Longing's Levant (9 page)

“What took you so long, Mage?” Lord Kaibyn roared, his loud words echoing off the walls of the burial chamber.

Jabali closed the coffin after one look at the empty shrouds lying within its confines. Before he answered the demon lurking behind him, he bent over…grunting with the effort…and removed a vial of the same kind of oil the Lady Dakhla had used to seal Kaibyn in.

“There were others who needed our help, Lord Kaibyn,” Jabali explained as he smeared the oil on the coffin’s rim.

“And who is more important that I?”

The Mage dared not tell the demon that a simple Dabiyan warrior had been raised from death first. “Lord Riel Evann-Sin of Nonika, Your Grace,” he replied instead. “We found him lashed to the…”

“An Akkadian barbarian?” Kaibyn exploded, the fury of his shock making the walls of the necropolis tremble. “You think that jackal more important than I?”

Gathering his courage, Jabali turned to face the demon. He lifted his head, allowing him to take in the face of the tall form in front of him. “No, Your Grace. He is not more important than you, but our freeing him had to be accomplished in order for him to help you.”

Kaibyn narrowed his eyes, the color of a winter sky. “Help me in what way, Mage?” Though the words were not as forceful or loud, they sounded like a warning to Jabali.

“There is great evil afoot, milord,” Jabali said, “and the Council of Elders dispatched me to come to your aid as well as one other whose life was terminated before the Gatherer sanctioned it.”

The Rysalian demon folded his arms and glared at the Mage. “What other foul fiend?”

Hearing Lord Kaibyn call another being a fiend might well have made Jabali laugh under safer circumstances, but while standing in the presence of an angry demon was not the time for levity.

“You are the strategist behind the coalition the Council bid me form. Lord Evann-Sin is the brawn—his sword hand will set things to right. The third arm of the Triad will be the eyes and ears.”

“What is this third lord’s name?”
Kaibyn demanded
.
“Do I know him?”

Jabali swallowed hard before answering. “I think not, milord. He is but a simple peasant but one who will aid the project well.”

“A peasant?” Kaibyn sniffed. “What brand of peasant?”

“Rabin Jaspyre is a Dabiyan, milord,” Jabali said softly.

“A darkling?” Kaibyn gasped, and his image pulsed, shifted and sparked with myriad harsh lights that caused Jabali to throw up a hand to ward off the painful intrusion of the brightness. “I have no love for darklings! It was darklings that left me to die in the desert!”

“He is but a spy, milord,” Jabali said, trying to soothe the irate demon shimmering before him. “Would you lower yourself to such a task?”

Kaibyn’s ghost rippled for a moment then subsided though the wavering image increased in size. “What is this coalition of which you speak? What is the purpose of such a thing?”

Relieved the demon had accepted begrudgingly the existence of the third member of the coalition, Jabali breathed a sigh of relief. Once again, he armed the sweat from his brow. “To rid our world of a dangerous alliance that has come about within the last three days,” he replied. “An alliance…left unchecked…that could well destroy the world as we know it.”

“Between whom?”

Jabali wished he could sit down for his aged bones were plaguing him. He was overly hot and his heart was racing, his head pounding. Being well into the eighth year past his 100
^th
birthday, he was beginning to feel the arms of the Gatherer closing around him. It would not be many more months before he was laid to rest in a necropolis similar to the one in which he stood.

“You can rest when you have given me a reason for not pulling the head from your puny body,” Kaibyn sneered. “Tell me who this alliance is!”

“The King of Kebul, he who ordered you put to death, and Lilit, Queen of the Daughters of the Night,” Jabali answered.

For a moment, the faraway sound of bats winging about the interior of the necropolis was all Jabali heard. Though the tomb in which he stood was as bright as day with the image of Kaibyn Zafeyr hulking in front of the Mage, there was a gathering darkness beyond that was harsher than a moonless night.

Kaibyn sidled closer to the Mage. “How do you come to know of an alliance between those vile offspring of their mother’s diseased wombs?”

