Gamori

Part 6

 If I ever wondered why it is the consensus that our gods care little for us, if at all, I wondered no more when I looked upon their images in Mer-Kadesh in the land of Gish. Many of the deific statues and carvings possess a fey beauty, yet few of them convey even a modicum of mercy or pity. Zjun, the ultimate giver of life, causes drought and heatwaves regardless of how many offerings he receives, but at least he has a sense of esthetics. Sunsets are nice to look at. Ishish waters crops with rain and rivers, but she will send floods on a whim, because why not? Zhizhizh, father of plagues, slays more of us than even bloody Yinkooji, goddess of war. Zengyi, mother of decay, ever seeks to expand her oozing swamps and fungal rot. I seldom propitiated to any of them, and never to elfin Lorex, She Who Pierces the Heart. For this transgression the goddess of love had obviously singled me out for special torment. So it was that I at last found piety, and bought a blessed heart-stone of lapis lazuli at a temple.

Though it meant delaying the expedition, we all agreed that a week of recovery was in order after our arduous voyage aboard the hated South Seas, which mysteriously caught fire and sank up to the middle of her masts not long after she left the dock. Jezrin had stood beside me smoking her pipe as we watched the scene unfold, sailors scrambling for their lives and leaping into the harbor.

"I imagine they'll fish most of them out." Jezrin said. "A few singes here, some lifelong burns there, and the unavoidable fatalities I suppose. Oh well. Things happen." The sun was setting just behind the flaming wreck. Apparently Zjun has a sense of poetic humor as well.

The ancient monuments and structures of the port city of Mer-Kadesh are many and stupefying. Most have been maintained or restored, including the famed Colossus of High Queen Zeeno VII, better known as the Riddling Lady of Gish. According to legend the painted statue will sometimes ask a riddle, and if one fails in the answering, then one is cursed with ghastly misfortune. Perhaps idiotically, we all decided it would be a good idea to go and have a look at this monument. For my part, I did not hear the Lady's voice, nor did I spot the lips move upon her captivating visage, but I did note that upon those lips was a hint of a smirk.

There are cats galore in the city, mewing most mellifluously. Most are of the native Gishite variety, black and short of fur, large of ear, and green of eye. We petted, held, cuddled and gave treats to as many as we could. Backbiter, however, hated and feared the felines, and took to cowering. Thok adopted a young male grimalkin, who he named Blagt-Utgorgor, Gorgor for short, which is Tarkeshi for "Blood-Crazed Slaughterer". He did not wish to put the cat through the rigors of desert travel, so he left him in the care of the priestesses of Shax, goddess of the night, until we could collect him on the return journey. Many tears did Thok shed after he bade little Gorgor a temporary farewell.