"I have something better in mind," Gita said.
"What?"
"You lay here and wait for Tizqar," Gita said. "Me? I'm going to come at them from the rear."
They split up. Gita found a space between two date palm trees, a cultivated plant that could only exist because in the dry season somebody watered this grove. Her heart pounding, she drew her knife and waited for the men to come. A short time later she heard voices. Four of them … against their two. It was still too light out! How would they miss her without the cover of darkness?
'Help me, friend,' Gita prayed to the Cherubim god. 'I don't know how Mikhail did this, but his gift is not just the sword, but also the ability to creep up behind a man.'
She closed her eyes and imagined she was him. Mikhail. Her mentor, her hero, the man they all wished to be. When she opened her eyes again she was still just one small, too-thin girl against four men, but her perception had changed. It was a peculiar sensation, that ancient darkness she had always sensed moving within her, but she saw through that darkness as if somebody had lit a lantern.
Tizqar stood in the middle of the men, talking to another one, the last person she needed to hit. The other men straggled behind him, weighted down with bags of trade goods.
'I'm a tree, I'm a tree, I'm a tree…'
She waited until they passed, and then crept up behind the last man. She could see the small, black spot at the base of his skull which screamed, aim here, aim straight upwards at just such an angle. She rammed the knife without even thinking and felt no emotion as the blade met the resistance of the man's neck bones. With a low cry, the man dropped twitching to the ground, his ability to command his body to move severed.
Gita pulled out her knife, her hand sticky from the man's warm blood. That old hunger cried out, eager to feed upon the blood of men. The second man whirled to see what had startled his comrade and stared at her, as if he couldn't really see her.
'I'm a tree…' Gita whispered as drove her knife straight up into his jaw, through his jugular and straight up into his brain.
The man fell, freeing her blade from the soft flesh which gushed blood onto her soil-stained Kemet robe. The two remaining men whirled and pulled their knives, shouting as they dove towards her. Dadbeh took this opportunity to leap out of his own hiding spot and, before they realized they had a second attacker, he buried his knife into the third man's jugular.
Gita stepped toward Tizqar, her face and arms smeared with gore.
"Do you know who I am?" Gita asked.
The man stared at her as if he could not believe what he was seeing.
"Do you know who -I- am?!" Tizqar bellowed, his own knife held in front of him like the seasoned knife fighter that he was.
"You are Tizqar, son of Zamub," Gita said. "And if you come with us willingly to give testimony against the traitor Laum, we shall leave you alive. And if you do not, we shall feed your body to the vultures."
"You are … but … a girl!"
Tizqar rushed at her.
Gita stepped aside.
Dadbeh leaped towards him and crushed a rock into the man's skull.
Tizqar collapsed to the ground.
Dadbeh kneeled to check his breath and see if he was still breathing.
"We got him," Dadbeh said.
"We got him," Gita echoed.
They tied him up and dragged the other three bodies off into the date palm grove so nobody would find them until they stumbled upon them. Gita stuffed a rag into Tizqar's mouth so he couldn't shout for help, and then dumped water on him to wake him up from the blow to his head.
"Get up," Dadbeh said. "It's a long way back to Assur."
~ * ~ * ~
Chapter 77
Late-January: 3,389 BC
Earth: Mesopotamian Plain
Jamin
Jamin stared down the hill into the oasis where the Halifian tribe had set up their tents. Compared to what this place would look like in the summer, it was a paradise, but Jamin had visited this same spot when the sun beat down as though it was hell itself. Come summer, the moisture would retreat back into the soil and the skinny date-palm trees would be little more than sticks.
"Wait here," Jamin told his friend Private Katlego.
The boar-like Catoplebas curled up his snout and muttered something underneath his breath about not being good enough to woo the ladies, but it was a good-natured jibe, one given between friends.
Ostensibly this was a layover on their way back from subduing Nineveh, but Jamin wished to find out what the people of the desert knew about Mikhail's resurrection from the dead. With all sky canoe flights grounded except for trips out to gather critical supplies, he hadn't been back out to see Marwan since the day they'd cooked up a plan to lace the wells with Hellebore.
