and even when the darkness finally falls. Then we hide.”
“I only wish we were at the end of the prophecy instead of the beginning.”
“So do I but none of us can choose where to appear in the stream of time.” The great rams' horns of the central temple of the Aishanna-La sounded for the Prayers of Night.
“I want go to the temple to pray tonight masters!” Said the young man excitedly. The others laughed. Sabo winked at him knowingly.
“Go then, Ketu. Perhaps you will find a wife there too. Hurry, before the Ainash come back and put a stop to it!” Sabo jested.
Women had always come to the temple to pray and worship. A few older ones became Temple Mothers and in rare cases, some women took up the calling as desert prophetesses. It was the same as it always had been, since anyone could remember. Yet, divergent groups within the ranks, the sect of the Ainash being one of the most powerful, had risen over the years protesting this right and they were becoming more strident and violent in their opposition to women taking any part in religious life. And these were just the groups that kept the ways of the Aishanna-La. These ideas had taken root in a few other groups well before they had infected the faithful. Other groups, political and religious, also opposed the Aishanna-La for other reasons. Opposition everywhere was growing. They all opposed the Red King but dared not speak against the king openly. Yet.
The young man raced off towards the central temple. Two other gatekeepers took their places as Burdun and Sabo went inside the little booth that sat beside the massive doors. Sabo rolled up his sleeves, untied his leather bands and washed his hands and arms at a stone bowl by the booth door. He dried them, bent his knees and prayed. Burdun looked out across the city night scape. It was dark now except for the cream white lanterns that dotted the streets and front porches of houses. They looked like tiny, balloon star stations from where he stood. There was a vast spray of stars in the violet black sky, slowly being engulfed by rain clouds. “Like the darkness that is covering the twilight. . .” He recalled a passage from the Aishanna. He would begin his own prayers after Sabo finished. Everything was changing and not for the better. But was that not the way of the world? The Lord of the Deep saw it from beginning to end and knew His purpose even as Man lived and died like the grasses of the steppes. The night spoke to him. All was silent in the night except the natural world and the thoughts of a contemplative mind. He loved the Prayers of Night ritual for this very reason. Tomorrow would be another day but the times in which they lived would never see the Dawn. Only people far into the future would. Burdun was weary. He would pray. It was its own power and solace. He would pray for the land, for the city, for the people and for the king.
. . .
He could hear riders coming. He motioned sharply to the servant.
“Their horses will need water.” He snapped. The servant left quickly. The man poured himself wine from a delicate, glass ewer, then he poured some in the other two goblets. He glanced approvingly at his engraved, golden arm bands, then flicked his sleeve over his left arm. Footfalls approached the door and there was a knock.
“Come!” Two of his hired men came in. Dust and sand fell from their cloaks and boots.
“Well?” He demanded. He drank deeply from the goblet and stared at them expectantly.
“My Lord Tybbl, two of the caravans with your spies have already disappeared into the high desert. It will be yet a long time before we hear from them. The spy with the third caravan was accidentally killed by tribesman in the middle of a feud. That thread is now lost.”
“Killed, you say?” He sucked his teeth. “What a waste. But there are two left. What were the caravans doing in the city? I'm sure it was more than simple trade. Have you two heard anything yet?”
“Last I heard, they had business at the palace some time ago. With one of those desert holy men, Lord Tybbl.” Said one of the men.
“Holy men!” Lord Tybbl's words were loaded with scorn.
“We do not know for a certainty. . .we think. . . ” Started the first man again.
“You think, Luwain?”
“My lord, the wild tribes are extremely dangerous and suspicious of city people. This is careful, slow work. Two of the spies are traveling with two tribes as we speak. How they will manage to get information is anyone's guess but it is their business. We can only trust them and wait for news at this point. It will be a long time in coming.” Said Luwain.
“Someone from the royal family is behind this. Perhaps even the king himself.” Said the second man.
“Yes.”
“I wonder. What tribes were these caravans from, exactly?” Asked Lord Tybbl.
“I noticed one of the caravans in particular. Most of these people had the garb and tattoos of the polar tribes of the north.”
