Eskkar found Gatus sitting against the barracks wall, dozing in the early afternoon sun while waiting for his captain. Climbing to his feet, Gatus yawned loudly, then led the way to the stable.
Fewer than a dozen horses remained. Ariamus had taken the best, leaving behind animals past their prime. Not that Esk kar would have trusted any of them in a hard fight, including those taken by Ariamus. It took gold to buy, maintain, and train good horses, and the miserly nobles spent as few of their coins as possible on the soldiers’ mounts.
They picked two horses that needed work, and Esk kar led the way to the hilltop where he’d done his thinking yesterday. The two men sat facing each other, and Esk kar repeated everything he’d told Nicar, this time in much more detail. Gatus made suggestions about the food and supplies needed, the quantity and quality of weapons, and how the men would be paid. They discussed the soldiers, talking about individual abilities and how best they could be used. Gatus agreed with the three Esk kar had in mind for subcommanders.
They tried to come up with everything needed to raise, train, and support a large number of fi ghting men. Then they attempted to put tasks in order, what must be done first, what could wait a few weeks longer. Last, they discussed the barbarians, guessing what they might do when they saw the wall, how they’d use their weapons and horses, and the most likely points of attack.
Esk kar had never had such a discussion before. All his life, fighting was something you just did, not something you planned for. You might try to ambush your enemy, or catch them asleep, but for horsemen, there was little else in the way of tactics. In true steppes tradition, Esk kar believed the best plan of all was to have more men and better horses than your enemy. If outnumbered, barbarians tended to avoid battle, preferring to fight another day. Neither Esk kar nor the Alur Meriki felt any loss of honor in turning away from such unfavorable conflicts. Now Esk kar had to devise ways to resist not only a numerically superior foe, but one whose individual warriors were stronger and more capable. Just as important, he had to convince villagers that his tactics would be effective.
For someone village — bred, Gatus had plenty to contribute. He had survived years of fighting and had ideas of his own and no hesitations about putting them forth, especially those concerning weapons and training. He kept challenging Esk kar, looking for weaknesses or flaws that would doom Orak’s defense. When Gatus did fi nd a weakness, they worked out how to resolve it.
Nearly three hours later, Esk kar nodded in satisfaction. They had reached agreement on every item. Gatus had helped him specify his plans.
For the first time Esk kar felt confident he could answer any question at Nicar’s meeting, that no one could brush off either his ideas or his facts.
They might not share his beliefs, but that would be a matter for debate.
The two men rode down the hill to repeat Esk kar’s survey of the land.
This time they paid particular attention to the farmlands north and south of the village. Flooding these would change the usual approach to Orak’s main gate. When they finally finished their circuit, Gatus admitted Orak might have a chance, with luck, of surviving the invasion.
Esk kar wanted more than just Gatus’s approval. He wanted the old soldier waiting outside Nicar’s house, in case the nobles wanted a second opinion. Gatus had lived in Orak for more than five years, and most of them would respect his words.
“But we’ll need to train bowmen, three or four hundred of them at least,” Gatus said. “And assuming you can provide weapons for all of them, it’s still going to take at least two months to train a good archer.”
Esk kar didn’t understand why it took so long to teach someone how to use such a simple weapon, but he had to defer to Gatus’s experience with villagers. “Then we’d better get started at once, Gatus. You know how to train men better than anyone. They’ll do as you say.”
And they would do it faster for Gatus than for a barbarian. Esk kar might be captain of the guard, but he hadn’t proven himself to the men. They’d follow him for now, but for a real battle, where men had to trust their commander completely and be willing to risk their lives
… that needed a leader with a different kind of authority.
“And what of everything else that must be done? Are you sure you know what’s needed from Nicar and the nobles?”
“Yes. I went over all that with Trella. She thought of a dozen things I’d missed. She knows how to ask for what we’ll need. We just have to tell her. Then she can deal with the craftsmen. She knows the symbols, she can count, and she remembers what she hears. She comes from a noble family.
Her father taught her the ruling ways.”
“Ah, she’s one of those.”
“Those what?” He looked toward Gatus.
“One of the special ones. You’ve spent time in other villages, haven’t you?”
“Yes. Now stop talking in riddles. What about her?”
Gatus took his time before answering. “How many women in Orak know the symbols, or can count higher than ten?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “None, I suppose. All the clerks and scribes are men.”
“You don’t know the symbols; I don’t know them. But Nicar’s wife knows them.” Gatus saw the surprise on Esk kar’s face. “There are a few others, wives of the big traders and merchants. Who do you think runs their trading business when they’re away or sick? There are some women, you ignorant barbarian, who are trained for more than just bedding. If she’s one of those… tell me what else Trella said.”
Esk kar grimaced at the slur, but told him everything he’d learned.
“Then she was raised to be a wife to someone like Nicar or Drigo,”
Gatus mused, “a ruling noble.”
“What does that…”
“Listen to me. You were raised to fight, trained from childhood, taught how to use weapons, how to be strong.”
“Yes, that’s the barbarian way. You spend your whole life learning how to fight, how to…”
“Trella was raised to help rule. She probably spent her whole life at her father’s feet, watching the rulers of her village, learning how to read men’s faces, listening to what they say, judging when they lie. Trella’s what, fourteen seasons? She may have spent every day for the last five years watching her village’s nobles, learning the mysteries of gold and bronze, the secret symbols, studying the ways of farmer and villager. If her wits are as sharp as you say…”
“They are,” Esk kar said, trying to grasp this new concept. It had never occurred to him that the nobles in Orak might have trained to learn their ruling ways. As he’d been trained to fight, Trella learned to use her wits, to study men and their ways. Their talk this morning
… he realized that Trella had guided him through the preparations for tomorrow’s meeting with more than just her knowledge of Nicar’s house. If she knew the secret ways of the nobles, could read men’s thoughts, then she might be worth even more than he’d thought.
