That didn't make any sense! Why stash your flagship out in the middle of nowhere if you weren't hiding anything?
"What was Ba'al Zebub's last known location?" Shay'tan asked.
"Here, Your Eminence," Budayl said. He pointed to coordinates in the same general area where Lucifer's flagship sat.
That uncomfortable feeling Shay'tan had been experiencing ever since they'd found the ebony-skinned female, the one who was now presumably dead, grabbed his gut like a clump of bricks.
"When did you last hear from him?"
"Just before the Alliance newscast," Budayl said.
"And my armada?"
"Still under complete radio silence," Budayl said. "We've neither seen nor heard from them in three weeks, but that is to be expected given the route they're circumnavigating to get to Earth."
Shay'tan caressed the chess square where Ba'al Zebub had told him Earth was located. Unfortunately She-who-is blocked him from seeing that world directly, forcing him to rely upon the intelligence of his own men and his wits. Around it swarmed assets he had placed there, but even as he'd played those pieces against his adversary, a warning bell had gone off in the back of his mind. So many resources … all paid for by Alliance dollars and the excess tribute flowing into his treasury that Utbah had flagged as suspicious. That spiral arm thinned out into largely older, uninhabitable worlds with dead suns and even deader planets. How had humans ended up there?
All information led back to Ba'al Zebub, and suddenly Ba'al Zebub was missing.
"Relay a message to Admiral Musab," Shay'tan said. "Tell him to send his fastest scout ship … here," he pointed to chess square marked as Earth, "and tell me what he finds."
"Yes, Your Eminence," Budayl bowed. He moved to leave.
"One other thing," Shay'tan touched the chess piece he had sent to monitor the Prince of Tyre, waiting for Lucifer to stumble into his empire so he could secure leverage on the Prime Minister.
Ba'al Zebub's last known location, and the current known location of the Prince of Tyre, both hovered remarkably close to a homeworld which had been nothing but interstellar dust for 225 years.
"Yes, Your Eminence?"
"Send a message to the Sata'an Secret Service," Shay'tan touched the little silver chess piece marked Prince of Tyre which was now neither his chess piece, nor Hashem's. "I want them to dig up everything they can on Ba'al Zebub. I don't care if it's a bribe to waive a postage stamp three hundred years ago. If they've got dirt on him, I want a full report, no matter how insignificant or petty."
Budayl blinked with his clear inner eyelid, the one Sata'anic lizards used for protection, but did not taste the air. The elderly scribe had served him long enough to know when his emperor was looking for an excuse to evict an underling he no longer trusted.
"Yes, Your Eminence." With a bow, Budayl left Shay'tan to stew in his thoughts.
Chapter 48
Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.10 AE
Newscast
“Earlier today, the Emperor defied the will of the people by refusing to bring the Prime Minister before Parliament on a Writ of Habeas Corpus or even answer questions about the nature of the charges filed against him. When the Writ was delivered to the Pearl Gate of the Eternal Palace, it was sent back to the constable with the words 'Go to Hades' written in the Emperor's own hand."
Video clip of the Pearl Gate being slammed in the constable's face.
Video clip of the Writ of Habeas Corpus with 'Go to Hades' scrawled across it in a large hand.
"Members of the Eternal Emperor's staff have refused to answer a Parliamentary Subpoena demanding they appear before Parliament and answer the people as to why the Prime Minister is being held."
Video clip of a throng of reporters following Supreme Commander-General Jophiel into the Eternal Palace. Hundreds of thousands of protestors wait outside the palace, carrying signs that say 'free Lucifer.' The citizens boo her and begin to press against the military, who can hardly hold them. Debris is lobbed from the screaming mob.
"Supreme Commander-General! Is it true the Emperor has staged a military coup d'état to dismantle Parliament?
The icy beauty turns to the camera and speaks without emotion. "I have no comment."
"Is it true you refused to obey a Parliamentary Subpoena?"
