The same dawn that greeted Eskkar’s victory found Trella lying in her bed, awake and already thinking about Korthac. Yesterday afternoon the council had accepted Korthac’s petition, and his gold, to establish a trading house in Akkad. Though he’d complained loudly enough last week when given the terms, he’d handed over the forty gold coins with scarcely a comment. To everyone’s surprise, he offered up more than the coins, presenting a large peridot crystal to each of the seven council members. A small gift, he explained, to express his appreciation, show the value of his goods, and encourage further purchases from his stock.
Each of the gemstones glittered even in the dimly lit council room, the dark green crystals tinged with a hint of yellow. Trella’s peridot stood out in quality from the other fine stones, much larger and with a deeper shade of green enhanced by the well-polished surface.
Trella would have preferred not to accept the costly bribe. But even she could not go against the looks and words of the other council members, who quickly took their gifts as they gave thanks to Korthac. Hers, of course, would be sold to help pay Eskkar’s expenses.
Gifts for council members were nothing new, but since they all had wealth in their own right, they had little need for outright bribery. No, Trella recognized this more subtle offering. Korthac wanted friends in high places, influential friends who could assist him in the future, in a way that she still couldn’t fathom.
Sleeping on it hadn’t helped, and this morning the puzzle remained unresolved. That meant more positive steps would be needed to uncover the mystery. After breakfast, she waited for Annok-sur to return. Every morning, Annok-sur walked the village, giving those with information a chance to meet with her, away from their homes or places of labor. Some women dared not venture far from their husband’s sight. By moving about, Annok-sur gave these women, free or slave, the opportunity to pass along what their men said or did the previous night. More than once, Trella had garnered useful information through this informal network. When Annok-sur returned, midmorning had just passed.
Alone in the workroom, Trella fingered the gold coin that hung around her neck as she faced Annok-sur across the table. “Have we learned anything further, anything new, about Korthac?”
“Only that he’s ready, today or tomorrow, to purchase a place to live.
He’s looked at a few houses, but he’s still staying at the inn and …”
“Nothing from his men, nothing from the women they’ve approached, people he’s dealt with?”
“No, nothing like that. His men keep to themselves and stay close to the inn. Twice he’s brought women back there for a few hours, to entertain his followers, but I haven’t found any woman who’ll admit to pleasuring him.” Annok-sur shrugged. “Perhaps he prefers men or boys, though I’ve heard nothing of that, either.”
“It’s been more than ten days, and we still know little about him, except he possesses a good deal of wealth and pays well.” Trella reached out and touched the peridot that rested on the table between them. “We need to learn more.”
“You still think there’s something amiss with him, something in his past?”
“It’s not his past that worries me, Annok-sur. It’s his plans for the future. He’s hiding something, I’m sure of it. I’ve been thinking, perhaps Tammuz can discover what it is. Can you bring him tonight?”
Tammuz, barely into his sixteenth season, had ridden as a camp boy with Eskkar at the start of the campaign against the Alur Meriki. His one and only battle had shattered his arm, and he’d nearly died from his wounds. The fight also ended his dream of becoming a soldier. Before joining Eskkar’s fighters, Tammuz had survived as a petty thief, but now even that life would be denied him. With little to look forward to except life as a beggar, the young man had been devastated.
Trella, always searching for friends and allies no matter what their station in life, had devised a plan for him. Four months earlier, she and Eskkar gave Tammuz enough silver to set himself up in a small alehouse in the worst part of Akkad, one catering to the poorest and most desperate inhabitants. Acting under the cover of his former profession, Tammuz joined Trella’s network of spies, keeping his ears and eyes open for any plots against Eskkar’s House. Gatus provided an old veteran, injured while training for the siege, to help Tammuz run the establishment, which soon became more a den of petty thieves than alehouse. Tammuz flourished better than Trella hoped, and had already supplied some minor but useful information.
“I’ll escort him past the guards,” Annok-sur said. “You’ll want Gatus here as well, in case Tammuz needs anything from him. Midnight would be the best time.”
