Pitra and Tandri stood quietly, staring blankly at one another,
uncertain what to do. A messenger had arrived with one of the 'usual'
letters, as Tandri liked to call them; messages from that mysterious
religious man, Marduk. Ishtar's association with him had apparently become
quite close, as such letters came often these days, thus allowing them to be
coined as 'usual'.
The dilemma they faced was a troublesome one. Being Ishtar's head
servants, it was their responsibility to ensure that he received messages of
such importance immediately, and Ishtar insisted that it be so, and was
often severe with his punishments if there were any unwarranted delays
(sometimes even when they were /warranted/ delays, too). However, tonight
Ishtar had brought home another one of his companions - this one appeared to
be a noblewoman of some sort, probably the daughter of some wealthy,
well-known Atlantean family. If there was one thing that Ishtar hated more
than delayed messages, it was disturbance while he was... working his
charms... on these people.
"Just knock and give it to him.. then run before he has the chance to do
anything to you," Tandri whispered, shoving the wax-sealed letter to Pitra.
"You're the one who accepted it at the door, YOU should give it to him,"
argued Pitra quietly in return, obviously sharing Tandri's fear of Ishtar's
upset. They both sat there for a long moment, their minds trying to churn
up an idea. Finally, it was Tandri who spoke.
"Look, let's just.. slide it under the door. And knock. And then get
out of here before he has the chance to get angry." Tandri suggested. Pitra
nodded, liking this suggestion very much, as while they would definitely be
punished, they would not have to face it until at least the next day.
Tandri reached down, pushing the letter beneath the door. They both gulped,
hands poised above the door, before they both knocked in unison, and dashed
quickly down the nearby stairs.
"What in the world..." an annoyed voice called from inside, the door
opening soon after. Ishtar stood there, emerging from the dark shadows of
the room, dressed in a casual robe he had clearly thrown on moments ago. It
hung off one of his shoulders in his almost trademark fashion. He stared
out into the hallway, looking for the culprit, before notion the message by
his foot. Stooping to fetch it, he allowed his momentary anger to fade
while he examined its contents. The expression on his face quickly changed
to something more akin to disappointment, as he turned, calling to a hidden
person in the room. "I apologize, my dear, but something urgent has come up
that I must attend to. Stay the rest of the night if you wish; my servants
will attend to your needs."
"...Oh... I do hope it's not another woman, or I will be frightfully
jealous," a young, coy, feminine voice joked as Ishtar returned to his
chamber, lighting several candles about the room in order to find clothes,
and preen before heading out. He chuckled faintly at her words.
"You know you're the only woman for me, my dear.. there are none other
in Atlantis that can compare to your indescribable beauty," he responded,
his tone nearly sarcastic. The girl was apparently just too slow-witted to
catch it, however. She giggled merrily, rolling back on the bed, buried in
a veil of sheets.
"You flatter me, but I adore you for it.. Perhaps you'll be back before
morning for another little romp?" she asked, and Ishtar merely shrugged at
her ambigously, his eyes glinting mischievously. After several more minutes
of silence, Ishtar had placed himself into what just barely passed as a
suitable public attire and appearance, in his opinion, even though he looked
far more glamourous than most tended to look on the most formal occasions.
He stood, and walked towards the door, but looked back just before his
departure, smiling sweetly.
"I'll try not to be long.. my longing for you company will certainly
urge me to take care of this matter as quickly as I can.." he said, in his
most elegant and poetic tone, before wandering out, closing the door behind
him. His gentle face transformed quickly, into a sneer of utter distate.
"Disgusting tramp. Well, I suppose she is worth the trouble.."
With that, he walked briskly down the stairs, and out the door, on his
way for this business he so desperately needed to attend to.
An audience with Marduk.
One of the myriad empty-eyed servants that attended Marduk's inner sanctum
greeted Raaja at the entrance. The statuesque woman bowed deeply before Raaja,
unconcerned that the gesture set the ends of her hair trailing upon the floor.
