People of Babel (Ark Chronicles 3) Read Online Free Page A

tree planks overlaid with palm leaves formed the roof, which was covered with a layer of mud.
    Wind and rainstorms, unfortunately, washed away mud and caused leaks . To repair the leaky roof, men had to plaster on more mud. To quick-dry and flatten this new mud, or to simply dry out the old after a rain, a large rolling stone was left on the Barracks roof.
    Many such dwellings had dirt floors . Nimrod tiled the Barracks with brick flooring. In the Barracks lived the Hunters, a few of them with their newlywed wives.
    Semiramis presently moved alone through the dark halls and corridors . Nimrod and a band of Hunters had left two weeks ago. He had made Gilgamesh her watchdog. She smiled. Poor Gilgamesh, he was dying to have Opis, but now he was a maid for Nimrod’s wife.
    She greeted Gilgamesh in the main yard: a dirt field surrounded by a brick wall, with straw targets at the southern end.
    Today, he had promised to take her gazelle hunting.
    They headed inland, away from the cultivated fields and canals. Two other Hunters joined them. Gilgamesh explained how they would swing out in a wide arc to beat sticks and scare gazelles toward them. They reached a desolate region of scrub, thorns and dusty grasslands. The two beaters jogged away with several hounds, leaving Semiramis and Gilgamesh alone on the treeless plain. The sun neared noon. Heat waves shimmered on the horizon.
    “ Must we march in the heat of day?” she asked.
    Gilgamesh mopped his forehead . His scarlet headband was already soaked with sweat. “It’s hot, but at least the lions won’t bother us. They’re busy seeking relief in the shade.”
    “ I wish we did the same.”
    He pointed at a thicket. “We can wait there, I suppose.”
    Soon they crouched in the shade.
    “ Can I sip from your waterskin,” she asked. “Mine’s empty.” Gilgamesh passed his over and Semiramis sipped, dropping something into it, capping it and shaking the skin. He raised his eyebrows.
    “ Honey drops,” she said. “Try it.”
    Gilgamesh uncapped the skin and guzzled. He nodded, but the water tasted no different.
    She asked about Opis . He shrugged.
    “ No, no,” Semiramis said. “I’d like to hear.”
    Gilgamesh talked for a while, frowned, and touched his forehead.
    “ Do you feel dizzy?” Semiramis asked, sliding closer, studying him.
    “ I do.”
    “ I know why.”
    He lowered his hand, looking at her . Her smile was sly and intoxicating. She was beautiful.
    “ There’s a little green fly from the delta marsh. A very special fly Deborah told me about. I crushed and mixed it with herbs and date-palm honey.”
    Gilgamesh brought up the waterskin.
    “ Those weren’t honey drops, my handsome hunter, but a love draught to loosen your restraint.”
    He noticed how near she was, the smell of her perfume and the way her lips parted.
    “How you must ache to hold Opis,” Semiramis said. “How you must long to kiss her, to have her.” Semiramis touched his forearm. “We’re both lonely, and both…” She squeezed his forearm. “The love draught is impossible to resist.”
    Her eyes were fire.
    “Am I not beautiful?” she whispered.
    Gilgamesh’s senses roared. And because of the potion, he told himself, whatever happened wasn’t his fault.
    They embraced.
    “I’m yours, Gilgamesh,” Semiramis whispered.
    His stirred passions, the roaring of his senses —Gilgamesh gave a great shout and tore away from her. “I can’t, I can’t!” he cried. He bolted, confused and guilty. After a league of running, he collapsed on the dirt. Would Nimrod kill him? What if Opis found out?
    Motion in the distance warned him of someone’s approach.
    Gilgamesh crouched, working over in his mind the adage of the anger of a woman scorned. It was empty in this interior country, with only vultures wheeling overhead. If he killed Semiramis—“No!” He felt sick at his murderous thoughts.
    He rose to greet her . She searched his face. She was so beautiful. Lust rose in him,