"He does not understand it," Siamek said. "But he is very excited. He thinks he can get the wood you need to make it bend the way you say."
"What about the bat excrement?"
"Namhu scours the caves for some now," Siamek said. He frowned. "Though I can't understand why you want them to carry so much home. We already have a pile large enough to bury a house."
"We shall need more," Mikhail said. "Ask for volunteers. After we wash it through a sieve, we must lay it out to dry for several weeks."
Siamek wrinkled his nose up in disgust.
"What about the fortifications I recommended?" Mikhail asked.
"We have sharpened every stick we could find," Siamek said. "But what good will such weapons do against a sky canoe that can call down lightning?"
Had Siamek not been giving him the cold shoulder, perhaps he might have shared that information with him, but having already been burnt once by Jamin, he would not divulge any more information than he absolutely had to.
Siamek fell silent as they continued their descent into the ring where Yalda and Zhila lived. As they walked, Mikhail could see the man's face resume its earlier scowl.
"You are angry at me?" Mikhail said at last.
Siamek said nothing, and for a moment Mikhail feared he would not answer him at all. But then the man's mask of anger slipped, and beneath that mask was an expression that Mikhail recognized as anguish.
"How can you tolerate them not even performing the death rituals for the girl?" Siamek said.
"Who? Shahla?"
"Gita!"
"Gita? Why would they perform the death rituals for Gita?"
"Because she is dead because of you!"
Siamek lobbed the words at him as though they were a sword. Mikhail stopped walking and stared at the man in confusion.
"Gita ran away so she wouldn't have to answer to the Tribunal."
"She ran away because your father-in-law wanted to throw her upon the solstice bonfire!" Siamek spat. "Whether or not she was innocent of any wrongdoing!"
A sensation of revulsion rippled through Mikhail's feathers. Trial-by-fire was a barbaric means of execution he had seen on far too many pre-technological worlds, but it did not explain why Siamek was angry at him.
"Everyone knows the girl aided and abutted Shahla," Mikhail said. "They were best friends."
Siamek turned and began to walk away.
"Forget it," Siamek gestured with disgust. "You are nothing but a fool!"
A fog of confusion stabbed into Mikhail's brain. For as long as he'd known the man, Siamek had always behaved as though he disliked Gita and avoided her like a plague. Whatever was going on here, he was missing important pieces of the puzzle.
"Siamek!" Mikhail called. He wished to fly after him, but laden down with buckets and winded from the brief walk down here, he had no strength for such games. He resorted to the one tactic he'd seen Immanu use when Needa was angry at him.
"Please, Siamek! I don't understand what I did wrong!"
Siamek whirled and glowered at him.
"For six weeks that girl never left your side," Siamek said. "And then when she'd thought you'd died, she killed herself. She threw herself off the east wall of the village because everybody blamed her for what Shahla had done. She had no idea the Tribunal had just ruled she was not to blame."
The village swam with a peculiar sense of vertigo. A song. A hand holding his. The unnamed scent which still clung to Ninsianna's red cape. A crown of dancing stars. And a dark-winged child with eyes so black it seemed as though they carried the sorrows of the universe.
"Immanu said she ran away because she was guilty?" Mikhail said.
That sense of having his frontal lobes squeezed in a machine shop vise and then having his brain lobotomized grew stronger as the village around him began to spin.
"If it wasn't for her," Siamek hissed. "You wouldn't be alive!"
Siamek turned and stalked away, ignoring Mikhail's calls to wait.
Chasing after Siamek would accomplish little. Plastering that old, familiar unreadable expression onto his face, the one he had mastered while living amongst the Cherubim, he knocked on the widow-sisters door, hoping that perhaps they might enlighten him with the truth?
~ * ~ * ~
Chapter 73
Late-January: 3,389 BC
Uncharted Territories: Prince of Tyre
Ninsianna
"Thanks, Ninsianna!"
Ruax practically flew out of the harem, his white wings fluttering with happiness as the Uruk woman hissed and devoured the fruit he'd finally, after much coaxing, gotten her to take out of his hand.