Aside from Eskkar, Gatus, and Annok-sur, no one knew of Tammuz’s new role. Even the founding Hawk Clan soldiers had already dismissed the memory of the crippled youth; warriors formed the Hawk Clan, and none of them expected Eskkar to remember his campfire promise to an insignificant boy. Since the day he left Eskkar’s compound, Tammuz had returned only once, at night and with his face concealed by a cloak. Only Gatus or Annok-sur could vouchsafe an unknown person past the house guards.
“No, two hours before midnight,” Trella said. “I want you to bring Zenobia here at midnight.”
“Ah, then it’s time to help her establish a House?”
Trella sighed. “It’s past time, I think. I wish we’d helped her before, but there was no time. Now we’ll have to move faster.”
Annok-sur laughed. “It won’t take Zenobia long to get noticed.”
Trella could laugh at that. “Let’s hope not.”
That night Gatus accompanied Tammuz and Annok-sur into the workroom, where two lamps burned, an extravagance that lent weight to the importance of the meeting. Trella always paid close attention to people’s faces when they spoke, and if that required burning extra oil, she didn’t consider it a waste. She rose and bowed respectfully to the young man, reminding herself not to count his seasons, though he was much the same age as she. As Eskkar reminded her, you don’t treat someone who’s killed an enemy in battle as a boy.
“Greetings, Tammuz,” she said. “Thank you for coming.”
Tammuz pushed back the cloak that hid his face, worn more to mask his identity than keep out the nighttime chill, and bowed as well. Straightening up, he pushed light brown hair away from his face, revealing a broad smile. “My thanks to you, Lady Trella. It’s good to see you again.”
Trella returned the smile, remembering how Eskkar had saved Tammuz’s life, then placed him in her care. When Tammuz smiled, he looked like a young boy, innocent, though she recognized his growing maturity.
“Come,” she said, “sit down, and tell me what you’ve been doing. But first, let me look at your arm.”
The left arm had been broken in two places, and, out on the battlefield, none of Eskkar’s men knew how to set the break properly. The ride back to Akkad had almost killed the boy. Tammuz lost most of the use of his left hand, and now the arm itself seemed shrunken, bent, and hanging at an odd angle. But the young man lived, and Trella knew that life, even as a cripple, was preferable to death.
She ignored Tammuz’s embarrassment as she came around the table and helped him remove his cloak before taking his hand. “Let me see you move your fingers,” she ordered. “Have you kept to the healer’s advice?”
“I have, Lady Trella, though I don’t think it much matters. He says… he says my arm will never be straight, and there’s nothing more he can do.
If it weren’t for you and Captain Eskkar…” His voice trailed off as he lowered his head. “There’s no work for a man with one arm.”
Trella had not only nursed him back to health and made sure the healers did their best, but she’d given him a reason to live. More than that, she showed him a different way to fight, a different kind of warfare that went on each day in the shadows, where men whispered over cups of ale.
“Don’t forget you are Hawk Clan, Tammuz. We are always proud of you, and you will never lack for friends.” Trella lifted her hand to include Gatus and Annok-sur, sitting quietly at the other table. “Besides, what you do is more important than soldiering, remember that.”
“I try to remember, Lady Trella, though it is hard sometimes.”
“As is your work. You are our eyes and ears among the poor, the thieves, the prostitutes, and the murderers. With Akkad growing in size each day, there are many desperate men, men who will steal, cheat, and kill. More such will arrive in the coming months. We need someone who can mingle with these people to learn the things Eskkar needs to know. Do you have enough silver? Do you need more?”
“No, Lady Trella, not yet. I collect a share of what my customers steal, in return for letting them hide themselves and their goods in the alehouse. And I resell a few items myself, mostly small things that can’t be traced back to me. Sometimes customers disappear, leaving their goods behind. It’s enough to keep food on the table and ale jars filled. ”
Part of the arrangement with Eskkar and Trella was that Tammuz need only report on things that concerned Eskkar’s House. Trella did not care about petty crimes or cut purses. Nevertheless, everyone knew that when the wealthy wanted a private murder done, they often sought out and hired desperate men, like those who frequented Tammuz’s establishment.
