Vial of Tears, page 5
“This way,” Eshmun said sternly as soon as the road was empty.
She shook her head, untangling herself from his cloak. “Why should I trust you.” It was an accusation, not a question.
“You should not.”
“Then I’m going to look for my sister,” Sam said. “She could be in terrible danger. I need to find her! I can’t just—”
“My uncle is on the prowl,” Eshmun said, punctuating each word, “as are his servants. My father will also want to know who you are. And that is only the beginning.”
Sam opened her mouth to argue, to ask more questions, but then felt a shadow—something dark and cold—pass just behind her. Turning, she found another lifeless ruḥā with holes for eyes.
Quivering, she followed Eshmun, doubting every step.
Her shirt snagged on the walls of the buildings they skirted: They were rough and unpainted, crumbling at the corners, nothing more than dried mud. Every once in a while, she heard voices—people talking inside.
“Maha ta’rušanna?” What do you want? “The goat? What can you trade for it?”
A child laughed and a stern voice followed. “’Al tappulā!” Climb down!
By now they had navigated an intricate web of alleyways, so tight in some places they had to turn sideways to angle through. Finally, they reached what seemed to be Eshmun’s destination: a square building with a wooden door and a large, clawed pawprint marking its wall.
Eshmun knocked quietly in a series of rhythmic taps.
Hardly a second later, a small window near the top of the door opened. Black, beady eyes peered out, and the smell of tobacco smoke and firewood followed. The window snapped shut, and then the entire wooden door swung open with a creak.
A huge man stood just inside the threshold. There was no telling where his beard ended and his chest hair began: Black curls spilled out from underneath his clothes and sprouted wildly from his head, thick and long. His arms were so hairy, Sam couldn’t see the skin underneath. He smelled as awful as he looked.
For a moment, he seemed overjoyed to see Eshmun. But then his attention went to Sam, and his eyes widened as his smile vanished.
“My lord, what is this?” he asked gruffly, towering over her.
Sam turned on her heels to flee, but Eshmun stood directly behind her, so she met with his hard chest and stumbled backward—right into the beastly man who’d opened the door.
“Fool,” Eshmun said to her. “Where do you think you will go?”
The hulking man grabbed Sam by the shoulder and pulled her into the dimly lit house. She tripped against a small table, sending a plate and knife to the floor with a crash; bones and a fish head fell on her shoes, the fish’s vacant eye staring up at her. She turned, but the beastlike man had already slammed the door shut behind her, locking it with a black metal bar.
“What in Ba’alat Gebal’s name is this?” the man asked Eshmun, staring unabashedly at Sam. The only places he wasn’t covered in hair were his cheeks and forehead, where his olive skin was creased like a road map that had been folded and unfolded far too many times.
“Teth, old friend. You don’t say hello?” Eshmun asked with a wry grin.
The man seemed to snap to. He laughed and pulled Eshmun into a tight grip; Sam almost thought she heard Eshmun wheeze from the embrace.
“My lord,” he said. “It is an honor to see you.” His deep voice carried like thunder through the small house. It shook Sam’s nerves.
“And you as well.” Eshmun slapped the man’s shoulders affectionately. “It has been too long.”
Teth’s one-room house had only a few pieces of carved wooden furniture: a chair, the table Sam had disturbed, and a bed topped with a thin mattress. Pine needles poked out of its seams and were scattered all over the floor, giving the dwelling the feeling of a woodland cave. Small flames crackled in the soot-stained fireplace, sending as much smoke into the house as up the chimney.
“But what are you doing in Baalbek?” Teth asked, echoing Zayin’s question. “What business do you have with Melqart? And…” He paused to sniff at Sam’s hair. “What is this?”
Sam recoiled. “I’m not a what.”
“You will not believe what has come to pass,” Eshmun said, ignoring Sam’s comment.
Teth studied Sam more carefully, his eyes lingering on her bracelets and her shoes. He then intently turned to Eshmun once more. “I believe you always.”
