“Blip!” the child swore. She, like all children, resented the Conspiracy and wanted to sneak around it.

  “However,” Rob said, “you are not restricted to human child roles. You can probably play an animal or a monster, where the Conspiracy doesn’t apply. As an animal myself, I can tell you that it is a considerable challenge to emulate an adult human man. Without my telepathy and Eartha’s support, I’d have been lost.”

  “Fortunately, you do have that,” Eartha said. “We Elements face similar challenges. Human adults are deviously complicated creatures.”

  “As another Element, I agree,” Vol said. “But it can be well worth the effort.” He glanced at Nydia. “I was perhaps the loneliest entity extant, despite my riches, but Nydia rescued me and taught me love. I really like emulating a man when I’m with her.”

  Nydia, the one caught by surprise this time, found herself blushing furiously. The others laughed, not at her, but at the situation. They understood about special relationships becoming real.

  She fought for a grip and managed to get her fingertips on her composure. “Thank you, Vol,” she said, faking normalcy. “The feeling is mutual. Now for the selection of parts. Each of you focus on yours. When we all are committed, Rob will project the background scene to all of us, and the show will be on. Remember, we are not alone; we are in, well, a historical or mythical play, interacting with others.”

  “I will need your help, Lilith, to get it right,” Rob said. “Will you lend me your memory?”

  “Of course. Come into my mind, you intriguing serpent.”

  Eartha frowned but did not protest. Lilith surely knew more about human secrets than most humans did, and this was their only source of detail about the epic. Rob had to go to her as the source to share the information with each participant.

  They were all silent as they focused on their chosen roles in the Gilgamesh epic. Nydia cast about for hers. Who could she pretend to be that would fool others who had come to know her almost too well? She could surely emulate a woman in a leadership position, like a princess or queen, but that was exactly what others would know to look for. She needed someone unexpected.

  Also her three close physical companions, Anthem Ant, Wanda Wand, and Knight Knife: “Are you taking roles too?” she asked them.

  “We are,” Anthem responded.

  “Then we must separate mentally, if not physically, so as not to give away our parts to one another.”

  “We shall do that,” the ant agreed. The three faded out, leaving Nydia by herself. It was an odd feeling. They remained with her physically, but had become like mindless objects.

  Back to her choice. What truly surprising character could she play? Then it came to her. Gilgamesh! The male leader. Could she do it? A gender change? It would certainly be a challenge. She couldn’t dither long because one of the males could take it. It was now or never. Make it now.

  “Gilgamesh,” she told Rob mentally, trusting that she was in time to get it.

  “Got it.” There was a tinge of surprise, which was actually a good sign. He forwarded Lilith’s memory of Gilgamesh to her. She had not been fooling about having relations with him; she had been one of his royal mistresses for a time. Nydia received a jolt of the male experience of intimate contact, as understood by his companion. It was an education. It seemed that men really were into it for itself, not just for stork signals or social relations. She would have to school herself into being into it similarly. Her experience as a nymph gave her a thorough notion of the mechanics, but it had been more of a game, fun but not really serious. Now she understood that it was more serious for the male. She would have to eye every appealing female with a view toward seducing her if the occasion were conducive.

  In due course—she wasn’t sure how long that was, having been preoccupied, as the others probably were too—all the parts in the play were taken. The background scene formed. It was like stepping into another world. She was in a business chamber of the palace, facing an anonymous official. There was no hint who might be playing the role of the official or whether it was merely a programmed background character.

  And lo, there was a script of sorts. She knew what to say. The challenge was to say it the way Gilgamesh would have said it so that no one would catch on that this was not only a fake, but not a king or even a man. She had to tune out her breasts and tune in a male crotch. And lower her natural tone of voice.

  “They did what?” Nydia/Gilgamesh demanded, outraged.

  “The populace petitioned the Lord of Heaven for relief from your tyranny,” the official repeated. “He took pity on them and ordered the goddess Aruru to mold out of clay a wild man named Enkidu.”