“Not used to dealing with women who have their wits about them, are you?”
Esk kar closed his mouth and frowned at Gatus. “No. I didn’t know such women existed.”
“Well, think about what that means, Esk kar, before you have her fetch-ing water from the well and washing your feet. Nicar may have given you a bigger prize than you know.”
“At fi rst I thought she was just for remembering things… helping out.
After last night’s bedding and our talk this morning…”
“She’s bewitched you already. I saw the way you look at her.” Gatus laughed at the memory. “But will the nobles listen to a slave girl?”
“When the time comes, I’ll make sure they do, Gatus. And she’ll speak in my name. If the nobles refuse or give us trouble, we’ll leave Orak. I won’t argue with Drigo or any of them. That’s what I told Nicar yesterday, and that’s what I’ll say at tomorrow’s meeting. That’s why you’ll be there, in case they want to hear your thoughts.”
“My thoughts are that you’re going to get us both killed, Esk kar.”
Esk kar laughed. “Perhaps. But don’t tell them that. Besides, we’ve time to get out, if things start going badly. And enough men to follow us, if it comes to that. So we’ll just have to see what happens.”
“Time will tell, then,” Gatus said, putting his heels to the horse.
They cantered through the gate before slowing to a walk. Gatus was right. The next few days would decide all. But Esk kar had persuaded the old soldier, a difficult enough task, and now Gatus would stay as long as he believed they could endure. Winning over Gatus would help persuade the soldiers, too. A good day’s work, Esk kar decided. He just needed to do the same at Nicar’s meeting tomorrow.
Carrying her purchases, Trella returned to Esk kar’s room. She sat at the table, enjoying a rare moment of privacy. The events of last night and this morning threatened to overwhelm her.
Sunlight streamed in through the open door, illuminating her new home. Only a few months ago, the stark surroundings would have seemed bleak and wretched, even worse than the tiny, unventilated nook she’d shared with two other girls at Nicar’s house. Now everything within these walls was her responsibility. She had become mistress of Esk kar’s house, if you could call a single room attached to the soldiers’ barracks a house.
Her new duties might be limited, but at least she didn’t have Creta or more senior servants ordering her around. And she’d avoided the distaste-ful fate of having to pleasure first Nicar and then his son and the other servants. She could have accepted being Nicar’s occasional bedmate. He was, after all, the kind of man her father planned for his daughter, though she’d hoped for one closer to her own age. No, Nicar wouldn’t have been a problem. She knew she could have pleased him enough to earn further responsibilities. The troubles in Nicar’s household came from Creta and Nicar’s youngest son, Caldor.
The servants had described their degrading experiences with Caldor, and even now Trella couldn’t repress a shudder. She’d seen him enjoying one of the other slaves, a girl even younger than Trella and barely into the secrets of womanhood. He’d taken her from behind, positioning her on her knees with her head and shoulders on the floor. The poor girl couldn’t stop crying and her sobs echoed throughout the house. But a slave’s tears meant nothing, not even to the other servants. Caldor had prolonged the act, no doubt reveling in the girl’s humiliation as much as her body, while ignoring all those who walked by his room.
Trella wondered what she would have done when Caldor had finally sent for her, told her to remove her dress, and display herself. She shook her head in anger. Like the other girl, Trella would have obeyed, and later cried herself to sleep, comforted by the older women. Slaves did not resist their masters, no matter what they commanded, and pleasuring a master sexually was expected, as routine a task as washing his clothes or serving his food.
She pushed the dark thoughts away. Instead she recalled last night’s lovemaking, and that memory sent a wave of pleasure through her, a pleasant anticipation of tonight’s intimacy. No, whatever this new life brought would be a definite improvement, and she wouldn’t waste any time complaining about her surroundings. Not with so much to do.
A slave’s duty was to please her master, she reminded herself. She’d accomplished more than that last night and today. Esk kar had unburdened himself, confided in her. He’d also offered her a compliment without realizing it. He’d treated her differently, almost as an equal, something she hadn’t enjoyed since her enslavement. More than that, Esk kar respected her ideas. Uneducated he might be, but he knew the truth when he heard it, no matter who spoke it. So that would be her role from now on. Advisor by day, lover by night.
Last night she’d been a frightened virgin and unsure of herself. Tonight would be different, and she’d start learning how to satisfy Esk kar’s desires, how to keep him aroused and hungry for her body. Her mother had warned her about men and their needs, about how they could lose interest in a woman after a few bouts in bed. Fortunately, her mother had instructed her in the mysteries of the love act. With what she had learned, and what she would soon discover, Trella would keep Esk kar close to her.
Nevertheless, she felt her secret places grow warm at the thought of having him inside her tonight. She might be a slave, but she’d become a woman. She determined to make him desire her, to make herself the most important thing in his life.
But right now Trella needed to pay attention to her other duties. She stood and looked around the room, wondering where to start. Esk kar hadn’t given her any commands. He likely wouldn’t have minded if she sat around all day combing her hair and waiting for his return. The chamber was dirty and unkempt, though she doubted Esk kar or the previous owner noticed such things. That meant work to be done. Trella didn’t plan to live in filth.
