"I love you just the way you are," Twitch said.
"You're a good cat."
Suddenly the lights dimmed and a woman of such surpassing loveliness appeared that tears sprang to Chris' eyes. Light danced and wound itself through the ebony curls of her silken hair. Her skin was like silken clouds. Her face, a shining light.
Chris braced herself, expecting the ship to experience more orbital turbulence, but there was none, just a warm, peaceful glow of pure beauty emanating from the woman, the ultimate woman, who had just appeared.
Chris pursed her lips. "Twich," she whispered, "why isn't this lady's delusion's changing the gravity or whatever?"
Twitch yawned. "That's kinda what she really looks like."
"Ah, fu--" Chris rolled her eyes and welcomed the woman with all the grace and hospitality she could muster. "Who the hell are you?" she said.
The woman spoke, her voice like velvet and chocolate or a field of strawberries in the morning sun. "I am Ishtar."
Chris stared at her. "You...are an old flop movie starring Dustin Hoffman and Warren Beatty?"
Ishtar raised her arm and pointed a perfecte gleaming fingernail at Chris. Then all fell into blackness and lightning arched from her fingertip. In the same moment, Twitch jumped off Chris' lap and twisted midair.
"Ow, Twitch, you scratched me," Chris whined. "Darn cat, I should have had you declawed. I..." As the lights slowly came up and Chris grew silent when she saw that part of the wall behind her had been obliterated. "Um, Twitch, did you, like, deflect some kind of death ray?"
Twitch drooled and rubbed his face against Chris' chin.
Chris glanced over at Ishtar, who was slumped in a chair, sulking, with her perfect arms folded across her generous chest.
"...And you disabled her powers so she doesn't try to kill me again...Man, you're a good cat." She tickled his tummy and Twitch shook the drool from his mouth, catching Chris with an arc of clear saliva right across her face.
Chris wiped the moisture away with a practiced motion, barely noticing. "Huh. So, what the heck's an Ishtar?" Chris continued. She smirked at the woman, who snarled majestically. "I get that she's a looker with a chip on her shoulder, but what about the rest of the story?"
A deep voice sounded through the spaceship. "I am the Anchorite and I will tell you of Ishtar, for she is my creation. In the depths of time, far across the seas in ancient Sumaria, --"
Chris threw her head back. "Oh my gaw, just the headlines, okay? I don't have all day."
"SILENCE!"
Chris slumped in her chair and mirrored Ishtar's posture.
"Whatever," she said. "Whoever you are. You need to get this off your chest, just do it. And maybe when you're done telling me who the Ishtar is, you can tell me what the hell Anchorite is, 'think you can do that? You know what, I don't even care..."
The Anchorite began his story and Chris' impatient mutterings and sarcastic questions eventually faded to silence.
The Story of Ishtar
mostly written by the Anchorite
Blondhilda stepped through the shimmering gateway into the house. She had made friends with Mr. Kitten and Twitch while she had been polymorphed into a cat by an evil enchantress. This was the first time that she had entered this house since she regained her human goddess form. Blondhilda remained friends with the two cats who helped her through that adventure that was embarrassing at the time but fun in retrospect. Blondhilda nimbly avoided stepping on a scurrying mouse that twitched its whiskers and ran away with a panicked squeal. She noted a menagerie of various animals strewn chaotically throughout the house. Blondhilda saw birds flying, rodents running, and a gasping fish flopping on the ground that she quickly but gently picked up and set into a bowl of water on a nearby table. Blondhilda arrived after a frantic cry for help from her cat friends, and now she saw the reason for their plea.
Blondhilda instinctively felt that there was some danger in this house, so she walked silently and took care to not harm any of the animals. She peered into the living room and saw the nearly naked back of a woman standing at its center. Her scant attire consisted of little more than a top that concealed little and that Blondhilda could only generally call a bikini along with a matching thong. Her long hair blew about as if there was wind in the room that only she felt. Blondhilda sensed powerful sorcery and an appalling lack of modesty that would make her a dangerous adversary. She turned slightly enough so that Blondhilda could see a beautiful face marred by a cruel smile. Blondhilda saw her holding a desperately croaking frog that looked like it was scared half to death. She dangled the frog by a leg held between long, graceful fingers with colorfully lacquered nails and spoke in a taunting voice that conveyed seduction laced with vanity and malice.