“Brother,” Eshmun said. He put his hands to his chest as if the words wouldn’t come unless he steadied his heart first. “You know—of all people, you know—that I lost my final shreds of faith a century ago.”
“You must tell me everything,” Teth said, his lips pulled back so that his teeth showed, too many for his mouth. He was rapt. Sam had no idea what they were talking about, but it was clearly important—and judging by the way Teth had stared, it might have something to do with her.
“We have taken every route on foot and by sea,” Eshmun said. “We have spoken with every tribe, fought and formed allegiances.”
“You found the gateway,” Teth gasped, looking as though he might cry. “You discovered the tar´ā!” He lurched for the chairback as if to steady himself from falling. “Where?”
“No,” Eshmun said, holding up his hands.
“You will lead the stranded to paradise, to šmayyà!” Teth sat down heavily on the chair, the legs creaking beneath him. He smacked his stomach as if he’d just devoured a satisfying meal. “I knew this day would come,” he said, shaking a thick finger at the ceiling. “The prophecy has been fulfilled!”
Gateway, paradise, prophecy. Sam’s mind spun. She clenched her teeth, still trying to gauge whether any of this was even real.
“Listen,” Eshmun said. “You misunderstand.”
“I misunderstand? Then what?” Teth asked, leaning forward. “Tell me! Did you not find the way?”
“There was a rift,” Eshmun said, “but this girl slipped through the veil from Earth, not from šmayyà.” He curled his fingers into an angry fist. “She has my obol.”
“Your… your burial coin?” Teth sputtered.
“I had a coin,” Sam corrected. “But it was my great-grandfather’s, not yours.”
“Silence!” Eshmun said. “You have no right to speak.” He pointed an accusatory finger at her. “She took it in her hand, and thereby I was summoned to claim it. Awakened by her touch, its power called to me.” Eshmun took a step toward her. “Now give it to me, thief.”
Sam backed toward the door. Her eyes went to the dinner knife on the floor, then to the shattered clay plate. A large shard with a pointed end.
“I dropped it,” she said. “It’s not here.”
“Daggálá,” Eshmun hissed. Liar.
Anger swelled inside her. “I’m telling the truth!”
“The other girl has it, then?”
The other girl. “You mean my sister,” Sam said. “Tell me where she is. You brought us here—you must know!”
Teth threw his hands in the air. “There is another?” he asked, incredulous.
“Yes,” Sam said. Rima was out there somewhere among the ghouls and half-humans. She might have hit her head when she fell from the funnel; she could be blacked out in the streets or in the temple—anything could have happened to her. “And I need to find her.”
“We will,” Eshmun said coldly. “If you do not have the coin, then she does. I will find her.” He scowled. “Do you understand its power and worth? A golden coin forged by a god, infused with blood and magic?”
“No.” Blood and magic? “I don’t understand.”
“It is priceless,” he seethed. “May the gods forbid, but if I do not reclaim it, it could be melted and sullied, reforged for dark deeds. Many would die to possess it. Gods would go to war for it.”
Whatever its value, Rima didn’t have the coin either, Sam was certain. Sam had flicked it back into the garden before they were sucked down into the funnel. “I don’t care about your coin. We just need to get home.”
Teth studied her curiously. “Where is home?”
“Glen Arbor, Michigan,” Sam said—in English, the only way she could. “Wilderness Cove Trailer Park.”
“What is she saying?” Teth scratched at his beard and looked at Eshmun with wonder. “Which route did you take to find her, my lord? You went through the Strait, did you not?”
“No. This has nothing to do with navigating ships, my friend.”
“We fell.” Sam’s voice wavered, and she looked at Eshmun. “Everything sort of… unraveled.”
Teth squinted and shook his head. “I do not know this place—what did you call it? Michigan.” He pronounced it all wrong, like it was two words: Mish Again.
“We have other problems,” Eshmun said grimly. “She arrived in Melqart’s temple. She was seen there by some of his… attendants.”
Teth let out a short growl. “Zayin?”
Eshmun nodded tersely.
“Then she has told the king by now.”
