She stepped across the threshold into a room where Needa stood in front of a dying cook fire. Needa's expression softened when she saw they had assigned her to be the messenger. Cowards! Why had they all hidden behind a thirteen summer girl?
Neither woman spoke. Pareesa set the urn down upon the table and removed the lid. The scant light glistened off of the three white pebbles, arranged neatly on top of the hundreds of tiny black ones which made up the rest of the tally. Two had been cast by her, even though technically she was too young to vote. Needa had authorized her to cast her pebble in her stead. Nobody had caught her when she'd slipped two white pebbles into the tally instead of one. Needa's … and one she'd spent all morning searching for in the riverbed.
Who had cast the third white pebble? Ebad? No. Ebad said what they were doing to Mikhail was cruel. Yalda and Zhila? Maybe… But how one sister voted, the other always did, and Immanu had made them give evidence in his favor, weeping, as they related how very much Mikhail loved Ninsianna. No. In the end, Immanu had swayed them all. All except for one. But who? Who had cast the third white pebble? It wasn't Gita, because as an accused, she had no right to vote. They hadn't even allowed the girl to testify.
Needa's mouth tightened into a grim line.
"What lies did he say to get the villagers to agree with him?"
"He said it was a vote of mercy," Pareesa said. "That Mikhail was still alive because we had told him a lie, and without that lie, might he choose to join Ninsianna in the dreamtime. He asked…" Pareesa stared down at her hands. "He asked them … he asked them to make me tell Mikhail the truth, and let him decide whether or not he wished to fight to live."
Needa picked out the three white pebbles and held them up to the fire. There were tears in her eyes, but for six weeks she had wept, and there was little more anyone could say or do.
"I will keep these," Needa said. "To remember how little my years of service as a healer meant to the people of this village."
She tucked the three white pebbles into her healer's basket which sat on top of her worldly belongings, packed up neatly, ready for her journey back to Gasur. Needa had sat bravely through countless death-watches, but when Mikhail died, so would her marriage.
"How much longer does he have?" Pareesa's voice warbled. "I mean … after he decides to stop fighting?"
Needa dabbed at Pareesa's cheeks with the back of her shawl.
"An hour," Needa whispered. "Maybe two. The only reason he's held out this long is because we told him Ninsianna was here."
Pareesa's nose twitched, trying to keep the tears inside. This was her teacher they asked her to give up for dead, the man who had been her guiding star. Mikhail fought to live because she had lied to him.
The door latch lifted and Chief Kiyan stepped inside. He walked like an old man, dispirited and scarred with burns. His eyes sank deep within his skull from lack of sleep and, if she didn't know better, he'd been weeping when nobody was there to watch.
Needa's expression softened. They both understood that, while Chief Kiyan had cast a black pebble, there was no malice in that decision. He was just as sad to see Mikhail go.
"I want Gita to stay until the end," Needa said. "Her presence comforts him, and no one should have to die alone."
Chief Kiyan nodded, and then he turned to Pareesa.
"Go get Mikhail's sword and bring it to Narduğan ceremony. We must give our people hope that some part of him shall live on beyond his death. It is fitting that we memorialize him on this longest night of the year."
"I want to stay with him, too!" Pareesa protested.
"I need you, child," Chief Kiyan said. "I need you there to give this village hope, because without him…"
The Chief turned away, unable to finish what he wished say.
"I will tell him," Pareesa said. "I will tell him it's time to let go."
The warriors silently gathered up the relics Immanu needed to perform a ceremony to send his daughter, and the husband who had failed to save her, off into the dreamtime. Pareesa watched them shuffle out, shoulders hunched and eyes filled with tears. It was time. It was time to tell Mikhail the truth. Only Siamek remained. He gave Pareesa a nod.
"Let's do this," Siamek said. "Immanu has appointed me to take the death-watch."
The choice had been made because, as Mikhail's official 'lieutenant,' Siamek was the highest-ranking warrior in Mikhail's army. It was an honor, to be attended by the best. They both knew Mikhail would have wanted her at his side, but Immanu claimed he needed her at the bonfire. The real reason was he feared she might help Gita escape.
