The Man from Lagash

Chapter 3: The Priestess

The chamber was dark, save for a thin plume of blazing crimson fluid issuing from a hole on one side of a broad jade vessel on the ground and dispersing into a pinkish cloud before reaching the tall ceiling. The faint reddish glow illuminated a concentric mosaic depicting abstract designs on the floor, as well as a hooded figure floating within arm’s length of the plume. She wore moss-green robes, with a veil wrapped around most of her head, except for her eyes, which were closed in prayer. Coral and jade bracelets adorned her light-gray outstretched arms, and a jade medallion carved with an intricate spiral, hung from a leather cord, rested among her gentle breasts. She was almost perfectly still, except for minute and barely conscious adjustments by her large flipper-like feet, and her droning incantations could hardly be heard over the soft hiss of the lamp.

The quiet was broken by a sudden clangor of swimming and shouting from a nearby hallway, immediately followed by a current which twisted the perfectly vertical line of fluid and jostled the lady around. She was getting ready to resume her concentration when a word stood out from the din and caught her attention: Awake.

She opened her large orange eyes, her pillar-like pupils stretched against the darkness. Who’s awake? Is it the… man from Lagash? She bolted out into the hallway, after the voices, slowly adjusting to the lamplight. A frantic castle guard coming the opposite way nearly crashed into her. “It’s him!” – he shouted, rushing away. “Pass the word! He’s awake! The Ancient’s awake!” The cry echoed through the corridors. “The Ancient is awake!”

Suytal floated for a while, looking in amazement as the guard swam away, and then hurried back where he’d come from. I must be among the first to see him, she thought. They’ll make a mess of it if I let them.

A thicket of overlapping voices met her as she approached the sanctum. A small group was outside the door, arguing. “How could you let this happen?” – barked an angry guard. “This is a sign,” said a courtesan, “Murrakh took him from us, as we’re not supposed to meddle with such affairs.” “I swear it, I called the alarm quick as a zipper,” cried a frightened servant, “and may the Underlords take me if I’m lyin’!” “Don’t matter how fast they call the alarm if no bloody one is there to watch the bastard!” – growled another guard.

“Enough!” Suytal’s shout silenced the quarrelers, who turned to face her. “What in Murrakh’s name happened here?”

The servant rushed to answer her. “I was checkin’ on the lights, as I do always, m’lady, as I’ve got lamp detail, see, I swim all over the castle lookin’ for spent lights, so there I was, workin’ my work from room to room, from hall to hall, until I come here to the sanctum, see, I know it got sacred magics, powerful stuff, so we don’t mess with it, but lamps still need changin’… so, anyhow, here I come, I look up at the Ancient, catch a quick peek, see, sorry if such things aren’t for the likes of me, but you don’t see that every day nor every year, no, m’lady, so I look up at him, so beautiful he is, all hair and fins on the side o’ the head, and all of a sudden he starts movin’ around, so I think, gotta call the guards, you know, alert the sages, such as m’lady, to deal with the Ancient, for that’s not for such as…”

“Quiet, you fool!” The angrier of the guards, a broad-shouldered warrior, his skin pock-marked with age, took hold of the explanation. “What this bottom-feeder is trying to say is that he found the Ancient awake and dashed out to tell the watch… too damn late, at that,” he added, glaring at the lamp-lad. “When I got here… well, see for yourself.”

Suytal swam into the sanctum, twisting herself belly-up as she went. The ropes hung dejectedly from the domed ceiling, inside the pocket of air, seemingly fluttering behind the rippling surface. Firm as the rock, flexible as the kelp, she intoned in her mind, attempting to quiet an upwelling of anger. Murrakh, grant me peace.

She closed her eyes. “Please tell me there are already as many as you can spare looking for him,” she said, straining her words. “And that they’ll bring him here as quickly as they can, as if their lives depended on it. Because his surely does. And I hope I do not have to explain how important this man is… or how my father would feel if any harm were to come to him.”

“W-worry not, my lady,” said the elder guard, coming into the chamber. “I’ve got the better half of a dozen men searching the corridors. He won’t go very far before we catch up to–”

“He won’t go far because he can’t BREATHE!” – the lady cut him off. “Do you sponge-brains understand nothing of the world above? They choke on water! What in the great dark underworld do you think the bubble and ropes are for? I just hope, for your sakes, that they find a struggling body rather than a dead one, because…”

“Make way!” A voice echoed from one of the corridors leading into the sanctum, carried on a sudden current. “Summon Suytal at once! Make way for the Ancient!”

Suytal darted into the corridor. “How is he?” – she asked, alarmed. “Is he alive? How long has…”

Two palace guards were dragging the surface dweller, who hung limply between them.