Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (119 page)

"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 stepped 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."

"He double-crossed you!"

"Aye," Nusrat said. "He did.

Marwan cleared his throat. Jamin turned to his prospective father-in-law, as did Nusrat. Their disagreement was not with each other, but rather one of shared frustration.

"Tizqar values safe passage through Halifian lands," Marwan said. "If the deed was not finished, it was not because it was his doing, but because the men beneath him were too cowardly to tell him they botched the job."

"Goatshit!" Jamin hissed beneath his breath. Marwan was right. Tizqar had been all too eager to help him. His enthusiasm had been too genuine to be faked.

"Which brings us to my biggest concern," Marwan said. The deep scar which ran from the corner of his mouth to his ear puckered into an expression that mirrored the concern on his
real
mouth. "If the winged demon is still alive, it means you have not paid Aturdokht's bride-price."

Jamin glanced back to the curtain which separated the area of Marwan's tent where the women came to cook and wait on him from the main part. Was Aturdokht listening to him make excuses? What did she think of him, a man who had proclaimed the job done, and then had the people she scorned come back and try to force her back into the tribe which had shamed her.

"I will do whatever is necessary to win her hand," Jamin said.

"Alas, son," Marwan said. "As you can see, even though you lizard friends have saved my life with their magic, they have not been able to salvage my position within the larger tribe, nor even, for that matter, within my own family. Because I can no longer fight, my own people view me as ineffective. It shall not be long before one of my own sons buries a knife into my back, and then Zahid will do as he wishes, whether or not Aturdokht wishes to comply."

"You know I shall not let that happen," Nusrat interrupted. He grasped his father's arm. "I shall bury a knife into the heart of any man who tries to betray you, even if it is my own brother."

Marwan patted Nusrat's hand and sighed.

"It is the way things have always been," Marwan said. "The old lion weakens, the young lion harasses the old lion until he is too tired to fight, and then he kills him, and then he kills the old lion's cubs so he can fill the lionesses wombs with his own cubs instead of rearing the cubs of his predecessor."

"But you are Zahid's father," Jamin said.

Marwan gave him a weary smile.

"You are sheltered, young chieftain," Marwan said. "
Settled.
And when you are settled, your people can be more forgiving of an old lion that has lost his teeth."

"Dirar is dead," Jamin said. "Who does Yazan wish to marry her off to now?"

"Yazan has three younger cousins," Marwan said, "each more brutish than the last. When Roshan died, he took with him Yazan's only lawful heir. He will give Aturdokht to the first man who can begat upon her a son, which he shall claim as Roshan's
son. It is our way, for the nearest blood relative to begat offspring upon the widow of a great man in his name and call it his, and raise that child as if he was the lawful heir. This is the only way Yazan can ensure his
own
wives and daughters will not be cast out into the desert when he dies."

Jamin remembered how terrified Marwan's lesser wives had been when it had appeared the desert shaykh might succumb to his snakebite. Marwan, at least, had many heirs.
Too
many…

"And what of Aturdokht?" Jamin asked. "What happens to her after she has given Yazan what he needs?"

Marwan's lips turned downwards.

"Aturdokht has given them much trouble," Marwan said. "Whoever he picks to marry her off to, once she has produced a son in Roshan's name, he will give her to him to do as they wish."

"There is a reason the mercenaries have no wives," Nusrat added softly. "It is a harsh life, with no regard for a woman with an unwanted daughter. Balquis shall be dead within a few weeks, no doubt made a burnt offering to procure a favorable trade, and most women die out on the trail."

"Aturdokht will resist him," Jamin said.

"Aye, she will," Marwan said, his brown eyes lighting up with pride. His smile turned into a grim expression that let Jamin know exactly
what
he thought would happen to any man who tried to take his daughter against her will. Some night, they would find a knife buried in their back, and the next night, some angry brother would slit her throat in return.

"I will do what I must to pay her bride price," Jamin said.

"See that you do," Marwan said. "But I think, perhaps, you will not achieve this task unless you ally with someone more powerful even than these lizard people."

"There is no one more powerful than they," Jamin said.

"Then why are they so reluctant to take him on themselves?"

Jamin held his tongue. As much as he adored Marwan, he understood the desert shaykh might sell him out if forced to choose between his own survival and Jamin's. The lizard demon's only advantage was no one realized they were critically short on supplies.

"Shay'tan is a beneficent god," Jamin said. "He wishes to give people the choice, to choose prosperity, not simply because he is a powerful god. The lizard people are cautious in their use of power, for they see all men as a single, great nation, and not a bunch of squabbling tribes."

"Then I suggest you find someone who does not share their restraint," Marwan said. "Someone powerful enough to counteract the propaganda of the winged demon."

"Who?"

"I suggest you seek out the one who helped you cut him down in the first place," Marwan said, "and implore him to help you set another trap."

If only Lucifer hadn't abandoned him to work things out for himself! But Marwan didn't know that, nor was he aware of the complex arrangement Lucifer and the fat lizard king had negotiated on the side. Perhaps someday he would discuss the matter with the desert adder once he had married Aturdokht and a tie of blood precluded betrayal? If anybody could figure out what the hell was going on, it would be Marwan.

"And what if that benefactor has initiated a long journey across the heavens?" Jamin asked. "And will not be back for several months. What would you advise in the meantime, to seize back control of my tribe?"

"I heard you smashed down Nineveh's walls?" Marwan said.

"Aye," Jamin said.

"Then do it to all the other villages you threatened with retaliation," Marwan said. "It will undermine his support until he finds himself standing alone, for a lion that does not fend off an attack from another lion soon finds himself without a pride."

Marwan gestured for Nusrat to help him up. While the lizards had been able to save his leg, Marwan had not yet regained full use of his foot and needed assistance to get around, the reason his own people now believed him weak.

"Stay here," Marwan said. "I perceive you might be hungry."

Nusrat helped the old desert lion hop out of the tent. As soon as the pair stepped outside, the curtain which separated the main part of the tent from the woman's section slid over and out glided Aturdokht, clad from head to toe in her colorful robe with the green headscarf which brought out the green in her hazel eyes.

Jamin's pulse sped up. She was a beautiful woman. For more than a year he had rutted after Ninsianna like a boar in heat, but lately, a new dream had taken up residence inside his heart, that maybe, someday, the beautiful desert flower would forget her poor slain husband and find a little bit of love for him?