The Third Ami-El

While this all had come to pass, Belharza's castaway child had lived many years on the banks of the Niben, becoming strong, fearless, sharp-eyed, and crowned with horns. And on the day of Belharza's death, Amet walked the jungled paths to the riverside.

On this path was a brook, and from the water came a voice: "Hail Amet, child of the Bull, come into inheritance today, and ignorant of it all."

"Silent, crooked stream," replied Amet, "I do not listen to the waters, for I am neither poet nor ferryman. I am Amet, the horned, tall and strong, child of the bone-carver."

Replied the river: "Listen, for you are child of me, when you were young the waters cared for you, and carried you, and gave birth to you anew on the reedy banks of the Niben. You will go to the river, true, but there you will not wash clothes nor carry back sweet water. On the river you will see a bull, wounded by an iron spear. Black deed! You must ease its suffering, but beware, for inside it burns a hateful fire. It will tell you of your inheritance, but it hates you, and will try to wound you."

"Fine words the river speaks today", Amet answered, "You will tell my fortune? Sing a song, perhaps? It has been long since I heard good river-song." But the water did not reply.

So Amet walked on to the great river Niben. Many the poets who sleep on its banks, and many the lovers who drown themselves, seeking union with its holy spirit. But that day the river was silent, blackened by mourning-ashes. "A black day!" mused Amet, "Black deed! Something vile must have happened in the Woven City."

And there a black bull rose from the river, made of flame and mourning-ash. The beast bellowed, wounded by a spear in its side, and collapsed on the banks. Then, seeing Amet on the side of the river, the bull spoke: "Hail, Amet, scorned child. Know now your true ancestry: not a child of Niben folk, but of Belharza, Man-Bull, dead today and in death defiled. You are the last of his line."

Said Amet: "Who are you, smoke-bull? What do you speak of?"

The bull replied: "I am the bull, Morihaus, and I am Belharza, son of Morihaus, and I am even blind Asterion. From me your blood flows. To you I entrust the Empire of Aleshut, though there is part of me that rages against you, even in death, for your mother's life." And from the beast sprung forth fiery tongues that burned in Amet's hand the shape of a diamond. "This is the sign of your office, now in the hand of a kin-murderer. Your uncle, white Asterion, has murdered your brothers and sisters, and now holds court in the valley of Horns, where monsters roam. You must defeat him."

"How do I do this?" asked Amet, to which the bull replied: "Asterion has many warriors, also, he is invulnerable to the weapons of man. Only you, child of Esha, can wound him, by a weapon of the self. You were the death of Llesa, Nibennum, my beloved. Fail, daughter. Let this empire rot with my bride, burn with my bones."

And when Amet woke, it was cold, and dark, and there no stars burned that night. And in her hand there was a festering burn-wound. So Amet returned home, feverish, and slept for many days, and her foster-mother and father wrapped her head and her wounds with healing silks, and many fine roots and herbs that bring sweet dreams and dull the senses, but her sickness did not abate - for none of the Niben's sweet-dream-spices could quell such a fire.