She went to the door. Adad glanced up, then smiled. For a moment he reminded her of her brother.
“Adad, I’d like you to get me some things.” She found herself speaking in what her father called her “serious voice,” the tone she used when she wanted something.
“What do you need?”
“A broom, a bucket, and some rags. Then I want you to go and buy some mats, plain ones, three, no, four of them, at least this big.” She held her arms wide apart. “Tell the merchant who they’re for, and that I’ll pay him later. Can you do that for me?”
“I’m not supposed to leave you alone. Esk kar told me…”
“I know what he told you. I promise I’ll stay inside until you return.”
He hesitated, then gave in, aware that Esk kar wouldn’t return for some time. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” He leaned his spear against the doorway and walked off.
Trella smiled. The soldier obeyed her almost as quickly as if Esk kar had given the command. She went back inside, looked at the bed, and decided she might as well start there.
She dragged the heavy frame away from the wall, revealing a mix of trash and debris accumulated beneath it. A fat brown spider scuttled through the pile, unaccustomed to the light. She frowned at the sight of it. It looked large enough to give a nasty bite. A layer of clean sand might once have covered the dirt floor, but over time the topping had vanished.
What remained looked more like soil from the fields.
Adad returned, carrying a broom in one hand and an empty bucket in the other. “I’ll go get the mats.” He moved off at a trot, anxious about leaving her alone.
Trella took the broom and started sweeping the debris toward the door.
As soon as she finished sweeping and smoothing under the bed, she shoved the heavy pallet back into the corner, grunting with the effort. Then she started on the rest of the floor.
She worked steadily, most of the time on her knees, using her hands to scoop and move whatever objects she encountered, tossing all the pebbles and refuse into the bucket. She used her fingers to strain the mix of sand and dirt, and squashed the occasional insect with the heel of her hand.
By the time Adad returned, she’d cleaned the room. Together they moved the table, then set the mats down, one near the bed, one just inside the entrance, and the other two under the table and its rickety benches.
Smoothing the dirt, she made sure the mats lay flat, with no lumps underneath.
Finished at last, Trella examined the room. It looked as clean as she could make it on such short notice, and at least tonight there would be no scraps of food or bits of bone to attract bugs or mice. On her next visit to the market, a copper coin would purchase a cartload of clean sand, enough to re — cover the dirt.
If this were to be their home, she’d have the inner walls recoated with fresh mud, then smoothed and whitewashed. That might get rid of the stale odors that lingered within. That reminded her of the mattress. Only the gods knew when it had last been changed. She’d have that refilled with fresh straw, too.
She looked down at herself and laughed. Covered with dust and grime, she thought half the dirt from the floor now covered her body. She needed a bath. Taking her cloak, she tossed it over her arm, then gathered up the garments purchased earlier and the greasy rag she’d used at the fi re. Bundling them together, she set out toward the river. Adad fell in behind her and had to stretch his legs to keep up with her rapid pace.
Trella enjoyed her newfound freedom. The guard actually made things easier, since she could now go wherever she chose and feel perfectly safe.
She knew the way to the river, and it didn’t take long to reach Orak’s rear gate. They passed through and headed to the left, moving quickly through the crowd. Trella kept a step ahead of Adad, and this time no one noticed her. They passed the jetties where men worked the boats, and soon reached the start of the women’s area, fringed by a few willow trees that lined the riverbank.
“Wait here, Adad. I need to wash Esk kar’s clothes and bathe myself.
Please hold my cloak.”
Adad looked uncomfortable, but complied. By custom, men did not venture too close to the women’s bathing place, though often enough boys or men took their time passing by, laughing and staring at the women.
Trella went to the riverbank, then climbed down to the rocky bank. This late in the day only three people labored there, washing clothes. An elderly matron and her granddaughter seemed to spend more time splashing than cleaning. The remaining woman looked only a few years older than Trella.
A glance back toward Adad showed him standing where she’d left him, about fifty paces away. She took a few steps into the river and ducked beneath the cool water, letting it flow over her entire body. When she came up for air, she turned her back to the bank and pulled her dress up over her head, then held it under the water and rubbed it vigorously.
She cleaned herself, rubbing the cold water all over her body. She finished up by ducking her hair several times, then retrieved her dress, pulling the wet garment over her head and wriggling it down around her body.
Gathering the other garments, she washed them as well. As she finished, the other girl came over to her, moving slowly through the water, her dress bunched up around her waist.
“You are Trella, the new slave of Esk kar?”
Trella examined the young woman. A large bruise covered her left eye and her lower lip was split and swollen. “Yes, I’m Trella. And you are…”
“Shubure. I’m a slave in Noble Drigo’s house. I must finish cleaning my master’s clothing, then return home. His son may summon me to pleasure him again before supper.” She lifted her hand to her face.
Trella had heard stories about Drigo’s son, and felt pity at Shubure’s plight. Trella thanked the gods Nicar, not Drigo, had purchased her. At least in Nicar’s home the master and his sons did not beat their women, not even their slaves. “Why did your master hit you, Shubure?”
Shubure ignored the question as she moved closer. “Tell your master to be wary. Noble Drigo is not happy with Nicar’s choice for captain of the guard.”
A chill went through Trella, not entirely caused by the cold water swirling around her thighs. “What did you hear?”
