“Hmm. If all it did was cause some vegetation to wilt, it obviously wasn’t a true Staff of Blight. I mean, there have been a few over the centuries, but only the really big ones come to mind.”
“Oh?”
“Hold on.” He heard her typing. Then pages turning. He imagined her at her large information desk, where she worked in charge of helping those needing answers.
“You enjoy your work, yes?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s the best. You understand. You like learning.”
“I do. Knowledge keeps the world running smoothly and prevents us from repeating our mistakes. I like order.”
“Me too.” After another pause, she said, “Ah. Here is it. The original Staff of Blight, wielded by one of the earliest known necromancers in 3132 BCE in Uruk.”
Khent knew that name. “Uruk was one of the first Sumerian cities. Part of Mesopotamia.” Again with the Mesopotamian deities and their underworld.
“Correct. The necromancer was known as Me-lám, which actually translates to ‘terrible, fearful splendor.’ He was also sometimes knowns as Imitu, which also equates to ‘terror.’”
“I know the name Imitu.” His sense of danger grew.
“Impressive. I’ll bet you know it fromImitu’s Conquest, an ancient poem dedicated to Ereshkigal, Queen of the Great Earth and Goddess of Kur.”
He sighed. “Kur, the land of the dead in Sumerian mythology.”
“Correct.”
“Wasn’t Ereshkigal also known to rule Irkalla alongside her husband, Nergal?” Nergal, that ass, being mentioned yet again.
“My, you are up on your mythology. Also correct. Nergal is by all accounts a bad guy.” Kaia paused. “Um, this doesn’t have anything to do with Hanbi and Pazuzu from before, does it?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. But they come from the same pantheon.” Khent shook his head in disgust. “Do you now see why we’re so tired of divinity? They do nothing but cause problems, watching from their plane yet unable to interfere. So they create problems for humans to…” He frowned as he started to piece together this puzzle. “Kaia, let’s say I was a god who wanted my Staff of Blight back. But I’m stuck in the underworld, and I can’t travel between realms.”
“You can’t, but your servants can,” she answered, immediately understanding. “So you send someone, in Nergal’s case, probably a necromancer, to pick up your favorite weapon, astaff that can create plagues to wipe out nations. Oh boy. Is that what’s going to happen?”
“How real do you think that Staff of Blight is in your depository?”
“I have no idea. It’s an artifact housed in the museum several floors below. We don’t keep that kind of thing out for anyone to touch. It’s under armed guard and locked up in a magically enchanted glass case.”
“Hmm.”
“But then, I didn’t know there was a fake staff at the bazaar. And that one killed plants. What if the staff here does more than that? In the hands of a god of the underworld, it could do a lot worse.”
“I suggest you get more security for the staff. I have a bad feeling someone may come for it. Perhaps moving it would be best.”
“I’ll do that right now. Thanks, Khent.” She hung up.
Khent, having done his good deed for the day and somehow certain he was on the right track, headed back upstairs. Just to check on his human himself. Because a good host should do such things, and Khent was nothing if not civilized, despite living with the cretins in this household.
Before he could reach his room, a few of his ravens outside announced the presence of an unwelcome visitor.
Talon Goldwing, the poisoner and traitor, had come to talk.
Eager to “converse” with his necromancer’s partner in crime, Khent went out to meet him.
He wondered how upset Valentine would be if heaccidentallykilled her friend.
Time to find out.
CHAPTER