“If you need more silver, send word through Annok-sur or Gatus.”
She pulled the cloak back over his arm and returned to her chair. Leaning forward, she focused her attention on Tammuz. Along with his responses, she would examine every expression, gesture, even the way he sat. Very little escaped her eyes and ears, and she knew how to take stock of what she heard and observed. “And now I have something different to ask of you. It may be dangerous.”
Tammuz shrugged. “I’ve learned much about danger in the last few months.”
“Still, I want you to be extra careful in this. Do you know of Korthac, the Egyptian?”
“Everyone knows of him.”
“I want to learn more about him, especially more about his men. It’s possible you may be able to find things out, overhear something, notice something.” Trella told him what she’d learned about Korthac, and what she suspected.
“Don’t underestimate him, Tammuz. He has sharp wits and knows how to lead men. He may have been a soldier in Egypt, possibly a leader of soldiers. Our spies have learned nothing about him, his men, or his plans, so do not think this will be easy. You must not let him be aware of your interest. Anything you can discover, even some small bit of gossip, might be useful. This is a challenge worthy of the Hawk Clan.”
“When I see the Hawk Clan walking the streets, their heads held high
… sometimes, Lady Trella, I don’t feel like a Hawk Clan.”
“You are Hawk Clan, Tammuz. I know how you all swore an oath to help each other, to fight to the death if necessary.” Eskkar had described the horrific fighting, and the pact the survivors had espoused; he repeated the oath for her, depicted the ceremony, the wind blowing through the dunes and the fire casting its light on each man’s face as they swore binding vows to each other. No man could vouch such words and ever think of breaking his pledge while he drew breath.
“You, of course, were unconscious or delirious most of the time, but they swore for you just the same. And remember, Tammuz, someday there will be much more to the Hawk Clan than simple fighting. In the next few years, there will be more than just battles to be fought.”
At their last meeting, Eskkar had reminded Tammuz that the binding oath extended both ways. He would always be a Hawk Clan, a true brother warrior to Eskkar and his clan.
“Now it is time to speak of other things. Have you thought about taking a wife?”
Tammuz’s mouth fell open in surprise at the odd question. “A wife
… why… who would want to be with a cripple?”
“You are old enough, and you own an alehouse,” Trella said, ignoring his question. “That makes you a man of substance. Annok-sur thinks you can use some help, someone you can trust, and Gatus agrees. I’ve picked out a slave girl for you. She’s only a season or two older than you. If she proves agreeable and dutiful, we can free her for marriage. If you’re not pleased with her for any reason, you can return her to me.”
Gatus, watching and listening from a stool placed against the wall, couldn’t repress a chuckle. “You should see your face, Tammuz. A woman isn’t the worst thing in the world… at least not all the time.”
Tammuz looked at Gatus, then back to Trella. “I don’t know what to say…”
“Then please me in this, and give her a chance. En-hedu is well suited to you, Tammuz, and has her wits about her. She is strong enough to work hard and free you for your other duties. She needs to be treated well; her previous owner drank too much wine and beat her often. You must be gentle with her, and patient, until she forgets her former master. She is not beautiful, but I think she will be loyal, especially if you treat her with respect. I’ve spoken to her several times, and told her about you.”
Trella leaned back in her chair, feeling the child move within her.
“Would you consider taking her?”
“Lady Trella, if you think it best, but… I’ve never been with a woman, and she might think my arm…”
“Bring her in, Annok-sur,” Trella said. “Tell her nothing about the Hawk Clan, Tammuz. That’s to remain our secret, for now at least. Other than that, you can tell her anything. And don’t worry about what you know or don’t know. She will guide you through Ishtar’s mystery.”
