"This could be good for all of us," one of the other shaykhs spoke. "I did not send my own sons against the Assurians. Only men who were restless. Troublemakers. If they earned their gold, they will take wives and settle down. If they are dead, then the tribe will benefit as a whole."
"He was my brother!" Yazan shouted.
"A brother who was evicted from your tribe by your own father," Marwan spoke softly, "before his death. You let him back in so his wives and children would have a home, but Dirar's loyalties lay elsewhere. We all knew it."
Yazan sharply inhaled and turned to Kudursin. "My brother had seventy-two men following him, all tribeless like this jackal!" he pointed to Jamin. "Who stands to inherit their gold?"
"That is up to you to decide as their shaykh," Kudursin pulled out a fine goatskin pouch dyed the color of blood. "If Dirar's tent was in your settlement and they followed him, then what was his now belongs to you."
Yazan eyed the pouch filled with golden coins imprinted with the creature the winged demon called a 'dragon.' It contained enough gold to purchase slaves and build himself a settlement along the stretch of river he controlled. What was it Marwan had accused his fellow shaykh of? Of coveting being settled?
"Your brother has given you a worthy inheritance," Marwan made a show of putting his knife back into his belt; although his kinsmen did not follow his example in case they needed to intervene. "Think of the trades you could make with such riches?"
"His wives will be better off with you managing their wealth," one of the other shaykhs said, leader of a tribe that skirted Uruk land. "Either you can marry them off, or take them as Dirar's next of kin and marry them yourself?"
Jamin noted the way the three undecided shaykhs shifted towards Kudursin, the Amorite. His gold had won them over. Yazan's eyes were black with hatred, so dark they reminded Jamin of the winged demon that night Ninsianna had intervened.
"I already have four wives," Yazan hissed. "What ever will I do with three more?"
"Why dear friend," Kudursin rattled the bag of gold, causing it to clinkle. "You will set each up in a separate tent with their offspring and visit a different wife each night of the week until they give you dozens of sons to replace the ones you have lost."
The bag glistened red from the sunlight pouring through the flap in the ceiling. Red. Like the blood of the men whose lives had been spilled.
"And what of the winged demon?" Yazan tucked his blade back into his belt and grabbed the bag of gold.
Jamin exhaled slowly so that the five assembled shaykhs would not hear his audible sigh of relief.
"This defeat is unprecedented," Kudursin toyed with his own knife, the one made of metal. By the brown discoloration, it appeared to be of inferior quality to the silver ones wielded by the winged demon.
"Like it or not, our deposed young chieftain was right. The winged demon has knowledge of tactics and processes we have never dreamed of. I am out of men willing to expend their lives upon the winged demon's sword. If the lizards want him, they will have to come get him themselves."
"Then let me avenge my brother's death by killing this useless curr?" Yazan took a step back towards Jamin.
Nusrat stepped in front of him.
"He is the only reason five of us made it out alive," Nusrat held out his palm, free of any weapon. "Each tribe sent two men inside the village with us to try for the winged demon's heart. The group sent to burn the granary failed, as did the group sent to capture the sorceress, but the group we sent to burn the flint-knappers house succeeded. The Assurians will not be able to replenish their weapons."
Kudursin stepped to stand next to Nusrat, his features pointed as he fingered his beard.
"The lizard demons wish to speak to this deposed chieftain," Kudursin said. "They have expended great effort to strike at this demon. I will not let you kill our only source of information."
Kudursin's men moved behind the shaykhs like spiders creeping along the wall, their hands clutched to their belts, ready to pull their knives.
Yazan glanced around and saw support for him had evaporated. He leaned towards Jamin and sneered, "the next time we cross paths, I will avenge my brother's death by carving out your heart personally.”
Jamin gave Yazan a polite nod of acknowledgment, knowing that any other response might cause the fragile tide of support which had just shifted his way to shift back again. He was still too weak from blood loss and a lingering fever to defend himself. Only the rapid heartbeat of a man who knew he was about to die had kept him standing thus far.
