The Apocalypse Script (14 page)

“
But,
unbeknownst to their clients, the couriers were providing copies of
many of the messages they were carrying to a group of Madihee
intellectuals in the city of Ur called
the Nisirtu
. This internal
organization was responsible for collecting, sorting, analyzing,
and using the stolen information to the tribe’s advantage. In this
way they knew who would war against whom, when taxes in various
cities or kingdoms would be raised or lowered, who would be
assassinated, what mines had been found or abandoned, what new
technologies had been discovered, and so forth.”

“
Quite a sophisticated operation,”
Ben quipped.

“
Yes, and successful. The Nisirtu
worked day and night processing the information that was flowing in
from every corner of the map. They were privy to newly discovered
mathematical formulas, scientific principles, medicines, weapons -
everything. They amassed huge libraries of maps and knew everything
that could be known about the geography and cultures of the ancient
world.

“
In time,” she
continued, “our ancestors used their insight to covertly obtain key
positions within the various kingdoms in order to collect
still
more
information. They became oracles, teachers, prophets, and
advisors, yet they remained in communication with each other via an
invisible
internal
network of messengers. That private network and the strategic
placement of their spies made our ancestors virtually
omniscient.”

“
Wait,” interrupted Ben, holding
up one hand. “You’re telling me that the Madihee had created a kind
of ancient internet, right?”

Lilian was impressed. “That’s
right, Ben. Oh, certainly, it was a very slow moving version of the
internet. A ‘query’ might take months to answer instead of seconds.
Yet the Nisirtu could obtain any type information it needed, from
the movements of armies to the name of an obscure queen’s favorite
uncle’s favorite food, simply by plugging the question into their
‘machine.’”

“
Impressive,” said the researcher
smiling, but not believing the fable.

“
It was,” agreed Lilian. “In time,
the Madihee horsemen faded away, as did most nomadic groups.
However, the Nisirtu lived on, as an independent
institution.”

Ben shrugged. “Still, knowledge is
not in itself power. It has to be utilized to one’s
advantage.”

“
That’s right,”
said the woman. “Which is why we learned to use our network to do
far than just
anticipate
political and military events. We began to
steer
them.”

“
How?”

“
It was an evolutionary process,”
the woman replied. “Let us say that a handmaiden to a king gave
birth to his illegitimate son and that the Nisirtu became aware of
this through one of their spies. In early days of the Nisirtu, the
council would send agents to befriend the son and his mother and
earn their trust so that if someday the son became king, or was
given an honorary post, we would profit from our association with
the young man. We would use the information available to them to
our advantage, but in a fairly limited way.”

“
Alright.”

“
Fast forward a
few centuries and you would find that the we would no longer wait
for such an event to take advantage of. We would make it happen. We
would make it a priority to learn about the king’s lusts as soon as
he ascended to the throne and would ensure that a handmaiden
of
our choice
found her way into the king’s bed. We would also ensure
any
legitimate
children died during or soon after birth.

“
Once a bastard son was realized
we might have the king killed to move things along, but only after
ensuring the bastard child would be accepted by the king’s court,
typically through a combination of bribery, blackmail, and
assassination.”

“
I see,” Ben
said, playing along. “The Nisirtu no longer waited for
opportunities. They
made
opportunities.”

“
Exactly, though never directly,
Ben. We learned to control events from afar in order to limit our
exposure. If we wanted a king dead we ensured that his adversaries
stumbled upon documents that showed the weaknesses of his
fortifications and how best to exploit them, or that a slighted
Queen had available to her the poison necessary to end the life of
her unfaithful husband. That kind of thing.”

“
You controlled events from the
shadows, you’re saying.”

“
Correct. We began to write what
we call ‘scripts,’ manipulating people into doing what we require
while convincing them that they are acting of their own free will.
A script is like a play where none of the actors know they are
actors. The writers of these scripts are called scribes and the
Families dictate the objectives of the scripts. Scriptus Ridley is
easily the most famous scribe in the Ten Kingdoms.”

Ben blinked. Script? Wasn’t that
the term Fiela had used earlier to describe the quarantine? Had
Ridley made that happen, then?

Lilian continued, “As millennia
passed we grew our network of insiders and learned new ways to
manipulate international events. We developed a variety of tools to
predict outcomes given specific inputs. Mathematical and
psychological models, among others. We learned to control entire
populations. Our members became diplomats, advisors, holy men,
courtesans, and the like.”

“
World leaders?”

The beautiful woman shook her
head. “Rarely. We do not seek any overt power because overtness is
weakness. Better to be the puppeteer than the puppet, even if the
puppet is a king or a senator or a president.”

The researcher said, “That’s not a
history, Lilian. It’s a
conspiracy
theory.
”

“
That’s only partially true,” she
responded. “Besides, you’re supposed to be humoring me.”

Ben said, “So how do most of you
spend your days? I mean, when you’re not in secret lairs plotting
the overthrow of governments. Lawn darts, maybe?”

Lilian grinned. “Oh, there are
many other roles, Ben. The Nisirtu is a microcosm of what you’d
expect in anywhere. We have spies, priests, poets, programmers,
physicians, scientists, and philosophers, for example. Some work
only within the Nisirtu but most work among the Ardoon.”

“
And you? What do you do, when not
recruiting roguishly good looking men into the Nisirtu?”

“
Ah,” said
Lilian, sitting down her glass. “I’m a
ne’er-do-well.
I am the last
surviving member a family that was for hundreds of years quite
powerful. Noble, actually. I am entitled to eighteen
fetches.”

“
You have no
responsibilities?”

