Ninani, her fears for her father etched into her face, prostrated herself before him. She was determined to try to speak to him again. After a moment, he glanced up, and scowled.

"Daughter," he said, in a low growl, "this is a bad time to talk. The temple of Ishtar has been attacked, and the G.o.ddess is furious. She has voiced all kinds of threats against the city. I must think. Leave me alone."

Obeying his commands despite her fears and worries, Ninani retreated from the throne room. As the guards closed the doors, shutting her off from her father, she turned to see her maid Puabi, almost hopping from foot to foot.

"What is it, old woman?" the princess asked rudely.

"My lady, terrible news." She fell into step beside her mistress as they returned to the princess's rooms. "Strangers have attacked the G.o.ddess Ishtar in her -" "I have heard that news," Ninani said coldly. "It's a shame that they didn't drive her out."

"Have a care, saying such things!" Puabi whispered in horror. She glanced about them, in case anyone had heard this remark. "We are blessed by her presence. But..."

"But what?" "Lady, according to one of the acolytes that I spoke with, one of the temple girls was helping the strangers that attacked Ishtar. My niece, En-Gula!" Stunned, Ninani whirled about. "What happened to her?" she asked urgently. "Does she live? Has she been captured by the G.o.ddess?"

She could imagine what might happen if Ishtar made the girl speak.

"The attackers fled," Puabi replied. "En-Gula went with them. Lady, I'm so sorry! I didn't know that she was such a wicked child! Attacking the G.o.ddess in her temple! What is the world coming to? Young people in my day -" Ninani let the nurse prattle on, and thought hard. Whatever En-Gula was doing, she alone knew that the princess was plotting against Ishtar. A few words from the girl, and Ninani might well be doomed, for all her royal blood. What was happening? Ninani shivered, imagining all of the possibilities. If Ishtar were to find out . . . Or her father, even . . . Who had the girl plotted with, and what was she doing now? Her stomach churning with uncertainty and fear, the princess of Kish felt the corridor spinning about her. With a cry, she collapsed to the hard, stone floor.

11: PARTY PIECE.

To Ace's surprise Gilgamesh's palace was nowhere near as grungy as she had feared. Uruk looked similar to Kish - a city with walls, next to a stream - and about the same size. A bridge led across the river to the main gateway, where winged lions carved from imported stones stared down at her. The roads were wide, and astonishingly clean. Trees were planted in the streets and squares, and the buildings were in good repair. To her eyes, the oddest thing was that there were no windows in the buildings. She mentioned this to Avram, who smiled.

"It is for privacy, lady," he explained. "Each house is built about a central open courtyard, and the windows let onto this. It would be unseemly for a family to allow themselves to be overlooked by the most casual of pa.s.sers by, would it not?"

Ace remembered the rows of windows in Perivale, all looking out onto the road and all protected by frilly nylon curtains. "You may have a point," she agreed.

In the centre of the town a huge ziggurat stood. This was a stepped pyramid rising over two hundred feet into the air, with a temple atop it. It had seven levels, each with a walkway leading around the entire structure, and with altars on every level. People swarmed all over it. The edifice dwarfed all of the, other buildings including the royal palace, which was a mere two-story building, albeit built on a grand scale.

The guards at the city gates had alerted the council of n.o.bles to the return of Gilgamesh as soon as the party had been sighted approaching the city.

Several of the n.o.bles appeared as Gilgamesh led the way to the palace, and they fell on their faces in the street. It didn't do anything for their clothing, since the roads were not particularly dry.

Obviously pleased with his reception, Gilgamesh reached down to touch one of the prostrate n.o.bles. "Get up, Ennatum," he said, with mock severity. "I trust all has been well since I left?"

Ace didn't like the shifty look on Ennatum's bearded features. Despite his oily words, he didn't seem overjoyed to see his king return. "Lord," the adviser said, rubbing his hands together, "the city prospers, and all rejoice that you have returned safely. A feast is being prepared -"

"Good," Gilgamesh said dismissively, striding on towards the palace. The guards fell in about him, and the growing procession continued.