Tucking his blood gold into his belt, Yazan gestured to his men and stormed out of the tent. The other three shaykhs collected their bounties and moved out to distribute them amongst the survivors who had limped back from the battle with tales of a horrific beast that had mercilessly hunted them like an enraged lion. Jamin swayed and was caught by Nusrat before he toppled over.
Kudursin gestured to Jamin.
"We leave in one hour," Kudursin said. "Try not to get yourself killed before then. It's a three day journey to the rendezvous point."
"To meet the other Amorites?" Jamin asked.
"The lizard people," Kudursin said. For the first time since Jamin had known him, the man looked nervous. "I withheld the winged demon's exact location until now because once they have killed him, this…" the Amorite pulled out a bag of gold far more sizeable than the others he had distributed thus far, "will come to an end. But if I deliver you to them, they will give me a role within their larger empire."
Kudursin handed the bag to Nusrat. A sinking feeling settled into Jamin's gut.
"You're selling me?" Jamin tried to keep the betrayal out of his voice as he turned to the desert shaykh. "To the slavers?"
"I am a pragmatic man," Marwan gave him an apologetic shrug. "I asked our Amorite friend to send an inquiry back to his employers as to whether they would have any interest in you. Word just came back. They are very anxious to meet with you and will pay handsomely for the privilege."
"When…" Jamin asked.
"We sent the runner the moment Nusrat convinced me to give this crazy plan a try," Kudursin said. "While we weren't even certain whether you would succumb to blood loss." He grinned. "Your impending death seems to have only piqued their interest. Never have I fetched such a high price to keep someone alive!"
"As you so aptly pointed out," Marwan slapped him on the back, "my daughter is a better shot than most men in my encampment. She meant to only wound you, but she hit one of the vessels that carry blood from the heart. For a while we weren't sure you would even make it."
Nusrat opened the bag of gold and counted out some for himself, some for Marwan, and put the rest back into the bag.
"You have bought my sister her freedom," Nusrat jingled the bag, his gaze unapologetic. "Thanks to you, she will only remarry if she wants to remarry, not because we need to secure water rights or gain alliances. Never again will she or her child want for anything."
Jamin turned to Marwan and that second, silent mouth which seemed to be laughing at him, though not in a malicious way.
"You knew we were setting Dirar up?"
"There was no way I would marry my daughter off to that butcher," Marwan shrugged. "But Yazan had me backed into a corner. It was Aturdokht, herself, who came up with this plan."
"Aturdokht sold me?" He knew he should be angry, but in a way, her cleverness only bolstered her in his esteem. She had been a shaykah before her husband's untimely demise. Without the promise inheriting the chiefdom of Assur, he was worthless as a husband even if he did bring her the winged demon's heart. In selling him, she had just purchased her own freedom.
Marwan gave him the nod a proud old lion might make upon watching a lioness cub make her first kill.
"You should have met her mother," Marwan's eyes fixed on some point in his past. "She was a magnificent woman. Willful. Which is why I come down so harshly upon her whenever she becomes too disobedient. I don't want to lose her the same way I lost her mother."
Nusrat looked away.
"She died protecting me," Marwan pointed to the scar that ran horizontally from his lip to his ear. "From your father."
The lingering weakness of blood loss and stress closed in around him and made what Marwan said sound far away, as though he had his head under water.
"I don't believe you," Jamin said. "My father is a good man. He does not kill women."
"She did not leave him any choice," Marwan sighed. He looked through Jamin as though he wasn't there. "But I got back at him. We captured his wife while she washed laundry in the river, too heavy with child to run away."
With a cry of disbelief, Jamin clutched at the fabric of the tent. That insubstantial fiber which was too strong to push through and escape, but not strong enough to hold him if he swooned.
"It was my intent to shame him by taking her as my concubine to replace my own lost wife," Marwan said, "but she fell on a rock and hit her head."
The room began to spin.
"She died in childbirth," Jamin whispered as the memory came back to him.
