"S'okay!" Namhu soothed the creature as he tied her to the fence and placed the hide-lined milking bucket beneath her. "You know -I- won't forget you."
He squeezed his hand around her teat and pulled gently downwards, extracting a squirt of milk into the bucket. With a contented 'mehhh,' the goat stuck her face into the bucket of treats and began to munch on the leftover emmer stalks, vegetable peelings and a crust of bread so hard and stale even his mother had given up on reusing it. Namhu fell into a rhythmic tug, the only sound being the goat's contented chewing and the whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of milk hitting the bark-tanned hide lining the bucket to make it waterproof. At nine years old, it was expected he would help out with the family chores, but why did Pareesa get to shirk her duties?
"Namhu!" his mother called. "Could you please go down to the well and draw me some water?"
"Awww! Mom! I'm milking the goat right now. Why can't Pareesa do it?"
"Pareesa's not here," Mama shouted out from the kitchen. "And besides, drawing water is your job."
"This is Pareesa's job!" Namhu scowled.
He pulled down on the goat's teat harder than he meant, earning an indignant bleat as she pulled her face out of the bucket and gave him an accusatory glare. Mama came to the doorway with a large, wooden bucket in one hand and Namhu's newest baby sister in the other, latched firmly onto her breast.
"Pareesa has gone off in search of Dadbeh," Mama said. "She said not to expect her home for dinner."
"Why she'd go and do that?" Namhu scowled. "Everybody knows Dadbeh left because…"
Namhu didn't finish the sentence. Dadbeh had left because he, and a dozen of his closest friends, had all ganged up and taunted the elite warrior for having once offered to marry Shahla, the traitor who had lured Mikhail into a trap. It had seemed the right thing to do at the time, a mob of angry villagers looking for somebody to blame, but when Dadbeh's soft-spoken father had stopped by and appealed to Papa to please make their peace because Dadbeh had done nothing wrong, Pareesa and Papa had argued long into the night until at last his sister had agreed to go looking for the man and apologize.
Mama's expression grew serious.
"This village needs every warrior it can get," Mama said. She clutched his baby sister closer. "That Nineveh chief told Pareesa he wouldn't be surprised if Assur was attacked within the week. Dadbeh might be grieving Shahla's loss, but he is loyal to our people."
"Why can't -I- join the warriors?" Namhu pointed to the bow he always kept within easy reach. "Mikhail said he was proud of me for stopping those Halifians from breaching the wall!"
"You're only nine summers old," Mama said.
"I'm every bit as good of a shot as Pareesa!" Namhu complained. "I bring home a squirrel or bird for the cook pot every single day!"
"Yes, Namhu, you have," Mama said. Her expression grew somber. "But you'll be called away to defend the village soon enough. For now, I need you here."
Mama's face acquired that stern 'and I don't want to hear another word about it' look. She pointed towards the wooden yoke which sat leaning up against the courtyard wall. "Finish up with the goat, and then the water."
"Yes, Mama."
Namhu looked away so she wouldn't see the face he made as she turned back into the house. Fetching water had been his job for as long as he'd been old enough to not do something idiotic like trip and fall down the well. He yanked on the goat's teat. With an indignant bleat, the goat tried to get away and almost knocked over the bucket of milk.
"Dangnabit!"
Namhu patted her until she settled back down, and then resumed his rhythmic milking. At last the streams of milk turned into little more than droplets and the goat's teats became soft and flaccid in his hands. With a sigh he carried the bucket to the doorway and set it just inside the threshold, and then fetched the water buckets, strung them onto the yoke, and placed the heavy wooden frame across his shoulders.
He usually enjoyed any excuse to get away from their house which was crowded with seven children, two parents, and a widowed granny who always called him the wrong child's name. Fetching water was usually an opportunity to hang out with his friends, but it was still far too early in the afternoon. None of his friends had yet escaped their parent's grasp or the never ending chores expected of any nine-summer-old child.
