Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (117 page)

"Shh!" Gita frantically shushed them.

"Get them out of here," Dadbeh said. "We'll catch up with you later."

Neby grabbed the matriarch and ordered her to
koosh
. The camel groaned and then dropped to her knees, as did a second camel which Kafra grabbed. With a rumble of complaint, the matriarch rose back to her feet, her elderly master affixed none-too-securely to her back without the benefit of a saddle.

"Thank you," Neby whispered.

"We had a deal?" Dadbeh asked the two ancient Kemet men.

"The lizard demon's base can be found in Ugarit," Kafra said. "It is a large village along the Akdeniz Sea, about a three month's journey via caravan. Travel north along the Barunanam River until you get to Haram, and then use the pass through the mountains to Aleppo to Ugarit, but watch out for bandits, for the mountain passes are dangerous at all times of the year. If you travel lightly, a swift man can make the journey in a single cycle of a moon."

"Thank you," Dadbeh said. "We will disclose to no one that this information came from you."

"Should things not work out in Assur," Neby said, "you are welcome to join us. One of our daughters has
settled
in Sippar with her husband. We shall rest there for three weeks to mourn our dead, and then we shall continue our journey north to Ebla. We do not trade with Ugarit because that city has always been unfriendly, but we travel close to there."

With a whispered
hut-hut,
the camels padded away, the enemy Uruk none the wiser they'd just been robbed. According to the Kemet, the creatures could travel ten
da-na
(leagues) in a day, fifteen with light packs. They'd be long gone before the Uruk realized they'd been taken.

Dadbeh stared at the eastern sky, which had just begun to brighten.

"Did any of them look familiar?" Dadbeh asked in a low voice.

"I didn't get close enough to see," Gita said. She pointed at a ridge, high ground where they could study the camp as it awoke. "But I have something from Mikhail's sky canoe which will help us once the sun rises."

They pressed their bodies into separate crevasses just barely deep enough to hide them. The Uruk would go running after the camels the moment they realized they hadn't simply wandered over the next hill in search of forage. Because they had left the saddles, it might take them a while to realize the entire herd was stolen. Hopefully by then, the Kemet would have retrieved their families and gotten far away.

Gita pulled out the tiny pair of magical eyes she'd retrieved from Mikhail's sky canoe, adjusting the knob until the sleeping enemies appeared so close she might be able to reach out and shake them awake. She rubbed ochre-dust into her cloak, her face, and her eyes, pulling the now-filthy Kemet hood over her black hair as it was an unnatural color in the desert. Dadbeh did the same. They piled small rocks around their alcoves and dug in for the day.

Beneath them, the Uruk began to stir. Gita watched the first raider get up and wander to the edge of the camp to take a leak, still oblivious they'd just been robbed. A second Uruk rolled out of his bedroll and did the same, his eyes scanning the horizon as he no doubt searched for the camels. Through the binoculars, Gita could
see
the exact instant the raider realized something was amiss.

"Uhna homa ziabo! Uhna homa ziabo!
" the man shouted, pointing in the direction where the camels
should
have wandered, a large area with ample brush for the creatures to graze.

She pressed her small frame further into the rock, thankful Dadbeh was likewise a small man, and lowered the magic eyes so as not to alert the men they were being watched from overhead. As they had hoped, the Uruk roused each other and headed in the direction the camels would have naturally wandered if they'd been grazing. After they were unsuccessful, they meet back at the camp, pointing at the trade goods which would have been the first target of any other raiding party.

'Just don't look up,' Gita prayed. 'There aren't any camels up here. Just split up and try to find them.'

The Uruk rushed around, arguing amongst themselves and pointing the finger at one another, until one of them stepped forward, a man whose mannerisms seemed familiar. Gita raised the magic eyes, adjusting the knob until the man came into view. A tingle akin to the wind blowing her hair tickled the crown of her scalp. Yes. She recognized Tizqar. This man had come to Shahla's house many times to meet with Laum.

The man organized his group into search parties and sent them into the four directions, three each way, until only Tizqar, and three underlings she did not recognize, remained at the camp. She waited until she was certain no man looked their way then signaled Dadbeh she had found their quarry, the man who might help her clear her name.

She glanced up at the rising sun. In broad daylight there was no way for them to creep up on the enemy to take the one they wanted, not even with the better odds. They had no choice but to hunker down and wait for a better opportunity to present itself.

The sun grew hot. The other men returned. Fights broke out amongst the Uruk as they blamed each other for the theft. The men began to pull their belongings out of the now-useless saddles. Much of the stuff was set aside and repackaged back into the saddlebags. With barked orders, the Uruk leader pointed up the hill, right to where they hid.

'Oh drat oh drat oh drat oh drat!'
Gita whispered to herself. She pressed herself deeper into the crevasse, covering her face and praying she'd plastered enough dirt onto her robe to hide her.

The men picked up the saddlebags and began to climb the hill. One of the men passed right between the two crevasses where she and Dadbeh hid, muttering swears as he climbed to a large, oddly shaped boulder that was a prominent landmark and deposited the saddlebag into the crevasse.
Ohthankthegods!

The other men carried bags up the hill, but thankfully they did not pass so close, nor did they see them as they hid their loot where they could retrieve it later. A short time later they all went back down, picked up the empty saddles, smashed them up and threw them into the fire. The fire licked higher. One of the men returned from his fruitless camel hunt hauling a couple of hares. The Uruk skinned the creatures and stuck them into the fire to roast.

