the lover Mexos, I hadn’t embraced Dagon, and I was one with the mother-goddess.
Like many ancient people—and I felt as though I were becoming an authority on ancient peoples— not every last thing they believed
had to agree with every other thing they believed. In fact, stories could contradict each other but not be viewed as inconsistencies.
To a Western linear thought pattern, it was bewildering. But to the Eastern mind, which I’d spent a lot of time with both
here and in my childhood, it made a strange, convoluted, and quirky kind of sense.
Consequently I was the local goddess, a facet of the great goddess Ashterty. They had given me a house, Tamera as my handmaid,
food, clothing, and power. I’d been invited to sit with the
serenim
, the city elders, when they listened to cases and dispensed justice. I was to attend every dinner, every event, of which
there were many. The bad news was I was escorted everywhere, waited on by everyone, and my chances for slipping into the crowd
and hitchhiking to Egypt were nil.
Especially since I still couldn’t use my left shoulder, arm, and hand. I wasn’t healed yet. Though it was back in place, the
swelling wasn’t completely gone. I looked up at Dagon, since I was living at the base of his tail until I took possession
of my new, goddess-worthy dwelling. “Heya,” I whispered to the idol. Groaning, very un-sea-mistress-like, I sat up. What I
wouldn’t give for coffee! Or a painkiller.
“HaDerkato?”
I motioned for Tamera to enter. She left me a breakfast of fish grilled with tiny little sweet onions. Scallions? The meal
was delicious, though it hurt to hold the plate after a moment. I set it down and looked around, trying to orient myself.
Who, what, when, where, and why were my questions, and I hadn’t a single answer. Had these people come from the ashes of the
time period I’d lived in before, in Aztlan? Had I moved forward in time? No one seemed to know the name of Pharaoh, so that
checkpoint was ineffective. All in all, I was firmly adrift, waiting for Cheftu to chance across my pathway. I shifted and
saw a priest wielding a spear poke his head around the corner.
My chains were figurative but effective. They hadn’t even given me shoes!
Tamera mixed me some concoction involving salt water, a raw egg, coriander leaf, and something else. Whatever it was, it eased
some of my aching. Gingerly I climbed into a bath, then submitted to having my hair brushed and oiled while my legs were waxed.
The Pelesti were not as conscious about hygiene as either the Egyptians or the Azlantu. However, I was. Plucking and shaving
and waxing had become a way of life for me, one I wasn’t anxious to give up. However, it was agony with bruises. I settled
for a minimum of service because I’m a wimp when it comes to pain.
Even bathing, I wasn’t alone.
By noon I was clothed, jeweled, coiffed, and painted. I was eating some raisins and bread when Tamera came in, a contingency
of priestesses behind her. They were all wearing fish masks and fish body cloaks. Tamera handed me the same garment, telling
me that I was now one of their order, a goddess to serve Dagon as they each served him while mortal.
Again, more of the incongruous story thinking. No one seemed to find it odd that I didn’t know what to do, that I didn’t know
what prayers to say or even what the ritual was. They must have assumed I was a stupid goddess, but all were so agog at my
passing the tightrope ritual that they were willing to overlook some things. Thank the goddess!
This fish garb was definitely a fashion don’t; however, I had no choice. I put it on, slipped the mask over my head, then
went out to wait for El’i, my chauffeur.
The Pelesti were between growing seasons and had nothing to do. Therefore the
serenim
had created mass entertainment to keep the people happy. Today there were gladiator teams. That wasn’t the term they used,
but my lexicon
Like many ancient people—and I felt as though I were becoming an authority on ancient peoples— not every last thing they believed
had to agree with every other thing they believed. In fact, stories could contradict each other but not be viewed as inconsistencies.
To a Western linear thought pattern, it was bewildering. But to the Eastern mind, which I’d spent a lot of time with both
here and in my childhood, it made a strange, convoluted, and quirky kind of sense.
Consequently I was the local goddess, a facet of the great goddess Ashterty. They had given me a house, Tamera as my handmaid,
food, clothing, and power. I’d been invited to sit with the
serenim
, the city elders, when they listened to cases and dispensed justice. I was to attend every dinner, every event, of which
there were many. The bad news was I was escorted everywhere, waited on by everyone, and my chances for slipping into the crowd
and hitchhiking to Egypt were nil.
Especially since I still couldn’t use my left shoulder, arm, and hand. I wasn’t healed yet. Though it was back in place, the
swelling wasn’t completely gone. I looked up at Dagon, since I was living at the base of his tail until I took possession
of my new, goddess-worthy dwelling. “Heya,” I whispered to the idol. Groaning, very un-sea-mistress-like, I sat up. What I
wouldn’t give for coffee! Or a painkiller.
“HaDerkato?”
I motioned for Tamera to enter. She left me a breakfast of fish grilled with tiny little sweet onions. Scallions? The meal
was delicious, though it hurt to hold the plate after a moment. I set it down and looked around, trying to orient myself.
Who, what, when, where, and why were my questions, and I hadn’t a single answer. Had these people come from the ashes of the
time period I’d lived in before, in Aztlan? Had I moved forward in time? No one seemed to know the name of Pharaoh, so that
checkpoint was ineffective. All in all, I was firmly adrift, waiting for Cheftu to chance across my pathway. I shifted and
saw a priest wielding a spear poke his head around the corner.
My chains were figurative but effective. They hadn’t even given me shoes!
Tamera mixed me some concoction involving salt water, a raw egg, coriander leaf, and something else. Whatever it was, it eased
some of my aching. Gingerly I climbed into a bath, then submitted to having my hair brushed and oiled while my legs were waxed.
The Pelesti were not as conscious about hygiene as either the Egyptians or the Azlantu. However, I was. Plucking and shaving
and waxing had become a way of life for me, one I wasn’t anxious to give up. However, it was agony with bruises. I settled
for a minimum of service because I’m a wimp when it comes to pain.
Even bathing, I wasn’t alone.
By noon I was clothed, jeweled, coiffed, and painted. I was eating some raisins and bread when Tamera came in, a contingency
of priestesses behind her. They were all wearing fish masks and fish body cloaks. Tamera handed me the same garment, telling
me that I was now one of their order, a goddess to serve Dagon as they each served him while mortal.
Again, more of the incongruous story thinking. No one seemed to find it odd that I didn’t know what to do, that I didn’t know
what prayers to say or even what the ritual was. They must have assumed I was a stupid goddess, but all were so agog at my
passing the tightrope ritual that they were willing to overlook some things. Thank the goddess!
This fish garb was definitely a fashion don’t; however, I had no choice. I put it on, slipped the mask over my head, then
went out to wait for El’i, my chauffeur.
The Pelesti were between growing seasons and had nothing to do. Therefore the
serenim
had created mass entertainment to keep the people happy. Today there were gladiator teams. That wasn’t the term they used,
but my lexicon
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