  The goddess Aruru. Nydia had to take a moment to zero in on her. She was the Earth Goddess, who had assisted in making the first human people. Making people was her specialty. That was why the Lord of Heaven had gone to her.

  And without even seeing her, Nydia knew who would choose that role. Eartha, the Element of Earth. She could play that part perfectly. Too perfectly; her identity would soon be known. But there was another aspect: what did she look like in this framework? The Earth Mother, of course. But Gilgamesh would see her as a sex object. Not that he would ever get close to a goddess in that manner.

  Or would he? The ancient gods and goddesses had evidently had time on their hands, and liked to mess with mortals whose relative innocence was fun to tweak. So that was it: Aruru was powerful, but also a sex object.

  But the official was still talking. She had better pay attention. “Right now Enkidu is learning the ways of existence, a monstrous creature who lives and eats with the beasts he saves from the snares of hunters. When you go to stop him, as no other man can do, he will fight you and kill you.”

  Which would end her role as the king. She couldn’t afford that. “So it’s a trap. I won’t spring it.”

  “But he is tearing up the landscape. The farmers and hunters demand action,” the official argued. “You’ll be mocked as a weakling if you don’t deal with him promptly, and there could be a revolution.”

  So there could indeed be. “Hades!” she swore, trying to be manlike in language. “Damned if I do and if I don’t.”

  “That is the nature of the trap,” the official agreed seriously.

  Gilgamesh pondered half a moment. Nydia was rapidly coming to appreciate the negative side of kingship. It wasn’t all feasts and fancy. There were responsibilities, and if they weren’t met, it would demonstrate that no real man was playing the role.

  Real man. There was an answer. The wild man would be a sucker for a female body. “Send our sexiest harem beauty to seduce him. Then the animals will know that he is not one of them and have no more to do with him. He will lose his place among them and will have to go away.”

  “Done,” the official agreed, and departed to see to it.

  The king had finessed the trap. But it didn’t work out as it was supposed to. Gilgamesh had a magic mirror that would tune in on any scene he wished. He oriented it on the harem beauty as she arrived at the field the wild man was presently tearing up. She flashed her formidable attributes, getting his attention as she was so well equipped to do, then slowly walked to him, every step enhancing her bosom and pelvis. Nydia, getting into the role, licked the king’s lips. How could any male resist that allure?

  But when she was close, it was apparent that Enkidu did not know exactly what to do with her. He was interested, to be sure, but did not understand exactly what went where in what order. He really was wild, with no relevant experience.

  The girl saw this and avoided her own disaster, which would be to fail her mission. “Enkidu, we must talk,” she said, her tone enticing. “I will teach you what you need to know. Come lie on the turf with me, and I will guide your hands and whatever else so you know what to do.”

  How could he refuse? She was temptation incarnate.

  “Why?” he asked. “What does a fabulous creature like you want with an ignorant lout like me?” At least he was not stupid.

  She sighed impressively. “Some background, then. King Gilgamesh sent me to seduce you so that the animals will have no more to do with you and you will go away.” It seemed she wasn’t into lying.

  “Why? What does he care about me and the animals?”

  “You are a disruptive influence here. Farmers and villagers are suffering. If he does not get rid of you, the people may have a pretext to throw him out.”

  “So as it is with me and the animals, so it is with Gilgamesh and the people? Forms that must be followed?”

  Not stupid at all! “I think I like you,” she said, sitting up. Some beauties had no minds to speak of; this one was different. “Therefore, I will not seduce you after all.”

  Uh-oh. There was evidently a danger in smartness and in conscience. She was not supposed to make her own decision.

  “If this king is so bad,” the wild man said, “he needs to be removed. I think I have to challenge his power.”

  “Maybe you do,” she agreed.

  Nydia turned away from the mirror. This was bad. Instead of ruining the wild man with the animals, the woman was changing sides. Trouble indeed. Had the Quest member animating this part changed the course of the story? That could be a giveaway.

