June – 3,390 BC
Earth: Village of Assur
Colonel Mikhail Mannuki’ili
Mikhail
Mikhail walked in silence, rehearsing what he wished to ask within his own mind. The other villagers gave them curious glances as they left the Chief's house and moved through the central square, but they no longer gawked the way they had when he'd first come here. A potter sat beneath a canopy made of woven reeds, spinning a pot on a wheel while a gaggle of children watched. Just beyond him, merchants hawked their wares, woven mats, cloth made of linen, pots, beads, and a few who had bought goods from the last trading caravan and now sold them at a substantial markup. Farmers trailed in from the fields and stopped at the communal well on their way home for supper. Immanu was perceptive enough to give him time to gather his thoughts.
“I have a matter of great importance to discuss with you,” Mikhail said at last, his expression serious.
“Yes?"
“When we first met, you made me give you a promise.”
“Yes, I did." A deep smile line appeared on Immanu's cheek.
“I was wondering … um … hoping … I was wondering if you might … reconsider?" Mikhail felt like a small boy asking permission to do something that might cause him to be thrashed.
“Perhaps. What do you have in mind?”
“I seek permission to ask Ninsianna to be my mate.” He glanced at Immanu, fearful he might be angry.
“That's up to Ninsianna,” Immanu said with a grunt. “I learned my lesson the last time I tried to force her affections for a man. What does she say?”
“I haven't asked her yet. I've been trying to keep my distance.”
“Then first you must obtain her permission,” Immanu said. “If Ninsianna agrees to marry you, then you shall have my blessing."
“Hey!!!”
In his glee at being told it was okay to pursue the desire burning in his heart, Mikhail had neglected to pay attention where he was walking. He stared down at the poor girl he'd knocked to the ground with his wings, her basket of freshly-washed laundry spilled onto the dirt. Immanu laughed and greeted the black-eyed girl by name, the one he'd once mistaken for Ninsianna. Bending to help refill her basket, Mikhail gave her a rare smile.
“Sorry,” he said.
The girl trembled as he handed her back her basket of clothes, too timid to even speak. He instantly forgot her as he turned back to complete the conversation with the man he hoped would soon be his father-in-law.
“I'm not sure what your customs are in such matters,” Mikhail said. “I don't even remember what my customs are. I want to do this right.”
“When I met Ninsianna’s mother,” a tender expression blossomed on Immanu's face, “she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She is from Gasur, a tiny village located in those distant hills. She was apprenticed to their healer, so her entire village was opposed to her seeing anyone who might take her away from them. I had to woo her without anybody knowing.”
“How did you win her heart?”
“I used every excuse I could find to make the journey to Gasur,” Immanu gestured towards the horizon. “It was a lengthy trek. I had to sneak in under the guise of trade, so I would bring her things. Game I had hunted, food I had gathered, and small animals carved from wood.”
“Were you successful?”
“At first she was merely amused,” Immanu said. “But I finally convinced her to come for a picnic by the river. I was in training by then to become a shaman, so I taught her how to close her eyes and go into the dreamtime with me.”
“I thought it was forbidden for women to do that?”
“It is," Immanu said. "But she was fascinated by it. Healers use the dreamtime to heal their patients all the time, they just don't realize that's what they are doing. Silly prohibition, if you ask me…”
“Why haven’t you trained Ninsianna to be a shaman, then?” Mikhail asked. “She is naturally good at it.”
“I have,” Immanu gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Just not directly. I have never sent her from the house unless I was doing something dangerous. If I know it, chances are that Ninsianna knows it as well. But I realize now that not training her directly was a mistake.”
“How did you finally convince Needa to become your mate?”
“She-who-is showed her that she was meant to be my wife,” Immanu said with a cryptic smirk. “After that … it was easy.”
“I don't think She-who-is will intervene on my behalf,” Mikhail frowned.
“I think SHE already has,” Immanu said. “Or you wouldn't be alive.”
Chapter 63
Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One Page 68