He'd been a young boy, nine summers old. Shouts as men carried his mother back from the river. Blood pouring from her head. Blood pouring from between her legs. His father sobbing saying it was his own fault. His father's grief. The way his father had never been able to look him in the eye after that. The way his father had forbidden everyone from talking about her, as though she had never existed. Her death had not been an accident, but retaliation for his own wrong!
"It was not my intention to kill her," Marwan's expression was apologetic. "But I do not think it was your father's intention to kill my wife, either."
The desert shaykh's expression was wistful.
"It is why I did not kill you the first time you came stumbling into our tents, looking to hire mercenaries. It has been a long war against your people and I grow tired. We stopped sending forces to raid your village after your mother's death, but each time we sent emissaries to treat with your father, he rebutted us. I thought he would understand when I sent you back alive that my apology for killing your mother was genuine."
Marwan's eyes brightened to a lighter shade of brown.
"You look like her, you know? After she fell, I carried her to the shore and tried to staunch the bleeding. I think she realized I had not meant to hurt her, because she clutched my hand and asked to see her son. Jamin. Jamin. Jamin was all she said. Perhaps that is why I chose to let you live?"
Something tickled Jamin's chin. He rubbed his hand across it and realized it was wet. He tried to speak, but there were no words. Only a crushing pain that stole his breath and made it sound as though his heart beat in his ears. The misery he'd felt over losing Ninsianna feel like one and the same pain. He realized it had not been her he'd been mourning all this time, but that hole she'd reopened in his heart where he missed his mother.
Marwan looked down at his hands. "I took two lives from your father that day, while he had cost me only one. So I spared him yours, instead."
"My father knew you were toying with me?" Jamin asked. The room darkened until all he could see were Marwan's apologetic eyes. Hands reached to prop him up. Nusrat. And Lubaid. Their expressions were not hostile, but sympathetic. Oh! What a fool they must think him!
"Think of it this way," Marwan shrugged. "You are still alive. If you can convince the lizard demons of your worth, perhaps they will reward you by letting you carve out the winged demons heart after all? That would make Aturdokht very happy. She's grown rather fond of you."
Nusrat and Lubaid helped him over to lie down on a cushion. They handled him gently, the way two brothers might aid a brother who was injured, and yet they had just sold him to the lizard demons. His father had been right when he'd warned him never to treat with the desert cobra.
Was it all a farce? He had to know…
"Nusrat," Jamin whispered. "The house? Did you take care of that other business?"
Nusrat met his eyes. There was no deception there.
"I saw no sign of this man you claim is the sorceress' uncle," Nusrat said. His lip curled up in revulsion. "Though the house stank so badly of piss and vomit that I would have killed anybody I found there just to rid them from this earth."
"You didn't hurt the girl?" Jamin struggled up to his elbows. "She's not too bad."
"I saw no sign of an ugly girl," Nusrat said.
Marwan clapped his hands and signaled for his sons to leave the room. Aturdokht glided out from behind the partition in the tent, her face veiled, and took the bag of gold from her brother.
"He is in no condition to travel with the Amorites," Marwan said. "You have one hour to change his dressings and fortify him so he does not die along the way. We will be just outside the tent, ready to kill him if he tries to harm you."
Aturdokht nodded. She waited until the tent cleared before kneeling at his side, her eyes downcast. They were leaving her alone with him?
"You sold me?" Jamin's mental fog subsided now that he was no longer standing. No wonder his father had been so adamant about not marrying Marwan's daughter. Marwan had been the wiser of the two, understanding that a union between the children of the two slain women would heal the wound between their two tribes.
"You want to prove the winged demon's own people buy your women so you can win back your father's trust," Aturdokht said softly. "Now you will have your chance." Her hands pushed aside his shawl to expose the bandages on his shoulder. "It was the only way I could convince the others to let you live."