  Gilgamesh was the strongest warrior in the kingdom. That was why he was king. He would have to tackle this personally after all. Nydia was aware that she was increasingly thinking like a man, which was the point.

  Time passed in an instant. They met at the New Year’s festival. It was a wrestling match with established rules and a huge audience. It would be fair; it could not be otherwise, as it was a public spectacle. Enkidu was huge and muscular, but Gilgamesh was highly skilled.

  Except that this was not the original, but a reenactment. Could Nydia actually wrestle a man effectively? Her natural inclination would be not to oppose him, but to embrace him. Even if she had real muscles to do it, she, unlike the real Gilgamesh, lacked the skill to use them in combat. At any rate, she would have to try.

  They wrestled, but Nydia, distracted by more than the combat challenge, could not quite summon all the necessary skill, and lost the match by a close margin. Well, she would have to play it as if the loss was legitimate.

  There was also something else. When straining against the man, torso to torso, something had unnerved her, weakening her. What was it?

  Then she got it. Enkidu was being played by Vol! She knew that presence up close in ways no other person did.

  Still, on with the show. Gilgamesh stood, bowed to his opponent, and spoke. “You fought fair and won,” he said. “Congratulations.”

  Enkidu seemed surprised. “You are not having me killed for embarrassing you?”

  “Of course not. As I said, it was a honest match.”

  “Then I like you. I want to be your friend.”

  Gilgamesh was surprised. “I like you too. I thought we were enemies, but maybe we should be friends instead.”

  The two men hugged. They were now friends. And during that embrace, Enkidu whispered in her ear: “I know you, Ny, and am amazed. Well played!”

  So he had suffered the same realization she had. “Keep the secret, Vol,” she whispered back.

  “Oh, yes!”

  The story continued. Enkidu became Gilgamesh’s constant companion, learning civilized ways. The maids of the palace liked him, but were wary of his original harem companion who now guarded his social life jealously.

  There was a fire-breathing monster called Humbaba who lived in a cedar forest. It had one eye that could turn men to stone. It had stayed out of trouble in the past, but now was emerging to raid the neighboring farms. The creature had to be stopped. It might not be possible to slay it, but they could drive it away by cutting down the cedars, which was unfortunate, as they were sacred trees. But the kingdom needed to be rid of the monster, and it was not safe to fight it directly. Not with that deadly eye!

  They took axes and marched to the grove. They tackled the first tree together, chopping at its stout trunk from either side. Gilgamesh liked working with Enkidu, just as Nydia liked being with Vol, and was sure the feeling was mutual.

  The tree fell with a crash. The monster heard the sound of it and came roaring in to the attack, belching fire and casting its deadly gaze about. They could not escape it, as they were caught in a gully that gave the creature free access to them. Its fire could reach well beyond their swords, and they could not close their eyes to avoid its gaze because then they would be unable to see it to strike any blows or avoid its fire. Nydia realized that they should have prepared for this, maybe wearing armor and heat-reflective shields. Evidently, the original legend had not considered such details. Too late now; they were doomed.

  Except that there was a nuance in the script. Nydia became aware of it as it happened. Gilgamesh’s mother, the goddess Ninsun, intervened with the sun god to blind the monster with burning hot winds. That gave them the advantage, and they charged it and chopped at it with their axes, and managed to behead the creature. But it had been a close call. And it meant that Gilgamesh did have some godly blood from his mother.

  Nydia wondered who had played the monster Humbaba. But, of course, its death would only boot that player out of the game, not actually kill him.

  They stopped at a roadside traveler’s cabin on the way back, not being up to the full trek home. It had been a tiring fight.

  But the day was not yet done. As Gilgamesh made ready to sleep, a dramatically female figure walked up the path and accosted him. “I am Ishtar,” she said as she opened her robe to display a phenomenal body. Nydia, being a nymph, was not ordinarily turned on by other women, but this was so potent she couldn’t help feeling a tinge of desire. “Goddess of love and fertility. I saw how you defeated the monster. I want to have your baby.” She took a deep breath that freaked out Enkidu so that he froze in place. No man could withstand that vision, and not every woman. And who was playing her? Surely Lilith herself; this was her ideal role.