A few moments later the door creaked open and Annok-sur led a tall, sturdy young woman wearing a modest and patched shift into the workroom. Brown hair framed a plain but pleasant enough face, except for her nose, broken and never straightened properly afterward. Once again Trella stood, a sign of respect especially important to a slave, and Tammuz followed her example.
“En-hedu, this is Tammuz, your new master. You will obey him as if he were your husband. He needs your help, so I ask that you do all you can to assist him.”
The girl looked at Tammuz shyly, showing a hint of apprehension at meeting a new master. She bowed awkwardly, then dropped her eyes to the floor. Tammuz seemed at a loss for words.
The sight touched one of Trella’s vivid memories. She remembered a night not that long ago when she had been handed over, still crying, to her new master. Fear had rushed over her, fear of the unknown. That was the emotion a slave felt the most, fear of the stranger who had the power of life and death over you. Trella walked over to En-hedu, took her hand, and placed it in Tammuz’s good hand.
“Be good to En-hedu, Tammuz.” Trella looked at Gatus, who nodded and put his arm around Tammuz’s shoulders.
“Time to let Trella get her rest,” Gatus said with a yawn. “I’ll take you back to the alehouse.”
By the time Trella finished with the chamber pot, midnight approached, and she had only a few moments to wait before Annok-sur pushed open the door and guided Zenobia into the room. Trella rose as Zenobia approached the table. Once again, the simple gesture had its effect.
Throwing back her hood, Zenobia bowed very low, as Annok-sur closed the door behind them. Now they could talk privately, three women discussing things men should never hear.
“I thank you for coming, Zenobia,” Trella said. “You are well?”
A woman of perhaps twenty-five seasons, Zenobia had deep black hair, large brown eyes, and a round face offering fine, delicate features.
Trella remembered how Zenobia had looked months ago, wearing a rough shift and with smudges of dirt covering her face. Frightened and bearing marks of ill treatment, Zenobia had done everything she could to make herself look unattractive. An unprotected, beautiful woman would have been quickly taken into some man’s house, never to emerge. Zenobia needed a benefactor, somebody to protect her and make sure she was not enslaved again. Trella had provided that protection.
Zenobia came from a land far to the east and had traveled many weeks before arriving at the village. She hadn’t been in Akkad long, arriving only a few days before the siege of Akkad began. Shortly after her arrival, she had met Trella by chance during one of her walks. Zenobia’s story had been both sad and unfortunate, but it created yet one more opportunity for Trella.
Raised as a pleasure slave since childhood, Zenobia had grown skillful at satisfying men. She’d pleased one of her patrons so much that he bought her and set her free. Despite his feelings for Zenobia, the patron saw a chance for gain and decided to establish his own pleasure house in the bountiful lands to the west. With Zenobia’s help, he had purchased three slave girls to help launch the business, hired a small caravan of guards and animals, and set forth, determined to reach Akkad.
They journeyed for over a month, crossing the eastern mountains, and would have reached Akkad in a few more days. However, the patron had become thick with wine once too often and abused his guards. Tired of his ill treatment, they plotted with one of the local bandits. Together they attacked the caravan and killed the patron and his servants before turning their attentions to looting the pack animals and enjoying the women.
By then Zenobia had escaped in the darkness, running for her life, leaving the other girls to their fate. Morning found her miles away, having lost all her possessions except for a few silver coins sewn into her dress. It had taken her three days to walk to Akkad, avoiding the roads for the fi rst two of those days for fear she would encounter the murderers or new robbers. A woman alone, especially an attractive one, would be at the mercy of anyone she met.
She reached Akkad in safety. Without a patron, Zenobia found work in one of the taverns, cleaning tables and providing sex to customers, and splitting her fees with the innkeeper. Encountering Trella one afternoon in the marketplace, Zenobia had impulsively told her tale, and the captain’s slave had immediately sensed an opportunity.
Trella gave Zenobia a few copper coins and told her to find a decent inn where she could sleep safely at night. It hadn’t taken Trella long to figure out how Zenobia could become an ally, assuming any of them survived the barbarians besieging the city. From time to time, she sent Annok-sur to give Zenobia more copper and to tell her to be patient a little while longer.
