One day Pravuil had come onto the Prince of Tyre on Lucifer's arm like someone who mattered instead of the distance he usually kept with every other female he had ever fucked … and then she had disappeared.
"You remember her, Sir?" Lerajie said. "The one with the … um … greyish beige wings. You used to send her on errands."
Eligor had been around the Prime Minister long enough to tell when he was full of shit or covering for one of his all-too-frequent intrigues. Something about Lucifer's perplexed expression set off a warning bell.
"I can't remember." Lucifer's hand shot to his temple. He grimaced, a telltale sign of the migraines he'd been experiencing lately.
Lerajie opened his mouth to contradict him. Eligor elbowed him before he could stick his wing into his mouth.
“My sister called me every week,” Hasdiel said. “Your Chief of Staff told me she went AWOL with a Centauri stallion, but Pravuil never said anything about dating anyone, much less a Centauri.”
Head over heels in love with Lucifer was more the truth. They'd all assumed Lucifer had lost interest and sent her away, the same as he had every other star-struck female he'd ever fucked. News she had run off with someone else did not fit with what Eligor had seen.
"She spoke very highly of you, Sir," Hasdiel said. "The week before she disappeared, she called me, really afraid. She said that if anything ever happened to her, that I should speak to you. She said you were the only person she trusted."
Lucifer clutched his chest as though it hurt to breathe. "I can't remember." His voice sounded strangled and weak.
"Of course he can't remember," a voice cut through the clamor of the crowd. Chief of Staff Zepar. Was here. Flanked by the two steel-eyed goons who usually accompanied Lucifer everywhere except for when he stepped foot on Haven-1.
An image of Lucifer being a puppet dangling upon a string whispered into Eligor's mind.
“Our father placed us in the same academy together,” Hasdiel insisted. “We were born a month apart from different mothers. Our father made sure we were placed together and encouraged us to watch out for one another. Pravuil would have told me if she’d formed a meaningful emotional attachment to another hybrid!”
“Permanent attachments are forbidden by the Eternal Emperor!” Zepar interrupted. “It’s illegal for a hybrid to get married while they are still obligated to serve in our military. She probably ran off with her paramour into the uncharted territories!"
“She wouldn’t do that!” Hasdiel clenched his fists in anger. “Even if she did secretly get married, she wouldn’t go absent without leave! She takes her obligation to serve our Emperor very seriously! At least she would have told me where she went!”
"Zepar?" Lucifer held out his hand in front of him as though he could not see, his expression panicked. "Zepar? I remember… she… was … my … chol beag [little dove]!" His handsome features bore a look of agony as he reached past his Chief of Staff for someone who was not there.
Pravuil … Lucifer's little dove? It was an endearment Angelic's only whispered to those they felt closest too, immediate family, children and a girlfriend one wished to take as a permanent mate. The warning bell in Eligor's mind grew louder.
'Watch Lucifer,' the instinct whispered into his mind.
“It is not our problem,” Zepar squeezed Lucifer's shoulder in a fatherly manner. “Let the police look into it. It’s not the job of the Prime Minister to chase after every female who breaks the law.”
Lucifer cast off Zepar's hand and stepped back, regarding his Chief of Staff with an expression of horror.
'Watch Lucifer…'
Lucifer gripped his head as though it were about to split in half. He whimpered in pain, and then froze. As if his pain of only moments before had never existed, Lucifer straightened out, his eerie silver eyes glinting with an ice cold stare.
“Our species is in enough jeopardy without foolish females running off with someone they can’t even reproduce with!” The air reverberated with Lucifer's power of persuasion. “Of course she didn’t tell you! Now be gone!”
“Please, Sir!” Hasdiel exclaimed. “The police won't do anything except keep a copy of my missing person report. I’m afraid something bad has happened to her!”
Lerajie opened his mouth to contradict both Lucifer and Zepar. Eligor caught the dead-ice stare of Pruflas, one of the two goons, and discreetly ground his heel into Lerajie's foot before his crewmate could utter a word. Lerajie was idealistic, but Eligor had dwelled on the fringe of the shadow-empire founded by Lucifer's biological father long enough to know when he was walking into a minefield.
