Chapter #19An Omen of Sin, part 1 by: Nostrum   Nannassar woke in unrest; his temples drenched in sweat, his heart racing. The moon shone above him. His partner, lovely Anuntis, also woke. "Is there a problem, love?" she asked.
He shook his head, though he knew it was pointless. He was in her domain, and many men before him had laid their deepest secrets to the sensual nadiittu of the goddess Nanaya.
"Is it because of my mission?" she pressed, and rubbed his shoulder. Her eyes sparkled in the darkness like gems embedded in the mountains. "Have I told you not to worry? Soon, they will no longer menace us."
It was a cult she spoke of, spreading through the Empire, threatening the very heart of the kingdom—Babylon itself. Most cults only ever appeared on the fringes of the kingdom, and very few matured. But this one had, and the cultists of Lilitu—witch-queen of the night-demons, mother of abominations—have infiltrated various cities, luring otherwise good viziers into betraying their lords, and causing great unrest throughout the land.
And Babylon ill needed such troubles, not with Kurush of Persia stamping impatiently beyond the frontiers.
It was her mission that worried Nannassar, of course. She has performed many such missions before: infiltrating the priestly ranks of foreign gods, to debase and demoralize their protections and so deliver their kingdoms and peoples to His Highness Nabu-kudurri-usur, King of the Universe. Only Anuntis, hiding steel behind that perfectly smooth and beautiful face, could have secretly built a temple to Inanna under the very eyes of the jealous Judeans, until their god and protector had abandoned them.
Yet omen of stronger will— Ninsumagal of Ecbatana, high priestess of Inanna, amongst them—had been seduced to the new cult. But none had been so dangerous as the woman staring now into his eyes with a pleasant smile on her lips.
"Or is it because of Vidruk?" she asked with a laugh. Hearing the name of her other lover—general of the armies in Persia—made his blood hot. She often said he—Nannassar—was handsome, with his long black hair and his thin features, but how could he compare to an undefeated warrior-philosopher? One who not even the feared Lacedaemonians could challenge? "Fear not," she says as she sealed his lips with a kiss. "There is nothing he can offer me that you cannot equate, lover."
"I cannot bear to lose you, O my gentle one."
"I shall not be lost." She pointed at the moon as she made her oath. "By Alammush as our witness, I shall return to you as always. Now," she insisted as she pushed him back to the bed. "Rest, and dream of me."
It wasn’t hard to dream of her: of her supple, bronze-hued breasts coated, or her luscious hips that would make any man falter, or her dark hair smelling of honey and milk. Yet it was Alammush himself who showed her in his dreams, and these were ill.
And even as Anuntis fell back into gentle sleep, Nannassar again saw evil omens. A small, blackened owl feather fluttered through on a stray breeze. She was being watched.
--
Such was the worry that led Nannassar to shadow the heels of his lover. It was the seventh day in the Araj of Ululu—sacred day to Inanna—and the new moon was far beneath his feet, that he climbed the ziggurat of Ur, sacred to the moon god Nanna-Sin. He was filled with righteous anger, for the Cult of Lilitu wished to desecrate the holy zenith, sacred also to Alammush, to their fell mistress.
He was dressed in the clothes of a courtesan, as only women were allowed there, and at a distance, his face obscured with a veil under a weave of camel hair and his body shaved, he appeared as a homely woman, but a woman nonetheless. Only his voice—a resonant baritone—might have betrayed him. But he had passed in many disguises before, for he could invoke the kakka-me—the decree of the stars—so that all who hearkened to him would hear the voice of a woman.
He was soon put to the test. "Halt!" one of the women commanded. "Speak thy name and purpose."
"Here be Kalumtum, sisters, servant of the First Woman, Queen of the Night and Mother of all Monsters. I come here for the ceremony—to hear the blessed ME of the divine Lilitu."
"Show proof of thy devotion."
Nannassar lifted the sleeve of his robe, showing the back of his forearm. It was bare, but he had decreed before that they would see the symbol of Lilitu in his forearm.
The woman smiled. "Welcome, sister. You are late."
"I had another errand first." Indeed he had. There was a Kalumtum expected tonight, but she was no more—sent to an early judgment, yet given a silver coin as a prayer for mercy. From her he had learned the necessary words.
The cultist led Nannassar into a circle. Braziers lit the black night, and he saw the other cultists—maidens, mothers and crones, local and foreign, from the lowliest prostitute to the daughter of the governor of Lagash herself—but failed to mark gentle Anuntis.