The siege had ended more than two months ago. Now the time had arrived.
“Zenobia,” Trella began, “I’ve thought a great deal about you and your plight. It occurs to me that we could be of great help to each other. To serve my husband, I need someone who can gather information from the rich and powerful in Akkad. With your experience and skills, many men would whisper their secrets to you. If you are willing, I can provide protection for you and help you open a house of pleasure here in Akkad.”
Zenobia’s eyes went wide at the prospect as doubts rushed to her lips.
“Mistress Trella… is such a thing possible? To furnish a pleasure house with trained women would take much gold, and a strong man would be needed to oversee such an establishment. And there are the other brothels and alehouses to compete with.”
“I am not talking about just another brothel, Zenobia. Nor will there be any competition. I want you to establish the finest pleasure house in the land, and fi ll it with the most expensive women and the fi nest furnishings.
I have a strong protector in mind, and he can provide men to guard the house and your women.”
“Who would this protector be, Mistress Trella?”
“Gatus, the captain of the guard, will be the official owner of the house, Zenobia. He will provide a soldier or two to keep order, as well as a scribe to record all the profits and expenses. He will take one-tenth of the profits, and I will take another four-tenths.” She watched Zenobia’s eyes grow wider. “The rest would be yours alone. There will be no man to take your share.”
“But, mistress, much gold is needed to start such a business. A large house would have to be found. Girls must be recruited and trained, furnishings bought. Fine wine and exotic foods must be available. There is much that…”
“I’m glad you understand how difficult it will be, Zenobia. But I have considered all these things as well. To start, I will loan you twenty gold coins, more than enough to buy a good-sized house and furnish it properly. It will probably take another ten coins before you are fully established, especially if you begin your search for girls at the slave market. I’m sure there are plenty of women in Akkad who would be willing to work for you in the beginning-and for very little.”
Trella paused for a moment, to make sure Zenobia understood her words. “If more gold is needed and all is proceeding well, it will be provided.
Six months from now, you will begin repaying all the gold loaned to you at the rate of three gold coins each month. That is in addition to our regular profits. You will have to work very hard to make sure you are successful, and there are other conditions as well. Are you interested, Zenobia?”
The woman’s head bobbed up and down with excitement. “Yes, of course, mistress, I am very interested. What else must I pay?”
“You need pay nothing further. If you work hard and the house is successful, you should be able to repay all of the loans within two years. We would charge you no interest on the loan, Zenobia.” Again she paused to let that information sink in. “You would be required to train the girls, teach them the love arts, and make sure they learn how to please their customers. Can you do that?”
“Oh, yes, Mistress Trella, I have been well trained myself, and I’ve trained new girls for many years.”
“There is one more thing, Zenobia, and this is the most important.”
Trella shifted her position on the chair to look directly into the woman’s eyes. “Your establishment must be the best house of pleasure in Akkad. It must be the one place where all the rich and powerful men come to amuse themselves. They will come for your women, they will drink too much wine, and they will talk about many things. You will instruct your girls to report all that they hear only to you, and you will pass it all on to Annok-sur or myself. And you must do more than just listen. You and two or three of your most trustworthy women must learn to extract as many secrets as possible. You will reward those girls according to how much information they gather.”
Zenobia opened her mouth, but Trella continued on, her voice harder now. “That is why we do this, to gather information, not because we wish to make a profit in a business arrangement. You must make certain that no one learns of this. No one. Only Gatus, and the three of us. If any of the girls refuse to obey, you will take whatever steps needed to make sure that they do.”
“I… understand, mistress. It shall be as you say.”
“Make very sure you understand me, Zenobia. You will tell no one what you do with the information, and you will keep silent about me. Also, you will guarantee that none of your girls tell anyone, especially their customers. They must understand the penalty for careless talk. As must you. If you fail, then you will be removed. Since you will not officially own any part of the business, you would simply disappear. So you will have great incentive to remain loyal and faithful.”