“Now, Stevie boy, I will enjoy this. I do so love frog legs.”
She licked her painted lips and laughed over the squirming frog’s frightened croaks. Blondhilda saw enough and would not let this witch harm any creature in Odin’s domain, no matter how small. Mr. Kitten and Twitch did well in summoning her as Blondhilda did not doubt that this scantily clad sorceress was behind this. Blondhilda drew her sword and shouted.
“Unhand that fair amphibian, you foul witch.”
She turned around slowly to face Blondhilda, as the Norse warrior noted her stunning beauty combined with a sense of dread. She laughed and then tossed the frog aside like an afterthought. The frog leapt towards her as Blondhilda held out her sword to challenge her adversary to stop her captive’s escape. Blondhilda felt relief as the frog hopped past her towards the adjoining room where the other animals gathered.
“You’re a brave one, Blondhilda, coming here to spoil my fun.”
“You know me? Who are you?”
“Of course I know you, Blondhilda. Your name became legendary when you traveled to Persia to stop the awakening of the Dark God Angra Mainyu. I am Ishtar, the Sumerian goddess of sex, love, and fertility. The inhabitants of this house have displeased me and I am here to punish them for it. This matter does not concern you, so leave before I make you a part of this zoo.”
“Never! I will not let you harm these innocent people.”
Ishtar shrugged a bare shoulder and tossed back a stray lock with a laugh.
“Very well, have it your way. I will take great pleasure in this, Blondhilda.”
Ishtar waved her arm and a luminescent eight-pointed star appeared above her. The ephemeral star shone an intense beam on Blondhilda, so she shut her eyes until the coherent light faded. Blondhilda felt like she sat under a hot lamp, but she did not note any injury from the spell. Ishtar bared her teeth in a gesture suggesting that she was unaccustomed to not having her way.
“Impossible! That spell should have turned you into a cat or some other beast. Your magic is stronger than I expected.”
Blondhilda had already spent time as a cat and had a whimsical adventure story to show for it. She supposed that the breaking the previous spell had rendered her immune to further polymorphs. Blondhilda was glad for that experience, otherwise this battle would have already ended. Blondhilda thought back to her previous adventure with Sherlock Holmes and decided that a strategic boast was in order.
“I bear the enchantments of the Norse Gods, Ishtar. Your spells will not work on me. Now tell me why you’re doing this.”
“Very well, Blondhilda. That frog you just saved was Steve, the house elder of this dwelling. He writes software and applications for IDK Technologies and for his latest project, he created a new mobile platform operating system. He had the audacity to name it Ishtar and I will not tolerate a mere mortal taking my name like that and using it for such a base application. He has provoked my wrath with that grave insult and under the laws of the Sumerian Gods everyone in this dwelling shares in his culpability. Hence I have turned them all into animals and was just about to begin systematically tormenting them for my amusement, starting with Steve for he was the one who so upset me.”
“This is madness, Ishtar. He did not seek to insult you and he certainly meant no disrespect.”
“No one uses my name like that, Blondhilda, no one does! I have called every God in the pantheon a lover at one time or another, yet I have punished and even killed those who failed to please me. No God would dare disrespect my sacred name like that, and any mortal who does so has forfeit his life and his very soul. I am the goddess of sex, love, and fertility. I am the courtesan of the gods, the mistress of my legions of sacred prostitutes on this earth, I command the eight-pointed star, and I pose for your publisher’s cover art.”
“Wait a second, what was that last one?”
“Ah yes, in this modern age I amuse myself by posing for your publisher’s cover art. Your writer Stanley Chester Brown produces all sorts of best-selling manuscripts for his book deal and he makes a good living, yet much to his frustration he has no control over the covers of his published works. He is contractually bound by the publisher’s choices and his publishing house consistently chooses the skankiest, most cheesecake art that it can possibly make featuring all kinds of scantily clad women in revealing outfits that make the average book buyer ashamed to be seen reading the book in public.