"I have no comment." A well-lobbed shoe hits Jophiel on the wing. She cringes.
"Is it true you have taken a permanent mate, even though you forbid your own troops to do likewise?"
The ice-mask falters.
"I have no comment." She turns and enters into the Eternal Palace by the Pearl Gate.
Video transitions back to television network panel.
"This only proves Parliament's assertions that the Eternal Emperor has lost touch with the citizen's right to have justice administered in a fair and consistent manner and not have a petty tyrant be exempt from the same laws that apply to you or I. Parliament has responded by calling an Emergency Joint Session to vote on the Bill filed yesterday to strip the Eternal Emperor of his authority to rule this Alliance and demote him to a ceremonial emperor and god. We go now to watch this historic vote live."
Camera shifts to a Delphinium reporter. Behind her, delegates from -both- sessions of Parliament move into their seats. The camera zooms in as the Speaker of the Commons reads the Bill into the record.
"All in favor?"
"Aye!!!" Nearly every delegate in the room votes yes.
"Any nays?"
The old species, the Muqqibat, the Dardda'il, and several others vote nay, along with a single Spiderid lord. They are heavily outvoted.
"The ayes have it," the Speaker of the Commons shouts. "The Eternal Emperor, our beloved spiritual leader, is no longer our commander in chief. Long live Lucifer, the true representative of the people."
"Long live Lucifer! Long live Lucifer! Long live Lucifer!"
Chapter 49
October - 3,390 BC
Earth: Village of Assur
Jamin
A thin sliver of moonlight shone through the crack left in the large, flat rock that covered the pit and touched Jamin's cheek, the only light he'd had for three days. The crack had not been left open out of pity. Siamek had spat in the pit as he'd thrown down his food and water yesterday and told him Shahla's baby was dead. No. The crack was left because after three days in the pit, the air ran out and his father had not yet decided whether he wanted him alive or dead.
"I am sorry," Jamin said to the moon.
The moon, of course, did not answer. How could it? Not only had the winged demon taken Ninsianna from him, and then his place as leader of the warriors, and then his pride, but now he had taken away his very concept of what it meant to have a place in this universe, to be favored by the gods, if such a thing existed. The moon was nothing but a rock, a thing the winged demon called a planet. Even his right to have a deity to call upon in this darkest moment, to plead intervention, to help him figure out how his life had just turned so wrong, had been taken away from him.
He shut his eyes, moving his face so the tiny sliver would shine upon his eyelids, a light he could see even in the dark. What was the story his mother used to tell him when he'd been a little boy? About a goddess who lived in the moon? Not the goddess worshipped by Ninsianna and the other villagers, but one his mother's people had worshipped in their far-off village.
Where was she now, his dead mother? Did she wait for him at the entrance to the dreamtime, as the shamans claimed when someone passed into the world beyond? Did she watch over him? Could she help him?
No. Even his mother would be ashamed of what he had done.
The sliver shifted and he had to kneel to keep the light upon his face. Then the moon set, leaving him sitting completely in the dark.
Tomorrow was the third day. As soon as the sun rose, he would find out his fate. He fought to sleep, to enter that world in between where he and Ninsianna were still engaged, where it was him she wrapped her arms around, him she kissed, hi
m whose child she carried now. Happy dreams. All that had sustained him these past eight months. The dreams no longer came. Ever since he had felt the slap of the wind in his face and the eagles cry that he was guilty, he no longer dreamed of her at all. Even that had been taken away from him.
He dozed off, but instead of her, he dreamed of someone else, so bright he could see their light even here in the pit. The light was a prisoner as he was, but at least he had simply been thrown into a hole, while this person was being smothered by darkness. Two souls who had both lost faith in their gods. Jamin reached across time and space to touch that light and the world grew blindingly bright. He blinked.
"It is time."
He looked up and realized the stone had been pulled back, the sun had risen and was at least an hour above the horizon. It was time to go pay for what he had done.