Zenobia swallowed nervously but didn’t hesitate. She had been in the village long enough to understand Trella’s meaning. To “disappear” in Akkad meant a splash in the river in the dark of night. “I will be loyal, mistress. None will learn of our arrangement.”
Trella smiled at her, then reached out and gently took her hand.
When she spoke, her voice sounded soft and pleasant again. “I am glad, Zenobia. If you do this, in a few years you will be rich and respected.
Starting tomorrow, you will meet with Annok-sur to begin the planning.
You will report only to Annok-sur or myself. When you have listed all that you require and have an idea of the cost, we will begin buying what you need.”
“Yes, mistress. Thank you, Mistress Trella.”
“One more thing, Zenobia. If you hear anything about Korthac or his men, anything, you are to get the information to us at once.”
“The Egyptian? Yes, of course.”
“Then we are agreed.” Trella pushed back her chair and stood. “You will start tomorrow. If all goes well, in a few weeks you will have the finest pleasure house in Akkad.”
Zenobia stood also and bowed again, this time so low that her hair brushed the tabletop. “It will be as you say, Mistress Trella. I will learn all the men’s secrets for you. I promise it.”
“Then we will both prosper, Zenobia.”
Annok-sur stood also. “Zenobia, it’s too late to walk the streets,” Annok-sur said. “Spend the rest of the night here. I’ll escort you back to your home in the morning.” Taking Zenobia’s hand, she led her from the workroom to one of the rooms below.
In a few moments Annok-sur returned to Trella’s presence. “We’ll leave the house right before dawn. With her cloak drawn, no one will notice her.”
“Thank you, Annok-sur.”
“I think she will do well, Trella. It will take many months, perhaps years, but Zenobia will gather much useful information. And you spoke to her with the voice of command, with the voice of someone twice your seasons. You know the ways of power and how to bend both men and women to your will.”
“Yes, I have learned much in the last few months,” Trella answered, a hint of bitterness in her voice. “When I was sold into slavery, I was told a slave needs to learn quickly. And so I am always learning. From Nicar, from Eskkar, from the people of the village, even from you, Annok-sur. I must be stronger and wiser than my seasons and I must hide my doubts, if Eskkar is to succeed.” She shook her head to banish the dark thoughts. “Do you need any help to find the house or furnish it?”
“No, I know what is needed,” Annok-sur replied. “But we should meet with Gatus in the morning, to make sure he is ready and understands his part in this new undertaking.”
“I think Gatus will find this task to his liking. Perhaps Zenobia will have the girls practice their arts on him.”
They both smiled at the thought of the old soldier reclining in bed, sip-ping fine wine, and surrounded by eager women while counting his profits.
“As long as they gather secrets,” Trella said. “I just wish Zenobia were already in business. Korthac and his men would be sure to visit her.”
Trella sighed. The secretive Egyptian seemed to be ever in her thoughts. Soon, she hoped, his riddle would be solved.
Tammuz and his new slave followed Gatus back to the alehouse, where he grunted his goodnight without stopping. Tammuz watched the veteran soldier disappear into darkness down the lane, hand on his sword.
While anyone walking around in the middle of the night could expect to be a target for robbers, only someone blind drunk or very desperate would think of attacking the captain of the guard.
Tammuz rapped three times on the door. “It’s Tammuz, Kuri. Open up.”
He waited, glancing up and down the narrow lane. En-hedu still held on to his left hand, an unfamiliar sensation he found surprisingly enjoy-able. He’d taken her hand when they left Trella’s house, before he remembered the need to keep his right hand free and close to the knife in his belt. So he changed hands, but discovered his crippled arm couldn’t hold her properly as they walked. Before he could get frustrated, En-hedu had gently withdrawn her hand from his weak grasp and taken his left hand in her own, holding him gently until they reached the alehouse.
