Susan Krinard - Dark Journey

She sat up, meeting his steady gaze with shattered dignity, stung by emotions that had seemed so distant for so many centuries: wounded pride, regret, confusion.

But she could not let him see. He must not know how deeply she felt his rejection. The rejection of a human, who should have been grateful—

No, she thought. That was the old way, the wrong way. This small error in judgment changed nothing: not her commitment to aiding the humans of Tanis, nor her attitude toward Daniel. It would be as if this had never happened.

She would learn who and what Daniel was, why he should have such power to make her forget herself so completely. She would learn his weakness.

Rising from the bed, she gathered up her robes and pulled them on, letting them hang loose.

“I thank you for reminding me of my purpose,” she said. “I will not make such a mistake again.”

To her surprise, Daniel looked away. He turned and walked into the bathroom, and for the first time Isis saw the other scars he carried on his body: the raised pink and brown welts from numerous savage beatings crisscrossing his back, and lower, layer upon layer.

Ill and dizzy, Isis reached for the bed table. Memories. He carried them with him every day, and he could never escape their mark.

Someone tapped on the door behind her. She fastened her robes and opened the door.

“Lady,” the human attendant said, color rising in his cheeks. “I have the visitor’s clothes. Should I come back at another—”

“No.” She smiled at him, and his body relaxed. “I am just leaving.” She took the clothes from him and laid them across the bed. Daniel had not emerged from the bathroom when she left.

Still bewildered by the intensity of her feelings—the lust, the fascination, the pity—she gave brief instructions to the guards and sought her own quarters. Unlike most of her peers among the Nine, she preferred to live near the humans with whom she spent so much of her time, in a fifth-floor apartment that held little of the extravagance some high-ranking Opiri enjoyed.

Supposedly, such ranks did not exist in Tanis, and most Opir citizens preferred to live in the towers under the half dome. It was only sensible, since they could not tolerate sunlight.

Once in her apartment, Isis bathed and dressed in fresh robes. Daniel’s earthy scent had become entangled with the fabric, and she instructed her maid to have them washed as soon as possible.

She sipped the blood from her small personal store and found it almost unpalatable. Of course there was no comparison to taking fresh blood from its source, but that was considered a transaction between two private individuals and carefully regulated.

Had Daniel known that, when he mocked her about being hungry for his blood? Did he think she would take it without his express consent?

Her mouth went dry as she thought about what he had done and how tempted she would have been if he had completed the act. If she had so much as touched his neck with her lips...

But that had not happened, she reminded herself. Nor was there any chance of it happening in the future. She would simply find someone else to finish questioning him.

Gathering her composure about her like a heavy day coat, she prepared herself for the meeting of the Nine. She was in no mood to deal with Ereshkigal’s sullen manner or Anu’s arrogance, but it couldn’t be helped. The Elders of Tanis had set policy for the city, and though they did not enact or enforce laws, their opinions had weight with the elected Council of ordinary Opiri and humans. She must be there because she was one of the Nine most personally sympathetic to humans and most protective of their dignity.

She laughed quietly. Had she respected Daniel’s dignity? Was she so unaware of her own flaws that a human must point them out? Was she so careless with her power, so accustomed to the influence that she didn’t even realize she was still using it?

“It’s part of what you are,” Daniel had said. But giving guidance was not the same as ruling like a true goddess. The one was necessary; the other was lost in her ancient past.

Still struggling with her conflicting emotions, she called for a shuttle that would carry her through the human sector to the rear of the city and the towers of the Opiri. As always, she felt as if she were entering a different world; as always, it troubled her deeply. There should be no dividing line between Tanis’s human citizens and its Opiri, and yet the half dome’s shadow was that line. There were times when both races, and the half-bloods, were expected to mingle—as in the forthcoming Games and Festival—but there was always a guardedness, especially on the part of the humans.

Isis had never ceased to hope that would change.

The driver left her at the bottom of the spiraled ramp that reached from ground level to the base of the main tower and the elevated causeway that circled the city. The old Citadel had originally been built with three elevators for each of its six towers, with a single elevator serving a powerful Bloodmaster’s Household and the other two assigned to several smaller Households of influential Bloodlords and Bloodladies. Since the reclaiming of the Citadel, the former serfs’ quarters had been remodeled, and former Households had been split up to accommodate most of the city’s Opiri, even the formerly houseless Freebloods.

But this entire tower belonged to the Nine, and nobody questioned their right to it.

Isis took the first elevator past several floors assigned to three of the Nine, stopping at the highest floor. There a large chamber, which encompassed the entire top floor of the tower, served as a meeting room more lavishly furnished and decorated than her own simple quarters. The Nine had confiscated works of fine and decorative arts from the towers’ previous inhabitants, and now kept them safe for the people of Tanis.

Isis paused just outside the elevator door to take in the scents and sights of the treasure room, basking in its beauty. On a small pedestal stood a very old sculpture, chipped and cracked, of a serene woman kneeling on one knee, her arms draped with plumage, a sun-disk set between a pair of horns gracefully balanced atop her head.

It was strange to look at it now, when Isis could still recall a time when it had been new. When she had been that figure, wearing a winged robe and carrying that same horned crown upon her head.

“Reminiscing?” Bes said, coming to join her. He was an oddity in a world of Opiri, no matter how ancient: short, round and cheerful, with a face that seemed frozen in a constant smile; large ears; and an oiled, curled beard.

Isis turned with a smile. “It is better to think of the future, don’t you agree?”

“Yes. But, ah, those were the days.”

“You find plenty of amusement with your human friends...at least in their taverns.”

Bes laughed. “They do know how to enjoy themselves. Not like—” He grimaced. “‘Uneasy is the head that wears the crown.’”

“You do Anu a disservice,” Isis said. “He is no king.”

“Tell him that.”

“We are ready to begin,” someone called from behind them. It was Hera in her deep blue chiton, a glittering peacock pendant hanging from her slender throat.

Bes rolled his eyes. “Let’s get this over with,” he said.

They walked around the corner into the meeting area. The space was dominated by a large, beautifully designed round table, and the walls were decorated with murals and works of fine art on every side.

As was customary, Anu sat at the head of the table, Ereshkigal on one side and Hephaestus on the other. Hephaestus stood out from the others with his slightly misshapen body and his limp, but so did Athena and Hermes—Athena with her bright gray eyes, and Hermes with his red-gold hair. Anu, Bes, Ereshkigal, Ishtar, Hera, and Isis herself were dark haired and golden skinned.