Hero Historia: Aea Watched 5

Aea Watched is the second chapter of the historical superhero web serial Hero Historia, set in ancient Sumer.

“Who can tell me why the gods created man?” Husze’s voice boomed in the confines of the classroom, as bold and broad as the Older Brother himself.

Aea didn’t answer, not trusting her father’s wisdom to prove true. She’d relied on it once before, in a class on the plants of the world taught by Older Brother Dile, and had earned only a rebuke and mockery for her troubles. The question had been about diagnosing emmer-rot, and while she hadn’t been wrong, how she had come to the answer had been somehow incorrect in a way that the girl didn’t quite grasp but which Dile had seemed to think was very important.

Garre had laughed at her, but she noticed that he kept his silence now. As did Sabit, though silence from the youngest girl was hardly unusual.

Quiet too were the other two students who had joined them, Mugga and Ibzu.

Mugga was only a few years older than Aea, the daughter of a fisherman, but nearly as tall as Husze. Garre had called her a cow, and Mugga had aptly proven her bulk was muscle by hurling a clay bench at him. She had been reprimanded by Proctor Tid, whipped for destroying school property. She’d later confided to Aea that it’d been worth it.

Ibzu was lanky but handsome, Aea’s own age, a merchant’s son from Eridu itself. She found her gaze settling on him naturally when her attention wasn’t otherwise occupied, and felt a flush of embarrassment when he noticed. He’d taken to smiling at her. It hadn’t helped.

Husze walked among the students at a slow pace, giving time for an answer that didn’t look to be forthcoming.

Aea busied herself staring intently at the wax-coating of the tablet she’d been issued, knowing the letters she still couldn’t read held the answer to his question.

“Anyone? Anyone? Garre?”

Garre looked down at his tablet, then up at Husze, his eyes closed. “Who could learn the reasoning of the gods in heaven? Who understands the intelligence of the gods of the underworld? Where have human beings learned–”

“The Poem of the Righteous Sufferer?” Husze asked. “You recite it well. But my question was not rhetorical. The answer is simple.”

Garre’s face reddened. “I don’t want to be whipped.”

“Just answer the question. I don’t need any citations or recitations.”

“We were created to serve.”

“Good.” Husze folded his arms. “This is a literal truth. Images of the gods must be cared for, fed, clothed, including the carvings in the entrance hall. You will share these duties. But how else do we serve the gods?”

“Obedience?” Aea asked.

“Yes. Who can name something the gods ask of us?”

“That we not drink from cups of unbaked clay,” Ibzu said.

“Yes. Another.”

Aea remembered one her father had told her. “That we not take clods of earth from the fields.”

“Very good. Another.”

“We are not to tear twigs from the steppe. Or vomit in the water-ways,” Mugga said.

“Correct. Another. Wait, Sabit, you have a question?”

“How many laws do the gods ask us follow?”

“Many,” Husze said. “Both things to do, and things to not do. More than any one man can remember. There are tablets that contain them in the temple.”

“Then how can we avoid disobeying the gods?” Aea asked.

“These laws… the gods do not just tell them to us,” Husze said. “When we break them, they let us know through accidents, through illness, through tragedy. That is how the priests and scribes know to record them, and that is how you can learn them. It is also how we know how to atone for our misdeeds.”

Aea shivered, feeling a moment of panic. The gods had created laws and rules for people, but didn’t tell them what they were, and would only reveal their desires through punishment. They were like the tax-men, like the soldiers who came through their village, laying down arbitrary rules on people who were having trouble enough getting by. It all seemed so unfair.

But maybe that was the point.

Her stomach dropped as she considered how unfair life had been. Her father was a hard worker, but the sudden and crushing taxes from Lagash had taken almost everything they had. She’d been a good girl, but she’d been sold into slavery. Had she sinned? Had her father? Older Brother Husze said that that’s where misfortune came from… maybe she’d had a drink from the wrong cup. Maybe she’d neglected some vital prayer.

Coming up with secret rules and then getting mad at people who didn’t follow them seemed like a poor way to run the world. When she was a god… if she was a god… she’d do things differently.

