The moment Habibah came bursting into her quarters without knocking or the required salute, her fur disheveled, Colonel Orias knew her daughter's latest mating attempt had failed.
“Mama, I've been blacklisted!” Habibah tried to roar this horrible news like a brave lioness rushing into battle, but her anguished cry came out more like the mewl of a kitten.
I am the commander of this ship! Orias roared. "I did not authorize this!"
“This was my 217th failed mating attempt," Habibah sobbed. "Major Chaths told me he had no choice but to report it to the central genetic database."
Orias leaned against her desk for support. Major Chaths should have reported it two failed mating cycles ago so Habibah could be reassigned to a high-risk post bordering the Tokoloshe Kingdom, but Orias was selfish. Her mate had been lost in Hashem's endless war against Shay'tan, while her son had died a horrific death at the dinner table of the Tokoloshe cannibals. Unlike those frigid Angelics who dumped their offspring into one of the youth training academies to be reared, and expended, at the Emperor's whim, Leonids reared their cubs in prides!
“I understand why the Emperor believes we need genetic diversity," Colonel Orias sighed, "but his constant skirmishes against Shay’tan bring us ever closer to extinction."
“I wish Papa was still alive,” Habibah said, “and Chatuluka.”
“Me, too,” Orias's whiskers trembled. "Who would have thought our proud race would be defeated by a bomb ticking within our own genes?"
She would lay down her life to defend the Alliance, but Habibah was all she had left in this world. What good was honor when your pride was staring extinction in the maw?
“Listen, sweetie," Orias said. "I've heard some rumors that Prime Minister Lucifer may have found a solution to our problem. Let me look into it? You never know what's out there on the black market.”
“Could you do that, Mama?” Habibah sniffled. “Maybe I could make you a grandma?”
Orias purred and licked her daughter’s furry ears the way she had when Habibah was still a cub. Habibah hic-sobbed and curled up in her mother's paws. They were Leonids, for Shay'tan's sake! Leonids didn't give up until they won … or died. She would do whatever it took to help her poor, sad daughter.
Chapter 21
September, 3,390 BC
Earth: Village of Assur
Jamin
Jamin fingered the golden disc. He'd rehearsed his speech the entire walk back from the Halifian camp, but was not sure, even now, how to broach the subject with his father. The golden disc was fair recompense for the jar of flaxseed oil he'd stolen from his stores, but his father would not see things that way. The Chief had forbidden him to have any further dealings with the Halifians, and Jamin had disobeyed.
What would his father say when he learned he contemplated marriage to his enemy's daughter?
No. He would not tell his father about Aturdokht. He had yet to make up his own mind about what to do with Marwan's offer. Marrying the beautiful desert shaykah would bring relief from the constant raids which nibbled at their resources, but it would close forever his hope that, someday, Ninsianna would grow to love him. He was not yet ready to let her go.
He wheeled and kicked the reclining-pillow, the luxury of even owning such pillows unheard of in all but the wealthiest houses. Pregnant! How could Ninsianna be carrying a half-blood abomination? Could she be lying?
He rubbed his chest which felt as though she had carved out another piece of his heart. It raced with frantic insistence. Stop this. Stop this. Stop this. He must smite the evil which had taken root in his village the day the sky canoe had fallen from the heavens, but the harder he fought, the worse things seemed to get.
Of course she was pregnant! The two had been going at one another even before they had said their wedding vows. He'd finally stopped shadowing them, the sight of Ninsianna's happiness too painful for him to bear, but everywhere he looked, he saw signs the people of this village followed her now, she and her winged husband, and not him.
He sank down onto the plush felt carpet which cushioned their floor. Learning she carried another man's child hurt, but what had hurt the most was how glibly she had said she'd rather be sold into slavery than to marry him…
He looked up at the small, woven rug which adorned the wall.
"I understand she doesn't love me," his eyes felt hot and moist, "but did she need to say it in front of the entire village?"
He pulled the golden disc out of his pouch. Winged serpent on one side. Six-pointed star on the other. Every feature of the serpentine creature was clear and sharp. He had no idea what kind of magic had created this disc which was worth the life of an Ubaid woman, but it must exact a terrible user price. He had learned about abuse of magic when his mother had sung songs of Lugalbanda to him as a little boy, Ninsianna's grandfather, a shaman so powerful he could stop the heart of his enemies … whose power had cost him his wife.
The door scraped against mud bricks. Jamin lurched to his feet and shoved the coin back into his pouch, uncertain how to break the news. The Chief's large frame filled the door, already stiff with anger. He should have known better than to confront Ninsianna in front of the entire village, but when she had refused to let him show her in private, the impulse to prove he was right had overtaken his reason.
"Where is it?" Chief Kiyan asked. Jamin always thought of his father as 'the chief.' It was the way his father liked it.
Jamin wordlessly held it out for him to take, the torchlight accentuating the glint of gold. This object could not have originated in this world, a heavenly artifact too beautiful to have been wrought by mortal hands. The Chief turned the coin over and examined it.
"And what does this prove?"
"Look at it!" Jamin's pitch rose higher than he usually spoke. "This is what the slavers use to buy our women!"