Capable hands unwrapped the dressings and examined the stitches where she'd dug out her arrow. She did not make eye contact, not even when she pressed too hard and made him wince. He wished she would. She had used her wits to improve her position in life … and to keep him alive. Moving his good arm slowly so she would not feel threatened, he put his fingers under her chin and raised her veiled face so he could stare into those hazel eyes.
"I offered you my life to buy your freedom and you found a way to give it back to me," Jamin caressed her cheek that sat hidden beneath the veil. "Who knows? Perhaps someday I will be able to deliver to you the winged demon's heart. Would you honor your bride-price then?"
Her eyes met his, the pale flecks growing greener as her fingers lingered on his shoulder.
"Yes."
Something stirred in his chest. Yes. If he brought her the winged demon's heart, she would marry him, and this time he was certain she would not bury a knife in his heart. He closed his eyes, already picturing the journey he needed to make, what these creatures might look like he needed to treat with now, and ways he might convince them to support his mission to reclaim his chiefdom.
"How am I supposed to travel three days to meet these lizard demons when I can barely stand?"
"We demanded they send our runner back with three camelids to carry you," Aturdokht said. "Had Kudursin been willing to tell them where this tent was, they would have sent a sky canoe. The only reason they did not arrive on the heels of the camelids was because the runner stripped the beasts of their saddles so their magical talismans could not be used to track us here."
"It's not magic," Jamin relished the feel of her hands upon his skin as she finished binding up his wounds even though it hurt. "The winged demon calls it tek-no-lo-gee."
Lips brushed against his cheek, still covered by her veil. She stood, leaving him lying there to rest before he'd be hauled across the desert to meet his new owners. If he survived.
"I will marry whichever man brings me the winged demon's heart," Aturdokht's eyes transformed greener. "It would not aggrieve me if that man turns out to be you."
With a whisper of linen robes, she was gone, leaving him laying alone until the Amorites came to carry him off to his fate.
Chapter 83
Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.11 AE
Neutral Zone: 'Prince of Tyre'
Special Agent Eligor
Eligor
For once in h
is life, Eligor was relieved to see the two goons waiting for him to navigate the shuttle in for a landing. Usually they gave him the chills. Actually, even today they creeped him out, but the wheeled gurney that was stretched between them was as welcoming as a Leonid lionesses vagina coming into heat. He set the piece-of-crap smuggling craft down on the oh-so-pristine flight deck of the Prince of Tyre and immediately began the shutdown procedures while Lerajie popped the hatch so the two goons could gain entry. Behind him, Lerajie briefed Zepar about what they'd done to stabilize the poor bastard on the four-day flight here. Lucifer … wasn't doing so hot.
Lucifer whimpered in pain as the goons shifted him none-too-gently onto the gurney. Eligor turned his face away so Lerajie would not see him wince.
"Eligor?" Lucifer called.
Eligor moved to stand in the doorway between the cockpit and cargo area, fiddling with the clipboard he used to document he'd done all the post-flight maintenance on the shuttle.
"Sir?"
Those eerie silver eyes glittered with a combination of pain, gratitude, and the fever which had only grown higher each day they'd been stuck in subspace.
"I owe you."
Eligor shrugged.
Lucifer held out his hand. "Thanks."
Eligor hesitated, then clasped the Prime Minister's hand.
"Just doing my job, Sir."
Lucifer nodded. His skin was flushed with fever and pale at the same time, if that were at all possible. Exhausted, he leaned back on the gurney, whimpering when the mere act of moving the thing chafed the raw skin on his charred wings, and signaled the two goons to be on their way. Zepar met them at the bottom of the gangplank.
"Bring him to his quarters."
"Sir?" Eligor said. "I radioed ahead to warn Captain Marbas the Prime Minister was badly injured. I believe Doctor Halpas was going to prep a burn treatment stasis pod?"
"You don't get paid to make medical decisions," Zepar gave him a cold stare.
"Isn't Doctor Halpas going to look him over?" Lerajie objected. As usual, his side kick's wings fluttered with unmasked emotion. Crap.
Sword of the Gods: Prince of Tyre (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 79