***

Aea and the other students had several hours of classes every day. It was a different sort of life, a more regimented one than farm-life had been. Older Brother Husze taught about religion and the gods. Older Brother Dile taught about animals, plants, weather, and the earth. Older Sister Puabi taught singing and the harp – Aea’s favorite class. Even Kuwari taught, patiently showing Mugga, Aea, and Sabit how to form the letters while Garre and Ibzu copied other tablets.

Writing was a form of magic, a way to put words and ideas into the minds of others, using little more than a cut piece of reed and a wax or clay tablet. Kuwari had shown the girls how to hold the reed, how to use the different types of reed to make different shapes, but the meaning of these shapes wasn’t something that Aea could quite grasp.

“You will come to know it, in time,” Kuwari had said. “And once you have, it will make all of the other learnings so much the easier.”

Aea was skeptical, but didn’t dare disagree with him aloud.

After the morning classes, once the day grew hot, the students moved to the cool inner courtyard for lunch. It was a relaxed time, peaceful and pleasant, and the food and drink was amazing – better than anything she’d ever tasted. Bread made with ghee or honey, well aged sweet-beer of the highest quality, lentil soup, date wine, and best of all, meat. So much meat. Mutton. Beef. Goat.

“This is amazing,” Mugga had said during that first lunch, face smeared with grease. “I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

“Try the date wine,” Aea had said.

“Clean your face,” Garre said. “Eat the goat, don’t eat like the goat.”

Mugga scowled. “Do you enjoy dodging benches?”

“Do you enjoy the beatings they give you?” Garre smirked.

“Those are nothing,” Mugga said. “My aged grandmother hits harder.”

Kuwari looked over from his own meal. “Is that so? I’ll tell the Proctor not to hold back next time.”

Mugga lowered her head. “There will not be a next time, School Father. I was only boasting. I will make no trouble.”

Kuwari simply nodded.

“House Father?” Aea asked.

He looked up, eyes half-lidded.

Aea steeled herself against his dismissive gaze. “Where does this amazing food come from?”

“The best of all food and drink the city produces is presented to the gods, to Enki and the wooden icons,” Kuwari said. “This is what they have declined to consume.”

Eating the gods’ leftovers? Aea’s eyes widened. “Is that allowed?”

Garre held up a chunk of bread dipped in soup. “Are we not gods ourselves?”

Kuwari chuffed. “That remains to be seen. But the gods’ cast-offs are traditionally given to the priests. To discard it would be wasteful.”

Aea furrowed her brow. “They could give it to the poor?”

“And have them eat better than the priests?” Kuwari seemed amused by the idea. “As I said. Wasteful.”

Something occurred to her. “Kuwari?”

He lowered his plate. “I am trying to eat here, Aea.”

“Just one more question?”

“Make it quick.”

She looked at the others, at Sabit, at Mugga. “What is to become of us if we are not deemed to be gods hidden in flesh?”

Mugga put down her glass of date wine, and Ibzu turned from laughing at one of Garre’s jokes. All eyes focused on the School Father.

Kuwari sighed and rose, putting his plate aside on the bench next to him. “That is not a quick question, Aea, but it is a good one. If you can all be patient, I will instruct Brother Dile that I’ll be taking over his class after lunch to explain things. Will that suffice?”

Aea exchanged a broad smile with Mugga. “Yes, Father, thank you.”

He nodded to her. “Finish your soup.”

***

Aea and her classmates watched with rapt attention as Kuwari stood in front of the classroom, hands clasped behind his back. The Older Brothers and Sister – Puabi, Dile, Husze, and Tid – stood at the back of the class.

“As you know, you have been brought here because you may be gods sleeping within mortal shells. From time to time the gods tire of one form, and are reborn into their created people.”

“Why?” Garre asked.

“It is not for us to know their will,” Kuwari said.

“Then why do we go seeking them?” Ibzu asked.

“That answer is simple and definite,” Kuwari said. “Husze! Tell us the history.”

Husze straightened up as all eyes turned to him. “In the first year of Ur-Nungal’s reign, the gods convened in Nippur to discuss the life and death of his father Gilgamesh and the possibility of humanity gaining immortality like unto the gods. We can never know what the gods determined, but the lore passed on to the priests of Nippur was thus:

“There exists among human beings those who are more, gods in the flesh, hidden even from themselves. Gods who have tired of one mortal form will be reborn in another, and it is your task, priests of Nippur, to go forth and discover these gods-among-men. Find them, educate them, prepare them for life as gods that they might rule the world with wisdom.”

