Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (54 page)

"It was not his doing!" Kuaya said. "You know as well as
I
do that the Assurians had not yet evicted him from their village!"

Qishtea glowered at him. Jamin forced himself to don that damned unreadable expression he had witnessed Mikhail wear, the one which communicated neither hostility nor disgust. Kuaya put her hand on Qishtea's blade and whispered something to him. With a sneer, Qishtea slipped it back into his belt.

Behind him, Jamin could almost
feel
the Sata'anic soldiers relax. Crisis averted … for the moment.

"And how were you treated once delivered into our enemy's hands?" Qishtea asked. His eyes bored into Jamin's instead of making eye contact with his cousin.

Kuaya shrugged. "We were terrified … at first. We begged to go home, but the lizard people said it was a woman's duty to learn the skills upon which Shay'tan's empire is built." Her eyes grew bright and eager. "Cousin … we have seen things. Wondrous things! They said they will share them with us as soon as we have proven we are worthy of their magic!"

Qishtea jutted his chin into the air.

"Mikhail says there is no such thing as magic! Only things we do not yet understand. Like the use of arrows."

Jamin felt his gut clench at the mere mention of his nemesis's name.

"Mikhail is a dead man," Jamin said.

Qishtea stepped towards him, his face filled with hatred.

"He is
not
dead," Qishtea hissed. "But my father
is
because of you!"

"All you ever did was complain that your father refused to include you," Jamin said.

"I
loved
my father!"

"You couldn't wait until he died so
you
could assume the mantle of Chief," Jamin said. "The lizard people did you a
favor.
"

It was, once again, Kuaya who stood between them.

"
That
was not his doing!" Kuaya said. "Do you think any one of us, even the son of a chief, has the power to command the armies of Shay'tan?"

Qishtea scrutinized the Sata'anic soldiers. Jamin forced himself to meet Qishtea's gaze. Perhaps he had overplayed his hand?

Sergeant Dahaka, who could not understand a single word as they spoke in Ubaid, growled something in the Sata'anic language which Jamin
mostly
understood.

"There is movement up on that wall, little chieftain," Dahaka hissed. "Whatever you plan on doing, you'd better do it soon, because this young chief of Nineveh does not have the control of his men he
thinks
he has."

Jamin scanned the wall, grateful Dahaka really
did
have his back. The female archer still stood, bow strung, her arrow aimed at his heart.
She
would follow orders. The melee at the far end of the wall, however? Jamin knew those men, rabble-rousers and bluster-mouths with more tenacity than common sense. They reminded him a bit of his friend Private Katlego.

He glanced back at Katlego, who had aimed his pulse rifle at Qishtea instead of the wall where he was
supposed
to aim. This exercise in diplomacy was heading downhill fast.

What would Lucifer do?

'Why should I defeat them when I can give them their heart's desire?'

What would tempt Qishtea enough to overlook even the death of his own father?

"Follow my lead," Jamin hissed at Dahaka in the Sata'anic language. "And don't kill him when his first move is to strike at me. Watch Katlego over there. He
thinks
he's trying to help."

Dahaka glanced back at Katlego, his gold-green eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. The burly lizard moved to stand between Katlego and a clean shot at Qishtea. If anybody was going to kill an enemy so lofty as a chief, it would be
him,
a high-ranking Sata'anic male, and not a lowly private. It was simply the way things were in Shay'tan's army.

Jamin turned to Qishtea, who reminded him of that auroch which had gored him through the belly when it had charged. Jamin had killed the auroch, but the beast had nearly killed
him
before he'd taken it down. This time, there was no sorceress daughter-of-a-shaman to heal him.

"Tell me, Qishtea," Jamin gave a knowing smirk. "While we are on the topic of what liberties our new friends do and do not grant us, what has the winged demon taught to
you
?"

"He has taught me to use a sword!" Qishtea bragged.

"He
has taught you?" Jamin asked. He glanced up at the female archer. "Or was it his little protégé, Pareesa, a thirteen-summer girl?"

"That
girl
has far bigger balls than
you
ever had!" Qishtea growled.

"Oh?" Jamin raised his eyebrows. "So it
was
Pareesa who taught you? Not Mikhail himself?"

"Mikhail is…"

Qishtea cut off his words before he betrayed his ally's weakness. Jamin prayed Marwan's piddling crumbs of intelligence were correct.

"Have you
seen
Mikhail since they cut him down?" Jamin used the patronizing voice a parent might use with a naughty little boy. "Or have you only seen Pareesa, claiming to be acting under his authority?"

Qishtea glowered at him, but refused to answer.

Jamin caressed the hilt of his sword, deliberately drawing Qishtea's eye to the weapon.

"Tell me, Qishtea," Jamin softly taunted. "There were five swords taken during the last battle with the lizard people, six if you include Mikhail's. If Nineveh is Assur's most important ally, why aren't you wearing -
your-
sword?"

"It is none of your affair!" Qishtea hissed.

Jamin turned to Kuaya, who looked all the world like she was about to bolt for the gates of Nineveh.

"Kuaya," Jamin said. "Take my sword out of my belt, slowly so our lizard friends don't mistake your movement to be aggression, and hold it out in front of you, flat, the way you'd make an offering to the goddess at the temple."

Kuaya's brown eyes were filled with fear as her hand moved towards his belt, painfully slow, and clasped her hand around the hilt of his sword. Jamin spread his arms wide to show her movement was consensual. He prayed she would not martyr herself by stabbing him with it as she slid it from its sheath. Her hands trembling, she held it out in front of her as if offering it to him.

