Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (84 page)

"You
will
make this sacrifice," She-who-is-Immanu spoke through the shaman's mouth. "So at the moment of death, I can peer into this traitor's soul and discern where the Evil One has spirited away my Chosen One."

She-who-is-Immanu appeared oddly feminine despite being in possession of a grown man's body.

"Immanu?" Rakshan asked, the flint-knapper.

"You will address me as
Your Eminence,
" She-who-is-Immanu said, "for so long as I choose to inhabit this mortal vessel."

Every person in the room gaped except for Needa, who rolled her eyes. Gita felt terror as that golden gaze met
her
black eyes, and then stared right through her, as though seeing her for the very first time.

"I thought ... only ... Ninsianna..." Rakshan stammered.

"The vessel must be
willing,
" She-who-is-Immanu said. "Something
this
one stopped being after
that
useless creature,"
SHE
pointed at Needa, "refused to come back until he stopped allowing me to inhabit his body. My Chosen One posseses no such inhibitions."

"You
made their marriage a living hell!" Needa stepped forward, uncowed by the goddess who ruled All-That-Is. "Just as you made
our
marriage miserable until Immanu grew a backbone and stood up to you."

"And then you left him anyways," She-who-is-Immanu hissed like a jealous lover. "Had I known then what trouble you would cause, I would have directed him to seduce a different woman to incubate my favorite. It serves him right for choosing a
mortal
over me."

Needa jabbed her finger into her husband's face.

'If She-who-is had the power to find Ninsianna," Needa scolded, "don't you think she would have done so already?'

She-who-is-Immanu's eyes transformed from golden to fiery red.

"You
will
give me this girl's life," She-who-is-Immanu said. "Or this entire village will suffer my disfavor."

A movement from the landing caught Gita's eye. She looked up, into the ancient, wizened expression of Zhila, Yalda's sister.

"And tell us, Immanu," Zhila asked, "if you are possessed as you claim. Why does one so powerful as the goddess who rules All-That-Is need to feed upon the death-energy of a girl who is just barely a woman. Daughter of the
Devourer of Children?
"

Revulsion rippled through the room like circles of water from a stone thrown into the river. She-who-is-Immanu whirled to face the ancient woman who stood above her on the landing, as if she stood in judgment of the goddess herself.

"That is none of your business,
mortal.
"

Siamek appeared next to Zhila, his eyes as dark and unreadable as they
always
were whenever he looked upon her these days. He loaned Zhila a hand as she carefully picked her way down the steps. Unlike her sister, although nearly blind, Zhila was still fairly nimble.

"Mikhail was like a son to us," Zhila said. She stepped close enough that she could peer into She-who-is-Immanu's face with her almost-blind eyes. "He told us things, things he didn't tell any other person in the village, not even Ninsianna."

"What do
I
care?"

"Because
we
care," Zhila said softly. "We care about
him.
And we want to know why,
Your Eminence,
if you are so all-powerful, why haven't you healed his wound? Or found Ninsianna yourself? Or prevented all of these bad things from happening in the first place? If, as you claim, you are really She-who-is, and not just Immanu trying to sway us with his shaman's tricks, then tell us ... why are you so hell-bent on taking it out on this poor girl, who has done nothing since it happened but try to keep your Champion alive?"

'Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods,' Gita thought, 'can't they see they are speaking to the goddess herself?'

"Because I cannot
see
her," She-who-is-Immanu hissed. "She is
invisible
to me. And I do not like that which I cannot discern."

"And what use will it be,
shaman,
" Zhila asked, "to take the life of a girl who is so low that not even
you
noticed she existed until now?"

"Because if you make an offering of her onto my sacred fire," She-who-is-Immanu said, "at the moment of her death, her spirit will be vulnerable, and I will be able to see into her spirit, not just what secrets she has been hiding from me in this lifetime, but all lifetimes she has ever lived."

The Tribunal glanced from one to the other. It was Yalda who dared speak. She rose gracefully from the bench, leaning heavily on her cane.

"My esteemed brother-elders," Yalda said. "You were both still younglings the last time a shaman claiming to speak with the voice of She-who-is testified before the Tribunal. I have heard this argument before. It did not sway me then, back when I was the youngest member, and it does not sway me
now
that I am the eldest.
The decision that all trials-by-fire must be unanimous was made for a
reason
."

She jabbed her finger into She-who-is-Immanu's face.

"We have heard all of the evidence,
Your Eminence,
" Yalda hissed. "And you have testified to nothing new. We have already ruled we shall defer passing judgment on the girl until the matter resolves itself as to whether it will be Immanu who has the right to demand recompense for Ninsianna's death, or her husband, Mikhail."

"You dare deny me justice?"

"We deny She-who-is
nothing,
" Yalda said. "The
real
She-who-is. Not a shaman accustomed to pulling theatrics to terrify the villagers into giving him what he wants." She pointed to the stairs. "Up that stair lays a man who lay down his life trying to rescue your Chosen One. If you truly are She-who-is, then walk up that stair and bid him to arise from his deathbed
.
"

'She -can't-,' that small, quiet voice whispered to Gita. 'She can't, because the power which infected the blade is even older than SHE is...'

