Light-headed from hunger, mesmerized by the fire and the prospect of a feast, Ule sank to the ground at the next table, sitting on a firm cushion covered in slippery blue and gold fabric.

Wishing to thank the strangers for their hospitality, she finally glanced at the two women seated at the table. Words caught in her throat. Across the mahogany table sat the woman with the black eyes and the charcoal skin. She wore a red dress and her strangely shaped head was also wrapped in red cloth.

“I am Bes,” the woman said.

Eyes twinkling, thin charcoal lips spread into a gentle smile and narrowed her fine prominent chin and aquiline nose. She sat back from the table. Elevated a few inches above the ground by a square wooden platform, the elaborate chair extended upward into a back rest carved in swirled leaf patterns. An orange cotton cushion puffed around her thick thighs.

Ule was certain the woman had waved yet there she reclined, armless. Even more surprising, Ule found herself gaping at the armless woman’s companion—a corpse encased in a glass box. Grey and withered, eyes and lips sewn shut, the enshrined woman had been mummified and incapable of speech for a very long time.

Ule slapped a hand across her mouth. She was certain the second woman was alive. Her initial surprise faded into fascination . Curiosity stuck out its claws and latched onto the two women. Lowering her hand, she blinked at the corpse inside the box then at the armless woman.

“What be your name?” Bes spoke softly, smirking.

“U-Ule.” Questions buzzed in her mind. She latched onto the first one. “What is bes ?”

Bes smiled wider, displaying a row of perfect pearl white teeth. “It be a title,” she answered. “But it be an idea first. Here we create a way to honour being bes.”

Ule smiled at the mention of creation.

During the First Age, devotion toward Elishevera had been a foundation for all beings in the world, a way to connect, bond and remain civil to one another, especially after the An Energy began to diminish. They had also revered Ule by finding ways to create .

If not for the shrines and temples built in her honour, if not for song and dance or the invention of glyphs with which they told stories, Ule would not have been immortalized , and cultivation of these abilities was paramount to her memory enduring throughout Elish’s history.

She could never tell people what to do or think; this was considered interfering, according to her Master. She could never trick them; this was manipulation . Both ways broke their rules, so she taught the Elishians to be curious, leading by example. She asked a lot of questions. In time, they too began to ask questions. They asked for guidance, what fabrics she liked best, the name of her favourite food, and other ways to best honour her.

Except now, the ancient world’s efforts had proved futile. No one she met recognized her. She had no power to remind them. Except for the possibility of a Mystic’s perception, she might never be truly seen in this world.

“What is this idea you’re devoted to?” Ule asked, knowing that with time her mind would have sorted out the word’s meaning. Asking was certainly  a quicker way to understanding, and a great way to start conversation .

“To the feminine aspect, to its authority within us,” Bes replied. “You be a young bes. I be the Bes, leader of the Bisi Nomads.”

Ule sighed. Something of the original language had remained  after all . Although she didn’t recognize the word bes and assumed it to be new, she did recognize the pluralization rule and was grateful it had stayed intact—Ule and Bes and the withered corpse counted as three bisi .