“That far? Great stars! Why would northern peoples come this far south? The peoples beyond the great mountains of the west are unknown. Are they even truly people?” The other men shrugged. Lord Tybbl sighed in frustration.
“Something got out! Some kind of information, a person, a secret, something! And it's traveling with those tribes out into the deep desert!”
“You still mean to muster an army, my lord?” Asked the second man.
“Sending armies after wild tribes is a dangerous affair. An unpredictable, savage people. Bred for warfare and unafraid of anything. It will also not go unnoticed by the king.” Said Luwain.
“I have changed my mind, Lisson. We must needs wait for more information from our plants. Let us hope they survive the trek. As for the kingdom of Assenna, I and others have plans for removing the kingship.”
“How?” Asked the men eagerly. One of them went to take up a goblet.
“Never-ending unrest.” He blocked the goblets and motioned towards a large stone bowl by the door. The first man removed his copper arm bands and washed his hands and arms. The second stood aloof from this ritual.
“Ah. I had forgotten, you are not of the Ainash, Lisson. Forgive me. Come. Sit down and have a drink and we will talk of many things.” He then offered the wine. Breaking the night's stillness in their hideout outside the city was the fall of the rain.
“Rain. Finally. Great gods above.” Said Luwain, who set about polishing his bands after washing and sitting down.
“Phah! One more thing the people will credit to that abomination sitting on the throne.”
“The king, you mean? My lord, come now!” Said Luwain, grinning widely.
“ I do mean him. I have also sent men to do away with that favorite sage of his.”
“Some say he has special powers.” Said Lisson taking a drink.
“Surely you do not believe such nonsense?” Said Lord Tybbl. “You are not even one of us.”
“No I am not. But I have seen things. Great feats long ago, from when there were far more of those sages around.”
“You sound like an ignorant, old woman. Magicians' tricks, I tell you. This is an age of machines and explorations and learning. Nay, the tricks these withered desert fathers and haggard old crones throw up is something they took from a once impossible, wonderful machine. They can make anything look a trick with a machine or contraption that is advanced enough. That is what they are after all. Tricksters.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps their powers are real.” Lisson countered. Luwain scoffed.
“You cannot be serious?” They both stared at him, incredulous. Lisson merely shrugged. Lord Tybbl heaved an irritated sigh.
“Real or not, we lords and principals of the kingdom have our positions and livelihoods to look after. Our culture is at stake. Think those so-called holy men care for any of that? They munch on locusts and dirt and their own excrement and scream the end is nigh! They love the sound of their own voices. Listening to them is like listening for wisdom in the wind. Wisdom cannot be found there. Our culture and our civilization is where it can be found.” Lord Tybbl sniffed. Lisson glanced at the stone bowl then looked back at him.
“So, you are not religious,
then?” Lisson asked. They both looked at him.
“I am, when necessary. Not overly so. It is one of many levers that keeps the people in line.”
“Oh. I was confused for a moment.”
“You are right,my lord!” Said Luwain. Lord Tybbl grinned and narrowed his eyes.
“Forget the holy men! Forget rituals! I will tell you a thing - I have peered into the future and I do not see room for another Red King. The line ends with this one.”
“Easier said than done.” Said Lisson.
“Do you doubt the mission?” Asked Luwain. His copper arm bands shined like mirrors. Lisson wore no such bands, not being of the Ainash or the Aishanna-La.
“You sun-worshipers are a strange people. But we have one thing in common. We want an end to this tyrant on the throne.” Lisson nodded and drained his goblet. He wondered at the Ainash. They were such contentious, spiteful men it seemed to him and they had no regard for their women. In that, they were much like the beast-like dragon -worshipers and the Strab, a sinister sect that kept their women hidden in underground enclaves. His own people had no such odd notions. Women had their duties as wives and mothers in the home but in religious life and in the healing arts a woman's wisdom was greatly respected. Little did these venal Ainash know that his own people had no use for them once the king was gone. There was only room for one god and that was Hec, as far as Lisson was concerned. Hec was the only god one could see, who also