Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (131 page)

"So you raped her?" Zhila looked at the man with disgust.

"Rape?" Merariy laughed. "No! I simply dragged her out into the courtyard, and then offered her the money my father had given me to buy her in front of all the women who had come to sell their bodies. It was a ridiculous sum, far more money than all the other men offered combined. Once there, Zanubiya had no choice but to consent."

He stared down into the vat of beer he sipped.

"I didn't anticipate she would be a virgin," he whispered. "Or that she would weep when I took her. Or run away after I was done." He took another sip of beer, his expression thoughtful. "She cursed me, you know? She said that from that day forward, people would see me the way I truly am. And after that day, no woman would have me unless I paid them money for the pleasure."

Yalda noted the way Zhila's mouth tightened in anger. It was a good thing they weren't at home, within easy reach of Zhila's spear, or she suspected her younger sister would have used it to impale the man.

"And so Gita was born?" Yalda prompted.

Merariy snorted. "Yes. After all that, the woman couldn't even produce the prophesized-for son."

"What did you do?"

"My father accused me of gambling away his money," Merariy shrugged. "So I hired out myself as a mercenary amongst the Amorites. A great chief rose to stand against us, and he prevented us from seizing the valley which the Temple oversaw."

He took another sip of beer. "That valley was the crossroads to all trade in the region. Without it, we were forced to take to the hills. Eventually we ambused him and he almost died, but then we heard rumors he had been resurrected from the dead by one of the priestesses of Ki."

That sensation of something tickling down her spine made Yalda shiver. This was all familiar. It was all so familiar to what had happened here.

"Why was the temple of Ki destroyed?"

"The Temple stood against the Amorites," Merariy said. "Especially Gita's mother. Once I left there, Zanubiya rose in power. The common people, they had silly superstitions about a distant god and winged beings who would one day return to embrace them. So the Amorites raided the temple, and that was when I found out why they
really
wanted her dead."

"Why?"

"Zanubiya was heavy with child," Merariy said. "Whenever a priestess of Ki brings back an injured from the dead, she does so through a ritual of sacred union. She offers her life for her beloved, and if the goddess feels their love is worthy, she will heal them and bless them with a child. If, on the other hand, they are not worthy,
both
the priestess and the injured will die
."
Merariy sighed. "Zanubiya ... she refused to go with me because she had foreseen that one day she would heal a king."

"Why did the Amorites want her dead?"

"My father sent me to take her because he believed her gift would grant me immortality," Merariy said. "He didn't understand that there was more to bonding with a high priestess than mere consent to copulate. But when Gita's mother made love to the king, she
wanted
to be bonded to him, and so she was. She was bonded to him unto death."

"Those stories are nothing but fairy tales," Zhila cut in.

"That's what I thought," Merariy said. "But my Amorite employers? They paid me to claim that she and I had been lawfully married; and then she had left me and taken as a lover somebody else. They held a mock trial, and then they declared she was an adulteress and instituted the penalty for adultery, which is death by stoning."

"You stoned to death a
pregnant
woman?" Yalda said.

"This wasn't about adultery," Merariy said. His words were slurred, his eyes bloodshot. He grasped clumsily at the straw, and then resumed his drinking.

"What was it about, then?" Yalda asked. "And what does all this have to do with Mikhail?"

"They buried Gita's mother in the ground," Merariy said. "And then, under the law, the aggrieved, that was me, had to cast the first stone."

"So you killed her?"

"The Amorites wanted to draw out her death as long as possible," Merariy said. "They wanted her to feel it. They wanted her to beg, and plead, and feel every stone, and suffer for it, and anticipate it, to make her death as long and painful as possible."

"Why?"

"Because once you form the bond of Ki with another human being," Merariy said, "if they are sick, you feel it. If they are injured, you can heal their wounds. But if they are killed, the person who is bonded has no choice. They will feel the injury which killed their beloved as surely as if it happened in their own body, and when their beloved dies, they will usually die as well."

Yalda and Zhila looked at each other in horror.

"But Gita is dead!"

"I have told you all along," Merariy's head nodded forward. "Gita is still alive."

"How can you be certain," Yalda asked.

"So long as Mikhail lives, I know that she lives too."

Merariy tried to move his arm, and then realized he couldn't.

"This is good beer," he mumbled.

"Yes, it is," Zhila said. "It is a special brew I made just for you."

Yalda pressed the straw into Merariy's mouth and urged him to take another sip.

"Gita said it was
you
who finally bashed in her mother's head," Yalda said. "Why?"

"I could not bear to watch her suffer anymore," Merariy said. He began to weep. "They intended to keep her alive for days so they could make their enemy leader suffer without ever having to defeat him in battle."

"You made your
daughter
watch this," Yalda said. "And then you dragged her back to Assur. Why?"

Merariy looked at them, his expression haunted.

"The Amorites intended to make a burnt offering of Gita in front of her mother," Merariy said, "so she would transmit that terror to this Ghassulian king. But she was
my
child. I knew it the moment I lay eyes upon her and saw she had the same black eyes as my father. So I killed Zanubiya quickly, and then kidnapped Gita and dragged her back to Assur."