"Get him out of here," Zepar ordered Furcas and Pruflas.
The two goons slammed the frantic young Angelic to the ground and twisted his arms behind his back. Feathers flew everywhere as wings clashed, obscuring the view. Security guards rushed forward. Eligor was the only person in position to see beneath the shelter of Furcas's wing the practiced move to slip a miniature pulse pistol into Hasdiel's hand, and then step back just long enough for the security cameras to document the gun before stomping on his wrist and breaking it. The young man curled up in pain, crying out for Lucifer to help him.
"This man threatened the Prime Minister," Zepar shouted. "He's got a gun."
Civilians thronging at the security checkpoint shouted in terror and began to stampede, some out of the building, others to rubber-neck and see. It was total chaos.
"I didn't see a…" Lerajie started to interrupt.
Eligor kicked him.
"We weren't in a position to see anything, Sir." Eligor shot Lerajie a 'trust me on this' look, that, luckily, Lerajie had seen proven right far too many times. Lerajie opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it. Eligor breathed a sigh of relief. They could argue about it later, someplace where the spies Zepar had everywhere could not overhear.
With shouts that he was innocent, the security guards hauled Hasdiel away. The penalty for a failed attempt on the Prime Minister's life was life in prison. Lucifer would not be bothered by Hasdiel ever again.
'Third Empire' whispered into Eligor's brain.
Lucifer straightened up and assumed his usual politician's pose, the triumphant leader who had, once again, prevailed against the enemies of the Alliance. The crowd cheered. Hundreds of flash bulbs flashed as the paparazzi documented the failed assassination attempt. With an exaggerated flourish of his arm, Lucifer waded into their midst, feeding upon their adoration and becoming one with them as though he were a rock star playing for a stadium full of fans.
Eligor looked into Lucifer's now ice-cold eyes and shuddered.
'The evil one,' he thought to himself.
He grabbed Lerajie by the wing and dragged him out of there before the foolish idealist got himself killed. Perhaps once upon a time Lucifer had been a decent man, but the creature which stared out of those malevolent silver eyes reminded him of someone else he had met before the man had been slaughtered along with every other rebellious inhabitant of Tyre.
Shemijaza. Lucifer's biological father…
Chapter 5
Late-September - 3,390 BC
Earth: Village of Assur
Ninsianna
Ninsianna inhaled the decadent scent of water, a sacred substance to the people who lived in this dry land, and beheld the glow of life-energy which emanated from every living thing. In the sky above her the enormous mated pair of golden eagles floated lazily in the updraft of the Hiddekel River. Wispy clouds gave promise of the winter storms which would soon swell the river over its banks and deluge the ground upon which they stood. Until then, the empty riverbed made an ideal place to practice archery.
*Thwunk*
She got off a perfect shot, a combination of natural skill and her growing ability to use senses beyond the normal five. She turned to her squad mate, a frustrating student, but one the goddess whispered must learn to use the bow. If Yadidatum could learn to shoot, any woman could.
"How am I supposed to hit the ta
rget if it's that far away?" her friend Yadidatum lamented. "Every time I master a new skill, you move the target!"
Delicate pink puffs of energy flowed off of Yadidatum's spirit light, indicative of her soft, domestic bent, not the energy of a warrior. It was her irresistibility to men which had driven the voluptuous beauty to take up archery. Why wait to get kidnapped by slavers when you could defend yourself?
"C'mon, Yadidatum!" Homa and Gisou chanted together, two young women the same approximate age. "You can do it!" As inseparable as twins, the two friends were competent archers and, now that Mama had started training apprentices, becoming relatively decent healers.
"Why couldn't She-who-is endow me with natural ability?" Yadidatum grumbled as she lined up the shot, a perfect portrait of feminine beauty.
"But you always look so fashionable with your bow and quiver," Ninsianna laughed at her friend's frustration. "Your efforts please HER. We are all gifted with different talents."
"But you are good at everything," Yadidatum complained.
