Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (100 page)

That sense of urgency clamored louder.

As soon as he passed the checkpoint for the third ring, he began to run. Several voices called a greeting, but he ignored them. He bolted out the north gate and worked his way around the outer wall to the place where the village had been built upon a ledge. This wall was only lightly guarded here because it was far too narrow for a band of warriors with siege ladders. He pressed his back against the wall and shuffled along, staring down the precipice at the muddy yellow water which churned below.

Whatever had possessed him to propose such a preposterous plan of escape? Because he hadn't thought it through, that's why. They had only assessed the wall for how someone might use it to get
up
into their village, not down. Damn! How could Gita possibly gain a foothold without tumbling the rest of the way down? Why hadn’t he thought to tell her where she could steal a rope?

The broad expanse of the Hiddekel River yawned beneath him like a great, hungry maw, no longer the sleepy expanse which watered their crops, but a raging flood tide, grown fat from the winter rains. The roar of the deluge filled his ears, roaring at him his own stupidity. He got to the place he'd told her there were handholds.

His
knife glistened at him from the ledge...

No! His hand trembled as he picked it up. A knife could mean the difference between life and death in this harsh, desert landscape and he had given her his
good
one. She would not have left it behind.

He stared down the cliff into the raging river below, searching the debris for any sign of life. It was too steep to climb down here without a rope. At the very bottom, just where the embankment reached the river, something lay jumbled amongst the rocks.

"No!" Siamek cried out with anguish.

He shuffled back along the ledge and then ran down the hill to their flooded fields. The frigid water turned his skin numb, but he waded through until it reached his chest, fighting against the current so the river wouldn't carry him away.

'Oh, goddess, let her please be safe...'

He got to the place where he had seen the item floating amongst some debris. Gita's much-patched cape was unmistakable, the kind of cape a girl needed to survive the winter if she was forced to wander the desert alone. He rammed his body through the mess and grabbed it, praying he was not too late.

The cape came up empty in his hands. The river babbled and taunted him, the sound of running water offensive to his ears. Gita had cast her body off the wall to end her sorrow, and the river had carried her away.

Siamek pressed the cold, wet cape against his chest and began to keen.

~ * ~ * ~

December, 3,390 BC

Earth: Sata'an Forward Operating Base

Lieutenant Kasib

Kasib

"Can I speak to you a moment, Kasib?"

Lieutenant Kasib glanced over at his host, Nipmeqa, the Ugaritic human who'd offered shelter for a poor, blind human female. Taram's plight had caused Kasib to do something he'd sworn he'd never do …
lie
to General Hudhafah ... and claim that she had died. That lie had led to more lies, stealing grain to compensate her benefactor, quartering soldiers in the city so
his
frequent trips off-base would appear normal, and pilfering trinkets to win the affection of Nipmeqa's wife and children. But now his lies were about to all come tumbling down upon his head!

Kasib glanced nervously around the room. While no shrinking flower, Kasib had gotten where he was today by working hard and keeping his snout out trouble. But, oh! Taram! Beautiful Taram, who made his insides turn to water every time she ran her fingers along his pebbled green skin? It was
her
scent which filled his olfactory senses, beautiful, luscious, and so ripe he wanted to run his sensitive forks over her flesh and taste her.

"What can I do for you, Nipmeqa?" Kasib hissed in near-perfect Kemet, mindful to keep his tongue
inside
his mouth as he knew most humans found the instinct revolting.

Nipmeqa gestured for the two children who poked their heads down the stairwell to go back to bed and mind their business. The cause of all Kasib's lies took her cue and rose graciously from her bench by the oven.

"I will go tuck them in," Taram said. She touched Kasib's clawed hand, a gesture which always sent a shiver down his dorsal ridge. "Goodnight, Kasib. Will I see you again tomorrow?"

She looked right past him with her sightless eyes, waiting until he spoke to focus on his snout which she could not see, but had touched countless times, curious to feel the differences between him and a human male. It was a familiarity no Sata'anic female had ever granted. Kasib glanced over at her benefactor and host. The answer was not a given.

"If the general does not need me," Kasib said.

Taram's lips curved up in a gentle smile.
She
took his evasive answer to be an affirmative, which it truly was
if
the payment he'd been dreading for weeks did not preclude his coming to see her again. Her hand held out in front of her to feel whatever objects might block her path, she picked her way through the minefield that was Nipmeqa's main living quarters and climbed up the stairs to tell his eight hatchlings a bedtime story.

Kasib eyed Nipmeqa with his large, gold-green eyes.

"Do you know what this is about?" Nipmeqa said.

"Yes," Kasib answered.

There was an awkward silence between them.

"When you asked me for my assistance," Nipmeqa said, "it was my understanding that Taram would stay with us only temporarily, just long enough for you to find her family."

"I have searched diligently for them, Sir," Kasib said. "The Amorites who purchased her were killed in one of their own raids, while every other ally I have spoken to said the Armorites bragged they had stolen her from a group of merchants they refer to as the
sea people.
"

"Her knowledge of maritime affairs is quite extensive for a young woman who has never
seen
the ocean," Nipmeqa said. "And though she is quite willing to help out with the chores, due to her blindness, she is unable to provide the kind of help we need."

