The beast reeks of feces and swarms with flies. It lies half-curled around itself, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. Matted tawny fur. Gigantic feathered wings stretch to the walls, folded awkwardly to fit. The black and white feathers turned gray and yellow with grime and pus.
I follow Kiddu reluctantly as she approaches the creature. Then I start crying.
Just a little bit. I quickly wipe the moisture away, and cover by scratching my nose—I don’t think Kiddu noticed. I wasn’t expecting anything rosy tonight. But lined up next to my grand memories, the sight of the beast like this is shocking.
Only a few feet away, I can see one of its black horns is broken off. Rough surface of red marrow. Its sleeping face locked in a snarl. Yellow teeth bared to the night.
Up until this moment it hadn’t really sunk in that we were actually doing this. I was sure we would somehow end up back at the Temple, having done nothing at all, our silly plans foiled by mundane reality. But now, I can’t imagine not setting the beast free.
“Here you go,” says Kiddu.
She takes out a small flask from her robe and hands it to me. Withering tincture.
“Um,” I say. “Don’t you want to do this?”
“You’re better with that magic stuff than I am.”
I turn the flask around and around in my hands.
“What,” she says. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”
“Shhhhh.”
“Damn it, Gil. If you’re scared of beasts, maybe you shouldn’t have joined Bestial Liberation.”
“Will you just shut up? I’ll do it.”
I uncork the flask. An unctuous scent flies out like some legendary imprisoned demon.
The lamashu seems to notice the smell too. It grumbles in its sleep and shifts its paw.
I freeze.
I wait a whole minute before moving closer to the beast. Its head is as big as my whole torso. One of its front legs extends fully in front of its face. I’m going to have to step over that leg to pour this stuff on the chain.
I lift up my right foot. Then I just stand there, wobbling, trying to figure out where to put my other foot down. It comes a finger’s length away from brushing against the beast’s whiskers. I start to shake.
Panic.
I find my footing in the little triangle of space between the beast’s elbow and face. Straddling its paw, I tip the flask onto the pearlstone chain, as close to the collar as I can manage.
The pearlstone links bubble and fizz. Then they melt away, leaving an acrid, burning stench. The jagged end of the severed chain clatters into the dust. The beast’s whiskers quiver as I step away—but it doesn’t wake up.
“Mission accomplished!” Kiddu yells.
“Shhhhh!”
We walk away from the slumbering beast. Before we turn the corner, I look back at the lamashu one more time, before it flies into the night, away to the wild—
“Wait a minute,” I say. “How is it going to get out of here?”
Kiddu shrugs. “Won’t it fly away when it wakes up?”
“What if the Circus people find it before that?”
“Oh,” she says. “You’re right. Damn it! Why didn’t I think of that?”
For some reason, I had assumed that Kiddu—or at least someone in Bestial Liberation—had come up with a comprehensive plan for freeing the creature.
“Well,” Kiddu says. “I ‘spose I’ll just—”
She starts walking over to the beast. I grab her upper arm with both of my hands and jerk her back so forcefully that we both almost fall over.
“What?”
“No,” I say.
“Come on! I’m not scared of it. You know how they say the mystics used to ride these things into battle—”
“NO.”
“You’re really no fun, you know that?”
“Can we please just get out of here?” I say. “Maybe we can throw something over the wall to wake it up.”
From her pocket, Kiddu pulls out a small pouch with a thick string sticking out from the top. She grins.
“Is that a bomb?” I say. “Where did you get that?”
“Just a smoke bomb. I heard hard-core liberators always bring them on missions. You never know when you’ll need to blow stuff up.”
We leave the sleeping beast and make our way to the Circus’ back door. There isn’t any clear lever or device to open it form the inside. I try to open it with the keywand, waving it and twisting it in elegant arcs and slashes.
Nothing happens.
“Want me to try?” Kiddu asks.
I take a closer look at the business end of the wand.
“No, it’s dead. Look—one of the little astrate gems is dark. It’s out of magic.” So that’s how Bestial Liberation was able to get their hands on such an expensive toy.
“Guess we’ll just have to climb over the wall,” says Kiddu.
“Um.”
“Come on! It’s only like six cubits. Here, hold my foot up.”
Kiddu has to show me how to do this—crouching down, holding my hands together in a cup shape as a platform for her foot. It holds. Then she kicks her other foot off the ground, propelling herself up the wall.
I instantly fall over on my back. She lands on my chest.
She’s quick to roll off and help me up. After I catch my breath we try again.
This time she lands on my stomach.
“Kfuughnnngh!”
“Damn it!” she says. “Do I have to lift you up?”
The fifth time turns out to be a charm.
We both sit panting on top of the rough brick wall, ducking down low. If any soldiers patrolling the Dividing Wall had been watching the Circus, they definitely would have seen our clumsy wall-climbing escapade. But I don’t see any helmet-lights looking this way.
Since the Circus is on a hill, I can see most of the city from my perch. It’s surprising how pretty it all looks in the night.
Granted, the Dividing Wall is an ugly nightmare of brick and barricades. But the Akkadian part surrounding the Wall’s big triangle looks peaceful. Quaint, even, with its soft adobe buildings and cactus-lined boulevards. The only exception to the quaintness is Emperor Zargon’s giant statue.
“I think we’re good,” Kiddu says.
She flicks the wheel on top of her lighter. A faint spark flies out, but not enough to light the wick of the smoke bomb. She tries again, but still no luck.
“Can I try?” I ask. She hands it to me. I’m about to turn to the slumbering lamashu below—but something catches my eye.
There’s movement around the Emperor’s statue: a shadow circling around the base. I squint at it.
In the faint starlight, I think I can make out a long, curved shape on its back.
“Look at that,” I say softly. “By Zarg’s statue.”
Kiddu looks closely, squinting too.
“I don’t see anything.”
“There’s a guy walking around the statue.”
“Homeless person?”
“I don’t think so…”
I’m not sure, but it almost looks like the figure is dumping something out from a bag.
“Look!”
Now the figure glows with a soft violet light.
“Okay, I definitely see that,” says Kiddu.
The light pools and concentrates, narrowing into a short bright beam. Like a glowing arrow.
Then the figure launches this arrow. It sails up and over the Dividing Wall.
I look back at the figure by the statue. Vanished.
“Where did he go?”
Not a second later, there’s another glow—from a second figure, perched on a distant bank’s high rooftop. This glow is orange.
Then a whoooosh!, the sound of fire eating air. A spear of orange light shoots out from the rooftop—straight into Zargon’s statue.
With a deafening crack, the statue explodes.