Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (48 page)

Ninsianna scurried back. Apausha tasted the air.

“I am sorry,” Apausha said. He lowered the natural weapon and pulled his blanket up closer to his neck so that all she could see was his face. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. We do that when we’re curious, not just to be threatening.”

Ninsianna studied the monster which had inhabited her nightmares for almost as long as she’d known Mikhail. Somehow, wounded and hiding beneath a blanket, it was hard to hate the creature whose species had allied with the Evil One.

Or had they?

“Why does your god wish to enslave our planet?” Ninsianna asked.

“We do not consider it to be enslavement,” Apausha said. “Our Emperor believes in guided progress.
We
teach you how to increase your crop yields and eradicate most illnesses, and in return we ask a set number of years of service and devotion to Shay’tan.”

“You stole our women and sold them to the Evil One," Ninsianna hissed. "That sure sounds like slavery to me!”

Apausha sighed. "The pot … calling the kettle black. Did your husband tell you he wasn’t supposed to marry you?”

Ninsianna raised an eyebrow in surprise. “What?”

“Angelics are forbidden to marry,” Apausha said. “Every other citizen of the Alliance is allowed to do as they wish, but not Angelics. They are made-up people. Fake. Genetically engineered.”

“Gen-et-clee?" Ninsianna had no idea what the word meant.

Apausha frowned. “Genetics is the science of what makes you,
you
.“

Ninsianna gave him a blank stare, wishing fervently she still possessed her gift of tongues.

“Bloodlines,” Apausha said. “Your husband is forbidden to choose his own bloodline. His Emperor chooses it for him. He is forbidden to ever have any but the most peripheral contact with his own offspring."

Ninsianna clutched at her belly where Mikhail's son grew.

"Mikhail … wants … this child," Ninsianna stammered.

"Of course he does," Apausha's maw curled up in disgust. “They all do. Why do you think these women are here? Lucifer intends to breed your species like cattle!"

"Mikhail intends no such thing!" Ninsianna shouted at the monster. "He … he … he didn't
touch
me until I practically…"

She did not finish her sentence.
Until I -threw- myself at him, teasing him mercilessly until at last I broke down his resistance.
Old worries ate at her, the ones she'd possessed until she'd realized she had Mikhail wrapped around her finger.
Did
he love her above all others? And if this Emperor he spoke of so highly ever made his appearance, would he order Mikhail to abandon her in favor of this gen-et-clee bloodline?

No! Apausha must be lying!

Apausha snorted. "It’s barbaric, what his emperor does to his armies. In a way I can't blame Lucifer for rebelling. But none of us could believe how callously Lucifer treated the woman Shay'tan
personally
gave him as a bride." He pointed at the ebony-skinned woman.

"But if you are enemies," Ninsianna said, "why would your emperor cavort with the Evil One?"

"His name is
Lucifer,
" Apausha said. "He is the adopted son of your husband's Eternal Emperor Hashem."

"The Evil One is Mikhail's Emperor's son?" Ninsianna sputtered. She edged closer to the monster, resting one knee upon his blanket, eager to hear more. "Why would he
do
these things?"

Apausha grimaced.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Apausha said. "Lucifer was always known for his debauchery, but what he's doing now does not make any sense!"

"You still have not answered my original question," Ninsianna said.

"Which was?"

"Why would your Emperor Shay'tan cavort with the Evil One?"

Apausha chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"I take it your husband did not tell you about the ancient wagers between his emperor and mine?"

"What wagers?" Ninsianna asked.

"It is said that control over this galaxy is a game," Apausha said. "That the
real
lines of battle are decided not by the efforts of their respective armies, but by their maneuvering in the upper realms; that they treat their conquests as if it was a game of chess."

Ninsianna remembered the vision She-who-is had sent her about the big red dragon and the man in a white robe playing chess. At the time, there had been a third piece moving of its own volition which neither old god had noticed. Lucifer. The Evil One. Out to outmaneuver them both!

Apausha shifted, and as he did his breath came out as a raspy whimper. Whether or not he was a human, Ninsianna was too highly trained to miss the ominous rattle which often preceded death.

"The Evil One waits for you to die," Ninsianna said gently, "and yet for some reason, you cling to life. Why?"

Apausha's lizard-like maw curved up into a pleased, fang-laden grin.

"My wife, Marina, is sitting on a clutch of eggs," Apausha said. "Seven of them, due to hatch any day. I wish to see my offspring."

"Do you love your wife?" Ninsianna asked.

Apausha's expression turned wistful, or about as wistful as a lizard could appear.

"I love her dearly," Apausha said. He looked past her, into his own past. "She is not beautiful, my Marina, nor was she pleased to be betrothed to marry so low-ranking a lizard as myself. But she is a sensible woman, level-headed, with many family connections to the merchant-class within the Sata'an Empire. Shay'tan himself decreed I was to be given a high-born bride after my crew saved one of his battle cruisers from stumbling into a Tokoloshe ambush."

"What is a Tokoloshe?" Ninsianna asked.

Apausha's smile disappeared.

"Trust me. You don't want to know," Apausha said. His green eyes turned pale. "I'm just thankful my own people shot down my crew before their ship could be taken by their dreadnought."

Dred-not? Ninsianna had trouble translating the words, so she changed the subject rather than expose her ignorance. She pointed at Apausha's misshapen green hand.

"On my world," Ninsianna said, "I am trained to be a healer."

Apausha's eyebrow-ridge raised with curiosity. "Really? I thought most healers on your world were men?"

"I'm a shaman's daughter," Ninsianna said. "My gift is so great they made an exception." Ninsianna's smile disappeared. "Or at least it was until She-who-is abandoned me."