Glancing about Ace saw another of the n.o.bles, a short, fat man who struggled hard to keep up. He seemed as white as a sheet, and she wondered why. Didn't he like Gilgamesh? Well, she couldn't blame him - the king was certainly a royal pain in the backside - it seemed odd. Then it clicked. Gilgamesh had been ambushed as he had tried to enter Kish -and someone must have told the Kis.h.i.tes to expect him. With a wicked grin, she made her way to the tubby traitor, and nudged him in the ribs.

"Oi," she said, softly. "Who rattled your cage? Surprised to see the king back, are you? Didn't think he'd make it?"

The man stared at her and almost fainted from terror. Bingo! Hit it in one!

she grinned at his terror. "Chill out," she said. "If he's too thick to notice what's going on, I won't tell him." She sauntered on, leaving the stunned traitor to his own terrified thoughts.

Ennatum had seen Ace approach Gudea, and the fool's ashen face had spoken volumes. Why couldn't he mask his emotions? The girl, whoever she was, didn't glance at him, so he was safe - for now. It was obvious, though, that it was time to dispose of Gudea before he blabbed.

Avram stared around curiously. He'd never been in Uruk before, but it looked like a wealthy city. A musician might make a good living here, he mused. Especially if an idea he'd been mulling over bore fruit. He smiled encouragingly at En-Gula. She looked pale: she'd been brought up in Kish to look upon the inhabitants of Uruk as murderers and rapists at best. This trip was merely the lesser of two terrifying evils for her, despite Gilgamesh's a.s.surances of royal protection. Both Avram and En-Gula knew that kings have notoriously short and fickle memories.

As for the Doctor: his thoughts were his own. He fingered the devices he'd slipped into his pockets after the midnight trip into the TARDIS, and hoped that his conclusions were correct. So far, all the evidence pointed the same way.

They arrived at the palace. Guards threw wide the main doors, and Gilgamesh strode in, regally ignoring everyone who threw themselves down in his path. He made his way directly to the throne room, and collapsed into his throne.

"Right," he said, when everyone was gathered around. "First, I'm taking a bath and oils. Then I want a feast. After that, Doctor, you and I will talk with my council and lay our plans. Ennatum, see to it that the Doctor and his friends have one of the royal suites. They'll need to refresh themselves before the feast, too. And get them some clean clothes. Well -what's everyone waiting for? Get to it!" He clapped his hands, and a whirlwind of activity began.

Ace was escorted away by a couple of servants who were measuring her up even as they walked alongside her. She saw the Doctor and Avram taken through one set of doors, and she and En-Gula were politely but firmly ushered through another set.

She looked about the room torn between mortification and amus.e.m.e.nt. It was a bit different from her old bedroom in Perivale. The stone walls were broken only by small, high windows. Light was provided by reed torches, soaked in foul-smelling bitumen, set in holders at intervals on the walls.

There were two low beds, covered in furs and a coa.r.s.e kind of cloth.

Instead of pillows there were wooden blocks. A few chairs and small tables were scattered about the room, most carved into uncomfortable-looking animal designs. Panthers and antelopes seemed to be the favourite themes.

En-Gula seemed equally to be stunned by all of this. "Such luxury," she whispered, staring about her.

Ace snorted. "If you like this lot, you'd love Perivale," she grinned.

The girl stared at her. "Is Perivale the home of the G.o.ds?" she asked.

Ace was momentarily lost for words. She replied carefully.

"Not exactly. More like the back end of nowhere. But compared to this pad, even a council flat is luxury."

En-Gula shook her head. "I do not understand you."

"Don't worry," Ace told her. "Sometimes I don't understand myself. Oi! What are you doing?" she demanded, as one of the servants started to tug at her jacket.