There was no camaraderie in the faces of the warriors who dropped a rope into the hole and hauled him up, too stiff to move after three days in the pit. He schooled a stony expression so he would not appear desperate. Siamek bound his hands and ankles so he could not run, then led him to the square in front of his father's house, the only space large enough to fit the entire village.
Whispers followed him as he moved through the streets, from the lowest place where the hole was located, to the highest point where the communal granary was situated, his father's house, the upper well, and the shrine dedicated to She-who-is. Anger welled in his veins as he saw the tribunal had been set up in front of the temple. SHE had done this to him. SHE, and her accursed Chosen One who worshipped her, had lay a curse upon him after she had cast him aside!
That was crazy talk. He knew it was crazy talk.
He looked for his father's face, praying he could throw himself at his father's mercy, to beg forgiveness, to promise that he would reform, but his father's door was firmly shut, no sign of him as the villagers whispered. His father could exercise his chiefly prerogative to commute his sentence, or at least to make sure it wasn't too harsh. He would make reparations. He would even marry Shahla. A tear slid down his cheek. Why did his father not care enough to come?
He would rather die than let them see him cry! He stood in front of the tribunal, his hands bound in front of him, and forced himself to stand straight, his jaw clenched together so he would not weep. Why was his father not here? He stared at the three elders who would be his judge.
Behnam was one of the winged demon's archers. He would get no impartiality there. The second judge was Yalda, the oldest woman in the village, as well as the sharpest. Each afternoon the winged demon brought the two widow-sisters water. He would not get mercy from her, either. The third judge was the village flint-knapper, Rakhshan. Jamin had been a frequent visitor to the flint-knapper's house over the years and could perhaps count on some good will, but the winged demon had been there often lately, outfitting the warriors with arrows and spears, so perhaps he could not? Any way he looked at it, his prospects were dim.
“Who will speak for Jamin?” Yalda asked, being the oldest of the three elders.
“I will speak for myself,” Jamin said. “I do not recognize the authority of this tribunal because there is no impartial judge.”
"An advocate has been appointed to speak on your behalf," Rakshan said.
Jamin swallowed, tears welling in his eyes as he realized his father did care for him after all. His lip twitched and he had to take a breath before saying the words.
"My father sought one out?"
"No," Rakshan said, his expression neutral. "Mikhail did. He refuses to testify against you unless there is an impartial advocate to examine witnesses on your behalf. We had to send a runner all the way to Eshnunna to find someone who was not biased against you."
The words hit him like a fist. Had he really made that many enemies? Tears of joy soured in his eyes and made him blink, hope turning to dirt in his stomach. Pouya, an older warrior from Eshnunna, stepped forward.
“I will help Jamin defend against these charges.”
“I don’t need your help,” anger welled in Jamin's gut as he realized what was going on here. “We all know what the verdict will be. The only question is the punishment!"
“Jamin,” Rakhshan spoke. “There are two different accusations against you here today."
Jamin's heart sank even though he had known this was coming. So … she had done it. She had gotten even by telling everyone what he had done, the threat hanging over his heart like a spearhead which had been the thing which really made him lose his temper and beat her. But he could not say that without incriminating himself even further, so he clenched his jaw and remained silent.
"We shall examine the lesser charge first," Rakshan said. "The people of this village allege you beat Shahla so badly she lost her baby. How do you plead?”
He stared at the ring of warriors who stood between him and the ordinary people of this village, there not only to ensure he didn't get away, but also that one of them did not slip a blade between his ribs while his hands and feet were bound for the second crime which the tribunal had not charged him with yet. Once upon a time they had been his men, not the winged demons. Only one thing remained in common between himself and the warriors who stood between them … at one time or another Shahla had claimed she was pregnant, trying to entrap them into marriage, and then claimed it had been a false pregnancy scare.
