CHAPTER ONE #2
Once I dispel the worst of my bad humor, I tread the paths until I come to one of the many pools peppering the beds.
I’m contemplating my reflection in the still surface when the ground shakes and something painful slaps against my rump.
With a roar already pushing against my teeth, I flex into Third Form with its full lion body and head, wings, and wicked teeth.
But when I turn my gaping maw, I find my nemesis, my best friend, my brother, doubled over with laughter.
He can barely speak through his braying. “Got you good, Alad.”
“So you did, kunga-breath. How did you sneak up on me?” I ask, transforming back to my natural First Form.
“I jumped from the terrace.” He gestures to an outcrop of patio on the next highest level.
I don’t ask how he leapt the enormous distance.
In matters of physicality, Gilgamesh is gifted as no normal man might be.
He holds abilities he rarely uses, like leaping great lengths, which is also a mystery since neither of his parents, god or human, can fly.
But he’s fearless, which may be his secret: he’s immortal and thus doesn’t expect to die.
He doesn’t expect any grievous injury because none has so far tasted him, and so he’s fine. He’s always fine.
He swipes at the tears running from his eyes. He’s tried to sneak up on me for ages, but with my animal senses, I’m hard to take unaware. My thoughts must have been deep.
“Come on, Alad. Give me credit for once.”
“Like the kind you’re taking for the lion kill?”
Gilgamesh sobers. “About that…”
“You’re lucky I didn’t take a bite out of your beard for jumping at me just now. You should be congratulating me on my restraint, especially after telling a packet of lies at my expense.”
I won’t hold my breath waiting for an apology or lauding. I’m as likely to grow flowers from my belly.
“If you leave a meal on a plate, don’t be surprised when someone else eats it.
” He pats his glistening beard, a magnificent display.
My own is far wilder and scruffier. “Anyway, you don’t care.
You’re busy thinking profound thoughts designed to ensnare my fun. Let me guess—only whores this evening?”
“Exactly. Whores. Not virgins. I’m going to keep haranguing you until you listen. Seriously, Gil, if you don’t stop deflowering virgins, all the bridegrooms in Uruk are going to band together and string you up.”
“Would love to see them try.” He waves his hand, chasing away the notion. “I’m king. I take my due.”
“And thus are revolutions born.” I turn away, the same tide of rage rising in me again. I don’t know why I bother. He never listens, didn’t even before his father’s death, but after… “If humans don’t punish you, the gods will. They’ll see your hubris as a challenge.”
“Confidence, Alad, not hubris.”
And for just a moment, it’s all I can do to breathe. Everything pinches: the palace, Gil, his games. Even his affection.
I need to leave.
He slaps me on the shoulder. “Look, maybe you don’t care about chasing down fresh fruit because they’re lining up to impale themselves on your barbed i?arum, but with me, it’s different.”
“They’re lining up double to suck your puny member because you’re king.”
His smile widens. Admittedly, the best part of him is how he doesn’t take insult, even though it’s true: compared to mine, his i?arum is small.
“Big enough to breach a maiden’s keep and be rewarded.” He cups the front of his short hunting kaunake, where his i?arum rises. It’s always rising. He’s all about his i?arum. And winning. “It’s good to finally be king.”
“Treason. Don’t let the court hear you say that. Or the gods.”
He makes a twisting motion with his fingers against his lips to indicate he’ll be quiet.
I turn my attention back to the still pool. We stand together, silent, but already his feet are shuffling. Gilgamesh is made for action, whereas I’ve always been made for contemplation. The heavens took root in my brain, my mother says, a gift from her since the celestial is her bailiwick.
I disagree. If the stars were capable of thought, they wouldn’t have created the gods.
“Well, if you’re just going to stay out here studying the plumbing, I’ll be on my way to the baths. Remember, we’ve got after-supper plans.”
I nod. How can I forget? We’ll endure the court meal and then sneak off to whatever party spurs his interest. There’s always some light-of-love on his brain, always some seduction planned.
“Will you dress in a long kaunake befitting your station?” I try one last plea for my mother’s sake.
He slaps me on the shoulder again. “I’m a warrior king, Alad. I’m supposed to wait in readiness for an attack. Anyway, I can wear what I like.”
“Not without scandal. You’ll have to face my mother’s wrath if you show up again dressed for the hunt. You know her stance on propriety.”
“Aww, Lama. She loves me.” He waves his hand through the air, as if to show my goddess mother’s rage is of no importance.
He’s careless of the gods because Ninsun is goddess royalty and Lugalbanda was a human king. By comparison, I’m so much less. My mother is a minor goddess, my father a mere shepherd. Ninsun and Lama both birthed halflings with humans, but only one made no apology for it.
Once Gilgamesh takes his leave, I walk onward to the parapet overlooking the blue river.
I follow the twisting turns to the end of my sight.
I’ve stretched my wings all the way up to its beginnings in the land of Ararat and down to where it dips into the sea on its other side.
But what lies beyond this fertile hook of renewed civilization I call home?
I don’t know, but the need to find out rises ever higher in my blood without outlet.
With a running start down the small line between garden and crenulated wall, I leap.
At first, the force of heaven presses me down towards the ground, but then my wings unfurl and lift my heavy lion’s body up into the clouds.
I circle the palace before flying to the center of the city, where the Temple of Inanna reaches to the stars.
Sweeping my belly down its measured steps without quite touching, I turn and follow a series of intersecting canals, spreading over homes where people toil at their living in honest fashion.
Free. Finally. For a span of hours, anyway.