Her handling of the ornately carved door was equally mechanical, her hands
curling about the handle without once focusing upon it, the opening it guarded,
or the acolyte intent upon passing through. Inwardly, Raaja suppressed a
shudder at the vacant expressions permanently engraved onto the faces of the
followers who had been there the longest. Their every motion seemed to lack any
driving passion; it was as though they seemed to serve out of some deeply
ingrained instinct rather than with the zealous motivation of the newer flock.
He shrugged; perhaps they had merely reached the pinnacle of peace and
contentment Marduk's followers so craved, and no longer had need of such
trivialites as extraneous emotion... and if not... well, better they suffered
that fate than himself.
The room itself was bathed in the perpetual flicker of torchlight, unmarred by
extraneous light from any celestial body. The resulting glow was, therefore,
faint and flecked with constantly changing shadows. Marduk's chambers were
settled deep in the heart of the temple, a windowless womb bereft of all but
the barest furnishings. Raaja's perfectly chiseled features curled inward
irritably; the rudimentary furniture and bare walls hardly befitted the
inspiration behind the multitude of followers, at least in his own opinion.
Spirituality, he supposed, was all well and good, but Marduk's message would
hardly be negated by a slight indulgence in... say... curtains. Detailed
comparisons of his own tastes sifted through Raaja's mind as he waited,
somewhat less than patiently, for his eyes to adjust to the firelight.
The Brotherhood's founder stood a head taller than the handful of
followers clustered around him, serenely listening to each as they spoke to him
in timid undertones, their eyes bright with awe. His placid smile fell upon
each individual as he or she spoke, the slightest hint of indulgence lining the
corners of his mouth. He sensed Raaja's eyes upon him after a moment, turning
his own to meet them. Marduk's eyes never failed to mystify his followers,
Raaja most of all. In some ways, they seemed as blank as those of his closest
and longest followers, bereft of any glimmer of expression. The difference lay
in depth and impression. The eyes of Marduk's followers seemed to repel outside
emotion, as a reflective surface repels light; Marduk's seemed to absorb it,
filing it carefully within his mind. His own thoughts were as unable to escape
the draw of his mind as anything else, though it was no fault of his own. None
of this speculation meant a great deal to Raaja; he was one of the few of
Marduk's throng that felt no compulsion to avert his eyes. Raaja was, himself,
a master of emotions: the novelty of a man whose measure was never to be drawn
from the windows of his soul fascinated him.
Marduk interrupted his entourage in the softest of tones, the chords of his
voice melting those of his followers effortlessly. The words fell upon the ear
like gentle rain, despite their innate underscore of dismissal.
"I am sorry... excuse us for a moment, would you...?"
The group dispersed obediently, retreating to the exits in a silent
fluttering of robes. Raaja was reminded of the scattering of moths from a newly
extinguished lamp. 'The moment the lamp is rekindled,' he thought, narrowing
his eyes with distaste at the departing fold, 'the insects return'. He held up
the wax-sealed letter that had been so furtively slipped beneath his door. The
deliverer had been terrified that he would open it in her wake, as he had done
once before. Then, the sight of him had set her fingers to trembling upon the
parchment. It was a reaction that had failed to provide any significance to
Raaja; of /course/ he was beautiful.
He stood there for a long moment, letter in hand, eyes fixed on the taller man.
Despite his thoroughly guarded emotions, Raaja could not help admiring Marduk,
as his mere presence did give on a certain sense of awe that could not be
ignored. However, there was something else there, something far more akin to
desire. Raaja got what he want.. most of the time, anyway; and the fact that
Marduk was 'out of reach', one would say, only fueled the acolyte's thoughts
further. Still, this was a business call, and Raaja could maintain a
professional attitude for a time. As he turned the letter over to reveal the
broken wax seal, he spoke in a soft, slightly playful tone. "I'm sorry if I
kept you waiting, Master. I was.. detained at my household for a short time.
I had company."
