Slumrat Rising

They were sparring back and forth across the basement floor. Etenesh wouldn’t be able to use her spirit in the duel, so she was making heavy use of talismans.

Her weapon of choice was a long flail of copper reeds that she could flick through the air in astonishingly precise arcs and lines. Thin cuts of wind or light followed those occult traceries. Charging at her was like charging into a razorblade hurricane. And it only took a single swing of her flail to launch that mess of violence directly at her opponent. Unfortunately, that opponent was Truth.

Truth never stopped moving as he pressed in towards Etenesh. Always dodging, feinting, pulling her attention high and low. Always pressing. Etenesh swirled her flail, and the maelstrom thinned and widened, looking to catch Truth before he could escape.

Rather than dodge again, he lunged forward, smashing through the weakened spell. It cost him a little blood, but he was in range now. The Tongue of One Who Speaks For God lept for Etenesh’s neck- and stopped.

“Tag.”

“Damn!” She swore. Her eyes almost glowed with the deep ocher of her sclera. The same color, he thought, of the earth in so much of Siphios. It almost never left her eyes these days. She dropped the spell and stormed away. Then turned and lunged for Truth, talisman forgotten as her fingers stretched towards his face. He darted back and raised his hand.

“Etenesh!”

“DAMN!” She swore again and stomped over to the edge of the room. This time she rested her head and the cool sandstone walls of Nag Hamadi, taking deep breaths.

“Etenesh?” She didn’t reply, her slim shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath.

He waited. There was an odd scent in the air. Not… bad, exactly. Sweet, a little funky, a little herbal. Faint, but it managed to worm its way up his nostrils, and he felt it scrabbling around inside him. This was a smell that wanted to party.

Truth was currently the rainy concrete loading bay attached to a municipal sewage plant of party venues. Etenesh had all his attention.

“It’s the purification period before the initiation.” Her voice was muffled against the wall.

“I’m flattered, but I’m pretty sure I’m not that good a kisser.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. And it’s not that. It’s literally the purification period, the process itself.” The sweet, funky smell intensified. “I’m, temporarily, taking on more aspects of the divine personage.”

“Can’t talk about it?”

“Only in the most vague terms. The loss of control was expected. I thought I would manage it better. Probably why it’s part of the ritual.”

“Is there something I should be doing to help?”

She made a sort of whining, growling noise. It was cute, sort of, but it scared him too. Etenesh didn’t make noises like that. That wasn’t her. His hackles started rising, and he subtly shifted his weight, ready to bolt for the door. He didn’t want to hurt her should something happen.

“Divine intoxication.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s one of her aspects- divine intoxication. I am high on God. And I need to hold it together until I am initiated.” She made the little whining, growling noise again.

“Normally, this would mean getting drunk and dancing a lot to let the feelings out. But SOMEONE doesn't drink, and I will do something unwise if I start dancing. So here I am. Dealing.”

Truth opened his mouth to defend himself, saying that he didn’t mind if other people drank- then shut it with a snap. He would mind. He would very, very, very much mind. He would not be at all ok with watching Etenesh get drunk and handsy with him. The thought was giving him hives, making him sick to his stomach.

High emotional intelligence. That’s what Merkovah said about Etenesh and Jember, selected for their high EQ, marital status, and good looks. And Etenesh was looking very, very good. His eyes narrowed slightly. Very good. And a little different.

Were her shoulders getting… slightly wider? No, they had just rolled back as she stood a little straighter. Her hips did widen slightly, though her waist was unchanged. Her hair, already lovingly cared for, was glossier, even more alluring. Her skin almost begged to be stroked, promising to be the softest, most pleasing you had ever touched.

Truth ran Incisive hard, but there was no threat here, and he wasn’t under attack. Etenesh was taking on aspects of God… and wore them well.

“The orange eyes?”

“The first of the signs, shows you are ready for the purification and initiation. I can’t go through everything, but if you are seeing changes, then yes, it’s that. How much of the change sticks is between me and God. Mostly God.”