"I cannot weave cloth or embroider a fringe to save my life," Ninsianna said. "Two months I have been married and I have yet to weave my husband a suitable kilt with fringe. Most women would have sewn an extra fringe onto her husband's kilt to denote he was a married man."
"Now that would be a fine sight to behold," Gisou added her voice to the conversation. "Never have I met a man who liked to cover up as much as your husband!"
"He has fine legs," Homa leered. "If only he would let us see them. And a muscular chest! Why does he persist in wearing those strange foreign garments that cover his calves?"
"They're called pants," Ninsianna forced her hands to loosen where she gripped her bow. Her jealousy was irrational. These women were her friends. She pointed to a khaki-beige garment lying sodden at the top of her basket which she'd washed in the river only moments before. "And the garment which covers his chest is called a shirt. I do not like it, but he insists on wearing his uniform."
Yadidatum chewed her lip as she spread her legs to line up her shot, her aiming arm stiff and perpendicular to her torso. They all held their breath as she drew back her bowstring to her ear and took aim.
"C'mon Yadidatum, take the shot," they all urged their friend.
Ninsianna found herself praying, 'Steady. Steady. Keep your eyes open. That's it…'
At the last moment, Yadidatum shut her eyes. With a dull *thwung* the arrow fell short of its mark. Every archer groaned.
"Pareesa didn't have any trouble learning this!" Yadidatum stomped her foot. "All she has to do is watch him do it once! She's only thirteen summers old!"
"Some people are just natural warriors," Ninsianna reassured her. "What matters is how well you compete against yourself."
"I see the children coming down the hill for their lesson," Homa pointed to a group of boys and girls, aged seven to thirteen, pouring out of the north gate of the village. "We'd better hurry before Alalah kicks us off her practice field."
Homa and Gisou took their shots, hitting the target with various degrees of proficiency. Ninsianna lined up a second shot, relishing the feel of the bow which felt like a natural extension of her hand. She pulled the bowstring to her cheek and gently loosened her fingers so the jerk of her hand would not send her shot amiss. With a whistle, it hit the target dead-center, no special powers from the goddess needed. Ninsianna yanked out her arrows with a victorious grin.
"You always hit dead center," Yadidatum said.
"Ninsianna is a good shot because she is the Chosen of She-who-is," Gisou said.
Dozens of children carrying bows surged around them like eager little jackals, herded between Alalah, Orkedeh, Behnam and Kiana, the remaining archers of Mikhail's original eight. Ninsianna could not stay. The Chief had ordered her to study under her shaman father to perfect her gift, while Homa and Gisou now apprenticed under her mother to become healers. Yadidatum would remain behind to practice with the children, ostensibly as a teacher, but she needed the practice even more than they did.
The squadron leader poked Yadidatum's elbow with the end of her bow. An older woman in her forties, Alalah was the organizational force behind keeping the archery program flowing now that Mikhail and Ninsianna were occupied doing other tasks.
"Ninsianna learns the same way the rest of us do," Alalah, snapped. "Through dedication and hard work. Now quit whining and start shooting at that target. You didn't have any problem keeping your eyes open when you were hunting ducks!"
Yadidatum's cheeks turned a deep scarlet. An image leaped into Ninsianna's mind along with the whispered giggle of the goddess's breath through the stalks of grain.
'That's because the duck had such attractive brown-black wings, just like the quarry she took archery lessons to hunt in the first place…'
Ninsianna clapped her hand over her mouth before She-who-is could compel her to speak that thought aloud. Yadidatum would die of mortification if she knew that Ninsianna knew she had once borne an affection for her husband! She glanced up the hill to the north gate where her father had just appeared. It was time to go attend her nightly lesson.
"Time to go!" Ninsianna called. Rewrapping her shawl and tucking the end into her belt so it did not expose her breasts, she picked up the basket of laundry, strung her bow across her back and bid her friends goodbye.
As she climbed the steep path up to the ring of mud-brick houses which formed the outer wall of the village, she glanced over the fields to where Mikhail stood training his troops. Ninsianna smiled, though she had trouble telling whether it was her pleasure she felt, or the pleasure of the goddess she channeled. Perhaps they were one and the same?