She pushed aside the curtain and stepped inside. The foul stench of rotted flesh nearly overwhelmed her. Gita sat huddled over the bed, Ninsianna's red cape drawn tightly around her shoulders, her lips moving as she sang a prayer to a goddess who had never cared enough about her to help her out with anything.
Gita looked up, her eyebrows drawn together in fear. If Ninsianna was the Chosen One, then Gita must be the Un-Chosen. The girl who even the goddess could not see. Which of them looked worse right now? Mikhail? Or the girl who had sang away her own life's energy, trying to give him the strength to survive?
"Leave us," Pareesa said.
Impenetrable black eyes met hers, made all the darker by the contrast with her pale, translucent skin. Those preternaturally large omniscient orbs glistened like a terrified nocturnal animal, forever fearful that a predator was about to eat her.
"He…"
"It's just for a moment," Pareesa said. "I just wish to say goodbye."
Gita rose from her uncomfortable stool which was the only concession they had made to the girl's comfort. Ninsianna's red cape hung loosely around her slight frame, a mocking reminder that while she had tended him, it had been another woman's name he had cried out for, another woman that he loved. They had used her. They had all used her. And now that she was no longer needed, they would cast her aside without remorse.
Pareesa clasped Gita's hands. They were cold and skeletal, as if the pallor of death had come into her body as well as his.
"Be strong," Pareesa whispered to her. "Be strong … for him."
Gita's dark eyes filled with tears.
"I gave him everything I had," Gita's lip trembled. "It just wasn't enough. I'm sorry. I'm not gifted like his real wife was."
Pareesa gave Gita a hug.
"You are gifted," Pareesa said. She lowered her voice. "We both know Ninsianna would have given up on him weeks ago."
Gita took off the red cape and hung it on the wall. It was fitting Mikhail should know it had been Gita, the lowest creature he had ever taken pity upon, and not Ninsianna, the highest, who had stayed with him until the bitter end. Gita stepped out of the room, her head bowed in shame.
Siamek moved to follow her, to make sure she didn't escape.
"Stay with me," Pareesa said. She spoke it not as a request, but with her best facsimile of the old god's voice and authority.
"I'm supposed to…"
Siamek's eyes were haunted. She knew what Immanu had ordered him to do the moment Mikhail passed, and she opposed it, she opposed it with every ounce of her being!
"If she'd wanted to abandon him," Pareesa said, "she had every opportunity to do so weeks ago."
"But she…"
"She did no such thing," Pareesa said. "You know that better than anyone!"
Siamek nodded. Since the night they had come for him, Firouz had become deliberately lax, doing his best to allow the girl to escape. Why had Gita stayed when the entire village had united against her?
"You will not throw that girl into the hole!" Pareesa said. "She is not guilty, and he would speak against it if he was still alive."
"What should I do?"
"Do what your heart tells you is right," Pareesa said. "Do what he would tell you to do if he woke up and gave to you his final wishes. Everybody in the village trusts whatever you say."
The suggestion was implicit without saying the words. She asked Siam
ek to tell a lie, to sully his honor for a girl he clearly did not like.
She had never seen Siamek cry, not in all the years that she had known him, not even after Jamin had been banished and she'd earned his trust as a warrior and a friend. But he did so now, threw his arms around her and wept, he who had lost not just the best friend who had betrayed them, but now the man who'd allowed him to earn forgiveness when, he, off all people, understood he'd deserved none.
"What are we supposed to do now?" Siamek said.
"We lead them," Pareesa said. "We lead them in his stead."
"It is you they look to," Siamek said, "not me. I never earned his trust and everyone knows it. Not even towards the end."
Siamek pulled away, too much of a man to do something so girlish as weep.
"Go," Siamek said. "Tell him the truth. I will wait for you just outside the door." He moved, shoulders slumped, back outside where the stench of death was not so pungent, leaving her with her hero alone.