Shubure moved back to the rocks, picked up a garment from her basket, and dipped it into the water. The girl looked around, to see if anyone was watching. The matron still chattered with the little girl, and only Trella’s guard glanced in their direction.
“Not much. Just Noble Drigo speaking to his son. He said this Esk kar took too much upon himself and needed to be taught a lesson. One he and the other soldiers wouldn’t forget. That’s all.” She shrugged and turned slightly away, concentrating on washing the already clean garment in her hands.
Trella moved her own hands through the water. “Why did he beat you, Shubure?”
The girl turned back to face her, and a shudder passed through Shubure’s body.
“My mother is too ill to work. She doesn’t have any copper to buy food for my brothers and sisters. They’re all hungry. Soon my mother will have to sell them as slaves, as I was, just to keep them fed. So last night, after young Drigo bedded me, I asked if I could have a copper coin or two for my family, to keep them from starving. I promised to work extra hard to please him, to do anything he asked.” Her eyes closed, as if reliving the memory. “He hit me once to shut me up, then again for bothering him with such things.”
A slave could be well treated or badly treated. A hard master, Drigo had put one of his slaves to death a few weeks ago. The whispers said the son was even worse than the father.
Trella had never been beaten at Nicar’s house, not even slapped until the night Esk kar took her away. Yet young Drigo used his fist on Shubure merely for trying to feed her family.
Whatever Shubure’s misfortune, Trella needed to know more about Drigo’s plans. “Stay a moment, Shubure.” Trella turned away from the shore and opened the pouch that still hung around her neck. Copper and silver coins now mixed with Esk kar’s gold. She removed two copper coins from the pouch and reclosed it tightly before turning back. Keeping her hand in the water, she waded closer to Shubure.
“Take these for your mother. If anyone finds them, say you picked them up in the street.” Shubure’s hand met hers underwater. “If you hear anything else about my master, return here tomorrow. I’ll have more coins for you. What hour can you come?”
“An hour after sunrise, Trella… Mistress Trella. I’ll thank the gods for your gift.”
Mistress Trella. For the first time in her life, someone had acknowledged Trella as the head of a household. “It’s little enough, Shubure.
You’d better go, before they wonder why you dally so long and give you another beating.”
Shubure nodded and moved off, slipping the coins inside her dress.
Trella waited, splashing water around her as if she still worked, until Shubure disappeared behind the jetties. Then Trella gathered her garments and climbed up the riverbank.
Walking back toward Adad, she saw his eyes staring at her body, her wet dress outlining her breasts and hips. What would be a disgrace in her father’s house meant nothing now. No one cared about a slave’s clothing or lack of it. Adad finally remembered his manners and looked away as he handed her the cloak. She rubbed her hair vigorously with it for a few moments, then wrapped it gratefully around her body. Carrying the wet clothes in her arms, she started back home, thinking hard about what she’d just heard.
Nicar knew of Drigo’s ambition to become the first man in Orak, to lead the nobles and decide the future of the village. Drigo had pressed that goal more and more in the last few months. But with the barbarians coming, Nicar believed Drigo would leave, removing himself and his ambitions, and solving at least one problem for Nicar.
He wanted the council of nobles to vote to stay and fight. If Drigo abandoned Orak and the barbarians were driven off, he’d find it difficult to reestablish his authority. But if Drigo persuaded the other nobles to leave Orak, Nicar’s authority would be weakened. When they returned to pick up the pieces and rebuild, it would be Drigo wielding the power and influence. He’d take Nicar’s place as the first man in Orak.
But Nicar wielded great influence. If Esk kar proved he had a workable plan, and if Nicar chose to stay and resist, the nobles would likely side with him.
Trella stopped short, so suddenly that Adad bumped into her. They’d passed back through the gate. She stepped away from the center of the lane and leaned up against the closest wall, hugging the wet bundle to her chest and ignoring the looks from those who passed by.
Until now, Trella hadn’t really worried about the consequences of tomorrow’s meeting. If they all stayed and fought, Esk kar would win great honor and be able to establish his own House in Orak. That made it worth the risk, though Esk kar had repeated that he wouldn’t remain unless he thought they could prevail.
If Drigo left and Orak survived, the noble would have lost face and honor, but would’ve saved all his gold, and would soon reestablish his trading routes. Then why would Drigo want to discredit Esk kar’s plan? Surely the arrogant noble would benefit if the village held out, even without his presence.
What Trella had just worked out, Nicar must have reasoned as well.
That’s why he told Esk kar not to worry about Drigo. Even Esk kar, though not politically astute, knew that Drigo’s choice mattered, that it would influence many in Orak.
Perhaps Drigo had a different plan, something Nicar hadn’t thought of.
Trella considered Drigo’s alternatives. They seemed simple enough: go or stay. Leave, taking everything of value with him, or remain, and risk his life and his fortune under Nicar’s orders. The choices seemed straightfor-ward, so clear. Unless Drigo had discovered a third course of action.
She recalled everything she’d heard about Drigo. Ambitious, arrogant and cruel to his servants, miserly with his goods and gold, always seeking more and more gold. But gold, she reminded herself, could be obtained in more ways than just buying and selling. For Drigo, the barbarian invasion might be seen as a blessing from the gods, not the disaster that Nicar foresaw.
And then Trella knew the answer. Knew that she’d guessed Drigo’s plan, something even Nicar had failed to do. She looked at Adad, but then her eyes focused on the sword belted to his waist. She needed to learn something else, just to be sure.