“Well, from the back, you are looking really great.”

“Not helping, pretty man!”

Truth decided that he was urgently needed somewhere else. As he left, he murmured, “Nag Hamadi, would it violate your bindings to keep an eye on Etenesh?”

One of the inscriptions turned and faced him. “Not at all. Terms and conditions apply, but… She’ll be fine.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I love having something to do.”

_______________________________

Truth quickly made his way to Jember. Etenesh had only managed a few long scratches on him, but they were bleeding steadily, and he was starting to drip. Jember might not be a doctor, but he could patch that much.

“You would be amazed how much physical damage you pick up on spiritual vision experiences. The leading theory is that because your soul and body line up so neatly, when your soul is damaged, your body believes it’s damaged and reacts accordingly. Which is a clever idea, but it doesn’t explain how Wise Rekfund got a crushed tibia. No way your body crushes a bone,- no muscles for it.”

“So, what’s your best guess?”

“Magic.”

Truth waited. And waited.

“No, really, just magic. I think that there is an occult connection there that natural philosophy has yet to really investigate, let alone understand. Keep in mind that there are well-documented examples of people setting off on a spiritual journey but then physically descending into the Garden or one of the Treasuries. Remember what I said about bursting into ash or going insane?”

“Or thinking I was a hyper angel who was functionally a mini-God, yes. Vividly.”

“Same deal- started spiritual, ended physical. Alright, you are patched up. Looking fit and tasty as ever.”

“I’d thank you for the compliment, but it seems to be tough on Etenesh right now.”

Jember looked confused for a moment, then enlightened. “Right. Sorry, different cults, different initiations. Some period of ritual abstinence is pretty standard everywhere, though. Yeah, getting all hot and sweaty in a room together. Young, beautiful, in the prime of your lives as divine intoxication fills your senses. Your burning eyes meet, heaving chest to heaving breast…” Jember trailed off, looking far into the corner.

Truth coughed loudly. Jember snapped back to attention.

“Been a minute?”

“Candidly, I am going to wreck the first person I have sex with once the ritual is completed. I mean just shatter them. Leave them hollow, emaciated. A husk, worn to almost nothing. They will try to slither out of the room, but there will be no escape. None. I may have to organize a rotating team of experts for the first seventy-two hours, just as a public safety precaution. Hard cases. People with hot bodies and cold resolve, determined to do whatever is necessary, for as long as necessary.”

“Let's take you for a walk. Maybe get you some fresh air. Touch some grass.”

“Thank you. Yes. That would be lovely.”

Truth decided to wear the zeph today. It was easy to slip away into that personality. He let himself fall back into the bodyguard persona.

The look was half the job- you had to be seen to be a bodyguard. Your existence was both a practical necessity but also a statement. Someone with a bodyguard was a person who both needed protection and could afford it. They were a person who didn’t have to make their own violence, they could contract it out.

A bodyguard didn’t stop force with force. Their presence stopped the idea of violence from going anywhere. At least not anywhere near their client.

Jember coughed, looking uncomfortable. “Tommy, sorry, but could you… maybe relax just a notch? Possibly even two notches?”

“Sorry?”

“I think people are about to pee themselves. You look like you are about to clear the street, and given the state of the city, I’d bet someone is about to call the cops. Or has already.”

Truth consciously let go of the bodyguard persona. Jember was right, people were visibly more relaxed.

“State of the city? Damn. Still on the edge of riots, huh.” They walked towards a little shopping street Jember knew. Not really looking for anything, just to have a destination.

“Yes, and particularly in regards to the Desrin population. A minority here in Siphios, but of course, there are vastly more of them outside of Siphios then there are Siphians generally. There is a two-way tension there. Also, word has got around about what happened in the Well. It was very public, obviously, but it’s also being spread around intentionally.”

Truth didn’t know how to respond to that.