Ninsianna stared at the woman in question. Progress? She'd hoped the woman would become less combative, not more. Instead, the strong-willed, raven-haired beauty had grown relentless about tormenting the other women in the harem. Sane? Not quite… But at least she'd stopped cringing every time Ruax stepped into the room.
The moment the door shut, Apausha rose from his alcove.
"Did you really just convince him that being hit by the woman was an ancient human mating ritual?" Apausha asked.
Ninsianna batted her eyelashes in a show of mock-flirtation.
"Why, Apausha?" Ninsianna spoke in her most sultry voice. "Doesn't every lady try to pluck out the tailfeathers of any man she's interested in."
Apausha gave a barking laugh and then tasted the air. His dewlap transformed into the pink of a just-ripening pomegranate as his olfactory senses told him far more than Ninsianna probably wanted him to know.
"I don't know how you do that," Apausha said. "But every time you flirt, not only does it look like you really like them, but it also tastes like it."
Ninsianna sniffled.
"I have no interest in the man."
Apausha averted his gaze, an annoying habit the creature had of never making eye contact. She'd made great progress, explaining that to refuse to meet her gaze was considered an insult, but whenever he felt embarrassed, Apausha reverted to his old habit.
"I did not imply that you did," Apausha said. "Merely that, to a casual observer, somehow your ability to convince others not only has a visual component, but also a biochemical one."
Bi-o-kem-kill. That word meant nothing to her, but Apausha had explained that olfactory meant sense of smell. Mikhail had just said smell when he meant smell, but Apausha seemed eager expand her vocabulary. No, that wasn't true, Mikhail had tried to teach her tek-no-lo-gee as well, but she'd spurned the knowledge, arguing that She-who-is provided her with as much information as she needed.
If only she had been less arrogant!
"What does that magnificent tongue tell you, Lieutenant Apausha?" Ninsianna asked. She asked the question flirtatiously, but she was determined to learn no matter how much it made her head hurt.
Apausha's pebbled green skin turned an interesting shade of brown, the color she had learned to interpret as a blush.
"Well?" she demanded. If anyone had ever told her she would repay the creature of her nightmares by endlessly torturing him … with mortification … she would have told them they were crazy.
"You smell like a female who has just gone into heat," Apausha said softly, the way a boy might do when asked if he'd eaten all of the figs. "And when you place your hand onto another woman and sing the song you use to concentrate, it smells like they have gone into heat as well, even though it is impossible because both of you are already pregnant."
"I make them smell enticing, as well?" Ninsianna asked. "Are you certain the men are not just interested in me?" She realized that sounded vain. "I mean … are you sure you're not just smelling my scent?"
"Oh, no," Apausha said. "Your scents are very specific. Somehow, when you encourage them to connect to the guards, something happens. I'm not sure what, exactly, but it's very entertaining to watch."
"It's not like there's anything else to do around here," Ninsianna huffed. She leaned back and gestured to her petty kingdom. "How many is that we've gotten wrapp
ed around our little baby fingers? Seventeen?"
"Eighteen if you count Lerajie," Apausha said.
"Oh, Lerajie was already wrapped the first moment he lay eyes upon me," Ninsianna laughed. She ran her hand through her lush, dark hair, remembering all the signals she'd been too unaware to recognize in her husband that she'd gotten him wrapped around her finger as well.
Her smile faded. Mikhail was dead.
"Ninsianna, are you okay?" Apausha asked. The lizard-man's gold-green eyes were green with concern. From the way he tasted the air, her change of mood had also affected her scent.
"I was just thinking about my husband," Ninsianna said. She gave him a sad smile. "I miss him. No matter how many of these men I entice, none of them will ever fill his shoes."
The gentle movement inside her womb reminded her that while Mikhail was dead, but she must protect her son. If she was to defeat the Evil One, she must do so using her wits, not weapons. She stared at one of the 'tools' she'd been using to implement her plan.
