Pretender

CHAPTER 9.

Contact! And the potential host was empty!

NK-2 left his umbra in the primary host. That portion of himself would be without exploratory capability, but would be safe enough for the moment. This portion could not have any influence on the host, but could observe the superficial thought processes.

The two figures remained silent for a time after Dishon had escorted the prisoner back to his cell. The water-clock dripped in monotonous punctuation to their thoughts.

Sargan stood at last but did not remove his cowl. “I look for my god, but I see him not,” he murmured. “For an instant, when the pretender touched me—but that is impossible.”

Amalek also stood. He was a dark, rather short man of about forty. His face was unremarkable except for his eyes, which suggested a certain human compassion. “The pretender is obstinate.”

“So many give way when their seals are taken. I had hoped this one—”

“Perhaps the Ishtar bracelet is what should have been taken,” Amalek suggested.

Sargan shook his head. “No. We want him to orient on Ishtar, if he has the inclination. We must remove his identification from Aten.”

Sargan stared into the wall. “See the way his myriad eyelets glint,” he said, more to himself than Amalek. “They know, but will not speak. Sometimes I think that I can make out the face of Aten—but when I look again, it is only a pattern in the wall, a trick of the lamplight, signifying nothing. How I long for the simple faith, the innocence of a pretender, who has only the name of a god and a personal belief, and neither knows nor believes enough to be gainsaid. But such bliss may not be. Heavy is the burden of accountability my knowledge places on me.”

Amalek looked at the water-clock. “Yet this one may be worthy—”

Sargan turned and peered at his second. “He may be worthy and his faith may be strong; but even he admits that Aten is not omnipotent. The line has been drawn for us and it is plain, and once we stray from it we are lost. Aten is not some huge, grasping, indiscriminate deity like Marduk. Aten can commune with only the purest worshipers, and their number must be strictly limited. His essence must not be debased by the ignorant worship of pretenders. Our first and most sacred trust is to shield our god from corruption by strangers. We must allow no exceptions. No pretender to the worship of Aten can be tolerated.”

“Yet in the past—” Amalek began gently.

“Not in my time!” Sargan said firmly. “There may have been some dilution in worldly Nineveh—indeed a god of mercy was much in demand in the face of savage Asshur. Our present problems stem from that period. This pretender himself comes from that region. No doubt the name of Aten still circulates clandestinely among the peasants. But so long as I am high priest our membership will be controlled.”

“Of course,” Amalek agreed quickly. “Yet I cannot but wonder at times whether, in our very adherence to the rules we have set to prevent adulteration of worship, we are not in danger of shutting out those very men whose worship would strengthen our god.”

“There is that danger,” Sargan conceded. He stopped in front of a lamp niche and stared at the flame. “But consider: if we permit just any man to worship, then we foreclose Aten from any genuine choice.”

“Yet by our indiscriminate denial of—”

“It is not indiscriminate!” Sargan cried. Then, controlling himself: “Your ordinary man-off-the-Kebar is not dedicated. He is spiritually unlettered. What ethics he practices is governed solely by posted statute—and only that which is enforced. His worship goes not to the god who merits it most, but rather to the one who rewards it most specifically. A man who wishes to rise in the councils of government will worship Marduk. When he achieves the power he covets, he then forgets Marduk in his spleen and worships him only with his lips. A man who lusts for a woman not his own will make his offerings to Ishtar. After he has sated himself in the soft flesh of a temple harlot, his need for Ishtar is gone until his desire regenerates. The gods have thus been debauched into panders to the basest desires in man. No! Aten must not be reduced to the purchase of such worship!”

As Amalek remained silent Sargan added: “Surely you understand that it is not this particular pretender I condemn. Were it within my authority to say, ‘Yes, admit this man to the service of Aten,’ I would gladly do this. But I dare not set a precedent that would, in the end, destroy my god. For if we relax our standards for this one man, who may be a perfectly upright worshiper in his fashion, perhaps even a credit to Aten, then we must relax them for the next pretender, and for others who will follow. Soon there would be many devotees—and at the last we should discover that by imperceptible stages we had relaxed our requirements to the point of meaninglessness. Then we should find careless, even corrupt worshipers in our number, sullying the purity of our god.”

“Yes, certainly,” Amalek agreed, but he sounded disappointed.

Goaded by the tone, Sargan spoke again. “If Aten were omnipotent, the world would completely reflect his goodness. Pain and evil and injustice would be strangers to this city. Since Aten has but limited power, it follows that he cannot be of service to all men. Only a limited few may be permitted to worship him in each generation.”

“Yet we are not within that limit,” Amalek said. “A vacancy exists, now that the young woman has been disqualified—”

“Do not speak of that one!” Sargan cried.

“Aten’s ways are not man’s ways. This man’s faith—”

“His pretended faith.”

“His pretended faith, though simple and untutored, seems steadfast. He arrived at just the moment the vacancy developed. Can we be certain that Aten has not chosen him to fill this vacancy? Perhaps by excluding him, we—”

Sargan abruptly changed the subject. “This Tamar. She is up to something.”

Amalek did not pursue the prior topic. “She has been persistent, certainly.”

“This priestess of Ishtar has power,” Sargan said. “Moreover, she hates the nameless temple and threatens to destroy it. Now she claims to be the wife of this pretender.”

“It may be true,” Amalek said. “For weeks she has been loitering about the palace courtroom, though she surely has pressing business elsewhere. When the pretender was brought before the magistrate, and spoke the name of Aten, she stepped in before I could move and took him on a tour of the gardens. She may have seen in him an instrument to attack us from within. Yet I could not let him go—”

“The wiles of women!” Sargan exclaimed. “If we were to accept him into the temple, Ishtar would still have her call on him. If we deal with him as a pretender, it gives her a pretext to bring a mob of women howling at our door…”

“Ishtar into Hades,” Amalek agreed. “You are right. This pretender has been compromised. We cannot accept him. If we are fortunate, he will recant before Tamar strikes. Otherwise we shall be forced to give him over to Dishon, though we thus risk his death under torture.”

“It would be unthinkable for him to die as a believer,” Sargan said. “Then his spirit would burden Aten in the after-life forever, and I should bear the guilt of his death, forever.”

“Not if he is merely the tool of Ishtar!” Amalek protested.

“He may be a tool,” Sargan said heavily, “but he is also a man. Ishtar may be using him—but his faith may be genuine.” He paced the length of the room, finally pausing again before the frieze. “But better even that awful guilt, than the corruption that comes with mass worship!”

Then Sargan crashed his fist against the wall in a gesture so ferocious that blood began to trickle between his closed fingers.

“That accursed vacancy!” he cried in anguish. “First her, then him… and finally this Ishtaritu whore! It is too much!”

In the moment of physical and emotional agony of the host, NK-2 extended in a tight line like a beam of light and shot back to his primary host. He could do that, now that both hosts had been established, and he would be able to revisit this alternate host similarly, should that become necessary. But such travel was a calculated risk, in the vicinity of the enemy, and he would not do it without reason.

He had learned much yet little. Evidently the native head of this “Aten” religion was a sincere man who deeply regretted the actions he had to take with regard to “pretenders,” male and female. Sargan was even more upset about the girl in the other cell than about Enkidu, but was ready to send them both to the torture if they failed to recant.

The girl, Amyitis, evidently was what she claimed to be. But she could still be host to the enemy.