Pareesa stood beside the bed, staring down at the emaciated husk which was all they had left of the man who had fallen from the heavens. Pale, yellow light from the tallow lanterns flickered, valiantly trying to push back the darkness and the chill. His chest shuddered as even now he fought to breathe. Out. In. Out. In. Never had a man been so badly injured and fought so long to live.
His black-brown wings lay crushed beneath him, the only thing about him which still remained magnificent. Oh, how could she tell him goodbye? He, who had come to mean everything her? Her sword of truth? Her guiding star? He was … everything she aspired to become.
Tears flowed as she kneeled beside his deathbed and took his hand.
"I've come to seek your blessing, sensei. I've come to ask you to pass to me your sword."
She would not take his sword unless he gave her his blessing. She watched his chest rise and fall. Slowly. Far too slow to bring enough air into his lungs. Out. Lengthy pause. Jagged hiccup in. Hint of a moan of pain. A strangled rattle as he breathed it out again. A shudder as his chest collapsed under the weight of the rotted, infected meat. And then, a terrifying silence. She prayed for him. Breathe! Oh, gods, please breathe! And then it started all over again. The next painful breath. Fighting. Even now, Mikhail kept fighting to stay alive. It was time to end the lie.
"She is gone, sensei!" Tears slid down her cheeks and kissed his arms with her guilt. "She is gone, sensei, and it's time for us to let you go."
Her slender frame shuddered as she pressed her forehead into his hand, begging for absolution, begging for his forgiveness.
"I'm so sorry! I know it was cruel to deceive you when you trusted me to tell you the truth! I should have let you go when we knew Ninsianna had been taken, but we hoped … we didn't want to let you go if there was any hope she might be found alive."
Her slender body shook as she wept the tears six weeks of denial had helped her keep at bay. Why? Why had she taken part in this deception which had only prolonged his separation from his wife? Because she was selfish, that's why! She had needed him, so she had lied because she thought she was too weak to stand alone.
That subtle tingle of energy at the crown of her head reminded her that she wasn't alone. The Cherubim God of War had made her a promise the day she'd thrown herself into a hopeless situation in a vain attempt to save Mikhail's life. Yes. He had made her a promise. For her, and for Mikhail. She wiped her tears. She understood what the old god needed her to do.
A feeling of peace came over her, that supernatural sense of knowing how a body intended to move even before the thought had manifested into the physical world. She saw it. She felt it. The shadow hand of light moved from Mikhail's inert body to touch her cheek and passed along to her his sacred blessing.
"You knew?" Pareesa whispered. "You knew we were deceiving you?"
The shadow-hand moved back down to squeeze hers.
"For how long?"
The vision faded. It was just her; she and her hero who lay dying. His sword glimmered like a beacon of hope from its place beneath his deathbed. It was hers now. He wanted her to have it.
She slid the unearthly weapon out from its bower and placed it carefully into his hands. If only they'd had more of these, she would have made certain he was buried with it, but their need was great and Mikhail had always been too pragmatic to waste a necessary item on a ceremony.
"I will take good care of it, sensei," Pareesa promised. "You have my word. I will do my best to honor the lessons you taught us."
She kissed his forehead, his eyelids, and then the cold, blue lips which had grown so weak he no longer possessed the strength to burn a fever. Oh, how long had she dreamed of giving him this kiss, and now that she had given it, she wished fervently she never had the opportunity. How does one tell their hero goodbye?
"Goodbye, my Champion. Don't be afraid. I will guide them in your stead."
She slid the sword from his grip, tears falling onto the unearthly metal and making it glisten even brighter.
"Wait for me. Whisper secrets when I am perplexed and encourage me to be brave whenever my courage falters. Remind me of how very beautiful you were, and just how brave you were in the face of overwhelming odds. Watch over me until the day comes that I can finally rejoin you to fight at your side in the next realm. We shall conquer evil … together."
She understood now what he needed her to do. She moved past Siamek to pass Gita lurking sorrowfully on the landing. The girl looked paler than Pareesa had ever seen her before, a frail girl who might not survive much longer than Mikhail.