"Indeed," Marduk commented, once again frustrating Raaja with his perpetually
undisturbed and highly uninterpretable demeanor. "Please," he smiled
graciously. "Have a seat, Ishtar." He addressed his Acolyte by the name he
himself had bestowed on the blue-haired young man.If he suspected his
follower's motives were, in fact, far from reverent, he gave no sign. "Please,"
he continued, unfurling one hand and bestowing upon Ishtar another of his
gracious smiles. "Have a seat. I have a request that best suits your abilities."
Ishtar lowered himself onto a spartan-looking couch and raised a single
delicate eyebrow. Men and women alike had thrown themselves at his feet for far
less than the lifting of that slender sapphire arch, a fact of which he was
more than well aware. "I am always at your service, my lord," he answered
coolly, watching his enigmatic master through the lashes of half-lidded eyes.
"Just ask and it will be done."
Despite Marduk's apparent attention, his gaze seemed to pass entirely
through Ishtar, a gesture which normally would have wounded the beautiful man's
dignity. "There is a social function three nights hence in the capital city,
welcoming Lord Savas back into... favor with the royal family."
Ishtar nodded slightly. "That horrible old nobleman whose family has
been teetering on outright rebellion..." his smile was colored with sly
delight, at which Marduk merely arched both eyebrows in wordless curiosity.
"I've been... keeping up with the local politics in that arena," the acolyte
commented as an afterthought, falling back into uneasy silence.
"Then you know how critical this initial public display is," Marduk
continued seamlessly. "The festivities will include Savas' symbolic
peace offering to the King..." Marduk extended one hand, gracefully
summoning illusory light within his upturned palm. At the core of the gleam
formed an image of two delicately entwined filigree forms, which Ishtar
recognized only after a moment's observation - two harps, both fashioned so
elaborately that they could easily have stood alone as works of art.
"These are the peace offerings?" Ishtar inquired, still gazing into the
miniature illusion.
"It is more than simple aesthetic pleasure," Marduk said, his illusion
dispelling as suddenly as it had been summoned. "They contain large
amounts of magical potential, especially in the hands of a skilled
musician. No doubt they took countless years to fashion. It would
be... unfortunate, shall we say, should Savas present something so
priceless to the royal family successfully. Their alliance will be grounded
firmly in the material, and the monarchy will gain powers far beyond their
spiritual understanding. I foresee a time when the arrogance paired with
possession of such power will incite the monarchy to rise against us, intent
upon dragging the souls of millions down with them in their hedonism. We cannot
allow this to happen, therefore we cannot allow such secular alliances in the
meantimes. Do you understand?"
Ishtar's eyes and ears tracked his Master's every syllable and gesture, a
tingle of satisfaction threading through him at the promise of political
manipulation, as well as the thrill of hearing it fall from Marduk's lips.
"Absolutely, my lord." Some of his pleasure seeped into his outward visage as
the trace of slyness in his earlier smile spread now in full bloom. "With
tensions running high, any mishaps at the ceremony will have each side blaming
the other. It could degenerate into flat-out rebellion. Perhaps even civil war."
Marduk graced Ishtar with another of his benign smiles, inclining his head
slightly toward his follower. "You have vision, Brother Ishtar. I am certain
you can see to this matter... without drawing accusations towards the
brotherhood."
Ishtar rose from his seat with a flourishing bow. "You are too kind,
Lord Marduk," he replied in a sweet, flattering tone only partially
contrived. The venture would require considerable preparation to
assure that the results would please his Master; he had no intention of
disappointing the source of his intoxicating gifts of power. With a gentle
smile and a nod, he excused himself from Marduk's presence and turned to leave
the way he had come.
"Will you require arrangements for a honored guest's invitation?" Marduk's
quiet, compelling voice coiled after him.
Ishtar could not help but chuckle as he paused briefly in the doorway.
"No need, my lord," he called out as he swept out of the inner sanctum
in a flurry of expensive fabric. "I've already been invited by twelve
different aquaintances."
If this little tidbit of typical Ishtar behavior amused the leader of the Brotherhood, it was certainly impossible to tell.
x