The door creaked open at last, and Kuri stood there, looking half asleep, but holding his old copper sword in his hand. A sour odor wafted out of the alehouse; the old man smelled of barley ale, on his breath and his garment. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the girl.
“Fasten the door, Kuri.” Tammuz stepped in, leading his charge. Even in the best of neighborhoods, you didn’t stand about with the door open after dark. “No one else is to enter tonight.”
Inside, he led his new slave carefully through the blackness of the main room, trying to ignore the smells of ale, sweat, and worse. His new slave would no doubt be disgusted by such a place, especially after having lived at Trella’s house. Half a dozen snoring men slumbered on the fl oor, the heavy sleep of those who’d drunk too much ale before retiring late.
None of them woke as Tammuz passed between them and into his private quarters at the back of the alehouse.
Closing the door, Tammuz placed a rickety bar across the entrance.
The small room, less than half the size of Trella’s workroom, had no windows, but a hint of moonlight filtered into the chamber from the roof opening. Like nearly every other humble dwelling in Akkad, the inhabitants slept on the roof during the hottest part of the summer. Tammuz unbuckled his belt, and tossed it and his knife on a table, then struggled to remove the unfamiliar cloak, a covering he seldom wore.
En-hedu’s hand reached out. “Let me help you with that, master.”
She untied the cloak, then folded it neatly and placed in on the table.
He stood there, embarrassed at needing anyone’s help to remove a garment.
“Lady Trella told me much about you, master.” En-hedu kept her voice low, making sure her words could not be heard beyond the closed door. “She said you work in Lord Eskkar’s service.”
So she knew about his duties, just not that they considered him Hawk Clan.
“It’s little enough that I do for Lady Trella,” he said.
“She is a great lady. Without her help, I would be dead, either murdered by my master, or by my own hand.”
Tammuz felt wide awake now, despite the late hour, and her words piqued his curiosity. He guided En-hedu to one of two stools that faced each other across the small table, the only other furniture in the room beside the narrow bed, a small chest, and the ladder that provided access to the roof. The darkness shielded them both and made it somehow easier for him to talk. “Sit down. Would you like some ale? Or wine? I have…”
“No, nothing, master. The hour is late. You should be asleep, taking your rest.”
“I can’t sleep now. Tell me about yourself. How did you meet Lady Trella?”
They spoke for almost an hour. Tammuz learned that En-hedu’s parents had sold her at the slave market within days of her becoming a woman. She’d just entered into her thirteenth season, and her parents pocketed ten silver coins for their virgin daughter. Her new master, a tanner with his own shop, put in long hours at his craft, and made sure his new slave worked even harder.
When her master’s labor ended at sundown, En-hedu’s continued. He expected to be fed and pleasured long into the evening. The slightest fault on her part resulted in a beating, usually followed by a painful rape. She’d put up with it for three years, before she overcame her fear and struck back in desperation. That’s when he broke her nose. Neighbors heard her cries, and managed to stop him before he beat her to death.
The brutal beatings continued for the next few months, two or three times a week. Some days she could hardly stand, let alone work at the tannery. A woman living nearby sought out Trella and told her the story, and the extent of the beatings.
Trella and Annok-sur arrived the next day, escorted by two Hawk Clan soldiers, and offered the tanner five silver coins for his slave. The man refused. “Very well,” Trella replied. “Then I offer you four silver coins. If you do not take them, right now, tomorrow you will find that no one will purchase your leather, no one will sell you hides, no one will sell you bread or help you quench your thirst for ale. Soon no one will even speak to you. You will have to leave Akkad. Choose now.”
Tammuz laughed when En-hedu told that part of the story, imitat-ing Trella’s manner of speaking. “Yes, I remember her commanding the servants and even the soldiers in Eskkar’s house. It would be a brave man to stand up to her.”
“I remember every word she said,” En-hedu answered. “I was on my knees in a corner of his hut, where he’d told me to stay, afraid to look up.