“
Not to the Nisirtu. I have not
been idle, though. Growing up I attended the best schools, had the
best mentors, and traveled extensively. I am an equestrian of
some note and I became interested in music as a child. I play
several instruments, though I prefer the violin, as you have seen.
I also sing.”

“
Really? I’d like to hear you
sing.”

“
Then you will,” she said with an
expression that indicated she was pleased with his
interest.

Ben said, “I’m surprised you
didn’t enter into…what, politics, I guess? Nisirtu politics. I
mean, with your family’s background, you could have been some kind
of diplomat or ambassador. I assume you guys have those types of
things.”

“
Yes,” she said,
the joy suddenly gone, “but I am barred from serving in any such
capacity as a result of some family indiscretions I’d rather not
take up tonight. I hope you don’t mind,
Mutu
. The story is rather
convoluted.”

Ben let it go. The phantom
skeletons in her family’s mythical closet were no business of
his.

She said, “Are you interested in politics, Ben?”

“
Not anymore. I’m jaded. It
doesn’t seem to matter who’s in charge. Same words, same actions,
different faces.”

Lilian watched him, saying, “The president is giving
a speech tomorrow morning to an association of high school
principals about the importance of education to the future of
America.”

Shrugging, Ben said, “Doesn’t
every president? It makes for good PR.”

Lilian said, “You don’t think education
important?”

“
Of course I do. But what is he
going to say that hasn’t already been said a million times? He
might propose some token initiative, come up with some new slogan
and shake a few hands, but nothing of substance will be
done.”

“
What would you do if you were
him?”

Ben said, “I haven’t really
thought about it. Maybe invest in some kind of jamming device that
prevents phones from working inside schools.” He smiled crookedly,
“Get rid of the instant messaging, texting, and emails, and you
might even get the kids to look at the instructor on occasion.”
Taking a sip of his water, he looked at Lilian and winked. “You
know I’m joking, right?”

The woman rolled her eyes.
“
Please.
”

Surveying the room, Ben said, “To
be honest, Lilian. I am not overwhelmed by what I am seeing here.
The holograms are awesome but otherwise the Ziggurat resembles a
PBS-sponsored bingo tournament.”

Lilian laughed. “Well, keep in
mind this is a small monthly congregation, and a regional one, at
that. We’re only here because I need to be seen with you. It proves
our association.”

“
Our marriage, you
mean.”

“
Exactly.”

Ben saw a shadow fall over
Lilian’s face. She was looking toward the entrance.

“
What’s the matter?” he
asked.

“
An old family acquaintance has
arrived.”

Ben peered at the entrance. “Were
you expecting him?”

“
No. He normally resides in North
Africa. He is a member of the Tenth Kingdom and the senior
Peth-Allati lord of all the kingdoms. He leads the Seven’s wars
against the rebels. His name is Moros and he’s like a senior
Gestapo. Charming but with a black heart.”

As she spoke Ben saw a tall, lean
man approached their table. His hair was greased back like
Casanova’s and he wore an immaculate silk suit, shimmering black,
though the starched white shirt was open-collared. His smile was
radiant, his teeth perfect, and his eyes as silver as the
moon.

“
Lilian!” the arrival said. “What
a pleasant surprise.”

“
Good evening, Lord Moros. I’m as
surprised as you, I’m sure.”

The man examined Ben before
looking at Lilian inquiringly. “This is your new
husband?”

“
Ben,” the
accused said, standing and holding out his hand. Moros shook it
firmly. “Please have a seat. How did you know that Lilian and I
were
married
?” He almost used air quotes but stopped himself.

The Nisirtu slid into the bench
opposite them, saying, “Lilian, careful girl that she is,
registered you as her fiancée a few hours after the incident at the
motel to ensure you didn’t become collateral damage in a script. It
was a natural deduction on my part.”

Lilian said, “What brings you to Denver, Lord
Moros?”

“
Business. These are, well, hectic
times. The rebels are nearly defeated but they have made a mess of
things, as you know. I am meeting with some other Peth commanders
from around the globe to discuss our situation. Denver proved to be
the most convenient location for us to meet.”

He focused on the table and put
out his lower lip as if pondering his next words. Then, looking at
Ben, he said, “I was surprised to learn that Lilian had such an
impulsive streak. Marrying an Ardoon she only just met? It’s not
like her. I mean, you are, well, quite the dish, but…”

He squinted at the signet ring on
Ben’s finger. It seemed to bother him. “Still, it was a surprise,
as I said. She is normally a very calculating woman.”

“
She still is,” remarked Ben.
“Trust me.”

“
Yes, well, it seems rather unfair
that dear Lilian knows so much about you - everything, I assume -
yet you know so little about her. Almost nothing, is my
guess.”

“
We only met
yesterday.”

“
Yes, of course. Perhaps I might
break the ice, then. That ring you are wearing - her father’s. Has
she told you of her family?” The Peth lord leaned forward and added
in a grave tone, “Of the man who once wore it?”

Ben felt Lilian
stiffen.

“
It is of no consequence,” the
woman said, staring at Moros.

“
Really?” The Peth lord turned to
Ben and raised his eyebrows. “Ben, do you think it is of no
consequence that your new wife is the bastard daughter of a mad
king?”

“
It’s true,” Moros said, seeing
the dumb expression on the other man’s face. “Lilian is the
illegitimate daughter of King Sargon, former ruler of the Fifth
Kingdom. Her mother is a woman whose name has been erased from
history - and believe me, Ben, when the Nisirtu wipe a name from
the history books, it is thoroughly and completely
wiped.”