Three girls huddled together in the small square which surrounded the well. Namhu gave them a scowl. They cupped their hands around their lips as they glanced at him, and then whispered secrets to one another, giggling as he lowered first one bucket, and then the other, into the rock-lined circle. In the summer this well often dried down, but at the moment the lower well was flush with water, sparing him the too-watchful eyes of all his Mama's nosy friends. Nobody of high status came to the lower well, so it was, of course, the perfect haven for a boy intent on idleness.
He heaved up the second bucket of water. A shadow fell over him. He turned and stared up into the tall, imposing form of Laum, Shahla's father, standing far closer than was polite.
Namhu stepped back, and then remembered that Pareesa would never back down from a fight. The trio of girls giggled. Namhu felt his face grow hot. He stepped forward again and stared up at the man who towered over him, his expression defiant.
Laum bent down so his face was inches from Namhu's.
"Somebody emptied the contents of their chamber pot onto the front wall of my house again last night," Laum said, his voice laced with accusation. "You wouldn't happen to know who did that now, would you?"
The three girls giggled again and began to whisper furiously.
Namhu swallowed.
"No," he lied. He reached back to touch the reassuring weight of his quiver filled with arrows.
"Because if you did know who did it," Laum continued, pretending he hadn't heard him, "the Chief has ordered my house be left alone. Do you understand, young man? The Chief himself has said the next person who defiles my house will answer to the tribunal!"
Namhu pushed down a clever retort and pictured how he'd act if he was Mikhail, a game he and Pareesa had played many times until the winged man had elevated her to assume command of the 'B-team.' Force yourself to stand straight and ready for combat, but never clench your fists. School your face to be an expressionless one. Frustrate your enemy by refusing to show any emotion.
"Yes, Sir," Namhu said, his mouth saying one thing, while in his mind he screamed out to the man, "rot in hell, you mangy hyena!"
Laum scowled at him, but stepped back when he failed to elicit the desired excuse to give him a beating. Nobody came to the lower well unless they lived here, this run-down part of Assur. Namhu knew there wasn't a soul in any of the surrounding houses who would risk repercussions from the wealthy merchant by standing up for him. Laum must be intent upon revenge. What other reason could he have for coming to this part of the village?
Namhu kept his eye on the man, ready to make a break for it if Laum grabbed him. He carefully balanced his two buckets of water on either end of his carrying yoke.
"If you'll excuse me," Namhu said with forced politeness, "I have to bring this home to my mother."
Laum stepped back to let him pass.
Namhu carried the heavy double load past the trio of girls, who pressed their heads together to gossip. They followed behind him like three hungry puppies, whispering and giggling the entire way. It had been happening a lot lately, this unwanted girlish attention. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?
He glanced back at the well, suddenly wondering why Laum had come if he hadn't brought a bucket. The linen merchant glanced around. Seeing that the square was now empty, he pulled something out of his waist-pouch and dropped it into the well.
One of the three girls bumped into Namhu.
"Oh," she gave him a smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't expect you to stop so quick."
The other two girls giggled and elbowed each other in the ribs.
Namhu glanced back at the well, but all he saw was Laum's back disappearing into the wor
st neighborhood in the village, the part where only drunkards and thieves like Gita's father lived.
Adjusting his yoke, Namhu carried the water home.
~ * ~ * ~
Chapter 38
Some goddamn fool once said that flanks
have got to be secure.
Since then sonofabitches all over the globe
have been guarding their flanks.
I don't agree with that.
My flanks are something for the enemy
to worry about, not me.
Before he finds out where my flanks are,
I'll be cutting the bastard's throat.
--General George S. Patton--
Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.12 AE
Former Third Empire: Jehoshaphat
Supreme Commander-General Abaddon
Abaddon
The shuttle grew warmer as it breached the upper atmosphere of the small, cobalt-blue water-world. Orange-white light shone through the portal even though the protective outer shield had been deployed to cover the vulnerable glass, heated up by the atmospheric drag of billions of tiny air molecules.
Abaddon glanced to the seat beside him where Lieutenant Valac sat, eyes scanning the images taken by their initial landing team. Had Sarvenaz been here, she'd be crushing his hand right now; her eyes scrunched shut as she forced herself to not betray her terror. For a woman who'd grown up in a Neolithic culture, his wife did an admirable job of wrapping her mind around the concept of space travel.