“Shahla has slept with every warrior in the village.” Jamin deflected the question into territory he hoped the two men on the tribunal might sympathize with. “It was not my child!”
“That wasn't the question,” Rakhshan said. “Jamin … three days ago did you beat Shahla so badly she lost her baby?”
“Shahla tried to blackmail me into marrying her,” Jamin said. "What was I supposed to do?"
The villagers gasped and muttered amongst themselves.
“Jamin,” Pouya whispered, “you just essentially plead guilty. Is that what you really want to plead?”
Jamin swallowed. It was time to take his beating. If he was honest about the act every person in the village had witnessed, his lost temper and the beating he had given her for blackmailing him, than perhaps they would believe him when it came time to try him for the more serious charge? No. He would get no mercy from those cold brown eyes which stood silently in the square, intently focused on watching him hang himself. Anger welled in his gut. If he could not save himself, then he would bring down the man who had done this to him.
“Shahla told the female warriors the baby was Mikhail's," Jamin made the desperate defense. "For all we know, the reason she lost the baby is because he dropped her after he flew her out of there because she had shamed him in front of his wife.”
"What are you doing?" Pouya hissed.
Jamin was not good at this kind of thing, seeing all the places where an argument was weak and using it to cast doubt the way a master manipulator such as Shahla and her parents could. He had always been the kind of man to hit an enemy head on, but if there was one thing he had learned from Shahla, it was that people could be swayed by insinuation if you gave them a reason to doubt.
"How do you know that isn't what happened?" Jamin spoke low to Pouya so the others would not hear. "How many times have you been carried up into the sky?"
Pouya glared at him, but turned back to the tribunal.
“Jamin makes the defensive claim that the reason the young woman lost the child is because she was injured when she was flown from the scene of the argument," Pouya said. The advocate read the angry buzz which rippled through the villagers at this defense and added, "it was a most unusual mode of transportation.”
The villagers began to whisper. Yes. The thought of being carried into the air was still unthinkable even though they had seen the winged demon carry his wife into the sky many times.
The eyes which stared at him remained hostile. That second charge, the one which had not yet been spoken, that was the charge these people wanted to hear. But unlike the beating, those charges hinge
d on Shahla's credibility. Everyone knew how vindictive Shahla was when spurned. Perhaps he could insinuate she was lying? Or even better, perhaps she had led Mikhail into the trap because she had told him she was pregnant and he had spurned her.
Yes, perhaps if he cast enough doubt, his father would become angry enough at Laum's trap to exercise his chiefly prerogative. He hoped? Panic beat in his throat, urging him to run. The punishment for eleven people dead would be his own death. He looked up at the hostile faces. The door to the house he had grown up in was firmly shut. Why was his father not here? His father could put a stop to this! Why?
Because his father had abandoned him, that's why. The Chief has left his fate to the mob…
Execution by mob. His mouth turned to ash. He could almost feel the stones hitting his flesh. His dark eyes met Gita's bottomless black ones. There was no more ignominious way to meet your end than the spectre Gita had described to him, just once, of how her father had forced her to watch them bury her mother in the ground up to her waist and watch as her father had cast the first stone.
He whirled to his advocate, determined to save his own life.
“How do I prove he dropped her?”
“We ask questions about what happened,” Pouya said. “But I warn you … you must get the words directly from the mouths of the witnesses. I will not sully my own reputation to lie for you.”
Doubt. He needed to cast doubt. What doubt could he create that would make Shahla's claim he had conspired with the Halifians sound preposterous?
“We will hear testimony first from the victim,” Rakhshan spoke for the tribunal. “Where is Shahla?”
“She is here,” Needa lead Shahla into the square. Her hair was unkempt and she carried a tattered rag doll from when she'd been a little girl. She did not walk like a proud strumpet now, but a lost child, stopping to whisper to her dolly and tilt her head up to speak to someone who was not there.
Sword of the Gods: Prince of Tyre (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 51