"Preparing you for your bath," the young girl replied, bowing low.

"Well, keep your hands to yourself," Ace snapped. "I don't need any help to take a bath." She had to admit, though, that after the events of the previous night she felt that it would be lovely to lie back and soak in a tub.

En-Gula shook her head slightly. "Lady," she said, "I do not know how it is where you come from, but here you must allow them to help. It is their duty."

Glancing around at the four young girls, Ace shook her head firmly. "Push off," she told them, as kindly as she could. "Just point me to the bath, and I'll handle it myself."

She obviously wasn't getting through to them. Trying again, En-Gula explained: "Aya, these girls have been ordered by the king to help you. If they do not, he might have them executed."

"What?" Staring at the servants, Ace realized that the priestess was telling the truth. And she wouldn't put it past that regal loony to kill the girls, either.

Sighing, she held out her arms. "Okay. But be careful with the jacket, or I might save Gilgamesh the trouble of killing you."

Though En-Gula was more used to serving than being waited on, as the king's favoured guest she too submitted to the ministrations of the serving maids. She and they were equally amazed at both the quant.i.ty and kind of clothing that Ace wore. After they had fussed over her underwear and sneakers long enough, Ace yelled at them to get on with the bath.

Ace had expected a good soak in a tub. She was disappointed. Two of the girls brought in what looked like the type of old tin baths she'd heard pensioners talk about using in front of their fires half a century before she was born. Standing in one as she was directed, Ace gave a shriek as a bucket of cold water was tipped over her head.

"Grief!" she finally managed, teeth chattering, "don't you heat the water here?" The chief serving girl looked puzzled. "Whatever for, lady?" "Well, I think you'd live longer with less shocks like that," Ace managed to say before a second pail was tipped over her. Spitting out cold water, she flinched as two of the girls began to sc.r.a.pe at her with what looked like b.u.t.ter knives. "Oi, what are you doing?"

"Cleansing you, lady," the maid explained.

"Just pa.s.s me the soap," Ace complained.

"Soap?" The rest of the bath was no less like a nightmare. After the maids had sc.r.a.ped her skin almost raw, they tipped two more buckets of ice-cold water over her. While she was still shivering, they attacked her with rough towels that virtually finished the job of removing all her skin. Then they brought in two vases filled with some oozy liquid that smelled like a department store perfume counter after an elephant had trampled on all of the bottles.

"Don't tell me that's the shampoo," she protested. "I'm not having that stuff in my hair."

"What?"

"Women must have a pleasing aroma, lady," the servant explained. "It charms their men."

"Well, it doesn't charm me," Ace protested. "I'll smell like a walking antiperspirant spray if you throw that stuff on me."

Puzzled, En-Gula asked: "Does the Doctor not like you to be scented?"

"I don't care what he likes," Ace said, firmly. "I do as I please."

This confused the maids and the priestess. The king, the Doctor and a seemingly endless queue of suitors featured in the babble of protestations.

"Oh, get on with it," she finally sighed to shut them up. Looking relieved, the girls began to ma.s.sage the oil into Ace's skin. Once the shock of the powerful aroma wore off Ace had to admit that it felt rather nice. Sort of like a good ma.s.sage, she supposed. Her raw skin was cooled by the oils, and she decided she could get used to the smell eventually.

She drew a line at the clothing, however. They brought her only two pieces of cloth, and a pair of sandals. "What's this?" she demanded.

"Your robe, lady," the maid told her.

Ace regarded the sc.r.a.ps of purple cloth. "I've got bikinis more respectable than that," she told them, regardless of the fact that they couldn't possibly understand her. She marched back to the other room, trailed by the wailing servants. "I'll wear my old gear again."

"It would be a great insult to the king," the chief maid cried, with tears streaming down her cheeks. "He selected your clothing himself."