Until the leader of the cult turned to them, and his heart froze. Anuntis held a sharp and wicked blade that glistened in the firelight, and a cape of blackened owl feathers—the raiments of service to Lilitu—adorned her back. The golden mask of an owl lay on her face, as if invoking the very nature of the witch-queen herself, but he knew her for Anuntis.
"Sisters," she spoke. "Behold, Nanna-Sin has abandoned this place. Even the lunar disc has blackened, his eye has been blinded by our Mistress."
You know that is not true, Nannassar thought to himself. Alammush always sees.
"Tonight, by sacrifice to her, we shall claim this holy place in her name. Soon shall we lay waste to the kingdom of Nabu-kudurri-usur, who dares to call himself ‘King of the Universe’. Fool! Only our Mistress shall reign!"
"The Mistress shall reign!" the women spoke in unison.
"On this night sacred to Inanna, we claim this domain, and claim the lands of the king of Babylon, upon the very eye of Shamash, on the twenty-first day of the Araj of Tishritum! So has our Mistress decreed! This is her ME; may it resonate within your hearts, until it becomes command."
The women bowed to Anuntis, their temples before the altar. Nannassar followed suit, but his knee was ready to pounce. He couldn’t believe the words he heard.
"And so that this decree becomes command," Anuntis continued, "we shall seal this with the blood of sacrifice. Bring her!"
Nannassar watched as a young girl—barely on her fiftieth fall—was brought by silver chains, her mouth muffled by cloth soaked in spit and tears. As she gazed about her, she shouted muffled words of desperation. Two women dragged her to the altar and fixed her chains there.
Yet, as Anuntis lifted the sacrificial blade to the sky, she stopped at a voice. A graceful woman, whose long hair as black as night flowed from behind her dark veil, bade her stop. Anutis hesitated, then knelt before her. The newcomer touched her on the shoulder.
"Ye hath done well, my beloved."
"I have long waited for this moment," murmured Anuntis. "You have arrived at last, my Mistress."
"I wished to see you cast away the chains of the sukkalmah, young one. Now you shall belong to me forevermore."
It was only before she sprang to plunge the dagger into the stranger's heart that Nannassar noted how how tightly Anutis still held it. "I belong to no one," she spat, and drove the blade deeper in.
The women were in unrest. Their mistress fell, short of breath and trembling, as Anuntis stood before them. They were hungry for vengeance, showing the symbol of their devotion—the blackened owl-feathers—to her in defiance.
But not all of them did so. Others showed blades, inscribed with the sigil of Ereshkigal, and in a brief instant, they plunged them into the hearts of the believers. Only two of them—the larger ones, the ones that brought the sacrificial maiden—were unharmed, and ready to kill the pretender for her folly.
It is then when Nannassar acted, for he pulled the veil from before the eyes of everyone, and out of nowhere, a tall man with golden hair and a blade of solid iron sliced their heads clean.
"Vidruk! Nannassar!" Anuntis exclaimed. "How came you here?"
"Did you think we would leave thee alone?" the soldier asked.
Anuntis smiled. "I knew you would not, for I prayed to Alammush to guide my path."
Yet the face of Nannassar still showed unease, and the fires of the braziers flickered, as though the disc of Shamash had manifested upon the place. "Yet you are still not truthful," he told her. "I have been shown things that Ninpirig dared to show. For nothing can be hidden from their eyes, Anuntis."
"What do you speak?" she said. She tensed as Vidruk flanked her and Nannassar drew a blade.
"I am sorry, my beloved." Nannassar’s eyes filled with tears. "But Alammush and Ninpirig revealed me the truth." He looked down at the fallen sorceress. "You sought not only to slay her, but to replace her."
"That is not true!" Anuntis twisted toward Vidruk. "Beloved! He speaks lies! He does not—!"
"Nannassar speaks true," the soldier replied. "Belteshazzar has spoken. You must face judgment." He drew her arms behind her back. "You shall not place our hearts in jeopardy, my love. Once you are judged, if you are to return, then make your choice wisely. But for now.—"
Nannassar swallowed his tears and plunged the holy blade into Anuntis's heart. He whispered the most sorrowful words his heart could muster. "May you find peace through the Journey of Inanna." He drove the dagger deeper, as though to slay his own grief.
"Sleep, gentle Anuntis. Sleep, and wait for Inanna to come."
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