"Do you wish to confer upon your village the benefits of an alliance with Shay'tan?" Jamin asked her solemnly.

Her eyes wide with fear, Kuaya nodded. She had been in the Sata'anic encampment just long enough to perceive, as he did, how much easier their lives would be with the benefit of Sata'anic magic.

"Then give your cousin a
symbol
of that intent by giving Qishtea my sword," Jamin said.

Qishtea eyed his cousin with distrust as she approached him, arms trembling, and stood, waiting for him to take the sword. Kuaya knew as well as
he
did that Qishtea's first act would be to strike at him. Behind them, Sergeant Dahaka shifted so Jamin could readily pull
his
sword the minute Qishtea struck. Jamin held up one hand to the Sata'anic soldiers who all had pulse rifles aimed at the wall, praying forbearance as he and Qishtea engaged in a grudge match.

Qishtea took the sword from Kuaya's hand.

Kuaya darted out of the way.

Qishtea lunged towards him, sword raised over his head.

Jamin turned and reached, not for Dahaka's sword as everyone expected, but for the pulse rifle Lucifer had taught him to shoot.

How many times had the Mikhail's own
Príomh-Aire
coaxed him to picture his enemy and then pull the pulse rifle from his holster to smite him, again and again and again until he'd been so heady with the bloodlust that had Mikhail appeared, he probably could have smote the man using nothing but his teeth? He could almost
feel
Lucifer's wings spread out protectively behind him as he stepped aside to avoid Qishtea's bumbling downswing and aimed the pulse rifle, not at
him,
but at the base of the wall where the archer stood ready to bury an arrow in his chest.

"This one's for you, Lucifer," Jamin whispered.

He pulled the trigger.

Blue lightning erupted from the muzzle and hit the cornerstone at the base of the wall. Rubble exploded outwards. With a screech, the archer who'd had him in her sights tumbled downwards along with the wall she'd only moments before been standing on.

Like a striking cobra, Jamin turned the muzzle of the pulse rifle onto Qishtea and grinned.

"You got any other archers who can strike me from this distance?"

Qishtea froze, and then dropped the blade.

Behind him, the Sata'anic soldiers burst out into guffaws. Sergeant Dahaka growled a pleased snort.

Jamin gestured towards the sword with his pulse rifle.

"Kuaya, could you please retrieve that for me?"

Kuaya picked up the sword and stood, hand trembling as she held the weapon like a limp basket. She took a step towards Jamin.

"Not
me,
" Jamin said. "Give it to
him.
He's the one who's always wanted a sword."

Qishtea stared at him owl-eyed, fear, humiliation, anger, hatred, and another emotion in his dark brown eyes, the emotion Jamin had hoped to foster.
Envy.
He eyed Jamin warily as he took the sword from Kuaya's hand and, this time, held it point down, the way Pareesa had no doubt taught him was proper, the little snit.

"What am I supposed to do with
this
," Qishtea asked.

Jamin shrugged.

"Whatever you like," Jamin said. "I have no need of it anymore."

He slid the pulse rifle back into its holster, praying he didn't accidentally shoot himself in the foot. He did not dare click the safety back on until he was certain Qishtea wouldn't rush at him again.

"Unlike Mikhail," Jamin said, "
my
allies
share
their bounty. Not make promises they have no intention of keeping."

Qishtea stiffened.

"My father gave Mikhail his word that Nineveh would respond if Assur was ever attacked," Qishtea said. "So long as the Angelic
lives
, I cannot break my father's word."

Jamin nodded, the implication clear.

"I will explain this to the lizard people," Jamin said. He gestured towards the carefully cultivated fields which surrounded the village, at the moment submerged beneath the winter deluge. "But whether or not you ally with them, the lizard people covet your fields. Either you can trade with them willingly, or they will aim that much
larger
firestick attached to their sky canoe," Jamin pointed to the enormous pulse cannon which extruded out of the front of the shuttle, "at Nineveh's walls."

Qishtea eyed the line of Sata'anic soldiers, every single one of them possessing a weapon like the one Jamin had just used to vaporize a portion of Nineveh's impenetrable walls.

"How long do I have?" Qishtea asked.

Jamin glanced at Sargeant Dahaka. Kasib had given them a fortnight, but if Mikhail fought the poison as Marwan's spies said he did, how long before he succumbed? The man
had
, after all, once before survived a wound which should have killed him.

"You have one complete turning of the moon," Jamin said. "After that? I am only the messenger. I have no power over what the lizard people do. But I can tell you this. Like you, the lizard people keep their word."

Jamin unbuckled his belt, slid it through the loops, and held that plus the sheath for the sword outwards so Kuaya could hand it to her cousin. She took it, visibly relieved.
She
knew, as well as he did, that the lizard people were impatient to get their hands on Ubaid fields. It was up to
her
to convince them that the lizard people could help them increase their crop yields so they could both meet tribute
and
feed themselves.

Jamin gave Kuaya the Sata'anic prayer-gesture of hands to forehead, lips and heart.

"May the blessings of Shay'tan fall upon your village," he said in the Sata'anic language

Kuaya returned the gesture. "Shay'tan be praised.

Sergeant Dahaka whispered the prayer behind him as well.

"Go, now," Jamin said to Kuaya and the other two women. "Pass along the knowledge you were taught. And remember, our lizard friends are
not
the Amorite scum."

The three women nodded. Hands held together, they broke into a run towards the gates of Nineveh.