"I can see it's gold," the Chief's eyes hardened. "Bought with my flaxseed oil. What I don't see is why my son has made another trip out to cavort with our enemies then broadcast this shame to my entire village!"
"Don't you see, Father? This is proof the winged demon is behind the raids!"
The Chief turned the coin over and studied the winged serpent.
"I see no winged man depicted on this coin," the Chief said. "Only a lizard person. Just as Ninsianna has prophesized."
"The Halifians obtained these coins from the Amorites," Jamin said. "Who in turn obtained them from the lizard people, who are only middle men themselves. The end-buyers are Angelics, the same as Mikhail."
"Have you spoken to these lizard people?"
"No."
"Have you seen them?"
"No."
"Have the Halifians seen them?"
"No … but…"
The Chief cut him off. "Where, then, are these other Angelics?" the Chief asked. "And why have they not come to take their comrade home?"
"Perhaps he has been rejected by their leaders?"
"Then he is not connected to them," the Chief said, "and not at fault."
"He has been sent here to spy."
"And so to help these other Angelics conquer us," the Chief's expression was incredulous, "he decided to teach us how to use advanced weapons so we could use them against his people?"
"He's trying to gain our trust so he can betray us."
The Chief sighed. "He has my trust. You, on the other hand…"
Anger flared in Jamin's veins, that seething hatred which had threatened to boil over ever since the day Ninsianna had run into the winged demon's arms. Temper. He must control his temper! His usual way of dealing with a blow to his honor had gotten him nowhere. He might hate the winged demon with every ounce of his being, but he had also learned from him. He schooled his face into an icy mask, hiding his clenched fist behind his back so his father would not see his anger.
"So now you do not trust me?" His voice was as cold as the winter wind.
The Chief threw the coin into the air. It glistened like fire in the torchlight. He
caught it and tucked it into his own pouch, it being understood the coin was compensation for the flaxseed oil Jamin had taken to obtain it. Once upon a time he had been able to talk to his father and reason with him, but not anymore. At some point, Chief Kiyan had gone from being his father to being The Chief. It was the stranger who spoke to him now.
"I have no cause to trust you anymore," the Chief said. "And many reasons not to trust you ever since you stole my grain to buy mercenaries."
"I was trying to rescue Ninsianna!"
"Your own friends do not back your tale," the Chief sighed. "And now you have stolen from me once again. If you want my trust, you must earn it."
"I am trying!"
"You are not trying!" the Chief shouted. "Our village has come under attack, and instead of training our people to defend themselves, you are off chasing phantoms in the desert."
"I treat with the people of the desert," Jamin said. "I have earned their trust."
"There is no trusting mercenaries!"
"You do not understand their code of honor."
"Jackals have no honor." The Chief's eyes burned with hatred.
"They do not honor treaties you can buy with gold," Jamin pointed to the leather pouch where his father had stashed the golden disc. "But ties of blood."
"I would sooner bugger a goat than allow such filth into my tribe!" the Chief spat.
Jamin's announcement that he considered doing just that, of letting go of his hope of winning back Ninsianna and forming an alliance of convenience to enrich their tribe, died upon his lips. Filth? He would hardly call the desert beauty filth.
"And yet you allow Ninsianna to carry a half-demon child?"
Emotion flashed across his father's face, but it was hard to tell whether that emotion was surprise, or revulsion. Had he even known she was pregnant?
"You have to let her go, son," the Chief said softly. "It was wrong of me to attempt to force an allegiance between our two families. You have your own obligations to attend to now."
With a sigh, his father grabbed the cushion Jamin had kicked earlier and carried it over to a low table in one corner of the room. He took a small, clay lamp filled with rendered animal fat and touched the wick against the torch Jamin had lit to illuminate the room. The lamp caught fire, casting a small, cheerful flame onto the table. His father took out the gold disc and examined it closer, his expression guarded.
"I suppose I shall have to expend this to pay the bride price," he said at last.
An eerie chill sped up Jamin's spine. How could his father know of the deal he had cut with the desert shaykh?
"Ninsianna married another," Jamin said carefully. "No bride price is owed."
"I warned you that if you spread your seed indiscriminately," the Chief said, "that someday it would bind you to a union you did not wish."
"I have not yet touched her," Jamin said, thinking of his promise to deliver to Aturdokht the winged demons heart. "There are … things … I need to attend to first."
"The entire village knows you did," the Chief snapped. "Do you think we are all blind to what goes on behind the goat pens?"
That sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach made him realize which liaison his father referred to. Not Aturdokht, the woman he was, up to a few minutes ago, seriously considering as a not-so-unhappy alternative to the woman he really wanted, but Shahla, a woman who was no stranger to the affections of men.
"I have not touched her in weeks," Jamin said. "Why do you think I am never here? I have been avoiding her because she will not take no for an answer."
The chief flipped the coin over and stared at the six-pointed star, not making eye contact.
"It is not what you did three weeks ago that gives rise to the problem I now must give recompense for," the Chief said softly, "but what you did at the summer solstice."
His father looked up at him, his expression guarded.