“Come, Adad, we must get back. I must speak with Esk kar.”
Esk kar handed off his horse, then went to the well to wash the dust and horse smell from his body. He looked forward to an hour in bed with Trella. Afterward they’d go to one of Orak’s better inns, one where they could get decent wine and food, a previously unheard — of luxury, before returning to bed.
Entering his room, Esk kar looked about in surprise. Even in the afternoon shadows, the room seemed brighter. He noticed the new flaxen mats that covered half the floor, then saw that the rest of the dirt had been cleaned and brushed evenly. The place looked almost as clean as one of Nicar’s rooms, though the poor furnishings and begrimed walls left much to be desired. The fact that Trella had managed all this in a few short hours whetted his desire. His previous women had cared little for cleanliness.
He’d just hung his sword up when Trella entered, a bundle of damp clothes in her arms. His satisfied mood vanished as soon as he saw her face.
“Master, we need to talk.” She looked toward the open doorway. Adad had gone, his duties done for the day. Another soldier already stood guard outside. She lowered her voice. “Can you send the guard farther away, so we can talk privately?”
The last of Esk kar’s feelings of warmth disappeared. He stepped outside and told the guard to watch the door from beneath the tree, out of earshot. Esk kar returned, shutting the door behind him.
Trella had finished spreading the clean clothes to dry. She came into his arms, putting her face against his chest and squeezing him tight, surprising him with this show of emotion. He felt her body outlined by the damp dress and inhaled the clean river smell from her hair.
Before he could react, she stepped back, took his hand, and led him to the table. They sat facing each other, but she kept hold of his hand.
“Master, I met a girl at the river this afternoon, a slave from Noble Drigo’s house. She had bruises on her face. Drigo’s son had beaten her.
She told me that Drigo wants to ‘put you in your place’ before the meeting tomorrow. I fear Nicar has underestimated Drigo’s intentions.”
A wave of anger went through him at the idea Drigo might interfere with his newfound happiness and prosperity. Then he shrugged. Probably just talk, women’s gossip at the river.
“What can Drigo do, Trella? He can refuse to fight and leave. Or he can stay, and ask that someone else be named captain of the guard. It doesn’t matter to me. I told Nicar I’d deal only with him. If the nobles don’t want to fight, or want someone else for captain of the guard, then you and I will take Gatus and some men and leave.”
“Who else could Drigo put forward as captain?”
Esk kar thought about that. Among the soldiers, only Gatus had enough experience, and he didn’t want the job. Gatus hated Drigo and his gang, and wanted nothing to do with them. He’d been ready to leave before Eskkar talked him out of it last night.
Drigo had plenty of men, all of them carrying swords as they strutted through the village. Their leader, Naxos, Drigo’s personal bodyguard, was dirty and crude. Neither Nicar nor any of the others would entrust their lives and fortunes to Naxos, even if Drigo suggested him.
“I don’t know of anyone else in Orak. Unless there’s someone here I don’t know about, someone who’s fought the barbarians and led men in battle.”
“How many soldiers does Noble Drigo have, master?”
“They’re not soldiers,” he corrected, annoyed at the usual villager confusion between hired guards and trained fighting men. “They’re big and carry swords, but mostly they bully the farmers and tradesmen, men weaker than themselves or unarmed. They’re brave when there’s enough of them, but not one of them could kill the youngest Alur Meriki warrior.”
She said nothing, and it took a moment before he realized he hadn’t answered her question. “Drigo has plenty of guards, more than the other nobles. Maybe nine or ten.”
The determined expression on her face made him consider his words.
Each of the nobles hired his own guards. Paid better than the soldiers, they tended to drink and congregate among themselves. They looked down on the soldiers, and the soldiers had always given way to them. “I think Drigo may have hired a few more in the last few weeks.”
“And the other nobles, how many men do they have?”
Esk kar had already started down that path. Each of the nobles had at least seven or eight armed men. Even without Nicar’s guards, that meant the others outnumbered the thirty remaining soldiers. The last of his feelings of contentment vanished.
“Would those other guards follow Drigo’s man, this Naxos?”
Esk kar took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Trella. They’d do as their masters told them, but without orders… they’d probably listen to Drigo’s man.”
“Tomorrow morning I’ll go back to the river. Drigo’s slave said she might return an hour after sunup. You won’t meet with Nicar until midmorning, and perhaps she’ll be able to tell us something more.”
“If she doesn’t get her throat slit for telling tales on her master,” Esk kar said. He’d heard the same stories about Drigo’s household.
“I gave her two copper coins for what she told me and promised her more tomorrow, master. If you approve.”
The polite request made him smile. “Give her a handful, if she learns anything useful.” Esk kar certainly had changed his ideas about gold overnight. “I’ll need to think about what Drigo and Naxos might do in the next few days.”
She shook her head. “Tomorrow, master. You don’t have two or three days. Whatever Drigo plans, it will be tomorrow.” She squeezed his hand across the table. “What do you think he might try?”
He looked at her, wondering how she had gotten him so worried over a few chance words. If he’d heard the same words himself, he might have laughed them off or ignored them. Trella’s perception gave them weight.
“I was surprised when Nicar sent for me. There must not have been anyone else he could turn to. If I’d said last night that Orak couldn’t be defended, Nicar would have given up the idea of resisting.” That much seemed true enough, he decided. “If I were gone, then…”
“Or if you were dead,” Trella said. “Then Drigo could take charge of the soldiers, get rid of the ones he didn’t need or couldn’t control, and Orak would be his.”