Kuwari clapped lightly. “Well recited, Husze. In the centuries since we were given this edict, the school masters have developed a procedure to identify gods within the populace. Signs that indicate potential divinity. Or rather, candidates for divinity.”

“How do you know if we’re really gods?” Aea asked.

“You will be tested,” Kuwari said. “And that is all I can say on the subject. But at the end of your education here, you will face a great test, a test that will reveal your truth and determine your fate.”

Nervousness gripped Aea’s throat, but she forced out another question. “And if we fail this test?”

“It isn’t the sort of test you pass or fail. It isn’t a thing you can prepare for. It isn’t a thing you can study for. It reveals your nature. If you are a god, which god you are will need to be determined by sages and oracles. If you are just a human, then you will stay at the school to become one of the Older Brothers or Teachers, to find other possible Gods-in-Flesh and teach them what they need to know.”

Aea’s gaze flickered to Puabi, to Dile, to Husze, to Tid, and then back to Kuwari. All of them had gone to the school. All of them had been found wanting. She tried to imagine someone with Garre’s ambition being asked to stay and teach children who might be what he had never achieved.

“What if we don’t want to stay and teach?” she asked.

“If you are so ungrateful that you would take this priceless education and turn your back on the school?” Kuwari asked. “I don’t know. We haven’t had any students that morally wretched. Not in hundreds and hundreds of years. Will you be the one to break that streak, Aea?”

She dropped her gaze,.“No, School Father.”

“Good.”

Garre spoke. “How long before we take these tests?”

“The gods will tell us when you have been sufficiently taught through signs and portents. Typically no more than two years, though school records indicate that it can take as long as ten, or as little as a few months.” Kuwari shrugged. “Are there any other questions?”

None of the other children spoke up.

“Good. The Older Brothers and Sister are dismissed. Ibzu, Garre, report to the scribal room for transcription studies.” He held up his tablet. “The rest of you, today’s symbol is Gub. You see how it looks like a calf and foot? Now, depending on context this symbol can mean ‘stand’ or ‘foot’ or ‘walk.’”

Aea half-listened to Garre’s words, face burning. She hadn’t meant to imply that she’d just leave without repaying her debt to the school if she turned out to be just a normal girl, but now they all thought of her as a wretch. Ibzu thought she was a wretch. It was terrible. Everything was terrible.

Maybe she should just leave now, escape, run off into the desert to live like one of the tent-nomads.

***

It was dusk when the day’s lesson ended, and after a brief supper the students returned to their sleeping chambers. Most nights Aea’d have stayed up talking to Mugga and Sabit for at least an hour after dark, but the former farm-girl had other plans tonight.

She was going to get out. Now, before she owed the school too much.

She didn’t know where she’d go. Maybe she’d live as a beggar in the city. Or maybe she’d wander the desert until she died. She just knew that she wasn’t a god, knew that she didn’t want to face being an Older Sister surrounded by children with more potential.

Funny. She’d never really wanted anything before. Never had any ambition. But she knew what she didn’t want.

And besides, it wasn’t like she’d asked to come here.

After Mugga and Sabit’s breathing had grown deep and regular, Aea slipped from her straw mat, pulled on her simple wool dress, pinned it at her shoulder, then padded out towards the courtyard.

The moon above was a fat sliver, casting a silver light that carried with it many shadows. She offered a prayer of thanks to Nanna, the moon god, for this concealment

She crossed the courtyard quickly, bare feet making scant noise, and stopped before the entrance hall, replete with its wooden icons. She couldn’t see them in the darkness between herself and the dim lighting of the outside moonlight, but she knew they were there, knew they were watching her.

“Gods, you know I am not one of you,” she said. “And I do not deserve to eat you food, nor drink your beer, nor live in your school. Please help Father Kuwari to understand that I was just a simple farm girl, a slave-girl, who he sought in error. Please calm his temper.”