Eshmun sneered. “King. My father is but a lazy squatter in the home of Ba’alat Gebal. While she searches to the east for the passageway, for the tar´ā, he eats her food and sleeps with her servants. He should be in his own city-state of Tyre, not in Baalbek.” A taut line of muscle twitched along Eshmun’s jaw. “He has likely sent his least-friendly ḥayuta after us already. He will pursue the girl, he will—”
Teth let out a small laugh. “He is likely too intoxicated to act so quickly.” He bent down to clean the mess off the floor, putting the fish bones and broken plate into a basket and slipping the knife into his pocket. “And what of your uncle? No one knows what evil he brews, but the god of death is most certainly setting traps. You should be in Sidon with your men.”
Sam pressed her hands to her cheeks. Eshmun’s uncle is someone called the god of death?
“I need water,” she said. “Please.”
She looked around the room for a sink, but there was nothing at all that seemed to bring water into the house. No shower, no toilet, no dishwasher. She also realized there was nothing electrical. The house was devoid of light fixtures. There were no clocks.
Eshmun nodded to Teth, who then opened a back door Sam hadn’t noticed, one hardly big enough for his barrel-like body. He disappeared outside for a minute, and then squeezed back through with an opaque, heavy glass.
Hesitantly, she tasted the liquid it held. It had an earthy flavor.
“It is only water,” Teth assured her.
She took another sip. Teth offered her a bowl of walnuts, but her stomach was already full of fear and dread, and she pushed the bowl away. She glanced at the door, but based on what she’d seen of Baalbek, it might very well lead into a walled yard, a dead end—no escape there.
“You said there was another,” Teth said to Eshmun. He helped himself to a handful of the walnuts, crushing them in his fist. The shells made a popping noise, and Sam winced. “Where?”
“I do not know for certain,” Eshmun said, bringing his eyebrows together. “The three of us were separated. I believe she has been taken by the Wanderers.”
“Taken?” Sam blurted.
“Possible, yes,” Teth agreed. “A caravan is passing through.”
“Before I found this one”—Eshmun flicked his eyes toward Sam—“I caught news of it in the streets: gossip that they found a girl, strangely dressed and lost.”
“What will they do with her?” Sam cried. “How do you know it was my sister they were talking about?”
Eshmun ignored her questions. He tipped his chin at Sam, but spoke to Teth. “I cannot travel with her in these odd garments. She will attract undue attention.”
“She is to come with us?” Teth asked, making a face.
“Us?” Eshmun asked in return.
“I am with you,” Teth said, “as always.”
Eshmun held up a hand. “Friend, I only came here to find Meem. She is to thoroughly search this girl on my behalf.” He looked around the small house. “Is Meem in the courtyard?”
“S-search me?” Sam repeated with a stutter of panic. “No one needs to search me.”
“You only came here for Meem,” Teth repeated. Sam shielded her face with a hand as he let out a heavy breath, a potent mix of garlicky fish and liquor. From inside his shirt, he pulled out a leather necklace with a large pendant: It was a red clay face with a beard made of a half dozen snail shells pressed together.
It was unmistakably Eshmun.
“Teth. Old friend,” Eshmun said gently. “I do not wish to set my troubles upon your shoulders.”
“By the order of Rabā, my Meem has left this home.” Teth’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I am coming with you, my lord. I would once again serve as one of your guardsmen in Sidon. I have no reason to stay here. Meem has… we are no longer…”
“You don’t need to search me,” Sam repeated. Between the hazy smoke of the fireplace, the rank smell of Teth, and her suffocating fear, she thought she might faint again.
Get your shit together. Get your shit together, Sam.
“I will call for my Meem,” Teth said, “if you wish.”
Eshmun turned his full attention back to Sam, his keyhole pupil flaring. “Yes,” he said. “I do.”
Teth hesitated and then dipped his head. He slipped out the front door and was gone.
The house was silent, other than the quiet snap of flames. Sam swallowed.