Apausha leaned forward, his expression sympathetic.

"The goddess has not abandoned you," Apausha said. "Any more than Shay'tan has abandoned me.
SHE
searches for you, just as Shay'tan would search for me if Lucifer hadn't tricked him into thinking I'd been killed along with the rest of my crew."

"But I thought
SHE
knew all things?" Ninsianna asked.

Apausha snorted. "Not even She-who-is knows everything."

Ninsianna fiddled with the hem of her dress. She realized how much that must make her look like the other seventeen women who at this moment were embroiled in a nasty fistfight over the last of the food. She smoothed the garment, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to don a pleasant smile. If she was to win this creature over, at the very least she must appear not to be insane.

"I realize my medicine might seem primitive to a creature that travels the heavens," Ninsianna said, "but even
without
my shaman's gift, I am still trained to reset broken bones."

Apausha's clear inner eyelids raised, giving her an unimpeded view of his emerald green eyes. He raised his dislocated hand.

"This, I fear, is the least of my problems," Apausha said. "To get me to betray my god, they had to do much more than simply break my bones."

"Are you injured elsewhere?" Ninsianna asked.

"Alas, I am indeed," Apausha said. "But in my culture, it is forbidden for a woman to attend to an injured male who is not her husband, father, brother, or half-brother."

"I am not from your world," Ninsianna said. "In
my
culture, whoever can best do the job, does it."

"So I have heard," Apausha said. "Sensible policy, if you ask me."

He pressed down his blanket to his lap. As he did, a malignant odor wafted up, one Ninsianna knew well. An infected belly wound. She immediately covered her mouth and nose with her hand at the putrid scent. The dark coloring of the creature's uniform hid the fact he'd been repeatedly stabbed; quite deliberately by the look of things.

"I am sorry," Apausha said. He pulled the blanket back up. "I should not have asked you to demean yourself by looking upon an unrelated male. It's just…"

Ninsianna stared at the gut-wound. She did not know if the creature's physiology was similar, or different, but other than his extremities, Apausha's torso appeared to be shaped similarly to that of a human male. This wound … it was in the exact same place where Jamin had been gored by an auroch.

"I have tended such an injury before," Ninsianna said. "Your prognosis is grim, but with the right medicines, perhaps you might survive?"

Apausha made eye contact, more so than his usual peculiar, dancing way of looking at her. Whatever his cultural apprehensions about being treated by a woman, the lizard man wished very much to live.

"The Angelics have medicines which can heal this wound," Apausha said. "They are called antibiotics. I asked Ruax and Procel for them, but they laughed at me."

"What about the one who was in here earlier," Ninsianna asked. "Lerajie. He didn't seem as bad as the other two?"

"They are under orders not to treat me," Apausha said. He glanced at the doorway. "But you? You are the first female Lucifer didn't get his hands on.
You
are still in control of all your faculties. Perhaps … no! You are pregnant. It is wrong of me to ask you to put yourself at risk."

Ninsianna placed her hand on top of Apausha's broken green one, the claws of a monster of nightmare, the hand of a man who needed her help. She might not be a warrior like Pareesa. She might even be abandoned by She-who-is. But she had an older gift, one she'd used to entice every man in Assur around to her way of thinking. Married or not, if it meant getting out of here, she would use every gift she had.

"Lerajie is
curious
about me," Ninsianna lowered her eyelashes in a flirtatious manner. She gave Apausha a coy smile. "Perhaps it is time I knocked on that door to ask him for some medical supplies?"

Apausha laughed, and then he winced.

"I think you and my beloved Marina would get along!"

Lurching to her feet, Ninsianna straightened her dress, ran her fingers through her hair, and then walked towards the outer door, past the insane pregnant women who were currently engaged in a fistfight. She licked her lips, pinched her cheeks, and then, her heart pounding so loudly she feared it might rattle right out of her chest, lifted her hand to the door and knocked.

There was a fumbling at the handle and then the door opened. Ninsianna stared into the unearthly blue eyes and face of a man who, if not for his fair hair and speckled pink wings, might have been a cousin to her husband.

"Excuse me, Lerajie," Ninsianna said in moderately accented, but otherwise perfectly understandable Galactic Standard. "One of the women is injured. I was wondering if you might procure for me some medical supplies."

Lerajie's chin dropped to his clavicle. His wings flared in a formation Ninsianna recognized as an Angelic who'd been surprised.

"Y-y-you really
do
speak?"

Ninsianna gave Lerajie her warmest, most breathtaking smile, the same one she'd used to flirt with Mikhail.

"Of course I do," Ninsianna said, "when there's something worth saying." She touched Lerajie's forearm, a gesture she knew from her
own
sensory-starved husband had always turned him into a trembling mass of goo. She slid her fingers, just a little, in the same innocuous-seeming gesture she had used to seduce her husband.

"W-wh-what do you need?" Lerajie stammered.

Ninsianna gave him a coy shrug and ran her fingers through her own long, chestnut tresses.

"What
any
healer needs, of course," Ninsianna said. "A bone needle. Some sturdy horsehair or thread for stitching up some wounds. Some clean bandages. A small, very sharp knife for cutting that thread or, in your case, you have that lovely little instrument my husband calls a
scissor,
and, oh, yes, since I don't see any borage or myrrh growing around here, I'll need some of the substances you keep in the little red box in your kitchen-galley. I believe you call them an-ti-bi-aw-tics?"

Lerajie stared at her like some vapid sheep who was clueless it was about to have its throat slit for slaughter. Unlike Mikhail, who'd
wanted
to resist her, this Angelic wished to eat straight out of her hand.