"It cannot be true," Jamin said. "Shahla has made such claims before. Just ask Siamek. She once tried to entrap him. And Firouz, too! And also a warrior from Nineveh! Each time, the claim turned out to be false."
"Needa, herself, has confirmed the quickening."
That sinking feeling began to feel like drowning.
"How do I know it is even mine?" Jamin threw his hands out in frustration. "She has slept with every warrior in the village."
His father's knowing smirk was confirmation enough he knew of Shahla's reputation. Before he had been gored by the auroch and healed by Ninsianna, he had cavorted with Shahla off and on, a dalliance his father had ordered stopped under threat of death, dismemberment and disinheritance, all the exasperated threats of a father who meant no such harm, but enough to convince Jamin to cast aside a woman he had no interest in anyways. The Chief studied once again the coin.
"Her parents came to me while you were gone," the Chief said. "Demanding recompense for your defilation of their daughter. Either you are to marry her, or they shall bring suit before the tribunal, demanding you support your bastard until he reaches adulthood. You know the law."
He felt, just for a moment, as though he would faint. The tribunal? His father had the power to overrule them, but never did, the three-elder panel being considered the voice of law.
The village had an interest in ensuring no dependent strained the communal granary, so whenever a young woman became pregnant, the tribunal would put the finger on whichever man could be demonstrated had indulged in a dalliance. Young men were usually compelled to marriage, while adulterous older men often found themselves supporting two wives, a de facto one, and a concubine they supported on the side.
Two wives. Only moments ago he had been considering marrying Aturdokht to gain an allegiance to win peace for his tribe, and then following the Halifian custom to seize a defeated enemies women as a subordinate-wife, his only hesitation being not the concept of multiple wives, but getting Ninsianna to agree to such a union. Could he pull it off with three?
No! Alimony was the least of his worries! It would not be testimony about what they had been doing behind the goat shed that Shahla would tell, but the biggest mistake he had ever made, not understanding that a mercenary's allegiance could never be bought with gold. Because of him, the raid he had orchestrated to lure the winged demon out of the village had turned into a full-blown raid. Eleven Assurians had died because the mercenaries had brought other mercenary friends, including Aturdokht's dead husband's tribe.
The raid was a mistake. It hadn't been supposed to turn out that way…
"The child cannot be mine," Jamin felt as though he might be sick. "If she was pregnant, she would have told me."
"She did not tell her own best friend," Chief Kiyan said. "Her parents realized several days ago that she was gaining weight and got the truth out of her."
He, too, had noticed a weight gain, but had thought nothing of it at the time. Shahla was a schemer, but for what reason she had withheld this information, he did not know. For months she had been trying to blackmail him into marrying her. Why not tell him directly?
Because he would not believe her because of her previous lies. That was why!
Shahla knew better than to blackmail him after the last time she had threatened to expose him. She was as guilty as he was, having been the one to tell the Halifians where Pareesa liked to hunt so the slavers could grab her. This way, Shahla had gotten her parents to do the dirty work for her.
Master manipulation…
"I will speak to her," Jamin clenched his fist.
"I had hoped … I kept quiet when you first began cavorting with her again because your obsession with Ninsianna worried me," the Chief said. He set aside the coin and made eye contact at last. "She is not my first choice in a wife for you, but her family is powerful, with ties to the Kemet traders. Would it be so bad if you were to settle down?"
Jamin gulped. All of a sudden he stared eternity in the face, and Shahla was his jailor. She had him by the testicles, and she knew it. Anger boiled in his veins. Anger no
t only at her game, but this whole sorry situation.
"You once told me I should marry a woman who loved me like you say my mother loved you," Jamin said.
His father looked up at a small woven rug he had hung upon the wall, the unfinished tapestry his mother had started to line the cradle of the baby sister whose birth had taken both of their lives. He looked again at the golden disc, the first of many he would need to pay to tell Shahla's parents to make her go away. The old man was cheap. He would not pay from his own resources to support Shahla's bastard child. He tucked the disc back into his pouch.
"There will be consequences to our village if her parents renege upon the trade deals I have so carefully nurtured," the Chief said, his stiff posture that of the village chief handing down judgment, not a father speaking to his son. "I have coddled you your entire life. It is time for you to take your blows upon the chin and do the right thing."
"I do not love her," Jamin said.
"You should have thought of that before you began cavorting with her again," the Chief said. "There was a reason I ordered you to stay away from her the last time you were seeing her."
Anger boiled in Jamin's veins. Needa had confirmed a quickening? He was no expert on procreation, but he was certain it took longer than the time he had been seeing her again for a child to quicken. The child could not be his!
"I will not allow her to blackmail me thus!"
"You will marry that girl," the Chief growled. "Just as you will start training with the rest of the villagers so we are ready the next time your so-called friends attack!"
The anger Jamin had been fighting to keep beneath the surface finally erupted.
“I will train with him the day he teaches us to use a real weapon!" Jamin said. "The firestick he keeps strapped onto his thigh! Not those sticks he teaches the women to shoot at trees!”
Sword of the Gods: Prince of Tyre (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 21