"How are you doing today, Hebat?" Ninsianna called to the frail, mousy-haired woman Lerajie favored. "Lerajie should be here any minute. Wouldn't you like to look pretty when Lerajie comes to visit you?"
After three weeks of desensitizing the woman, they'd had their first major breakthrough only yesterday. Her name was Hebat, and they'd even managed to get her to speak a few words about her tribe called the Kheta before she'd retreated back into her shell.
"Let me brush your hair, Hebat," Ninsianna said. She gave the woman her friendliest smile. "We shall brush the mats out, and then I will braid it so you look pretty. Lerajie really likes you, you know? If you keep accepting his gifts, I think we may yet convince him to take you out of here. Would you like that, Hebat? Would you like to go away from here?"
The mousy-haired woman nodded; her expression a curious mixture of terror and hope.
"Let's see if we can't get you to smile," Ninsianna said. "Just a bit of encouragement so he keeps coming back for more."
She picked up the luxurious hairbrush which Lerajie had brought for his favorite. There was a deficit of baubles on this sky canoe which would catch a female's eye, but Ninsianna had encouraged the men to improvise.
"Perhaps Lerajie will bring you another gift?" Ninsianna said. Her words soothed the woman, but what always seemed to soothe her the most was whenever she brushed her hair.
She closed her eyes and sang the sing-song chant her father had taught her to fortify her spirit light. She had always spurned the elaborate rituals her father needed to enter into the dreamtime. Why learn when She-who-is had simply given her everything she needed? But now that the Evil One had blocked her egress, she was forced to learn to use her 'non-dominant gift,' the abilities of an oh-so-ordinary shaman!
Kheta stopped cringing the moment Ninsianna touched the brush to her hair.
"That's it," Ninsianna said. "Let me run my hands where the Evil One focused his damage and see how much of you is still inside?"
As she brushed, she ran her free hand along the invisible, jagged edges where the Evil One had taken great bites out of the woman's spirit light. She imagined her song flowed into the jagged wounds like cool mud pressed into the cracks of a shattered vase. It was hard to put into words what she sensed the Evil One had done, but if she had to describe it, it was as though a man had tortured another man by cutting off his arms, his legs, his ears, his nose, and his tongue, and then for good measure also carved out his eyes, but left his torso intact so he could exclaim, 'see, I was merciful because I did not kill him.'
Ninsianna shuddered. If she healed these women, would the Evil One only do it to them again? Would he do it to her?
'Of course he will…' her intuition whispered to her. Why else had he taken her alive?
She had to get out of here! She had to get them all out of here!
She finished brushing Hebat's hair and began to twist it into a braid, weaving in colorful wires Lerajie had brought to win her affections.
"Maybe Lerajie will bring another poem to read today?" Ninsianna said. "You like those, don’t you? I think he really means them."
Lerajie liked to read to Hebat gentle, rhyming tales of love, some of which he had written himself. Hebat responded to his flowery expressions which Ninsianna suspected was the Lerajie sharing his spirit light in the only way he knew how. Hebat thrived under his attention. If poor, frail Hebat could heal, it gave Ninsianna hope the others would heal as well.
She glanced over at the ebony-skinned woman, who sat alone and had responded to no man, not even the gentle Lerajie. How was it that the one she'd thought would be the first to heal was also being the most stubborn?
"Tell me, Hebat," Ninsianna focused on her patient. "What was your Mama's name? And your favorite pet when you were still a little girl?"
"Taru," Hebat whispered, her eyes round like saucers.
"Good," Ninsianna ran the brush through her hair. "Don't be afraid. Apausha is now on our side. But if you want these men to help you fight the Evil One, you must first trick them into falling in love with you so he will defend you with his life. Can you do that? Do you think you can help me make Lerajie love you?"
Tears welled into Hebat's eyes along with more than a little fear as she nodded 'yes.’ Yes. Hebat was in there, and she understood, as Ninsianna did, that if they were ever to get out of here, they all had to work together and do things they didn't want to do.