“It was the Dabiyan who discovered the connection, milord, and he was on his way to tell Lord Evann-Sin when he was ruthlessly murdered.”

“The Dabiyan was a servant of the Akkadian jackal?”

“An operative, I believe the word to be,” Jabali corrected. “He was Lord Evann-Sin’s eyes and ears in the desert.”

Something wicked moved over the demon’s face. “And was his friend,”
he said with a jeer.

Jabali reminded himself to be more careful of his thoughts for the demon had plucked the connection between Evann-Sin and Rabin from his overly tired mind. He nodded. “Aye, Your Grace, they were friends,” he said, daring not lie to the demon. “They still are.”

Kaibyn grimaced but made no comment. Instead, he turned toward the stairs and with a great rush of wind fled the confines of the hot burial chamber.

Jabali closed his eyes for a moment, grateful that the demon had fled the heat. He gathered his satchel and candle and wearily climbed the steps to the outside, grateful for the residual light of the demon’s passing that lit the stairs. Once in the brutal glare of the desert sun, the Mage walked as fast as he could to his assistant.

“Did you see him exit the necropolis?” Jabali asked.

Tashobi shook his head. “I saw nothing, Master.” He hastened to supply the older man with the dwindling water skin. “I felt his passing, though. It knocked me down.”

Jabali swigged the tepid water, easing the parching of his throat. He poured some of the precious fluid into his palm then swiped it over his face.

“Will he return?” Tashobi inquired.

“When he has accomplished two things—secondly, he will punish the woman who left him in this place,” Jabali replied. “I doubt that will take long, for he is intrigued by news of the alliance.”

“Did he say as much, Master?”

Jabali shook his head. “He did not need to. I saw the fury in his eyes the moment I mentioned who the villains in this are.”

“And his first task, Master?”

“He will seek out Evann-Sin.”

Chapter Six

“I’ve not heard of this Zafeyr,” Evann-Sin mumbled. He glanced at Rabin. “What about you?”

“What I know is this—there are two men by that name in the Inner Kingdom. Both are deadly and both are demons in their own right. One is confined to the island at Akasha, unable to flee for he cannot travel over running water. The other runs free. It is rumored there is a demon in Kebul and I believe that is Kaibyn Zafeyr,” Rabin replied.

“Until today, I would not have thought such beings existed, but I’m talking to a dead man so what do I know?” Evann-Sin sighed.

“I’ve always believed in demons,” Rabin said. He grinned. “Have you seen the women of Kebul?”

“Not the prettiest of females,” Evann-Sin remarked.

“Aye, but I would venture to say the hairiest, by far,” Tamara giggled.

“Thus the need for the black robes that cover them head to toe,” Rabin put in. “And a demon to warm their beds on cold desert nights when their menfolk can’t bring themselves to touch those hairy bodies.”

“Why would we need a demon, though?” Evann-Sin asked. “I…”

“When you need to deal with women, you bring in an expert.”

The disembodied voice was smug, filled with amusement. Evann-Sin, Rabin and Tamara looked up as a body materialized there in the tent with them. To the men, the entity that took form was nothing out of the ordinary, but to Tamara he was the handsomest man she had ever seen. Her lips parted and she stared at him as though she were starving.

“You are Zafeyr,” Evann-Sin snapped, very aware of his woman’s reaction to the newcomer.

Kaibyn ignored the question, turning his full attention to Tamara. His eyes widened. “The Mage did not tell me I would have a beautiful lady with whom to work.”

Tamara blushed, lowering her eyes to the compliment. When she glanced at Evann-Sin, she saw a muscle working in his cheek, his gaze unfriendly as he regarded the demon.

“The only thing you will be doing with my woman is showing your respect,” Evann-Sin grated.

Still ignoring the men, Kaibyn walked to Tamara and took her hand, and brought it to his lips. With his eyes locked on hers, he placed a gentle kiss in her palm. “Milady,” he whispered, “I have all the respect in the world for one as lovely as you.”