“Every one of those pictures is me, Blondhilda. All I have to do is throw on a chainmail bikini, hold a sword, and the casual bookstore customer thinks that I am you and never even bothers to read the book. They never read your well-written, classically structured examples of masterful craft because they can’t get over the contemptible cover art. I’ve done the same for Claire Guang’s books, perhaps you’ve heard of them? She writes thoughtful, tragic but hopeful science fiction and fantasy stories with meticulous world-building, but many readers never give her stories a chance because they’ll see a Captain Zessa Tuf novel in the bookstore and then see a picture of me in a midriff-baring top that barely covers my breasts complete with a skirt so short that it’s barely even there. In the meantime, a significant portion of the public buys these books expecting cheesecake fan service and then gets turned off by not having the stories be what they expected. Either way, I win by diminishing your readership along with that of many other authors under your publisher.
“I am a seductive love goddess, Blondhilda, I do not believe in modesty and I do not restrain my seductive powers. I also admit that I’m a fickle and vain woman, but I’m the goddess of sex, love, and fertility so even the Gods themselves all clamor for my favor. Mortals will kill themselves for a mere moment of my attention and nations will go to war at my whim. This mere software engineer used my name for one of his programs and I will not tolerate it. I came here wanting to wipe this entire dwelling off the face of the earth, but here you are in an attempt to stop me.
“I don’t know how you found me here, Blondhilda, or why you care one iota about these mortals who should mean nothing to you but your presence plays into my hands because I’ve wanted to defeat you as a potential threat ever since you meddled in Persia. I promised the dark god a night of pure bliss if he would awaken to destroy a nation full of people who refused to show me the proper respect due a goddess. Your interference stopped that, but I found a way to weaken you in preparation to one day defeat you – by striking where it would most hurt you: your readership. Now you are here and you will not leave this dwelling alive.”
Blondhilda sensed the sheer power emanating from this goddess and knew that her earlier bluff would not last much longer. Blondhilda may now be immune to a polymorph spell, but a different one could very well hurt her. Blondhilda never refused a challenge and this entire household depended on her. She thought of a good strategy and then realized that Ishtar said that she did not know why Blondhilda arrived. She arrived because Mr. Kitten and Twitch called her, did Ishtar not hear their cry for help? The two cats walked in at that moment, sitting on the sidelines watching Blondhilda and Ishtar’s standoff. Out of the corner of her eye, Blondhilda saw Twitch playing with Steve’s hapless frog form like a stuffed toy.
“Stop that, Twitch!”
“Sorry, human … um, er froggie, but I’m having too much fun.”
Blondhilda hoped that the transformed humans would not remember this incident if she managed to defeat Ishtar and break this spell. Blondhilda noted that Ishtar focused only on her and ignored the exchange from the animals. Were they beneath her notice? At that moment, Blondhilda had an idea.
“Mr. Kitten, stay back out of harm’s way.”
“Of course, Blondhilda. I’m not going anywhere near that. Thank you for coming by the way, I appreciate your urgent aid.”
“Yes, Blondie, what he said. Wow, playing with this frog is so much fun. Jump froggie, jump!”
Mr. Kitten groaned and flashed that same expression that he always had when restraining his instincts to bare teeth and claws against Twitch’s exasperating antics. Ishtar addressed Blondhilda in a haughty, taunting tone conveying a toxic combination of seductiveness and cruelty.
“Are you talking to the cat, Blondhilda? That’s just a housecat, not a transformed human. Stop with the cheap distractions and let’s go another round.”
Blondhilda confirmed her warrior’s instinct: Ishtar did not ignore the words of the cats and humans transformed into animals, she did not hear them in the first place. After her time spent as a cat, Blondhilda developed the ability to communicate with animals and retained it even after reverting to her human form. Ishtar could not hear or comprehend what any of the animals said. In this struggle against a powerful immodest goddess Blondhilda fully intended to capitalize on any available advantage
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