“What would that gain him? The barbarians would still come, and he still wouldn’t fight them.”
“The barbarians won’t be here for months. If Drigo controls the sixty or so soldiers and guards, plus any more that he might hire, then who could stop him from doing whatever he wants? Taking whatever he wants?
He could plunder the entire village, take the loot across the river, then return when the barbarians left. With enough men and gold he could rebuild Orak as his own. He wouldn’t need Nicar or any of the other nobles. He’d rule Orak alone.”
She waited a moment, but he didn’t say anything. “Drigo didn’t count on you, didn’t expect you to convince Nicar. Now even the villagers think of you as the one man not afraid of the barbarians. I don’t think Noble Drigo likes that.”
Esk kar’s anger rose up. He wanted Trella to be wrong. Curse these nobles and their schemes. Now he was threatened by them. He struck the table with his fist, saw Trella’s eyes go wide. He got up and went to the door. Opening it, he called out to the guard. “Find someone to fetch Gatus right away. Then get back here to your post.”
Trella’s hand touched his arm. She’d followed him to the door. “Send for Adad also. You should keep him close by tonight. He was with me today and saw me talk to the girl. He might mention to someone that I spoke to one of Drigo’s women.”
Her suggestion annoyed him. Esk kar knew Trella had gone to the river and a guard had accompanied her. But he would never have thought of what that guard might do or say in his off — duty hours. He raised his voice and called after the already moving guard. “Bring Adad back with you! I want him guarding my quarters tonight.”
He closed the door so hard it shook, then stepped over to the hook where his sword hung. He belted it around his waist. The gesture might look foolish, but he felt better with the sword at his hip. The room seemed to close in around him, the air close and stale. He had to get out. “It’s almost dark, Trella. Stay inside for the rest of the night.”
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. I need to think by myself for a moment.” In truth he felt himself coming under her influence, doing what she wished instead of making his own decisions. He jerked the door open and went outside.
He walked over to the tree, then leaned against it. The scent of roasting chickens hung in the air, floating in from the street.
Esk kar had lost his appetite. He’d wanted to walk with Trella into the village tonight, showing her off to everyone, then stopping at one of the inns for wine and dinner. His hand clenched the sword hilt in frustration.
Now he’d stay here, afraid to leave his room, worried about a knife in his back. He didn’t fear any of Drigo’s hired bullies. Not alone. But three or four together could bring down any man. The urge to leave Orak swept over him. Take Trella and go. There was plenty of Nicar’s gold left. In moments he could be on a horse. The guards at the gate would open it for him, one way or another.
Esk kar swore a string of oaths at Nicar, the nobles, Ariamus, and especially the villagers who’d distrusted and hated him behind his back for years, and who now wanted him to save their cowardly lives and miserable property. He despised them as much as they feared him. To them he was just an outcast, a tame barbarian, but one who would still turn on them if given a chance.
He should go, leave Orak. Nothing good would come of staying, trying to fight the Alur Meriki, gambling his life on the will of these dirt — eaters. He’d take Trella and… she didn’t want to go. She hadn’t answered when he’d spoken about leaving. There’d be nothing for her, a noble — born girl, accompanying a soldier selling his sword. He didn’t even know if she could ride. Few enough women knew how to handle a horse. He swore again. And he couldn’t leave her, not after last night.
The guard returned, accompanied by an annoyed Adad, interrupted at his supper. The two men slowed when they saw their captain under the tree. He stepped toward them, his hand on the sword hilt.
“Stay together and stay alert. Don’t leave your post for any reason. Call out if you see anything suspicious. There may be trouble tonight. I’ll have more men join you later.”
He brushed past, ignoring their questioning looks, and went inside.
In the darkening room, he could just make out Trella sitting at the table.
Without food, she had nothing to do.
Esk kar closed the door, went over to the fireplace, and began building a fire. The task gave him something to occupy his hands while he kept thinking. Finally he got the fire going and added more wood than necessary. He carried a burning stick back to the table and lit the new lamp she’d purchased.
Trella hadn’t said anything. When the lamp added its light to the fi relight, he turned toward her. “Can you ride a horse?”
“No, master. But I’m sure I can learn.”
She kept her voice even, but he heard the disappointment. She knew what the question implied. Esk kar felt disappointed, too, but for a different reason. He’d taught enough dirt — eaters how to ride. Even for an apt pupil with strong hands, it took at least a week to stiffen thigh and leg muscles properly, maybe longer. Assuming that Trella didn’t fall off and break something. Still, she could always walk while she learned.
A knock sounded on the door as Gatus pushed it open and stepped inside. “What’s going on? Why…” he saw the sword on Esk kar’s hip.
“Shut the door,” Esk kar said. “We need to talk.”
Gatus sat down, his eyes moved from Esk kar to Trella and back. He’d seen the extra sentry standing guard outside. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing yet. Trella overheard something at the river. Drigo’s men may try something, maybe to beat or kill me. It seems Noble Drigo is unhappy with Nicar’s choice for captain of the guard, and doesn’t want to wait for tomorrow’s meeting.” Esk kar turned to Trella. “Tell him everything.”
She related what she’d learned at the river and added her ideas of what Drigo meant to do.
Gatus sat there, chewing on his lip, taking his time while he thought.
He turned toward Esk kar. “What will you do? I don’t plan on taking orders from that fool Naxos or even Drigo, not that they’d want me around.