"Has she not woven your wife a beautiful prayer-rug?" Kasib asked. He pointed to the almost-finished carpet which sat upon its loom.

"Such carpets belong in a temple or the home of a chieftain," Nipmeqa said, "something which is in short supply amongst the people of Ugarit." Nipmeqa sighed and ran his fingers through his curly black beard. "Don't get me wrong, Kasib. Taram is a delightful woman. But you are not doing her any favors by keeping her locked up."

The man was too polite to state 'you promised us a measure of grain every week, and for the past six weeks, you have brought us nothing but trinkets.'

"Wh-what do you propose?" Kasib asked.

"She is a beautiful woman," Nipmeqa said. "Educated and cultured far beyond what any woman in this village could ever hope to achieve, even
with
her disability. She would make some lucky man a wonderful consort."

"Our doctor has rejected her as unsuitable to make one of our allies a bride," Kasib said. His voice warbled as he stated this fact. He wasn't certain if it made him happy or sad.

"Not one of
your
trading partners, perhaps," Nipmeqa said. "But what about mine? I know of many men who would take her as a concubine. They would provide for her; and any children they begat would benefit from her knowledge of the arts."

Kasib trembled with terror and a mix of righteous indignation.

"Taram deserves to be taken as a
wife!
Not a concubine. Please! Don't you know of a worthy man who would take her to be his wife?"

"A wife must bring some asset to the marriage," Nipmeqa said. "A dowry? An important trading partnership? A military alliance? Or perhaps just her ability to labor in the field? Taram brings nothing to a marriage, not even the ability to herd sheep. Her only asset is her beauty."

Kasib looked down, examining the buttons of his uniform. The wooden bench felt hard and unyielding beneath his tail.

"You are angry because I promised you a measure of grain, and now that we have underestimated our reserves, I cannot give you what I promised to you."

"Angry?" Nipmeqa sighed. "No. Not angry." He glanced up the stairs where his children could be heard begging Taram for another story. "She is a delightful houseguest. But that is all she can ever be. A
guest
in my house. At some point, all guests need to go home."

"I haven't been able to
find
her home," Kasib said.

"Listen," Nipmeqa said, "I am a generous man. Bring me something, just enough to offset the cost of keeping her here, and I will give you a bit more time. But you must start thinking about her future. The older she gets, the less any man will want her. A woman like her belongs surrounded by her
own
offspring, not locked up in somebody else's home with not so much as a sleeping pallet to call her own."

Shame flooded Kasib's cheeks, turning his dewlap reddish-pink. Nipmeqa was right.
He
was speaking to Kasib frankly, whereas each day his subordinate soldiers came to him and complained their host-families were growing resentful at the fact they were no longer able to bring them the promised measure of grain.

"I will think on this and try to come up with a solution," Kasib said.

He bid Nipmeqa goodnight and went back to his host-family laden with cook-wood gathered during his last shuttle-trip into the mountains. They took the wood grudgingly. Wood was another resource in short supply, but ever since his troops had begun substituting cook-wood for grain, the villagers had quickly come to take its warmth for granted.

He tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep and all-too-able to hear the husband and wife argue from the front room about the fact a cook-fire was useless without a loaf of bread to bake in it. He arose well before dawn, stoked the fire so the housewife would awaken this cold, midwinter day to a warm hearth, ready for baking, and then trudged back to the Sata'anic base in the pre-dawn light, praying for a solution to his dilemma. How could he turn Taram over to some man to be a sex slave?

His first order of business every morning was to inventory their supplies and report their status to General Hudhafah. He knocked on the door of the commissary, his flatscreen held before his chest like a shield.

"Good morning, Private Tharwat," Kasib greeted the late-middle-aged lizard who unlocked the door. "I'm here to check on our supplies."

"What supplies?" Private Tharwat grumbled. He allowed his tail to slip out of the formal salutation position and twitched it back and forth, a gesture of both nervousness and also suppressed irritation.

"Whatever supplies we still have," Kasib said.

He rummaged through the storage room. They were almost out of batteries, medical supplies, and basic hygiene products. What few dried fruits they had scrounged up when they'd first arrived here were long gone, and their supplies from home had been used up months ago. He stared with dismay at the empty bins that used to house their grain. There were two days left of rations, perhaps three, and then they would need to move to Plan Epsilon … the involuntary seizure of foodstuffs from the native population.

What would his human friends think of him when their so-called 'benefactors' smashed down their doors and stole what little food they had to feed their
own
families?

He finished up his inventory, and then moved to take stock of the weapons locker, which was even
more
bad news. He moved past his fellow soldiers, snout buried into his flatscreen, tabulating the numbers as he tried to find some way to convince the general that they had more time before they moved to Plan Epsilon, the point their forces could no longer pretend they were a friendly?

He sat at his desk, fiddling with the paperwork and getting absolutely
no
work done, his mind racing from Taram's impending desecration as a … a …
concubine
… to the fact his people would have no choice but to settle in and begin to live off of the humans like parasites.