“On the one hand, it was so clearly an obvious set-up. If it wasn’t you, it would be some other Desrin. Just so happens that it came right after what went down at Old Mek’elle, where you arguably had a Desrin almost start a full blown civil war in Xandre, and another Desrin comes out looking like a storybook…”

“Hero. Yeah.”

“So a lot of people are seeing a lot of ways of spinning all this, each with some scheme to take advantage of things. It’s a mess of messes.”

“Delightful.”

Truth had long since accepted that he was paranoid and that not literally everybody was out to get him. This acceptance was purely intellectual- he continued to feel eyes on him, feel hate brushing past him, and could practically smell the oiled blades and ionizing magic getting ready to work. Today, walking around, it was pretty literal. Nobody was openly glaring at him now, but there were sure a lot of covert peeks when they thought he wasn’t looking.

“Of course, one group doing the spinning is the Desrin themselves. We have a couple of “heroes” and some obvious victims. The stories practically write themselves. And given that Siphios has a state religion, and the Desrin are literally second-class citizens, well. You can understand how a lot of built-up resentment is starting to come out.”

Eating humiliation year after year, generation after generation? Oh yes. He could understand it very well. He wasn’t sure Jember did, though.

“Rumors are going around. Weapons being stockpiled. Anti-demonic and anti-spiritual banes, completely illegal here in Siphios without state approval, coming in from the south and west. The borders are beyond feeble, mostly because we don’t care about people coming in… until our spirits started acting off, and now everyone’s on edge.”

“Sorry, spirits acting off at the border?”

“Yeah, basically, our border is pretty loose. We just have spirits supervising the boundaries of the land- bring in contraband or start getting up to no good, you get kicked out or go to a penal colony fast. Every now and then, we have big waves of refugees or something, but it’s a big country. Lots of room, and we have gotten good at assimilation. Well. These days we are.” Jember just shook his head.

“Word is they’re going to start stationing human troops at bases along the border. And most of our neighbors have Desrin majority populations. You can see how things might be a little tense.”

Truth thought that through for a bit. Jember was a dedicated runner, so their pace was quick. Xendre teased its wonders and mysteries with every new step, and yet everyone seemed to be in a rush to go somewhere else.

“I thought you couldn’t convert into Siphios-the-religion?”

Jember looked awkward. “Merkovah tell you that? He’s right, sort of. You can’t easily convert into Orthodox Reform Siphios. There was a... Kind-of-sort-of religious schism about eight hundred years ago. Basically, we were force-converting anyone who emigrated, and practicing other faiths was very harshly punished.” Jember shook his head.

“Look, short version? The Temple split into Orthodox Reform, where conversion is very hard, and Progressive, where conversion is very easy. There were a lot of other theological disputes that got loaded into that too, but for your question, that’s the key difference.”

“Is there anybody looking to preserve the current state of things in Siphios?” Truth wondered aloud.

“Oh sure. Them.” Jember waved idly to the shopkeepers and people they passed on the street. “They talk a good game, but mostly they just want tomorrow to be like today, with the chance of being a little better. The thing is, though, they’ll want that whoever winds up in charge. They will sigh and say, “We just have to make the best of things,” and try not to rock the boat.” Jember’s expression changed from cynical to bitter.

“All the old rules are collapsing, and the ones that haven’t yet… have yet to be tested. Or are backed up by naked force. I’m not as despairing as Etenesh was (good job on that, by the way,) but I’m not hopeful.”

Truth looked around at the quick-moving shoppers. Jember had led them off the main roads and into the pedestrian-only alleys. Truth had been right- this is where the real action was. He was also right about the state of the grocery stores.

So-so produce was snapped up as soon as it went on the shelves, and the big pallets that should be holding emmer, rice, and barley were empty. Not good signs. Nobody was looking panicked or queuing up for things, but… very not good.

Then he saw it. In the midst of dark omens, a single shining ray of purity. Of hope. Of healing.

“Jember. Grab Etenesh and Merkovah. Right now, please. Xandre has a pet cafe, and it’s within walking distance from Nag Hamadi.”

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