The fierce growl that erupted from the Akkadian’s throat made Rabin step back quickly. He’d heard that sound of fury before, and it did not bode well for whoever caused it. He winced as the demon was shoved across the tent to land in a heap on the pallet Evann-Sin and Tamara had shared.

“Don’t you
ever
touch my woman again, demon!” Evann-Sin roared, going to stand over Kaibyn. He stood there—rigid as stone—with his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Eyes flashing dangerously, teeth clenched, he looked every inch the lethal warrior he had been trained to be.

Tamara rushed to her lover’s side and took his sword arm, clutching it to her as fiercely as any woman had ever tried to stay her man’s anger. “He meant nothing, warrior,” she was quick to say. “He knows I belong to you!”

Kaibyn lay on the pallet, glaring up at the Akkadian. His own hands were balled into fists, his eyes narrowed into slits. With his lips skinned back from his teeth, he no longer looked as handsome as Tamara first thought, and she realized what was said and done now would either make it possible for these two men to work together or would forever have them at each other’s throat.

“Riel,” she said softly, drawing her lover’s surprised eyes to hers. “I am yours and will be ‘til the day I draw my last breath on this earth. If there is an afterlife, I will continue to love you ‘til time is no more.” She squeezed his arm. “Do you doubt that?”

The Akkadian shook his head. “Nay, but…”

“Then know that nothing and—” she turned her gaze to the demon, “—no man will ever come between us. I am yours for as long as you want me.”

For a long, charged moment, the warrior and the demon glared at one another then slowly their body postures relaxed. Tamara’s words had diffused the rage coursing through the men and put the matter into a perspective both could tolerate.

“Now behave like the gentlemen I know you are, and let’s get on with what needs to be done,” Tamara advised. She released Evann-Sin’s arm and stepped back, casting a rolling eyes look at Rabin that made that warrior smile.

Despite his dislike and distrust for the demon, Evann-Sin extended his hand. “As long as you know how things stand.”

After a momentary pause, Kaibyn reached out and grabbed the Akkadian’s hand and levered himself to his feet. As he stood there, his wrist in Evann-Sin’s grip, his own fingers wrapped around the warrior’s strong wrist, their gazes fused, he made a silent vow to take the Akkadian’s woman away from him.

When the two men let go of each other’s wrists without further male posturing, Tamara breathed a sigh of relief. “So where do we start?” she asked.

“First, we get out of this tent,” Rabin said. “I may not be sweating but I do not care for such close quarters.”

“For a darkling,” Kaibyn remarked, “you have no vile stench.”

Rabin blinked.

Tamara groaned, thinking now there would be a problem between these two men, but Evann-Sin threw back his head and laughed.

“And that is a definite improvement,” the warrior chuckled.

Rabin lifted his arms and sniffed his armpits. “Are you sure the scent is gone, Riel?” he asked, his forehead creased.

“Aye, I’m sure. I hadn’t noticed until Zafeyr commented on it, but your sour smell is no longer there.” Evann-Sin looked down at Tamara. “The man has always reeked so badly his wife could not share a bed with him.”

“What of me?” Kaibyn inquired. “Do you suppose my natural body odor has fled?” He frowned. “That would not be a good thing because I have been told the ladies find it alluring.”

Evann-Sin walked over to Kaibyn. He frowned. “You have a musky odor.” He turned to Tamara. “Come smell him, lady, and see what you think.”

Tamara shook her head. “No, I can smell him from here and it is an unpleasant scent.”

“What?” Kaibyn gasped. He did as Rabin had then slowly lowered his arm. “I stink!”

“Could it be that whatever you were in life, you are the opposite in un-life?” Evan-Sinn asked.

Horror shifted over Kaibyn’s face and he backed away, one hand up as though to forestall any further bad news. “Nay, for I had ladies flocking around me constantly.” He shook his head. “I liked it that way. To know that I no longer will be able to have their affections is a fate far worse than this un-death!”

“Perhaps the gods have something loftier in mind for you, milord,” Tamara said softly. “Something infinitely more important.”

“Like finding the women who harmed us,” Evan-Sinn suggested.