standing in the middle of a small room. The room contained a simple bed, a stone base with a little padding from several furs, a blanket made of the same. There was a narrow window on one wall that was little bigger than a letter slot, but the room was otherwise unremarkable. Balam was poised silently in the center of the room, his hands clasped together before him, his eyes closed.
“Balam? Everything okay?” Kane urged.
“She was here,” the gray-skinned creature said. He spoke quietly, and his eyes remained closed in meditation.
“Who?” Kane asked and stopped himself, realizing that the question was redundant. Balam meant Little Quav, of course.
“She’s not afraid,” Balam continued. “Merely...curious. She was told things here, taught things.”
“Some learning curve,” Kane muttered. “Imprisoning a three-year-old girl in a big stone fortress.”
Balam’s eyes flickered open, their dark orbs peering wistfully into Kane’s. “I do not believe she was imprisoned, Kane. This was a family reunion, mother and son.”
“Well, she ain’t here now,” Kane said, indicating the empty room.
“No,” Balam agreed. “So where is she? Where is Ullikummis?”
Kane racked his brain for a moment, trying to think in the manner of the Annunaki. They were multidimensional beings whose malice was just one aspect of their eternal boredom with their lives. So where would Ullikummis go next?
“Enlil,” Kane said slowly. “That’s the piece that’s missing from this family reunion.”
Balam’s bulbous head rocked back and forth on his spindly neck as he nodded his agreement. “The child is not ready,” he said after some consideration. “Her Ninlil aspect has yet to be teased out of her. She remains the little girl that you and I know as Quav. It will be years before that changes.”
“There’s something you should see,” Kane said, gesturing to the corridor. “Maybe you can make sense of it.” He was talking about the bowllike thing he had found, but he chose not to add that he had been unable to analyze it because his vision had failed. It wouldn’t help to remind Balam of this; the First Folk diplomat was jumpy enough as it was.
Thus, Kane led the way from the room with Balam at his side. There were no doors in the gloomy palace, so everything here was open to view now.
Three doorways along, Kane stepped into the room, encouraging Balam to follow. There, in the center of the room, lay the broken bowllike structure. Kane could see it better now with his eyes recovered, and he studied it properly for the first time. Bigger than an armchair, the bowl seemed to be made of some kind of stone and rested on a very low plinth that raised it a quarter inch above the stone floor. The top edge was jagged as if the rest of it had been snapped away and, looking at it now, Kane was reminded of an egg. There were shards of the broken remains all around, quartz within it like plates of stained glass twinkling in the light from the arrow-slit windows that lined the room on three sides.
“Any ideas?” Kane prompted.
“A chrysalis,” Balam said. There was no hint of doubt in his voice.
“You seen this before?” Kane challenged.
Balam inclined his head in a nod. “They are one of the ways that the Annunaki employed to stave off their immense boredom,” he explained as he leaned down to pick through the wreckage strewed about the cuplike object. “You will have heard of how the gods of the Annunaki wore different faces and thus appeared to different cultures in different ways. Overlord Enlil was also Kumbari. Zu was Anzu...”
“Lilitu, Lilith,” Kane added, nodding.
“On occasion this would involve a period of cosmetic change,” Balam elaborated, “a minor amusement to the Annunaki. The chrysalis was one manner by which this was achieved.”
“So, Ullikummis has been—what—changing his face?” Kane questioned. “Ugly bastard like that’s going to take a lot of work.”
“No, not
“Balam? Everything okay?” Kane urged.
“She was here,” the gray-skinned creature said. He spoke quietly, and his eyes remained closed in meditation.
“Who?” Kane asked and stopped himself, realizing that the question was redundant. Balam meant Little Quav, of course.
“She’s not afraid,” Balam continued. “Merely...curious. She was told things here, taught things.”
“Some learning curve,” Kane muttered. “Imprisoning a three-year-old girl in a big stone fortress.”
Balam’s eyes flickered open, their dark orbs peering wistfully into Kane’s. “I do not believe she was imprisoned, Kane. This was a family reunion, mother and son.”
“Well, she ain’t here now,” Kane said, indicating the empty room.
“No,” Balam agreed. “So where is she? Where is Ullikummis?”
Kane racked his brain for a moment, trying to think in the manner of the Annunaki. They were multidimensional beings whose malice was just one aspect of their eternal boredom with their lives. So where would Ullikummis go next?
“Enlil,” Kane said slowly. “That’s the piece that’s missing from this family reunion.”
Balam’s bulbous head rocked back and forth on his spindly neck as he nodded his agreement. “The child is not ready,” he said after some consideration. “Her Ninlil aspect has yet to be teased out of her. She remains the little girl that you and I know as Quav. It will be years before that changes.”
“There’s something you should see,” Kane said, gesturing to the corridor. “Maybe you can make sense of it.” He was talking about the bowllike thing he had found, but he chose not to add that he had been unable to analyze it because his vision had failed. It wouldn’t help to remind Balam of this; the First Folk diplomat was jumpy enough as it was.
Thus, Kane led the way from the room with Balam at his side. There were no doors in the gloomy palace, so everything here was open to view now.
Three doorways along, Kane stepped into the room, encouraging Balam to follow. There, in the center of the room, lay the broken bowllike structure. Kane could see it better now with his eyes recovered, and he studied it properly for the first time. Bigger than an armchair, the bowl seemed to be made of some kind of stone and rested on a very low plinth that raised it a quarter inch above the stone floor. The top edge was jagged as if the rest of it had been snapped away and, looking at it now, Kane was reminded of an egg. There were shards of the broken remains all around, quartz within it like plates of stained glass twinkling in the light from the arrow-slit windows that lined the room on three sides.
“Any ideas?” Kane prompted.
“A chrysalis,” Balam said. There was no hint of doubt in his voice.
“You seen this before?” Kane challenged.
Balam inclined his head in a nod. “They are one of the ways that the Annunaki employed to stave off their immense boredom,” he explained as he leaned down to pick through the wreckage strewed about the cuplike object. “You will have heard of how the gods of the Annunaki wore different faces and thus appeared to different cultures in different ways. Overlord Enlil was also Kumbari. Zu was Anzu...”
“Lilitu, Lilith,” Kane added, nodding.
“On occasion this would involve a period of cosmetic change,” Balam elaborated, “a minor amusement to the Annunaki. The chrysalis was one manner by which this was achieved.”
“So, Ullikummis has been—what—changing his face?” Kane questioned. “Ugly bastard like that’s going to take a lot of work.”
“No, not
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