The Wings of Ashtaroth

Chapter 19: Massenqa: Section I: Uta

Uta: The Palace: Qemassen

For a week Uta had worked tirelessly preparing her fellow slaves for the Lora attack, and just yesterday ships had been sighted off the coast. This morning, the gates of Qemassen's great harbour had been shut permanently, leaving what remained of her navy locked outside to protect the city. It was this fact that had confirmed to Uta that she'd been right about Zioban's identity, that the man and woman behind the mask weren't Hima and Aurelius at all, but someone very clever, and very patient.

So Uta had called Zioban to her rooms at the palace.

Madaula stood guard beside Uta just in case, Uta having taken the liberty of telling Madaula everything that had happened so far, including both what Uta knew with certainty and everything she only suspected.

She'd also told Madaula everything she herself had done, laying her sins bare for Madaula to judge.

Gods smile on the girl, she hadn't cursed Uta and run away or called for the guards. Madaula had understood.

Now, Zioban sat across from Uta, hands stretched across the desk that had once belonged to Samelqo, long bony fingers knotted together. Like all the women of Qemassen, Zioban, Uta, and Madaula had sheared their hair for rope on Eaflied's orders, and now made do with the chill against their skin.

At least they were safe inside. For those aboard what remained of Qemassen's navy, doom nipped closer at the heel.

And yet, Zioban was all nerves. A wine-like tang wafted off her, as though she might have been drinking.

Uta admired Zioban from the vantage of her desk. It was a view that, even months after Samelqo's probable death, still filled Uta with a sense of power and strength. It thrilled her a little to see Zioban squirm in her chair, as though she felt that power too.

Uta smiled. "I thought you were a slave at first, I truly did. Then I suspected Hima and Aurelius, a fact you did nothing to dissuade. But the heq-Damirat is at sea now, and the king has been gone for weeks. If I were you, I'd be honest. We stare death in the face together, and I'm anxious to discover in whose name I sold my husband."

It took a moment for Zioban to answer, and when she did, she did so with movement rather than words. The woman reached behind her to unfasten the mask that hid her identity, dexterously unpinning it to reveal the person underneath. Once she'd removed it, she laid the mask down on the desk.

Madaula gasped.

Please let Madaula not call this whore Sese.

Uta maintained her smile. She wasn't shocked; she was vindicated.

Happily, Madaula contained any urge she might have felt to honour the woman sitting across from them.

"Titrit." It felt important to say her name aloud, as though in doing so it gave Uta the same power as if she'd spoken the name in a spell.

"You're right," Titrit admitted, words clipped, "if there was ever a time for transparency it's now. What odds when it seems likely we'll all be dead and burning soon."

Uta raised a considering eyebrow. "You think they'll bother to burn us?" She leaned back in her chair. "What's your father playing at?"

It stung more than she let on that the man Uta had spent her days pining for was Qanmi eq-Sabaal, an ass she wouldn't have wasted her spit on were he begging in the street. Whatever girlish fantasies she'd been maintaining that Aurelius would sweep her off her feet were drifting away like smoke.

Titrit sneered. She waved at the desk as though to dismiss Uta's vitriol along with it. "My father doesn't play, Uta. This isn't a game, and I'm not laughing. Those people made a mockery of us―rejected me, killed my uncle and called it accident. What did they expect? Our gratitude? Eshmunen was a fool of a king, and we'd all have been fools to follow him!"