Oh, goddess! How he missed his wife!
"Soon, mo ghra," Abaddon whispered to himself. If this abandoned Third Empire base held clues to the location of her homeworld, he would lay that planet at her feet as a wedding present. He amused himself imagining what it would be like to make his bride the Empress of Earth. She'd be a good queen, sensible and even-handed, more like Jingu, the Cherubim queen, than either of the two immortal fools who currently divided the galaxy between them. He, of course, would be her most loyal general, enforcing her will as she guided her planet out of the Stone Age.
A rare smile eased Abaddon's habitual glower. He pulled out his flatscreen and replayed Sarvenaz's last message, twisting the tiny ear-cuff so only he could hear. His hawk-like visage softened as Sarvenaz relayed news about the shortage of comforts, how well she and Pharzuphel were getting along, and some adjustment issues as humans were thrown in with the pregnant Leonid and Centauri females tasked with protecting them. Sarvenaz's mahogany eyes wrinkled with laughter as she complained about how sore she was from their daughter's flight lessons. Abaddon patted the ultrasound images he kept tucked in his shirt pocket, right above his heart.
The shuttle reached the stratosphere and began to cool, what was once too hot now frigid as the pilot reoriented the shuttle towards the planet's polar ice cap. Abaddon unclipped his safety harness … for now. The crewmen took this as silent permission to unclip their own safety equipment and bustled around the shuttle in a well-organized orchestra of scientific curiosity.
A middle-aged Electrophori female wearing the bars of a Sci-Ops Colonel moved to stand in front of his seat, tapping on the latest intelligence reports being fed live from the away team to her flatscreen. Ekk was her name, and if she wasn't the best in her field, Abaddon would have shipped her off to the Tokoloshe front in the beat of a dragon's wing.
"Will there be any risk to my science team?" Colonel Ekk asked. Her brown lips curled backwards in a gesture of distaste.
Abaddon fixed his cool, grey eyes on the female, the one he distrusted because she had close ties to the missing Brigadier-General Raphael. Did he dislike her because he feared she might feed Hashem the location of his wife? Or was it because she treated the enlisted men with disdain?
"A battalion was already sent in to eradicate the lizards," Abaddon said. "Your men should be fine."
"Did you sweep the caves for stragglers?" Colonel Ekk asked.
A bluish-white spark of static electricity tingled down her dorsal ridge to the end of the tail, where it crackled like a miniature bolt of lightning. It was a gesture the Electrophori used to intimidate a lesser species.
Abaddon stood up and flared his wings.
"Of course I did!"
Abaddon rumbled deep his chest, the growl a Leonid might make just before it attacked. He placed his combat boot within inches of her potentially lethal tail. He didn't give a shit if the Electrophori zapped him! Lesser species could be flatlined by the eel-like creature's natural electrical current, but Abaddon had been zapped before … and survived.
Colonel Ekk stepped back and tapped nervously upon her flatscreen rather than go nose-to-nose against The Destroyer. Good. He would not tolerate the same level of disrespect that the former Supreme-Commander General had, not even from an ancient species!
Abaddon leaned forward so he stood with the Electrophori nose-to-nose.
"Lieutenant Valac!" he barked, not breaking eye contact with the eel.
"Yes, Sir?" Valac hurried to stand next to them.
"Colonel Ekk isn't used to getting her hands dirty." Abaddon gave the woman a cruel grin. "Would you do me a favor and babysit her? Just in case a boogeyman jumps out of the shadows and scares her?"
Colonel Ekk's speckled brown skin turned mahogany with mortification.
"Well … I'll…I'll…" Ekk stammered.
Abaddon leaned forward so that he spoke inches from her face.
"You will do as I tell you to do, Colonel." Abaddon accentuated her rank, or lack thereof. "Unless you would like to be reassigned to the Tokoloshe front? We're right on the border here, you know?"