Oh, who was he kidding? This was the first excuse he'd found to visit Aturdokht, the woman he hoped would fill that aching void left in his chest by Ninsianna.
"Looks like we've just been spotted," Katlego pointed down the hill.
"There are a lot more tents here than just Marwan's family," Jamin said. "Hang back so our presence isn't perceived to be a threat, but remain visible so the extended tent-groups don't get too aggressive. Political alliances shift constantly amongst these people."
"Maybe we should have parked the shuttle right smack dab in the middle of them?" Katlego oinked. He pointed to the ever-present sand which always found a way to seep into their boots. "Could have done without the extra walk."
Jamin gestured to the hills dotted with sheep and goats which foraged on the hills, currently green with the winter rains.
"If you fly in too close, it stampedes their herds," Jamin said. "It's not a fortuitous way to begin a political alliance with these people."
Katlego sighed. "That's what fences are for."
Jamin laughed.
"These people scorn anyone who is settled," Jamin said. "I have convinced them your people are more like their people because you send your sons on quests to procure riches for your tribe. Remember that if you ever have to interact with them directly."
"Their inability to unite weakens them," Katlego said.
"Their refusal to submit to any force, whether natural or manmade, makes them the strongest people I have ever met," Jamin said. He slapped Katlego on the back. "They will ally with you so long as it suits them, and not a moment longer."
"What use are such allies?" Katlego asked.
"Because -I- understand what suits them," Jamin said.
A small delegation of men rushed out while the women herded their children into the tents. Jamin waited until they had settled at the foot of the hill before signaling Katlego to restart the magic carpet laden with goods seized from Nineveh. The engine roared, offensive to Jamin's ears which had grown up accustomed to no sound but the calls of nature, but it was a necessary evil if he was to impress these people.
"Kasib's going to be pissed you pilfered supplies out of the tribute," Katlego said.
"Who's going to tell him?" Jamin asked. "You?"
Katlego laughed and waved his four-fingered, hoof-like hands in front of his chest in a universal sign of 'not me, brother!'
"Just make sure you bring back something nice for Private Rushd," Katlego said. "He's one of Kasib's toadies, but he's not immune to gifts. He will keep his mouth shut if you bring him back a bribe."
Jamin nodded and then adjusted his long, black trenchcoat. The magic carpet kicked up an offensive cloud of dust. The decline was rocky and unsteady, causing him to be thankful for the 'modern' Angelic boots he had once cursed as uncomfortable.
Nusrat was in the group, as was his ill-tempered eldest brother, Zahid; but the third man gave Jamin pause. It was Yazan, Aturdokht's former father-in-law. Did Yazan know they had set up his half-brother to die?
"Nusrat," Jamin extended his weapons-hand, forearm to forearm. "I see your family has grown larger since last we met. Is your father well?"
"Our father has recovered as much as the liza
rd people promised," Nusrat said. "No more and no less." The son of a lesser-wife glanced furtively to where Zahid stood next to Yazan, entirely too friendly, and lowered his voice. "Step carefully, brother. For Zahid engages in intrigues of his own."
Yazan's eyes bored in Jamin like twin, hateful black serpent's eyes. Jamin touched the tiny microphone embedded into his trenchcoat.
"Katlego?"
"Yeah."
"Be ready to give a demonstration of power."
A boar-like oink was his only response. Demonstrations of power were something Katlego did infinitely well. Jamin slid his hand down to unclip the safety strap which kept his pulse rifle secure in its holster.
"What do you bring for us, little chieftain?" Nusrat said, loudly enough this time for all of the men to hear.
"The lizard people send this bounty to their allies as a gesture of goodwill," Jamin said.
"The serpents speak with forked tongues," Yazan hissed at him.
"The lizard people have forked tongues," Jamin gave Yazan an insincere smile. "But they are a truthful people who keep their bargains."
"Says he who has been enslaved," Yazan spat.
