Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (89 page)

“No,” Siamek said. “It was all I could do to not think about you every moment after you spurned me. All this talk of Jamin nursing a broken heart, and nobody noticed that I was heartbroken as well because I never told another soul what we had done.”

Gita lowered her gaze and looked at him through the cloak of her eyelashes. He was tall and handsome, and she had lay down with him because Shahla had convinced her that Siamek was a far better mate than a girl of her rank could ever aspire to. She
had
cared for him, she just hadn't had enough experience with men at the time to understand that
caring
was not the same thing as
loving.

“My name,” Gita asked. “Do you know what it means?”

“It is a foreign name,” Siamek said. “I have no idea what it means.”

“My name means Song,” Gita said. She stared into a past which was painful. “My mother said that on the day I was born, an ancient goddess came to her in a dream and said that Song would forever be my name.”

“Your mother was nothing but a temple prostitute,” Siamek said. “Your father shouts his contempt of her throughout the entire village.”

“My mother just … was,” Gita said. She turned back to stare at the man who still breathed in a vain attempt to preserve her life. “She said that someday I would meet a great man and sing the song the goddess said I carried within me.” She lowered her eyes. “Such a silly story, don’t you think? I had hoped that man might be you. It wasn’t until we tried to consummate it that I realized you are destined for another woman.”

Tears slid down Siamek’s cheeks.

“I cannot kill you,” Siamek said. “Because all this time I have been in love with you.”

“You have lay down with countless others since,” Gita said.

“And each time," Siamek said, "all I can picture is
you
, and the song you tried to sing which just for a moment made me see the heavens.”

Gita reached up and took his hand.

“Let me go, Siamek,” Gita said. “Release me from my burden. Then go and go to find the spirit who cries out to find you in my honor. Stop being distracted by
me
. Just know I will forgive you, so long as you give me a quick and merciful end.”

Her lip trembled as she lay bare her neck once more and bent her forehead into Mikhail's hand. Her voice was muffled as she spoke her greatest fear. "Please don't give me the horrific death my father gave my mother. The one that Immanu has planned for
me.
"

Siamek stepped forward with the war club, but instead of clubbing her over the head with it, he set it down next to the bed and kissed the back of her neck where the club had been destined to fall.

“Comfort him as he passes,” Siamek said. “Once he is gone, make your way through the alleys to the east wall where the village drops down into the river. The entire village is at the Narduğan ceremony right now, so if you stick to the shadows, nobody shall see you. If you travel the rooftops to Shipsemu’s house, there is a spot where the mud-bricks stick out and you can gain a foothold until almost two-thirds of the way down. If you lower yourself very carefully to the ledge, it will not be a fatal fall.”

Gita sat up. "That cliff drops down hundreds of cubits into the river. If I miss the ledge, I shall be killed for certain.”

“Yes,” Siamek said. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “But if you meet your end, it will not be at
my
hands.”

"And what will you tell Immanu when you show up at his ceremony without his intended sacrifice?"

"I shall bring a ram," Siamek said, "and tell Immanu I threw you into the pit to await your final judgment at noon the way our ancient law decrees. The Tribunal will agree with that, for they are not happy Immanu instituted the vote. When they check the pit in the morning and find you gone, I will tell them you must have escaped because you are so thin."

"And if I fall off the ledge and die?" Gita asked.

"Then I shall spirit your body away where the others cannot defile it," Siamek said. "Pareesa will help me because she has believed all along in your innocence. When the others have given up the search and buried Mikhail, I will bury you at his left side, the place where a wealthy man would bury his consort, and leave the right side empty for his wife should we ever find her body. It will be up to
you
, then, to convince him you have earned that place in the next world.”

“That would make me very happy,” Gita said. “But how will you tell them I escaped if you were supposed to kill me?”

“Immanu only asked that I club you unconscious so you would still be alive when he passed your body through the fire," Siamek said. "I will go now to announce Mikhail has passed, and that I refused to execute a woman until
they
speak and not Ninsianna’s grief-stricken father.”

"The entire village voted that I should die," Gita said.

"Not
every
man," Siamek said. He reached into his waist-pouch and pulled out a tiny black pebble. “Nobody doubts my word. I shall encourage the villagers to grieve Mikhail’s loss and not come looking for you in the pit until your trial at noon tomorrow."

Gita took the tiny black pebble from his hand. The stone, uncast. A vote made in her favor. It had done nothing in the end, but in a way, it meant everything to her.

"Immanu's father possessed terrifying black magic," Gita said. "If you anger him, he might just curse you for real."

"Pareesa said that when heroes die,” Siamek said, “they go to a hall of heroes where they watch over the living. I shall pray Mikhail makes sure my death is a natural one, and not black magic caused by his grieving father-in-law.”

“My intent all along was to run myself through with his sword," Gita sighed, "but then Pareesa came and took it away.”

Siamek kissed her on the lips. “I did love you, you know?”

Gita’s lips twitched with regret. Siamek took out his stone blade and placed it on the bed beside her hand.

"You will need protection in the wilderness. Take what you need from Immanu's pantry. I will see those stores are replaced so Needa does not suffer for the theft."