"I have processed information from the cannibals before," Colonel Ekk said stiffly.
Abaddon flared his wings. "We have desperate little intel coming out of that kingdom, largely because the cannibals eat whichever of our operatives they catch. If this mission is beneath you, perhaps I could reassign you to do some hands-on intelligence gathering?"
Colonel Ekk's skin turned an interesting shade of olive green.
"No thank you, Sir," Ekk said, evenly to her credit. Her interrogation training had taught her to hide her feelings, but not so well that Abaddon didn't pick up on the nervous fizzle of static electricity which crackled down her tail like a balloon which had just been untied to let out all the air.
"Good," Abaddon said. He glanced at Valac. "You. Babysit her. Make sure the lizards didn't leave anyone in the shadows to ambush our science team."
Colonel Ekk gave him a crisp salute, and then moved over to oversee the readiness of her investigatory team. Although the secret service technically served under him now, they'd always had far too much autonomy. It was something he intended to rectify as soon as the chaos of Lucifer's rebellion settled down.
Lieutenant Valac waited until the woman left to contradict him.
"Sir? You know it's my duty to watch out for you. Not some quasi-civilian contractor."
"You'll do as I order," Abaddon grumbled, but not angrily. Protecting him was his Weapons Officer's job.
"Always, Sir," Lieutenant Valac said. The man loosened his wings out of the crisp dress-wings formation. "It's just that … sir? With Lucifer missing, if anything were to happen to you…"
Abaddon curled one wing forward to brush against his thigh, deep in thought. Yes. The same thought had crossed his mind. Without Lucifer here to keep Parliament in line, the fools were subject to the whims of the mob. It was only a matter of time before the idiots grew tired of waging war and went back to the Emperor, prayer-caps in hand, begging their god for redemption rather than getting off their asses to defend their own homeworlds. Abaddon patted the hilt of his pulse rifle.
"You take care of the spook," Abaddon said. "I'm just here to see Shemijaza's legendary genetics laboratory with my own eyes."
Abaddon thought back to the glory days when Lucifer had not yet been conceived and Shemijaza had played the two emperor-gods against one another to carve out a place for his growing Third Empire. Back then, the Eternal Empero
r had still possessed a pair of magairlí the size of a Centauri stallion.
"Hashem had every spy in his arsenal searching for this place," Abaddon said. "We'd always assumed it had been blown up with Tyre."
Lieutenant Valac pulled up one of the images the initial landing party uploaded as live feed.
"It appears he froze most of what he spliced together," Valac said, "instead of warehousing them where he could study them the way that the Eternal Emperor does."
"It makes sense to keep a cryo-facility on an ice world," Abaddon said. "Shemijaza was always, if anything, terrifyingly pragmatic."
Valac's wings shook with violent emotion.
"Does this make sense?!" He shoved the flat screen into Abaddon's face.
Abaddon stared at the image of a frozen adolescent lizard, her hands pressed against the glass as though she'd been pleading to be let out moments before she'd been involuntarily frozen. How in Hades had Shemijaza gotten his hands on a Sata'anic female? Shay'tan kept all females sequestered to the Hades cluster as an insurance policy against desertion. The lizards had a shorter maturity period than the slow-growing hybrids, only seven years from hatchling to adult. This specimen appeared to have been perhaps five years old at the time she'd been frozen, the emotional equivalent of an eleven-year-old.
"Why? Why would Shemijaza do such a thing?" Abaddon caressed the image on the flat screen.
"According to Third Empire propaganda, Shemijaza welcomed all species into his empire, even the Sata'anic lizards."
The pilot's voice came over the intercom and announced they were coming in for a landing. The crewmen hurried back into their seats. Landing was rarely as rough as breaching the outer atmosphere, but on an unknown planet it was always prudent to buckle in.
The shuttle lurched as the pilot fired the VTOL engines. Abaddon instinctively reached over to restrain his wife from jerking forward and ended up restraining his Weapons Officer instead. Lieutenant Valac gave him a knowing grin. Abaddon pulled back his hand. Goddess how he missed Sarvenaz!
Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) Page 39