"He knows," Pareesa took her hand. "Comfort him. Make his passage as comfortable and beautiful as you can."
Tears glistened in Gita's preternaturally dark eyes, but she looked relieved that they would not make her leave.
"You know I will," Gita said. "I will not abandon him until his spirit has left his body."
They hugged each other. Sprit-sisters. Favored one. Forgotten one. Their embrace broke off and Gita moved back into the room. It was fitting that she, dark girl, who had never left his side, would be the last person he saw before he passed from this world into the next one. As soon as this was over, she would do her best to prove Gita's innocence.
Pareesa paused in the kitchen to tie his sword around her waist. It felt right, finally, as if it belonged there, this unearthly weapon which would give her people an edge. He had passed his mantle onto her, not just a sword, but a responsibility. It was up to her to finish Mikhail's mission.
She made her way through the alley towards the centermost square, rehearsing what she needed to say. The words to a prayer came into her mind, strange words, alien words, but as she walked, she understood their meaning. She turned them over in her mind, over and over again, until at last they made sense in a language the others would understand.
~ * ~ * ~
Chapter 54
December, 3,390 BC
Zulu Sector: Prince of Tyre
Ninsianna
Ninsianna dipped the cloth into the pan of warm water and pressed it to the broken man's forehead. His breath was shallow, his skin now blue. She had tried, but she did not know how to heal a wound which was not merely physical. Whatever the Evil One had done to him, it lay beyond the auspices of healing.
She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand, feeling helpless, feeling guilty. A green, clawed hand settled gently upon her shoulder.
"Are you certain there is nothing you can do for him?"
Apausha's long, forked tongue flitted out to taste the air, but for some reason, Ninsianna no longer found the gesture repulsive.
She touched the unknown man's cheek; handsome, cool, pale. If the goddess hadn't abandoned her, she could have asked her what to do, but despite her prayers, She-who-is refused to speak to her. Un-Chosen. The goddess had abandoned her to face the Evil One alone.
"The Evil One has fed upon his spirit," Ninsianna said. "His spirit has been shattered, too broken to force his body to exist. My father…"
"The shaman?"
"Yes," Ninsianna said. "My father knew how to heal such injuries of the spirit. But I…"
"He did not teach you because you are a woman?"
Ninsianna thought back to all the times her father had stood with her at the threshold to the dark path and tried to coax her to journey with him into that realm where even She-who-is purportedly could not see. Why, oh why, hadn't she listened to her father's admonitions that she needed to overcome her fear of the dark?
Oh! Terrible darkness! Why did it intimidate her thus?
She had seen the point of light in Jamin, ready to help her, ready to turn against the Evil One if only she'd reached into the darkness to turn him back into the light. He'd wanted it. Oh, how he had wanted it, and she had turned away, she had turned her back on him even though she knew the consequence. She had seen that point of light in Shahla, even when her mind had been in the grip of her delusion, and been so repulsed that she'd given up the chance to heal her mind? Mikhail had reached across that void to find her and she had cut him off, not recognizing his spirit. Why? Why had she condemned her husband to die alone, she who loved the light, but had always been terrified of the dark?
"I was arrogant," Ninsianna said. "I was the Chosen of the She-who-is. I assumed the goddess would always protect me instead of learning how to protect myself."
Apausha's gold-green eyes were filled with sympathy. How ironic was it that it was a lizard-demon who had helped her to see the darkness could sometimes be a gift?
"Can you journey there now?" Apausha asked. "Perhaps you might help him live?"
"The only life energy I possess is my own," Ninsianna said. "If these women were not so mind-broken, perhaps we might perform a group ceremony of healing."
"But you cannot do it now?" Apausha asked. His expression was not one of condemnation, merely curiosity.
"No," Ninsianna sighed. She spread her hand protectively across the swell of her abdomen. "It would take too much life energy to heal one so close to death. And these women," she gestured at them, "do not have any left over to spare."
Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 56