CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN by M.Scott Verne, Wynn Wynn Mercere Page B

as he caught up with him.
    “It . . . was a shrine.” Eros put his hand on Zephyrus’s shoulder to keep his oblivious friend from stumbling into the disaster. Ahead of them, a jerking black mass covered the ground. A bloodied, featherless head poked out of it, turning an eye toward them as it tilted back to swallow a viscous tidbit.
    “Vultures! What are they . . . “
    “The priests,” Eros answered as the horror of the scene dawned on Zephyrus. Eros looked down and saw a small severed hand lying pale in the dirt. “The acolytes.”
    A furious expression sprang across the wind’s visage. “Damned birds!”
    Eros, irritated with his companion, gave him a slight shove back. “Don’t blame the vultures. This is their sacred grove. They’re cleansing it the only way they can.”
    Leaving Zephyrus behind, Eros moved through the iron gate, stepping carefully around the feeding flock. As he made his way toward the central altar, he checked any points of possible shelter for survivors. The stone chambers once home to the priests had been tumbled from their foundations. Once-towering stacks of firewood lay scattered into random, teetering piles. Pausing by the shrine’s well, Eros called hopefully down into its dark depths, but not so much as a frog responded to his voice.
    “Eros, here!”
    Eros turned to find Zephyrus pointing to a line of damaged saplings and trampled brush. Red streaks of human blood painted their trunks and leaves. “The beast! I’m after it!”
    “Wait.” Eros spun quickly and moved to intercept Zephyrus before he plunged headlong down the trail. “There is no one but us to report this desecration. You know the new laws. We have to go before the Council as witnesses.”
    “Damn the laws, and damn Prometheus for going into hiding.” Zephyrus ran a hand through his disarranged hair, keeping his eyes trained on Eros’s face so he wouldn’t have to see the gore near his feet as he recalled the rules. When the realms declared peace and came together to create the City, laws were established to allow order to prevail. One of those decrees ruled that in the event a deity could not personally appear to avenge his followers, the first gods on the scene were bound to bring the matter before the Council. If Zephyrus and Eros ignored the edict, they would bear nearly as much responsibility for the massacre as whatever had caused it. “We’d better go.”
    “And quickly,” Eros agreed. He’d be happy to buy Zephyrus those two mugs of ale he’d lost on the bet. He planned to drink at least twice that many himself to blur the memory of what they’d seen.

Chapter 8 - Namtar the Slaver God  
     

    “I don’t know. He seems a bit scrawny to me,” said Namtar, the High Sulgi in the employ of Lamasthu at the Slavers’ Temple. “What do you expect me to pay?” He feigned disinterest in the young Egyptian he was being offered, wondering if his act was fooling Ptahetep. Ptahetep was a dark-skinned man with many short braids that came to just below the bottom of his ears.   He wore a gold headband with the symbol of his god, Set, in the center. A thin, white linen robe and a gold belt detailed with hieroglyphs covered his body.
    “You know the value of such a young slave. He has many years of good use ahead of him and he’s in fine shape,” Ptahetep said with confidence, familiar with Namtar’s tactics. “You will pay two hundred and twenty-four gold.” Ptahetep held his ground, looking the hawk-headed Namtar right in his large, round, black eyes and ignoring the implied threat of his sharp, yellow beak.
    Namtar needed no shirt, for his torso was covered with brown feathers. A gem-studded sash that crossed his chest and attached to a similar belt displayed his rank and rights as High Sulgi. The High Sulgi’s duty was to obtain the best servants for the use of the gods, all for the glory and honor of Lamasthu. In practice, this meant that Namtar was in charge of kidnapping anyone or anything