Maybe it’s time to forget all this silly talk and leave Orak.”
Moments ago, that would have been what Esk kar wanted to hear. But he’d watched Trella as she related the story. He knew she wanted to stay, wanted him to stay, though she hadn’t said it. Suddenly he didn’t want to disappoint her, didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t meet Drigo’s challenge.
“No, Gatus. I’m going to stay and fight.” The words came out almost without thinking. “I won’t let Drigo’s bullies chase me off, not as long as Nicar wants me for captain of the guard. That is, if you’ll stay with me.”
Esk kar hated to ask any man for help, but he had no choice. “I’m not sure which of the men we can trust. You’ve lived here for years and know them better than anyone, certainly better than me.”
“Most of ’em hate those guards,” Gatus said, scratching his beard, “but there might be a few fools eager to earn Drigo’s silver.” He took a breath.
“But there won’t be more than three or four. If they try something, when will it be?”
“It has to be tonight, Gatus, or tomorrow at Nicar’s house. Either before the meeting or after it, I’d guess.” He turned to Trella. “What do you think?” Those words surprised him, too. He was treating her as an equal partner in the planning.
“Master, if anyone attacks you after Nicar has confirmed you captain of the guard, it will be taken as a challenge to Nicar. The other nobles won’t like such a thing. But if Drigo can humiliate you before the meeting, then the nobles will not be eager to give you their trust, no matter who’s at fault, not with their lives and property at stake.”
“Well, that seems simple enough,” Gatus said. “We just take all the men to Nicar’s, and if anyone gets in our way…”
“The nobles might take that as a threat, Gatus, showing up at Nicar’s house with thirty armed men.”
Trella had voiced her opinion unasked, but by now neither Esk kar nor Gatus cared that a slave girl was giving them advice. She went on before they could say anything. “And there must not be bloodshed, nothing to make the nobles think they’ll be risking their lives at your hands.”
Esk kar tightened his fist on the table, but restrained the impulse to smash it down again. He’d faced death in battle often enough, but Drigo had more than enough gold to hire a dozen men willing to take their chances. The thought that a pack of curs would be at his throat sent a wave of anger through him, though he kept his voice calm. “Blood will flow, Trella. Unless we leave.”
“Blood in the streets will not give the nobles confidence in you, master.
Can’t you find another way?”
“Damn the gods.” This time it was Gatus who pounded the table with his fist. “My wife was happy to hear we were staying, even if it meant a fight with the barbarians. If I leave now… if we leave with you, Eskkar, there’ll be women, children, carts, animals, a regular little caravan. I’d hoped we could stay.”
So he had three choices, Esk kar thought. Leave alone with Trella, lead a group of soldiers with their wives and children, or stay and fight both the nobles and the barbarians. Well, the time for prudence had passed.
He couldn’t admit to being worried in front of Trella and Gatus, and he wouldn’t take back his words. “We’re staying, Gatus, if you will.”
Gatus snorted. “Put it on my shoulders, will you? I’m too old to go wandering about the countryside, not while there’s a chance to stay here.”
“Then we’ll fight,” Esk kar said. “We just need to have Nicar confirm me as captain of the guard. After that, we can take care of Drigo.”
Esk kar felt better now that he’d decided. “Gatus, make sure no one leaves the barracks tonight, and keep a dozen men awake and ready.”
“Yes, Captain.” Gatus stood and gave Trella a grin. “You’ve earned your keep already, girl. You may have saved my head as well as your master’s from being broken. Try to keep him out of trouble for the rest of the night.” He turned to Esk kar. “Will you still meet with the men tomorrow?”
“Yes, right before Nicar’s meeting, as we planned.”
“And what are you going to do tomorrow?”
“I’ll think of something before then,” Esk kar said.
He walked Gatus outside, watching the old soldier disappear into the darkness. Esk kar leaned against the house, thinking about what the last few hours had brought. For the last fifteen years, he’d been on his own, making his own decisions and living with the consequences. He’d survived, thanks to his fighting skills, but there wasn’t much more that he could add to that accomplishment.
Now he was listening to a girl, someone trained to look beyond the obvious, to see what he would likely have missed. More than listening, he and Gatus were starting to rely on her. Esk kar had never given heed to any woman’s advice before, and now he was seeking it out. Part of him wanted to ignore her words, to make his own decisions, even mistakes, if it came to that.
That would be foolish, he knew. More than that, it might get him killed.
He hadn’t survived this long by ignoring the truth. Realistically, if Trella hadn’t put the pieces together, he would probably have walked unaware into whatever Drigo’s men had planned for tomorrow.
So he might even owe her his life. Esk kar didn’t like admitting such a debt, but no warrior could ignore such an obligation. Between her and Nicar, his life had changed. Nicar’s summons had offered him a future.
Now Trella’s advice might offer even more. At the very least he owed her the chance to help. He still wanted her, wanted her even more every hour, and if keeping her with him meant having to swallow his pride and accept her advice, then he would do it. She’d saved his life once. Maybe she could do it again. After all, things couldn’t get much worse. Perhaps the time had come to try a different way.
Esk kar took one last look at the guards, then went back inside, closing and securing the door behind him. She still sat there, outlined by the remnants of the fire, waiting. Waiting for him to decide not only his fate, but hers.
Nothing mattered, he realized. He needed to be with her, keep her for his own. Everything else meant nothing, including his foolish pride.