Gita waited, her stomach growling as the smoke changed direction and wafted up the hill. How was it possible to be both queasy, and also hungry? She pulled out a handful of dried, roasted acorns and took a swig of water out of her goatskin bladder. The soft cracking of nuts somewhere off to her left clued her that Dadbeh did the same thing. They watched, not daring to move, while the Uruk ate their meat, and then packed up their belongings and headed south towards the Uruk village of Akshak, a village which had in her grandfather's generation belonged to the Ubaid.

They waited until the last Uruk cleared the hill before they dared creep out of their hiding spots. Gita crept out carefully, mindful that all it would take was one Uruk to peek backwards, and scurried up the hill to the place where the enemy had hidden belongings too heavy to carry.

"What did they leave behind?" Dadbeh asked.

Gita pulled out the first bag and rummaged through it. It was largely trinkets, small goods that endeared the Kemet to the young people and women as they traveled from village to village.

"Nothing particularly valuable," Gita said.

Dadbeh pulled out the next bag, Gita the third, until they'd rummaged through them all. Most were things the Uruk had only taken to fatten the camel's packs and made them look like Kemet traders instead of robbers.

"This looks promising," Dadbeh said. He pulled out a small bag that was heavy. Inside was an assortment of fine, unchipped obsidian, the kind a flintknapper would prize to craft into a knife or spearhead.

She remembered the beautiful spear Jamin had given her with the small chip in the obsidian head and lamented its loss.

"How heavy is that?" Gita asked.

"Too heavy to carry all the way back to Assur," Dadbeh said.

Gita stared at the obsidian longingly. If she brought back several of them, she could trade them for a fine chipped spearhead.
If
her uncle didn't order he captured and burned alive.

"We'll take that bag and hide it someplace else," Gita said. "If things don’t work out the way we hope, we can come back for it and at least it will give us something valuable to trade."

They rummaged through several more bags and picked out a few marginally valuable items. Dadbeh laughed, and then pulled something out of a bag.

"I think
you
should take this one, Gita!"

Dadbeh held out a bracelet made of rough carnelian beads, not the kind which would be traded to a high ranking woman, but the daughter of a tradesman or journeyman, a girl whose father or lover wished to give her something pretty. Shahla had possessed many such necklaces, all finer wrought than this one, but
she
had never owned a single one.

"I should give this back to the Kemet traders," Gita mumbled.

"You gave them back their camels," Dadbeh said, "and the chance to rebuild their lives. They said we could keep anything we recover."

Her hand trembled as she took the bracelet and wrapped it around her wrist. With one simple act, she had just marked herself as no longer the daughter of the lowest man in the village, but someone who resided somewhere in the middle castes.

"There are more here," Dadbeh said. He pulled out a fine necklace made of blue lapis beads interspersed with mother-of-pearl.

"No," Gita said. "One is enough. Any more and I shall clink as I walk."

Dadbeh stuffed a few into his satchel, his expression guilty as he did so. Like her, he also came from one of the lowest ranking families in the village, although unlike her, the cause of his family's lack of status wasn't a wont of effort, but a failed crop and debt to Shahla's father. If they implicated Laum, it would free his family of the crushing debt which had kept them repressed for almost as long as Dadbeh had been alive.

"For my mother," Dadbeh gave her a sheepish grin. "And each of my three sisters."

"It will make them very happy," Gita said. "Take what you need, and we shall hide the rest along with the rough obsidian."

They parsed out a few more trade goods, including some healer's herbs, and then reburied the rest back into the crevasse. The sun shifted past its apex and already the day had begun to turn from hot to cold. They re-hid the goods by the prudent act of simply moving them to the next available hill and hid it in an almost identical crevasse. If they got back this way again, the goods would be there. If not, perhaps somebody else would stumble upon them and thank the goddess for their bounty? They hurried after the Uruk until the signs grew fresher in the form of a still-steaming pile of human excrement.

They hurried off the path and crept up over the next rocky hill. The Uruk stood beneath them, arguing. Some of the men had unrolled their satchels and begun setting up camp even though it was not nightfall, while Tizqar and the three men who had stayed with him sifted through their trade goods, packing up some items and leaving others behind.

"What are they doing?" Gita asked.

"It looks like Tizqar doesn't want to be seen with riffraff in Akshak," Dadbeh said. "He's bringing goods to trade. If we can creep up on him, we might be able to grab him without taking on all sixteen men. They won't come looking for him until he doesn't reappear."

They crept around to the front of the men, searching for someplace to set up an ambush. Off in the distance they could see smoke rising from the cook fires of Akshak, an Uruk village. If Tizqar retreated behind its walls, there would be no getting him out again. They had to isolate him today.

"This would be a good place," Dadbeh said.

"How do you know?" Gita asked.

"You ever hunt an auroch?" Dadbeh asked.

"No."

"It's too big to come straight at it," Dadbeh said. "So you lay in wait, then jump onto its back to bury your knife into its neck. After that, all you have to do is stay away from its horns until it tires enough to finish it off."

"Isn't that how Jamin got gored?" Gita asked.

"Yeah," Dadbeh said. "But it wasn't
him
who buried the knife in the creature's neck, but
me
. The darned fool didn't listen when we warned him it still had too much pep to try to slit its throat."

"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.'