Page 112 of The Deer and the Dragon
Caliban rubbed his brow as if a headache had blossomed behind his ice-white skin. “Thank fuck indeed. So, a split battlefront it is.”
Az interlaced his fingers behind his head, horns nearly brushing against the headboard as he kept his eyes unfocused toward the ceiling. “Our war with Heaven has been espionage and subterfuge at best. I acknowledge you know far more about the war’s inner workings than I do, Prince, but with the Phoenicians…I don’t know. Astarte has Dagon prisoner. There’s a chance they won’t mourn her.”
Caliban was unconvinced. “She’s Baal’s consort, and he’s the highest god in their realm. He won’t be pleased.”
Azrames pushed back. “But Dagon is Baal’s father. And for whatever reason, Baal hasn’t joined her here. When it comes to what’s left of the Phoenicians and their reactions, it might be a coin toss.”
“Anath—” I said, but Azrames cut me off.
“Is Astarte’s sister,” Caliban explained. “Some sources suggest she and Baal also had a thing, but it’s unconfirmed.Anath is almost exclusively prayed to for war. She’s like a…more powerful, singular Valkyrie. In your Norse mythology authorship terms.”
“It seems like the Canaanites were predisposed to violence,” I mumbled, trying not to take offense to how often everyone had to simplify things for me.
Azrames let out a singular laugh. “Yeah, good job on that one. You had to give blood offerings and sign a contract with Astarte, didn’t you? You couldn’t have made a bargain with Lord Mahavir?”
I winced against my own ignorance. I turned to Caliban with an apologetic face.
“Jainism,” Caliban whispered.
Ah, yes. The most nonviolent religion in the world. I suspected Lord Mahavir would not have backed me into such a corner. Or have opened a fertility clinic to rule over an earthly kingdom because his pride felt neglected in his respective realm. Or capture an agricultural god to force blessings upon his wealthy town. Or coerce couples into sex…
“Wait,” I said, remembering something Jessabelle had said. The men looked at me as my forehead creased. “I think she means to bring in a meat market tomorrow.”
Caliban looked like I’d splashed him with cold water. “Excuse me?”
I nodded for emphasis. “Men. I think she’s bringing in men. She handed me a binder to look through potential sperm donors. Then she started going on about how artificial insemination and Western medicine has a low success rate, and her methods were unconventional…but it was something the receptionist said at the end. She said it would take a day to get them here.Them. I didn’t consider it at the time, but…”
Caliban went statue-still. “But if she’s honored through prostitution…”
And in this case, I agreed with the use of the word.Prostitutewas a slur. We both saw the extreme distinction between prostitution and sex work. My life as an escort wasempowering. I’d been the queen of my domain. I’d built an empire, set myself up, and established my power over men. I decided who I saw and could charge them more and more if they so much as annoyed me.
But self-import wasn’t what made gods crave prostitution as a devotional offering. Gods of sex, love, and fertility wanted bodies in submission to them. Astarte wasn’t looking for agency or union or lovemaking. She was looking for the power of intimacy in taking our innermost expressions of being and making them her own.
“She means for you to get pregnant tomorrow with one of her whores,” he said, voice cold. I thought of the binder and its smiling faces, their numbers, their statistics, their ascribed values. I thought of Jessabelle’s comment about finding something for me to wear. “If I’m not wrong, she’ll want to be…present.”
“Present?” I repeated, voice hoarse.
“Come on, Mythology,” Azrames said from the wall. “Tell me you don’t know enough from your book on the Greek and Roman gods to understand group sex as a favorite brand of pagan worship. And yes, before you ask, I read your books. Very steamy stuff, Marmar.”
“You really think Astarte—no, she can’t! She’s posing as a doctor! She has to at leastplaythe role of professional. She’s done this with other people…she—”
“I don’t know the extent of her involvement,” Azrames said as he shrugged. “I’m not saying she’s going to strip down and ride your face while you’re getting railed—”
“Hey,” Caliban warned. The friendship they’d built evaporated for a single, tense moment. All the blood in my body rushed to my cheeks, cooking me from the inside out with its embarrassed heat.
“Sorry, sorry.” Azrames made a face, apologizing with his hands. He seemed to remember who he was talking to. He amended, “As a medical professional, she might be able to justify her presence in the exchange as an overseer, to addlegitimacy. Sexual studies have been done throughout human history. It’s not out of the question, or even out of the realm of mortal science. This might not raise as many brows as you’d think.”
I turned red as I stammered, unsure of what point to address first. In the end, I was too flustered to speak directly to him and settled on the definitive statement. “I don’t want to get pregnant.”
Caliban’s humor returned, if just barely. With a single, mirthless laugh, he said, “Yes, that’s a common theme with you. I have to say, in all your lives, I never would have put my money on you selling your soul to have a baby. Quite the twist.”
I balled my fists. “I don’t want a goddamn crotch goblin.”
“The deal is the deal whether you want it or not. But I might have an idea.”
Azrames and I both looked at him expectantly.
He shook his head and said, “Obviously we can’t call for reinforcements. No one knows we’re here, and it’s best we keep it that way. More flies in a web won’t kill the spider. But I think we can fix this from the inside.” Looking at me seriously, he asked, “Do you trust me?”