“We will think of something, won’t we?”
Trella awoke before dawn, slipped out of bed and dressed. The night had passed uneventfully. Esk kar sent out for a roasted chicken, bread, nuts, and wine, and they’d eaten the dinner with the door closed. The fresh chicken had been well cooked, though neither noticed it. She’d filled his wine cup but refused any herself. When he drank half the cup, she watched as he refilled it with water, leaving the rest of the wine untouched. She hadn’t said anything, but felt grateful her master knew better than to drink too much on such a night.
Gatus came back twice, once to report everything in order and men in place, and the second time to grab a hunk of chicken and tell Esk kar to get some sleep. Before retiring, Esk kar blocked the entrance with the table and benches, and he’d placed his sword and knife next to the bed.
In the darkness he held her in his arms, but didn’t speak, and she knew he was thinking about tomorrow. To her surprise, Esk kar soon came up with a plan for handling the guards. Dangerous to be sure, but perhaps a way to avoid bloodshed.
When nothing more remained to discuss, Trella moved astride him, feeling a thrill at her boldness. She kissed him again and again, then leaned down and rubbed herself against him, moving her breasts slowly over his chest and stomach, then to his lips and back again. Suddenly she felt him inside her, heard herself moaning at the wave of pleasure. She kept her movements slow, enjoying the new sensations that passed through her, holding him back until he cried out, both of them forgetting all about the world outside.
When the lovemaking ended, he’d fallen asleep almost at once, a deep sleep that permitted no worries to interrupt it. She slept lightly, waking often, waiting for the dawn. Today she wanted to be at the river early.
At the first sign of daylight, she woke Esk kar and they opened the door.
Nothing greeted them except two tired guards standing at their post. Moments later Gatus arrived, yawning and carrying a long wooden trencher filled with bread and cheese, breakfast for all of them, including the men who’d watched Esk kar’s door all night. Afterward, Trella went with Gatus into the barracks and offered to clean some of the soldiers’ garments.
They filled a basket with as much as she could carry. She’d hoped Adad would accompany her back to the river, but he’d already gone to get some sleep, tired after his all — night vigil, so Gatus chose another man to accompany her.
At that early hour, only a few women had come to wash their household’s clothes, but more would arrive soon. The women recognized her immediately. They gathered around while she worked, introducing themselves, eager to hear the latest gossip from someone who might actually know something.
Trella reassured them, but kept busy with her washing. Eventually they took the hint and moved away. Trella found herself washing the same tunic over and over before she saw Shubure approaching.
Unnoticed now, Trella moved farther downriver, wading out into deeper water that reached nearly to her waist. Even so, Shubure did not come near until her own washing was well begun. This time Trella’s eyes studied the shore and the other women, but no one was paying any attention to them, only the bored guard whose gaze wandered up and down the river.
As Shubure drew near, Trella let the tunic slip from her hands. The current took it straight to Shubure, who caught it up, then handed it back to Trella. As their hands touched, Trella let three copper coins slip into the girl’s hand. Shubure’s eyes looked down for a moment. Then she turned slightly away, searching those along the river bank.
“Your master meets with Nicar at midmorn. Drigo has ordered Naxos to keep Esk kar from Nicar’s house. They want to embarrass him and Nicar before the meeting, in front of the other nobles. If he resists, Naxos will kill him. Naxos will be the new captain of the guard.”
So it would happen this morning. Trella turned away, so no one could see them talking. “Did you learn anything else?”
“No, nothing. Except Drigo said he will rule in Orak within a few days.
He and his son are already making plans. They expect to gather much gold before the barbarians arrive.”
“I thank you for your news, Shubure.”
“My mother and I thank you for your coins, Mistress Trella. She’ll be able to feed our family for a few days.”
“If your mother can be trusted to keep her tongue, I’ll send more coins to her. If you learn anything more, you tell her and she can tell me.” It would certainly be easier and safer for Shubure to meet with her mother.
Shubure nodded. She moved away as new arrivals splashed closer to them, eager to speak with Trella. But Trella gathered up the wet clothes and waded carefully back to the shore. She lifted the heavy bundle in her arms, the wet dress clinging to her legs, as she walked back toward the gate.
The guard followed, no doubt watching her figure.
She found Esk kar waiting for her outside the barracks. He followed her inside and closed the door.
“Did she come?”
“Yes.” She repeated what Shubure had said. Surprisingly, the news seemed to calm him. He went to the table and sat down, his brow fur-rowed. She spread the wet garments across the bed, then sat down across from him. “Will you keep to your plan, master?”
He looked up, his face grim. “Oh, yes. I’ll take care of Naxos.”
She knew what he meant. “If you kill Drigo’s servant, he’ll hire someone else to murder you. He won’t tolerate the insult. And the nobles…”
“If Naxos’s death is too bloody for them, Trella, then we’ll move on. I won’t spend my days wondering when Drigo’s assassin will find me.”
Trella studied him carefully. Not a hint of worry in the man. He seemed relaxed and assured, no trace of last night’s doubts. She realized how different he was from the merchants and traders she’d grown up with. A warrior, he needed only to know what to do. He would work out the how, and once begun, he would be like an arrow launched from a bowstring-no hesitation and no turning back.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
He smiled at her, a real smile full of warmth and caring. “Perhaps. I’ve been thinking about the meeting. I still need to talk to the men. But I think I will need your help.”
She smiled back and reached her hand out to his across the table. “Tell me what to do.”