Jamin glanced over at Nusrat. Outside of Marwan's immediate tent group, this information was not supposed to be widely known. He glanced over at Zahid's cold gaze and needed to look no further to know who had been the culprit.
"It is not slavery when you derive much benefit from the exchange," Jamin said. He pointed up the hill, to where Katlego and the small platoon of mixed Sata'anic species had amassed on the crest of the hill.
"They are settled," Yazan spat.
"My Sata'anic brothers wander not just the desert," Jamin said, "but the very stars in search of fertile pastures to graze their flocks. Tell me, Yazan? How far have you traveled? Have you traveled north of Anatolia to the cold lands beyond the Taurus Mountains? Have you traveled east to the great grasslands which belong to the Magian tribe? Have you traveled west across the Akdeniz Sea to the unspoiled lands beyond? And have you traveled south, beyond the places where even the Kemet travel, to the lands where the trees grow so large that the land beneath their canopies never sees the sunlight?"
The men who belonged to Yazan's family-group snorted with disbelief.
"You claim to have seen these things?" Yazan asked.
"Aye," Jamin nodded his head. "I have." He pointed up the hill at his brothers-in-arms who he knew had his back. "And if I serve them well, they shall grant to me my heart's desire."
Zahid leaned forward, his eyes filled with hostility.
"You cannot have her," Zahid said. "For you have not fulfilled her bride-price. The winged demon still lives!"
Jamin's cheek twitched. So. It really was true?
"And where is your father?" Jamin asked
"He awaits your visit from the sanctuary of his tent," Nusrat said. He glanced furtively to the side. "Your friends saved his leg, but the loss of his toes pains him greatly."
From the way Nusrat's hazel eyes glanced cautiously from man to man, Jamin figured out what had happened. Marwan had not conveniently died, so his impatient eldest son conspired with to usurp him.
Jamin scanned the colorful banners which fluttered atop some of the larger tents, symbols marking which tent belonged to which tribe. It was a peculiar Halifian custom that a high-ranking shaykh kept a separate tent from each of his wives and would visit each one a different night, or make the rounds if he was a particularly vigorous husband. He spotted a tall tent with a red and yellow flag on the top, the same color as Yazan's robe.
Jamin whispered into the tiny microphone in his collar.
"See the tent with the red and gold flag at the top? Tell Specialist Iyad to aim the pulse cannon at it."
"Kasib will be pissed we wasted a second shot on a tent," Katlego said.
"You got something a little less destructive?" Jamin asked.
"Yeah," Katlego said. "Don't worry. It'll be a surprise."
"I'm going in," Jamin said. "Be prepared to cover me if I call for help."
Jamin made a great show of gesturing towards Nusrat.
"Come, brother! I wish to share this bounty with your father."
Jamin pressed the knobs on the control box which made the magic carpet start its engine. Katlego had taught him how to steer the thing after they'd taken down an auroch on a hunt. He maneuvered it between the tents, feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction as the Halifians skittered out of the way. He understood the 'magic' was of a kind men could master called tek-no-lo-gee, but they didn't know that. To them, he must appear a powerful magician.
"What kind of device is this?" Nusrat asked as he followed beside him.
"The lizard people call it a hover-cart," Jamin said. "But I like to call it a magic carpet, for that is the size and shape of the device."
He bent closer to Nusrat and whispered in his ear.
"Send someone you trust to Yazan's tent and make sure none of his wives or children are inside."
While Aturdokht's brother had never seen any Sata'anic technology other than their sky canoe taking off and the magical little flatscreen, Jamin had told him of their ability to direct lightning from the sky. Nusrat whispered something to a tall, slender boy who could have only been his son, and then straightened as the boy ran off, his expression pleased.
Jamin paused the cart in front of the tent marked with Marwan's colorful banner.
"This magic carpet is not worthy to enter your father's tent," Jamin said. "It is offensive to the ears, and it kicks up dust which might exacerbate your father's poor health. Pray, brother. Might you prevail upon your kin to carry the goods into the women's tents so it can be evenly distributed amongst them?"
"I see your time with my father has made you clever," Nusrat grinned.