Both fell silent as Mikhail took the next shallow shuddering breath. Gita caressed his hand. Breathe. Just breathe. But he was no more capable of surviving this wound for
her
than he'd been able to heal himself to go and search for Ninsianna.

"Before you go," Gita said. "Could you please bring the bucket of water Needa warmed to wash his body so he does not enter the dreamtime disheveled? It's just outside the door on the landing."

Siamek fetched the funerary supplies and handed her the clay bowl and linens. With one last kiss upon her hair, he left to join the others in the central square. She had been given her chance at escape. Now, not even saving
her
would keep Mikhail in this world.

She dipped the cloth into the water and pressed it to his forehead.

"Go," Gita lovingly wiped his brow. "Go, now,
mo ghrá.
I am safe. If I leave this world, it will be because my heart is too broken to survive without you, and not because the living sought revenge."

It was with every bit of love she washed his body and replaced his loincloth with a proper Ubaid kilt which Ninsianna had started, but Gita had finished fringing. She averted her eyes as she washed portions of him reserved only for his wife, covering him with a cloth to preserve his dignity. The stench of rotted meat was offensive to her nose as she removed his bandages and washed the gaping wound in his chest, but she breathed through her mouth and focused on all about him that had once been beautiful.

He was not beautiful now. The bulging muscles which had rippled like the flesh of a lion now hung emaciated and limp from his bones. His eyes had sunken in and appeared bruised, while his lips and skin had turned bluish-grey. Even his high cheekbones were hollow, his nose too long without enough flesh to fill out his face. Only his magnificent dark wings attested to the fact that once upon a time he had been a creature of the heavens. She smoothed his feathers until they appeared the way they'd looked when he’d been well enough to preen them. There. If this hall of heroes Pareesa spoke of really did exist, Mikhail would arrive dressed as one of
them
, an Ubaid, and not a soldier of a god who’d done nothing to answer his prayers.

“Goodbye, my love,” Gita said. She stretched out beside him and lay her head down upon his rotted chest. “You do not have to make this journey alone. As soon as you take your last breath, I will cast my body off the ledge and join you on the other side.”

She ran her hand along his body so that he could
feel
her as he died, so he would know that he was loved and not alone as he’d whispered his greatest fear until he’d grown so weak he couldn’t say it anymore. She pressed her body against his, giving him her warmth, giving him the comfort he’d cried out for during the last six weeks.

“Please don’t hate me for loving you,” Gita wept. “I am not your wife, but in the next life, if she is not there to greet you, I would like to be.”

She pressed her ear against his chest to hear his heartbeat. Slow. So slow. The rasp of air coming in and out of his body. The air of life. His heart beat slower. The rasps came further and further apart. She pressed herself against him further, shielding him from death with her own life energy, wishing fervently her mother had lived long enough to teach her the secrets of the song.

But her mother had not lived and Ninsianna had gotten to him first because her father had caught her the night before his sky canoe had crashed and locked her up for six days. What would have happened had Merariy not caught her sneaking out of the house? Would it have been
her
in the desert the day Mikhail's sky canoe had crashed instead of Ninsianna? Would it have been
her
he’d married and not her already-blessed
Chosen
cousin?

Gita stared up at the pale, silver light of the pre-dawn star which shone in her window like a slender beacon of hope.

"Grandmaitre," she prayed to the ancient goddess of her mother. "Take
my
life if it will help him live."

Mikhail gave one last rasping breath, and then his heartbeat grew still.

~ * ~ * ~

Galactic Standard Date:  152,323.12 AE

Tokoloshe Kingdom: Prince of Tyre

Special Agent Eligor

Eligor

Tap-tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap.

Lucifer drummed his fingers against the armrest of his jump seat. Eligor looked up and caught a glimpse of Lucifer's reflection in the front windshield as he piloted the space shuttle in for a landing. The bowed shape of the glass distorted the image, made it appear as though Lucifer was much larger than he really was, with far broader shoulders and a thick, bullish neck.

They circled an enormous I-shaped stadium where more than two million Tokoloshe had gathered to watch a game of
ollamaliztli.
Eligor had heard of the brutal Tokoloshe game, where two teams of four men each bounced a large rubber ball off of their hips until one of them could aim it into one of four large ballsinks built into the wall. Unlike most sports, where the worst thing the loser had to endure was a loss of face, the captain of the losing
ollamaliztli
team was decapitated and his head dunked in a vat of rubber to form the ball for the
next
team to play, usually one game right after the other.

Eligor shuddered with revulsion. The Tokoloshe
were a brutal people, with barbaric habits and a warlike culture which had made even Shay'tan recoil. Shemijaza had flirted with the cannibals back when he'd still been alive, but never openly, not the way that Lucifer did now.

Or maybe Shemijaza had? What the heck did
he
know? He'd just been some grunt who'd caught Shemijaza's eye after Asherah had returned and announced he had a son.

The aforementioned son moved forward so he could peer out the windshield to the crowd which had gathered below. With a pleased growl that reminded Eligor of the purr of a Leonid when it was about to disembowel its supper, Lucifer rustled his feathers and plopped down into the empty co-pilot's seat beside him. Eligor glanced over at the puppet prince, no, Lucifer was well-medicated right now. This version of Lucifer was the evil twin, although
either
version of the man had always adored any excuse for a celebration.