Yalda's eyes welled with tears when She-who-is-Immanu did not move to grant her prayer.

"That is what I feared," Yalda said softly. She sat down, pulled a handkerchief out of a small satchel that was attached to the belt of her shawl-dress, and blew her nose.

Behnam rose and spoke on the Tribunal's behalf.

"Forgive us,
Your Eminence
, if the Tribunal exercises caution before voting to place this village in a war between the gods. Before we can render such a decision, we would require more information, starting with why you need a mortal vessel in the first place, why death exists, and, oh, why, when you shaped the Earth, did you decide to infest the desert with sand fleas?"

She-who-is-Immanu's eyes glowed copper with fire, and then she smirked, and her expression grew coy.

"Very well," She-who-is-Immanu said. "I will grant to thee thy petty judgment. But should
HIS
mortal vessel die, I demand this girl be made a sacrifice so I can locate my Chosen One."

"We shall render our judgment
then
," Behnam said.

Gita felt that crushing sense of power evaporate as She-who-is ceded her mortal vessel, leaving Immanu a disoriented heap of groaning flesh upon the floor. Gita stood, horrified. The goddess of All-That-Is had just decreed she was to be sacrificed in the most horrific manner possible. Even if the Tribunal
did
believe it had all been Immanu's theatrics, what chance did she have? What chance did she have to exist when the goddess herself were out to smite her?

Behnam let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Do you think it was really
HER?
"

Zhila poked at the unconscious shaman with her foot.

"His
father
pulled this goatshit once," Zhila said. "We swore then that we would never be fooled again by a man's quest for vengeance, not even if She-who-is herself stepped down from the heavens to give testimony in all of her glorious beneficence."

Gita glanced at Siamek, tall, brooding Siamek who had every reason to hate her. Didn't they realize that
that
was exactly what had happened?

She glanced at the eyes which had all now all settled upon
her.
Nothing had changed. The Tribunal had not passed judgment in her favor. They had stalled, understanding that to kill her was to instantly kill Mikhail. All they had done was buy Mikhail a little more time.

"We came downstairs because Mikhail has taken a turn for the worse," Siamek told her flatly. "If you value your life, you'll get upstairs and figure out a way to save him."

~ * ~ * ~

December, 3,390 BC

Earth: Village of Assur

Mikhail

All around him he could hear the sound of voices bickering.

"Let him go."

"No, you must give him a little longer. Look at how he fights. There's still hope as long as he remembers to breathe."

"What you are doing to him is cruel."

"You only say that because you want your vengeance."

"Get out! Get out now…"

"
You
get out! This is
my
house. It was left to me by my father."

"The Tribunal said that
I
was to dwell here with the girl until they render a decision as to her guilt."

"She is not his wife! Think what people are saying about us, are whispering behind our back!"

"I don't care, Immanu! Do you hear me? I don't care what people think! All I care is that he brings back Ninsianna alive!"

"She is not his wife. Do you hear me, Mikhail? That girl is not your wife! She is a criminal! The criminal responsible for Ninsianna's death!"

Two compulsions warred within him. He had to find Ninsianna. He had to find the Other One! He could sense she was in trouble.

He reached for her like a drowning man reaching for a rope…

He stood at the huge, simple doorway which separated the winding hallways from the throne room. Two enormous ant-like Cherubim stood on either side of the entrance, guarding it with their crossed naginata. Their armor was gilded, for these Cherubim had the privilege of guarding the queen, but like all Cherubim armor, it was perfectly functional and deadly.

Master Nuboten scrutinized the soft folds of Mikhail's fighting robe, hastily smoothed to hide the rock-dust from his earlier tumbles. He crooked an antenn
ae at him, indicating he would pass muster.

"You are expected, Nidan Mannuki'ili."

Mikhail gave his superior a respectful bow.

"Thank you, Masutā Nuboten. I came directly from the training fields."

"She waits to see you," Master Nuboten said.

"I am forever
at her service," Mikhail bowed a second time.

The naginatas separated and the two Cherubim Masters gave him leave to enter into the enormous throne room of Empress Jingu, queen of the Cherubim. There was a permanence about the palace, built of stone and wood, with enormous beams carved from entire trees holding up the floors above.

The Cherubim queen sat upon a large, wooden chair which was her only concession to a throne. Mikhail went down on one knee, his wings tucked up just enough so they did not drag, and bowed his head.

"You summoned me, my Queen?"

"Yes, Nidan Mannuki'ili," Empress Jingu said. "I have matters of great import to discuss with you. You may rise."

Mikhail assumed the cool, unreadable look he'd spent the last nine years perfecting, the closest he could come to mimicking the featureless exoskel
eton of the ant-like Cherubim. He tucked his wings tightly against his back and stood in a relaxed ready-position, for the Cherubim were -always- ready for any trouble which might come their way.