The Forgotten God

Chapter 40

Zuberi kept a low profile when he returned, working quietly with only an iota of acid spat at anyone who dared push a conversation.

It lessened any suspicion that would have occurred had he simply gone about duties with no complaint. He knew his reputation.

The butler had decided to play a safer game, rather than questioning directly. There was scant chance of finding truth under interrogation and even though his method took more time, it was safer than running the risk of warning and rumour spreading.

Those who served the Gods were not always pious, and the worst was easy to bring out.

Despondency had begun to settle on him as the days passed and nothing had been discovered. In fact, he had just started to admit defeat. The palace had taken on the feeling of a tomb of the living, the occupations moving uneasily and mindlessly about their duties whilst their master bore out his hours in fits of dejection or wicked ire.

The first crack in routine came when Semat beckoned towards the older man, urging him to follow her.

"Well?" He asked as soon as they turned the corner, away from listening ears. "Speak woman! I'm growing desperate."

Semat heard none of that, having had her back to him. Had she have done; he would been met with a frosty scowl. Instead, it was a look of pleasure, of knowledge.

"I hath watched carefully," she said in low tones. "None have spoken, but one seems to be more uncomfortable than normal. Zuberi is never social, but he does not hold his tongue ether. He hath been very quiet, still bitter, but more concentrated, as if he is hiding himself."

"I see," the butler nodded slowly "I have noticed I have had less complaints but I took that as a blessed relief for once." He smiled wearily. "Thank you, my dear, you may return to work. I shall speak with Mandisa. She can mingle with him without fear of repercussion."

Samet bowed with as much grace as her old bones could muster, backing away to return to her work, grateful to do so. It took much effort to decipher what people were saying, especially when they spoke at normal pace and moved as they did so.

The butler watched her leave, mulling over whether to reveal his plan to Am-Heh. After a few moments thought, he decided against it.

Am-Heh was being erratic enough, and his more considered and slow approach would be met with scorn and, in his current mood, possibly some damage to his person. He had never been on the receiving end of his temper and it was a record he was eager to keep, he had seen it often enough to know the outcome.

As did Mandisa. And she visibly grimaced when he gave her the instruction.

"I will do it," she said resolutely "for their sake. Do you think..." She hesitated, swallowing her unease. "They are still alive?"

"I fear not." He was not about to offer false hope. "It would be a help if we could locate their remains. At least they could be properly interred and closure could be given." He lowered his voice to a whisper, fear causing his words to quiver. "I also fear our master's reaction, but that will have to be bore like all else."

Mandisa nodded, hanging her head so as not to show the tears that flooded her eyes. "I will do my best, Sir. That's all I can do."

---

The fire pits had lost their appeal.

Am-Heh ignored the gurgle of the craters, spitting their bile in viscous buds into the air, singing that incessant song that had once pleased him so. Often added to by a raucous chorus of barking from his hounds who, sensing their master's gloom, were keeping away, instead scraping the gravel to perish in the thick embers to occupy themselves.

He idly checked their food and fluids, making certain all was in order before leaving and being greeted by the boisterous dogs in the courtyard.

They too sensed misery, but unlike the dark beasts beyond, they sought to comfort and bring some joy with their own happy actions.

Kneeling down he allowed the dogs to flock to him, surrounding him with their warm forms and friendly pawing. A small smile whispered on his lips as he stroked the smooth fur, making their tails wag even harder.

To see him with them, to observe the tenderness he clearly felt for them, one would never imagine the ruthless violence he was capable of and the bitter grudges he held with ease.

The air was balmy, the heat from a smouldering day lingering stubbornly. Yet as he sat, a chill infiltrated the yard, an icy sting that pricked the skin like needles.

Am-Heh looked up, half expecting the unwelcome visitation of another deity, making their presence known in a more subtle fashion.

But on lifting his eyes, he stiffened, seeing a ghostly curl and swoop into a human form.

Ishaq's image slowly appeared, as hesitant and reverent as he had been in life. He had no sound as he stepped forward, rather he flitted like the translucent butterflies that danced amongst the flowers, fading as the sun shone through them.

The dogs bounced, seeming delighted at the appearance of the one who had tended to them, even though he was not what they would have remembered. His skin was no longer smooth and tanned, but mottled and cold, his eyes deeper, darker and more woeful.

The lips had thinned and taken on a purple hue like the lilac sky on a winter morning.

"Ishaq..."

"Beware, an action is repaid by its like. And to every action there is a consequence."

Am-Heh gently shooed the dogs aside who ran to nose the hand that fed them, showing no fear of the otherworldly being, contrary to what people said about animals.

"What do you mean?" He whispered; eyes narrowed in confusion. "Where are you, Ishaq? Give me the peace of knowing where you lie, to not know is torture."

The apparition gazed mournfully before pointing towards the walls of the palace, speaking only one more word before slowly beginning to fade away.

"Tunnels."

"No. Don't go!" Am-Heh didn't care about how weak the plea sounded. "You cannot leave..."

But it was futile. Ishaq's shade had faded. Vanishing as if it had never been and leaving the dogs to trot back to their master as though nothing untoward had occurred.

"Ishaq..." Am-Heh sighed, getting to his feet. The knowledge that his adored one was surely gone was soul shattering. "Your death shall not be in vain, nor will it go unpunished."

---

Within the hour the tunnels were duly searched and the butchered corpse of Ishaq was recovered, along with the decomposed remains of Kisha.

Even the burly guards who removed the bodies found it hard not to wretch as they struggled to keep the flesh and remaining insides in place, the smell painting their nostrils for some hours afterwards.

Am-Heh barely smelt the rancid odour that exuded from the barely recognisable forms. His eyes fixed blindly, seeing nothing, or perhaps seeing something no one else could.

"Have them prepared for burial," he ordered gutturally "and lay them out for their souls to be prayed for. Separately. I will not have their dignity sullied. However," he looked grim, a desolation in his eyes that was both deplorable and heart-wrenching to those they were focused on. "You will give me the canopic jars and I will place them, there is something I must do."

His shaves exchanged a look of concern but none said anything. None were daring enough to query or cross any orders. The Gods were wiser after all.