"Aye," Jamin said. Marwan's first wife was still alive and held much influence over Zahid. By making sure that she got a share, it would brand Zahid a traitor if he openly tried to kill him.
Marwan's other sons, including Lubaid, whom Jamin had disarmed one day and taken his knife, began to unload the magic carpet. The not-too-bright younger son of a lesser-wife glared at him.
"Lubaid?" Jamin said. "That small package on the bottom wrapped in a tapestry of azure threads? That package is for you."
Lubaid grabbed at the package and unwrapped it. His eyes filled with delight as he grabbed the gold-and-lapis enhanced hilt of a blade carved from the finest obsidian and set in the horn of a stag. Jamin had meant it to be a gift for Marwan, but given the precarious nature of the desert shaykh's control over his family, it behooved him to make amends with the lesser-son he'd prevented from killing him.
"It's magnificent!" Lubaid exclaimed. He held the blade up to the sunlight. "Where did you obtain such a prize?"
"It is from Qishtea, chief of Nineveh," Jamin said. "He doesn't need it anymore, so I took it to repay you for the kind loan of your blade."
Nusrat's lower-ranking brothers and cousins glanced from one another.
"The chief of Nineveh sent us a gift?"
"No," Jamin flicked his hand with disdain. "Of course not. He angered me, so I took it from him … after I ordered the lizard people to take down his walls and bashed his face in with a rock."
"The chief of Nineveh is dead?"
"What do you take me for?" Jamin laughed. "A barbarian?" He slid his hand into the pocket of his long, black trench coat and pulled out the hair and beard he had shaved from Qishtea's head, still braided with gold beads. "I simply sheared him like a sheep in front of his men so he would understand that he lives or dies according to the whim of Shay'tan."
Jamin noted the way Nusrat suppressed a grin. His crafty father would approve of the way he had distributed the 'gift.' Thanks to Ninevian spoils, there was plenty to go around. Kasib would be livid if he found out, but Jamin had ordered the Sata'anic soldiers to empty the village, fattening their personal pockets while still carrying home more than enough tribute to satisfy General Hudhafah.
He ste
pped inside the tent, thankful the place now bore the clean, astringent odor of Sata'anic disinfectant. Marwan lay upon his cushions, his leg still propped up and protected by bandages, but the stench of infection was gone, along with four of the desert shaykh's toes.
"Salam," Jamin greeted. "Father, I have come home."
"Ahh, Jamin," Marwan grinned at him. "And you have made a good impression upon my kin?"
"Some of your kin," Jamin said. "As for the others, I believe they shall slit my throat the first chance they get."
"Such is life amongst the people of the desert," Marwan sighed. He gestured for Jamin to take a seat by his side. "Come, my son. Tell me of your adventures, and how it came to be you have still not been able to deliver my daughter's bride price?"
While the words were spoken as a gentle scold, Jamin could detect the desert shaykh's frustration. Aturdokht was adamant she did not wish to return to Yazan's tribe, who had dishonored her after the winged demon had killed her husband and Yazan's only son. What had started out as a cruel taunt … against him … had become her only hope for a life free from Yazan's influence. Marwan insisted his widowed daughter had the right under their law to condition her bride-price upon revenge, but Zilhan took a different view, only caring that the tribe secured water rights to the Buranunam River to their west.
"How did this happen?" Jamin turned to Nusrat. "Your Uruk allies swore the rogue Angelic was dead."
Nusrat's expression was unapologetic.
"The men who fled the shaman's house must have lied," Nusrat said. "You heard what they said as well as I did. They swore they had buried a knife into his body, and slit his throat, and hacked his head off to be certain he was dead."
"And what of the gold my lizard allies paid to Tizqar?" Jamin asked. "They will not be happy to hear their treasure was not spent wisely."
"We heard rumors the Angelic had risen from the dead," Nusrat said, "so we sent an emissary to consult with Tizqar in the Uruk village of Akshak. His larger raiding party camped outside the village, but Tizqar never made it. His men claimed they have no idea what happened to him, but someone stole the camels with which they had made the raid."
Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 77