That was really all there was to say about it, wasn’t it? She bit her lip, then slowly stepped into the darkness, walking between the rows of unseen gods. She had no doubt that they could reach out and grab her if they wanted to stop her, crush her, leave her dead for the others to find in the morning, but she would not run. Running would be an affront. It would be daring to say that mere human legs could outrun divine justice, and that had to be an insult, right?

They did not stop her, they did not catch her, they did not crush her, and Aea emerged into the cool night air unharmed. Relief flooded her body, and she crept through the eerily silent inner city, empty of priests, of groundskeepers, of their guards. A glance at the Ziggurat told her that even the temple there, home to Enki, was dark and silent. She had no doubt that Lord Storm knew how she felt, knew how she was doing, and if he saw fit to let her go, then her departure had to have his blessing, right?

Her light footsteps brought her to the great gates leading into the outer-city. Enki’s blessing or not, there was no way she could pull the massive gates open, let alone without making a tremendous noise in the middle of the night. Maybe she could climb over?

No. There. Smaller doors set into the walls. Of course. She padded towards them.

“Aea.”

The voice was quiet. It was Ibzu’s. It thundered in her ears, and she almost yelped.

He was walking the streets, like her. Had he seen her leave? Was he running away too? She stared at him, unable to summon words, unable to beg him to let him go.

She saw him quirk a smile in the moonlight. “You could not sleep either?”

“No, I…” She looked past him towards the school. “Mugga snores.”

He laughed quietly. “So does Garre. Maybe they should wed, have a litter of snoring babies.”

She smiled briefly, her gaze darting to the moonlight’s reflection on his smooth chest, to his placid warm eyes, then to her feet.

“That’s not why I’m walking, though,” he said. “I have brothers. Snoring doesn’t bother me.”

“Okay,” she said, wondering why he’d approached her.

“Walking helps me think.”

“Right,” she said. Gods, she sounded like an idiot talking to him.

“Are you bothered by it too?”

What was he talking about? “Snoring?”

“No.” He sat against the wall near her. “About what Kuwari was saying.”

She slowly slid down the wall to sit next to him. “It was a lot to take in.”

“What bothers me,” he said, “is that it’s such a big school.”

“Big?” she asked. “It’s the only school I’ve seen.”

“Well, how big is your sleeping chamber?”

“Big,” she said. “Many times bigger than my home back in Lagash.”

“Mine too,” Ibzu said. “But what bothers me is that there are beds for so many more students. Ten in our room.”

“Ten in ours.” Aea was acutely aware that Ibzu’s hand was only an inch from her own. She could feel its heat. “But I guess sometimes the gods don’t lead them to as many students.”

“Still,” Ibzu said. “Kuwari said that only a few students of any class are actually gods, yes?”

“Right.”

“So where are the others?”

“They become Older Brothers and Sisters.”

Ibzu looked at her in the darkness. “Aea, there are only Husze, Tib, Dile, Puabi, and Kuwari. Five. Where are the rest of them? The school can hold many more.”

His question stuck in her mind. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense. Maybe they’re out looking for more students?”

“Maybe. Or maybe they go to serve the gods in other ways. Maybe we become slaves if not teachers.”

“You think so?”

“We’re being trained for it, aren’t we? And we grew up with them. Can you imagine Garre as a god?”

Aea groaned. “If he thinks he’s better than us now–”

Ibzu laughed again. “Right?”

“I don’t want to serve Garre.”

“I hope that’s all it is,” Ibzu said.

“What do you mean?”

She could feel his gaze in the darkness. “Sacrifices. Do you think Garre would take Mugga as a servant?”

“He hates her.”

“And as a god… he could do whatever he wanted.”

“Garre would make the worst god.”

“Wouldn’t he?”

They laughed together, and Aea pretended that it had broken the tension. All their conversation had done was redouble her desire to leave, to get out.

“Walk back with me?” Ibzu asked.

“Of course,” she responded without thinking.

“If I turn out to be a god–”

“I wouldn’t mind serving you,” Aea blurted. “I mean, you seem like you’re kind. Nice. Nicer than Garre.”

“I was going to say that I don’t want any slaves.” Ibzu said. “But… you could come and live in my temple. As a friend.”

“I would like that,” Aea said, linking her fingers with Ibzu’s in the dark. “I think we need friends now. Here.”

“Just in case,” Ibzu said, squeezing her fingers.

“Just in case.”

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