The door flew open. Ninsianna glanced over, expecting to see Lerajie; but it was Eligor. He strode straight towards her, his pale wings flared instead of tucked tightly against his back the way she'd taught the others. The women screamed and ran to the opposite end of the room. Hebat retreated to the depths of her bunk, whispering a prayer in her own language instead of the Kemet. Apausha kneeled instantly on the floor, his hands over his head in a gesture of surrender.
Perhaps if Eligor hadn't borne that slight resemblance to her husband, or if Lerajie hadn't spent the last few weeks insisting that Eligor was his friend, she might have been afraid. But right now, Ninsianna was mad as hell! She stood up and glowered up at Eligor's too-tall form.
"What is the meaning of this?"
"You," Eligor grabbed her arm. "I have questions for you."
"Get your hands off of me!" Ninsianna ripped her arm out of his grip and pointed at the woman now cowering in her bunk. "Look what you just did! It took me weeks to get her to speak to me, and now you've gone and terrorized her back into silence!"
Eligor glanced over at Hebat, his expression every bit as unreadable as Mikhail's had been. Ninsianna raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it and manhandled her over to the chair which Apausha had just vacated.
"Sit."
Ninsianna glared up at him, but she did not dare push him too far. She sat down, grunting as her increased girth forced her to plop down like an awkward hippopotamus.
Eligor pulled up a seat and sat down in front of her. He leaned forward, his expression still unreadable as he searched her eyes.
"What?"
"Lerajie said you made her talk." He looked not at poor Hebat, cowering in her bunk, but at her.
"She was just talking until you barged in here," Ninsianna snapped. She slid her hand into her pocket to caress the sharp point of the tiny scissors she hoped to someday poke out his eye, his blue eyes, his blue eyes which were the same intense shade of blue her husband's had been that none of the other Angelics possessed. Her hand slid out of her pocket. She would not stab him unless she was forced to.
"What did you do to her?" Eligor asked.
"What do you mean, what did I do to her?"
"What did you do to make her talk?"
"I didn't do anything to her," Ninsianna said. "All I did was teach those idiots to stop barging in here and flaring their wings like predators."
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why?"
"Why are you helping them?"
"The women?"
"No, the men. Why are you teaching th
em how to interact with your species?"
"This doesn't have anything to do with them!" Ninsianna said. "These women were raped, and then you idiots keep coming in and re-traumatizing them! I'm just trying to teach them basic common sense!"
Eligor sat more straightly in his chair. For the first time, that hardened, almost completely unreadable expression slipped and the man appeared concerned, although about what, she could not tell.
"Lerajie said you can reach into a person who is broken and bring out the personality you want," Eligor said.
Ninsianna's brow cleaved together with confusion.
"What?"
"Can you do it?" Eligor asked. "If you think somebody has been messed with and had their mind deliberately broken, can you reach in and, I dunno, strengthen the part of them that is good?"
"I … I … I'm not sure what you're talking about."
Eligor ran his fingers through his short, blonde hair which, other than the fact it was fair instead of dark, was the exact same haircut her husband had worn the day his sky canoe had first fallen from the heavens.
"I guess it was too much to hope," Eligor muttered, "that maybe, somehow, I dunno, you could somehow help me reach the good twin?"
Ninsianna stared at the man, utterly perplexed. Her mouth fell open as he rose and shoved his chair back beneath the table.
"I'm sorry," Eligor said. He gestured towards the other women. "I won't barge in here again."
He stalked back towards the door, pale wings held stiff against his back as though he had a mission to complete. Her intuition told her she must keep Eligor here and win him over.
"The woman Lucifer married," Ninsianna called. "The one named Shahla. Her mind was broken after she lost her baby. Sometimes, it was as though I was dealing with two very different people."
Eligor stopped, his back still turned to her. His pale wings settled against his back, but Ninsianna was schooled enough in Angelic behavior to detect the tremor which rippled through his feathers.
"I almost reached her, you know," Ninsianna said. "I almost reached her before she turned me over to the Evil One. If I had, she would have stabbed him with the knife instead of Mikhail."
Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 72