Papa met her about a third of the way up the path. "Let me take that basket from you, child. You can carry these, instead. They are much less heavy."
Average height, strongly built, and moving with a grace that betrayed he was also trained to be a warrior, Immanu's wild salt-and-pepper hair and bushy eyebrows gave him the look of not quite existing in this world. Father and daughter both possessed the same tawny-beige eyes, wide-set and large as though they could see right through you and discern all of your secrets, although ever since Ninsianna had been touched by the goddess, her eyes glowed more gold than beige.
Ninsianna handed off her heavy basket and pressed her head towards Papa's as they passed the sentries into the village, eager to share his secrets. "What news comes from the Chief?"
"Stories have filtered down from the north that the Anatolians also suffer from kidnapped young women," Papa's brow creased with worry. "It is not Halifians or Amorites masterminding these raids, but some other tribe altogether."
"Have the Chief's trading partners located where the lizard demons have set up their encampment?" Ninsianna asked. Although She-who-is showed her the lizard-demons would come from the west, the rest of the information was irritatingly, frustratingly blank, forcing them to rely on old-fashioned methods of gathering information.
"Alas, no," Papa said. "But there are rumors from other villages of traders who have met with them. It is said they possess sky canoes such as Mikhail's that cast a terrible fire and fly from village to village as though they were a bird."
They reached their typical two-story mud-brick house, nicer than many others in the village, but not elaborate compared to wealthier families such the Chief. Mama's only concession to luxury was a kitchen table carved of wood and two solid benches, wide boards being a rarity in a climate where heat and lack of rain left the trees twisted and gnarled. Ninsianna held open the door while Papa carried the basket of wet clothing straight through to the back courtyard where a more typical Ubaid table sat, low and comprised of mud bricks so the heat from the adjacent beehive oven would not singe it. The goat bleated a greeting.
"Hello, Little Nemesis," Ninsianna bent to hang up Mikhail's strange clothing on the twisted flax they used as a clothesline. "I see you are still in your pen. It's best not to engineer an escape when the fields are full of men throwing spears or Mikhai
l may decide to use you as a target."
The goat stood up and peered over the rickety fence, nodding its head as though it could understand her. She suspected it could by the way its spirit light whirled towards her, a pleasant green tinged with bits of yellow. Yellow meant thoughts, so some scheme percolated in the goat's mind. Probably her next escape attempt! Ninsianna burst into laughter.
"What's so funny, child?" Papa asked.
"I was just talking to Little Nemesis about what she would do next to try Mikhail's patience."
"I suspect She-who-is coaches the goat to teach him how to relate to lesser creatures," Papa beckoned for her to come inside the house.
Ninsianna hung up the last garments and followed Papa inside. His prayer-carpet had been rolled out to provide a clean place for them to sit upon the packed earth floor. Around it lay sacred articles representing each direction where a different spirit-force lay.
"What will we learn tonight?" Ninsianna asked.
"More remote viewing," Papa said. "A trader from the north came to speak to the Chief today. One of the villages he came through claimed to have seen one of these lizard demons."
Ninsianna groaned. Remote viewing was difficult without the aid of kratom, a blue flower with a mild hallucinogenic effect, but one she could no longer avail herself of now that she was carrying Mikhail's child. Even when she had used the flower, She-who-is would only let her look so far.
Papa lit first a tiny oil-filled clay lamp, then a bundle of dried herbs. Ninsianna placed her scrying bowl in the center of the carpet, though if the goddess intended for her to see something, she rarely needed a reflection from water anymore. Papa began to chant the same rhythmic song in a soothing, froglike bass.
Ninsianna added her voice to the song, another crutch she no longer needed, but helped her stay connected to her father so she didn't journey too far. That familiar thread of consciousness thickened and grew stronger, drawing her into the realm that lay between this one and the place spirits went when they died, a place a shaman could gather information.
Sword of the Gods: Prince of Tyre (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 6
