diseased. He was likely near death even before the knife ended his suffering.”

The king leaned forward, his eyes wider at this news. “And your interpretation?”

Kasiru glanced at Ahu-duri, and then continued. “As Zakir has explained, by itself, it has minimal significance. However, paired with Zakir’s observation and the earthquake, I fear there may be discord among the gods. Why, I do not know. But something is surely afoot.”

Adad-nirari leaned back, but his eyes remained locked on Kasiru. “Sin, Nin Ur, and now Marduk. When is the next ram sacrifice?”

“Two days from now, my lord.”

“You will perform the rite again and report back to me immediately.”

“Yes, my lord.” Kasiru glanced at Ahu-duri, then stepped back.

“Nurzani.”

The senior
muhhu
stepped forward. “My lord?”

“I know your art requires more time. How long before you might have communication from the gods?”

“It’s difficult to say, my lord. The gods answer at their own pleasure and—”

“Two days. You have two days. Come back with your report then.” Adad-nirari closed his eyes.

“But my lord—”

“Zakir and Kasiru, you return also. I desire your full counsel before I decide upon a course.”

Nurzani threw a worried look back at his colleague, who hugged the wall by the door. He turned a pleading face toward Ahu-duri. The vizier avoided eye contact.