"That explains it," Ace said. "He's a s.e.x maniac." The maids seemed distraught at the idea of her ignoring a command from the king. Unwilling to cause the girls more worry than she had to, she agreed to try the outfit on.

It was as skimpy as she had feared. The smaller cloth was wound about her hips, roughly in the place of her knickers. The main cloth was draped about her shoulders like the saris her friend Manisha used to wear, and pinned in place by a very ornate gold brooch.

"No way," she decided firmly. Too much leg showing, and definitely not enough protection against Gilgamesh and his wandering hands. She stripped down again, and in spite of the protests of the maids she pulled on her old underwear and her jeans. Then she had them re-drape the sari over that. She eyed her jacket, but reluctantly decided to leave it. To the wailing maids, she said: "It's this or I don't go to the feast."

"The king will not be pleased," En-Gula commented. She herself wore a white version of the sari, and although her legs were bare her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were covered for the first time since Ace had met her.

"Stuff the king," Ace commented. For a moment she thought the servants were going to faint, but they managed to pull themselves together. Ignoring them, Ace grinned at her companion. "You're looking more dressed now."

En-Gula glanced down. "It would be unseemly to pose as a priestess of Ishtar in the palace of the king of Uruk," she explained.

"Come off it," laughed Ace. "He'd love it. And he might leave me alone if you were flaunting your b.o.o.bs in his face."

"You do not like his attentions?" asked En-Gula, puzzled.

"Right on," Ace agreed.

"But it is an honour," the girl tried to explain. "To be the paramour of a king is to be especially blessed."

Ace snorted. "Then I'll bet Gilgamesh has blessed every woman in the city at least once. He's just not my type." This concept was obviously beyond the grasp of the young priestess. Ace decided to give up. "I'll just skip this honour," she said. "Now, how about looking for that feast? I'm famished. I could eat a horse." Something dawned on her. "Hey, what do they serve for food here? Not really a horse, I hope."

En-Gula shrugged. "Probably roast birds, corn bread and the like. The king eats very well. There may even be meats and real bread."

Ace raised her eyes to heaven. "I'll never complain about Perivale again,"

she muttered. "I'm dying for a bacon b.u.t.ty."

Ishtar regarded the fragments on the table in front of her with interest and wary curiosity. They were all the sc.r.a.ps that the guards had been able to find from the wreckage of the device that had caused the damage to the temple rooms.

"An explosive of some kind," she mused, her tail swishing back and forth on the hard stone floor. "Bits of aluminium, and a nitrogen-based compound." She switched off her a.n.a.lyzing scanners, and swept the pieces to the floor with her hand. "Quite obviously beyond the abilities or imaginations of you primitive humans," she told Dumuzi. He was waiting, servile as ever, just inside the doorway. She spun about to glare in his direction again. "Yet, I do not think either the man or the woman you saw were from Utnapishtim's coven of cowards." She forced his mind to return to the images of the pair.

"The girl. . ." said Ishtar, thoughtfully. "Now, she could be from my world.

She looks considerably more lively and interesting than your pallid race, Dumuzi. She would make me a fine servant - or a tasty feast." She brought the image of the man to the front of the high priest's mind next. "Strange clothing, strange manners," she said, softly. "And he somehow managed to resist the effects of the drug he was given. He cannot be one of Utnapishtim's lackeys - they would not have the ability he displayed."

"Lady?" asked Dumuzi, grimacing in pain as the memories were ripped from his mind. "I do not understand. Did you not say that no one from your home was left alive after you poured out your wrath upon them?" She released the link almost contemptuously. "I do not expect you to understand. I expect you only to obey." She glared at him. "And there may have been a few who survived my wrath - it is nothing to you."

Recovering from the attack, he managed a short bow. "This - Utnapishtim that you speak of. He is your foe?" Laughing in derision, Ishtar stared down at her priest. "Dumuzi, never forget that I can read your every little thought.