Eshmun coldly assessed her, his eyes lingering on her pockets and collar, and finally her hands, which she’d pulled into fists. Ready for a fight. He took a step toward her, and then another, until she was backed against the smoldering fireplace. Teth, she realized, had left the front door unlocked.
With a grunt, she shoved Eshmun aside and lunged for the door handle, the metal ring. She pulled with all her weight, the thick door opening a crack. Eshmun grabbed at her, and she thrust an elbow into his stomach, but he caught her arm and twisted it until she faced him. Crying out, she kicked him, but he hardly flinched, forcing her backward against the door.
“Give me your hands,” Eshmun said.
“I don’t have your stupid coin,” she said, panting. She unfurled her fists to show him they were empty; the blisters from digging were all she had in her palms. Furious, she slapped him hard across the cheek, a fresh wave of pain flaring through her hand. “Let me out of here. You have no right to hold me prisoner.”
“Tell me,” he said coolly. “What is this?” He took her left hand and held it upright, pushing her bracelets toward her elbow and pointing to a thin white line across her wrist. A scar.
“Nothing,” she said. “I cut myself cleaning a fish.”
“And how you recoil,” he said, smiling ruefully, “when I call you untruthful.”
“You know nothing about me,” she spat, edging sideways.
She bolted for the back door, but her calves met the frame of the bed and she toppled onto the mattress. The smell of pine—dry and pungent—wafted up from the bedding. Eshmun leaned over her, arms folded, staring at her with his strange keyhole pupil.
Sam steeled herself, ready to kick or scratch, but he stood back and crossed the room, assessing her again from a distance. She took a jagged breath; her shirt had turned wet under her arms. Shakily, she stood and smoothed out her clothes, brushing pine needles from her pants.
In front of the fireplace sat a set of utensils she hadn’t noticed before; the fork looked more like a two-pronged skewer. Fork to the eye. All it would take was one decisive stab. Sam’s heartbeat thrummed in her temples. She took a step toward the fork, and then it was too late.
The front door swung open and Teth huffed back inside. He wiped his hand across his brow and closed the door, locking it once more.
“Where is Meem?” Eshmun asked.
Teth stepped aside. “Right here,” he said.
She was behind him, but so small—especially compared to Teth—that Sam hadn’t seen her. Perhaps only four feet tall, Meem had a sharp nose, high cheekbones, and eyes too big for her face. Teth put a hand out, as if to smooth the wild hair on top of her head, but she looked at him pointedly, halting him. He let out another cloud of sour breath and backed away, glancing at the floor.
“Meem,” Eshmun said. “Let me see your face.”
At the sight of Eshmun, who had been standing in the dark corner on the opposite side of the house, Meem startled and dipped nearly to the ground. “My lord,” she said in a trembling whisper. She would not meet his eyes—she kept her focus on the wall behind him instead.
“I hope you are well,” he said. His cheek was red where Sam had slapped him, and she smiled inwardly at her small victory. He wasn’t invincible.
“I am well,” Meem said, turning toward Teth, as if he were the one who had asked the question. “In my parents’ home, I am… where I belong.”
Teth grumbled under his breath.
“We must soon be on our way,” Eshmun said. “And so we must make haste. You know your task?”
She nodded quickly several times in a row, a nervous birdlike pecking motion. “Teth has told me what I am to do.” She held a brown sack, tied at the top, and Sam wondered what was inside. Tools for searching her? Did they mean to tie her down? Was the sack to go over her head?
“We will wait in the courtyard,” Eshmun announced. He clapped a hand on Teth’s massive back.
“My lord,” Teth said. “Give me a moment. There was a disturbance as we walked here. Something is afoot.”
Eshmun’s expression turned a shade darker. He nodded. “Go then. Be quick.”
He bolted the lock behind Teth, then turned to face Sam. “Do not attempt to flee again,” he warned, moving toward the back door. “There is nowhere for you to go.” He took two steps backward and plucked the fork from the hearth.
The moment the rear door was closed, Meem began circling Sam, assessing her from all directions.
“Why would you keep the coin from Eshmun?” she asked.