Yalda and Zhila passed each other a look. It was almost done now. All they needed to do was wait.

"Hey? How come I can't move my legs?" Merariy mumbled.

"You drank too much too fast," Yalda said. "Come, my friend. Let us help you to your bed. And when you awaken, it will be time to bring your complaint before the Tribunal."

"I can't wait to see the look on my brother's face," Merariy mumbled, "when he learns that
his
daughter could not heal him, and
my
daughter did."

They helped Merariy into bed, his weight heavy as he could barely move his legs, and then they covered him up and waited until the hemlock finished its job. It was a pleasant death, far more pleasant than such a hideous man deserved.

They gathered up the evidence of their crime, and then left stealthily, careful to exit when there was no one there to see them leave.

"Did we do the right thing?" Yalda asked. "You know Mikhail would have taken responsibility for the girl, whether or not Merariy ever produced any proof. Mikhail
knows
something is amiss, and it wouldn't surprise me if he figures it out on his own."

"It had to be done," Zhila said. "Mikhail's quest to retrieve his wife is the only thing keeping this village together right now."

"Mikhail would rescue her no matter what," Yalda said.

"It is Ninsianna he loves," Zhila said. "Not Gita. She is not this girl from his childhood, what was her name? Amhrán?"

"Song," Yalda said. "The girls name meant Song. I do not think it a coincidence that that is what Gita's name means as well."

"Ninsianna will leave him if she finds out he survived because he bonded to another," Zhila said. "You know that as surely as the sun."

"Aye," Yalda said. She thought about Ninsianna's well-known jealous streak. "Maybe that would be for the best?"

"What about our village?" Zhila asked. "Would
you
follow
a man who asked you to sacrifice your life to help him rescue one wife, but while she was captured, he went and found himself another one?"

"He was near death."

"Do you honestly think Ninsianna will care?"

"I suppose not," Yalda said. "But he would want to know."

"The girl is dead," Zhila said, "no matter
what
Merariy says. What harm does it do, letting Mikhail be at peace? It is Ninsianna he loves, not the daughter of the village drunk."

Yalda fiddled with the corners of her shawl-dress, her guilt weighing heavily upon her. She remembered the tear which had slipped from those sad, blue eyes, at the memory of a little girl who had not lived long enough to be his wife.

"I will go along with this because I want what is best for him," Yalda said. "He has suffered enough. But if, as Merariy claims, the girl is still alive, then the minute Mikhail comes back from his great quest to rescue his wife, I shall sit him down and tell him the truth. I shall let
him
decide what he's going to do about it. Are we agreed?"

"We are agreed," Zhila said.

The two sisters locked their arms at the elbows, one who could barely walk, the other who was nearly blind, and made their way back through the village, carrying the basket of beer and bread they'd just used to kill a threat to their beloved adopted son.

~ * ~ * ~

February: 3,389 BC

Earth: Sata'an Forward Operating Base

Lieutenant Kasib

Kasib

Lieutenant Kasib stuffed the second sack of grain into his satchel and made his way past the sentries, mindful to keep the bag tucked into his armpit to make it appear smaller. Luckily the larger sack obscured anything he carried, but he hunched over anyways, determined to appear inconspicuous.

"Lieutenant," the two Sata'anic privates saluted who were stationed to guard the gate.

"A-a-as you were," Kasib stuttered. He tucked his tail up and returned the men's salute even though both men were subordinates. He caught his error and pulled his hand down quickly.

"What's in the bag?" one of the private's asked.

Kasib stiffened. He decided to bluster his way out of his dilemma.

"I am on an important mission for General Hudhafah," Kasib said stiffly. He forced his long, forked tongue to stay inside his mouth so as not to tip them off he was nervous, though if they tasted the air, they would scent the fear pheromones pouring out of his pores.

"My apologies, Sir," the guard tucked his tail up against his right side. "It's just the bag, Sir? It's dripping blood down your back. I thought you might want to know so you can rinse it off before it stains your coat."

"Th-thank you, Private," Kasib said. "It is deer. The young chieftain obtained it for a gift to give the human leaders in the village beyond. They
like
the revolting substance."

All three lizards grimaced and glanced over at a small gathering of Catoplebas and Marid soldiers who loitered in front of the mess hall, some still holding the primitive weapons the young chieftain had been teaching them to use to hunt. Because of the young chieftain, they had been able to remain on friendly terms with the village beyond without resorting to instituting martial law. The young chieftain was an arrogant little peacock, but he was a
smart,
arrogant little peacock.

"Sir," the two sentries saluted him a second time.

Kasib scurried out of the gate.

"May Shay'tan forgive me for what I do."

The old dragon would be the
last
person to forgive him if he found out that he, a lonely logistics officer, was pilfering from his tribute. He made his way through Ugarit until he got to the house of the host-family who had agreed to put him up in exchange for a weekly measure of grain. For many weeks, all he'd had to give them was wood, but last week and now today he had grain and a haunch of deer. The only problem was that the young chieftain had given him
one
haunch of deer, but he needed to divide it equally between
two
households.