Oh, don't be afraid - I shan't punish you for daring to hope that Utnapishtim might come to destroy me and free you. Leaving you the dream and desires for freedom amuses me." She glanced inwards. "But even if Utnapishtim lives, he believes me dead, little man. And by the time he discovers otherwise, I shall be far too strong for him to defeat. No, place no hopes in him." She smiled again, and raised his chin with her metal hand.

Her red eyes burning directly into his. "I'll tell you what - if you want to maintain those foolish fantasies about getting free of me, try placing them in the hands of that stranger who was here, I tell you this, Dumuzi - he has a better chance of defeating me than Utnapishtim. That worm is dead, or if he lives I will crush him when it suits me. This other, though - he is an unknown force. He clearly has unusual powers. Dream on, with him as your hero, foolish priest!" Laughing to herself she moved back into her sanctum, and left Dumuzi to wonder.

To Ace's surprise the feast was not the torture session she had expected.

The hall had been prepared with a dozen long tables arranged in a square about the walls, leaving the centre of the room empty. The tables were all ornamental, their legs carved in the forms of humans and animals which were holding up the table tops on their arms or shoulders. They were inlaid with the bright blue of lapis lazuli, and even jade or some other green stone that she didn't know. The plates and cups were mostly of silver, except the set for Gilgamesh which was of pure gold. Finger bowls abounded, Ace noticed, but the only utensils were knives.

Behind each of the tables were cushions, soft and comfortable. The tables were low, and En-Gula explained that the guests would lie on their sides on the cushions to eat. Though she would have preferred a chair, Ace decided she could play along with this style of eating for a change. She was glad that she'd insisted on wearing her jeans, though - lying down in a short skirt would definitely have been asking for trouble. Didn't the local women have any notion of modesty? Or, with Gilgamesh about, of safety? The maids showed both girls and the other arriving guests to their places. Ace was placed at the end of the largest table, next to the Doctor, who didn't look as if his skin had been sc.r.a.ped and who had obviously insisted on wearing his old clothes. He'd even brought his umbrella along with him. He'd clearly won all the arguments with the servants about changing. He had a way of doing things like that which she envied. To Ace's disappointment, both EnGula and Avram were placed at a table at the far end of the room. Seeing her wave forlornly to them, the Doctor smiled.

"It's a matter of status, Ace," he explained quietly. "You and I are honoured guests, and thus allowed to eat at Gilgamesh's table. Avram's just a musician, and En-Gula is just a defrocked priestess. The local hierarchy probably didn't even want her here. So they have to be seated as far away from the n.o.bles as possible."

"I'm surprised they were allowed in at all, if it's just a matter of having the right name and enough gold thread in your robes." Ace hated the att.i.tudes that dictated the seating arrangements. She wanted to be with people she liked, regardless of their status.

"I think it's because Gilgamesh doesn't want to offend us," the Doctor told her. "Otherwise I'm sure they'd have to forage for food in the kitchen."

"It pays to have connections, eh, Professor?" He winked at her.

The entertainment began. There were court musicians playing crude wind instruments, drums and harps. There were dancers, conjurers and acrobats. There were trained monkeys juggling nuts and bright baubles. All of this went on, almost unnoticed, as the food was served and eaten.

To Ace's relief, Gilgamesh had taken his place at the centre of the table, with Enkidu on his right. The oily adviser, Ennatum, lounged next to Enkidu.

On Gilgamesh's left was a pretty woman with an extremely well developed chest. The king didn't bother Ace all evening, but he laughed a lot and pawed the woman frequently. She, in her turn, was clearly enjoying the attention, and with obvious delight fed Gilgamesh little delicacies as his hands roamed inside her robes.

"Thank G.o.d for small mercies," Ace muttered to the Doctor. "Who's she, the queen?" "No." The Doctor's face was perfectly blank. "She's the wife of Gudea." He nodded in the direction of the fat man that Ace had enjoyed scaring earlier.