  Oops! Was Nydia now obliged to spend the night with Ishtar as a man, to protect her real identity? Suddenly her tinge of desire converted to a punishing turnoff. But as the story background played in her head, she realized she had an out. “I know you,” Gilgamesh told her, squinting as if to shut out enough of her glory to enable him to talk. “You treated your lover Tammuz the shepherd god so insensitively that he died and went to Hell. I don’t plan to go there myself.”

  “But I repented and went to Hell myself to rescue him,” she replied. “So the seasons of the year returned, and no permanent damage was done.”

  “He was not the only one,” Gilgamesh said grimly. “It is dangerous to be your lover. Some of them got turned into beasts. Get away from me, you harlot!”

  Ishtar’s amazement at this reaction from what should have been an easy conquest soon metamorphosed to rage. Her eyes turned fiery and sparks radiated from her hair. “You dare to turn me down, you incredible imbecile?” she demanded. “Have you no respect for the surpassing magnitude of my offer? Armies have been routed for less! I will have your ungrateful hide!”

  “Welcome to it, strumpet,” he retorted. “You shall not have my heart or my seed.” For more than one reason.

  She stormed off, jags of lightning shooting from the angry cloud over her head. Trust the demoness to get the special effects right!

  “Well played again,” Enkidu murmured. “I am glad it’s only a script.”

  But the goddess’s threats were not entirely empty. She so belabored the Lord of Heaven with threats that, to get rid of her, he sent the Storm Bull of Heaven, a formidable beast, and it stampeded down to gore them. But this time they were ready, and it was not a true predator. There was no fire, no lethal stare, only the formidable horns. First they blinded it with arrows to the eyes, then charged in and sliced its throat with their swords before it could orient on them by nose and ears. The Bull fell with a mighty crash, and they cut out its heart and proffered it to the sun god. That put them on the side of the gods, a tactical ploy, so that the gods would not agree to smite the two.

  But Ishtar was not done yet. Never underestimate the wrath of a scorned woman, Nydia thought. The goddess arranged to send Enkidu a series of dreams revealing to him that the gods, outraged by the slaughter of the Bull, had decreed the wild man’s death. Gilgamesh realized that Ishtar, having failed to move Gilgamesh, who was protected by his mother, had struck at an alternate target that lacked such protection. Enkidu, brawny as he was, was nevertheless a weak spot. Maybe they should have been more polite to her.

  Gilgamesh tried to tell Enkidu that it was just Ishtar sending the dreams, pretending that the gods had done something. That he didn’t really have to die. But Enkidu believed the dream and lay on his bed, gradually growing weaker.

  Finally he died. Gilgamesh was grief-stricken. They had become such good friends, and now that was gone.

  Unless.

  Gilgamesh remembered how Ishtar herself had gone to Hell to rescue Tammuz. Death was not necessarily permanent in legends. Maybe he could do the same!

  But the prospect of invading Hell made him pause. He was, after all, mortal, unlike Ishtar, and could find himself over-matched. Was there an alternative? Something that could be done in the living realm?

  The thought sponsored the action. Gilgamesh girded his loin, put a suitable official in temporary charge of the kingdom, and set out to find the sage Utnapishtim, the only mortal ever to have escaped death. He would know the secret of immortality, and maybe Gilgamesh could use that to rescue his friend from death. It was certainly worth a try.

  There were trials and warnings along the way, but he dealt with them almost incidentally, brooking no interference with his mission to save his friend. He backed off the warriors, slew the monsters, and disdained the seductive women, though he did make some mental notes on which of them might be prospects for later inclusion in his harem. Nydia was getting better at thinking like Gilgamesh. Women were objects to be acquired and used as was convenient, the young ones for romance, the older ones as servants. When they were no longer useful, they were promptly retired. A small part of her was annoyed, but she suppressed it as not fitting the role.