Lady Trella waited, and when my master didn’t answer, she dropped four coins on the floor, called my name, and told me to come with her. Then she turned and left. I wanted to follow her, but couldn’t get to my feet. One of the soldiers had to help me. I thought I’d been saved by a goddess. I couldn’t stop crying.”
He reached across the table and touched her hand. “There’ll be no beatings here, En-hedu. I’ve never had a slave before, and I’m not sure how you can help me. This place will look even worse in the morning, nothing like Lady Trella’s fine house. If you wish, you can return to her service.
I’m sure she can find someone… someone better for you.”
She pondered his words for a moment. “No. Lady Trella said I could be helpful to you, and that what you do was important to Lord Eskkar and her. I will stay with you. She said you needed a woman to look after you.
I’m strong, and work hard. Don’t send me away.”
Before he could answer, En-hedu stood up.
“Now it is time to sleep. Come to bed, master.”
Tammuz heard the rustle of her dress as she pulled it over her head.
Then she took his hand and guided him next to the bed. Without asking, she helped remove his tunic, then crawled into the bed, closest to the wall.
When he joined her, she pulled the blanket over them both.
He felt her naked body against him, and couldn’t resist reaching out his hand. She flinched at his touch, then lay still, submitting to his caress.
Tammuz, his member painfully stiff, hesitated. He remembered Trella’s words. “Be patient,” she’d said. Taking a deep breath, he took En-hedu’s hand in his, and told her to sleep. He waited a long time, staring up into the darkness, until her breathing grew rhythmic and he knew she slept. To his surprise, he found her presence comforting.
And distracting. He felt her warmth under the blanket, and his erection refused to subside. For someone who’d never had a woman-now to have a girl in his bed seemed a dream come true.
To take his mind off En-hedu, he started thinking about Korthac.
Like many others in Akkad, Tammuz had gaped the first time he’d seen the Egyptian walking about the lanes, often with only a single bodyguard. But after a few days, the novelty wore off, and Tammuz, like most of Akkad, forgot about the man. Nevertheless, Lady Trella sensed something odd, something dangerous, about Korthac, and she seldom made mistakes in such matters. Tammuz tried to remember all the things he’d heard about the foreigner.
Korthac spent most of his day at the inn he’d chosen for his home.
His men stayed close by, never wandering about alone, not drinking in the ale shops, not doing much of anything, staying inside even in the light of day. Tammuz realized how odd that was. Servants, whether bodyguards or porters or household slaves, were always wandering about, trying to avoid work and their masters.
Tammuz knew all about the petty thefts servants and slaves engaged in, either from their masters or neighbors. Clothing disappeared, sandals, trinkets, dozens of small items often vanished and reappeared at the local alehouses, sometimes traded for a single cup of ale. Many brought such things to his establishment to sell, or to those traders in the marketplace who didn’t ask questions. But as far as he knew, none of Korthac’s men had ever entered his or any other alehouse in Akkad.
He wondered if Trella had noticed this. No, she would have mentioned it. Something like that was probably too insignificant a detail for Trella’s spies, something that should be, but wasn’t. Tammuz wondered if he’d noticed a small detail Trella hadn’t… and what that might mean. He put the thought aside for later. Lady Trella, he knew, had a keen interest in small details, always asking for more and more information. Tammuz made a mental note to ask her about it.
Tomorrow he’d take a closer look at Korthac’s inn. Tammuz could ask one of his patrons to approach Korthac’s men, looking for something to buy. If he could get one of the Egyptians to sell some trinket, he might be able to learn something useful about their master.
This whole business could turn out to be nothing, just misplaced curiosity on Lady Trella’s part. Still, she had summoned him to her house and asked for his help. Never before had she, or anyone, for that matter, asked him for anything. He’d passed on bits of talk he heard, men grumbling over their ale, but nothing of importance had ever come to his attention.
This Korthac might actually present some small danger to Akkad. Tammuz determined to solve the riddle, if for no other reason than to justify Lady Trella’s asking him.
With that decided, he drifted off to sleep, again thinking about the warmth of En-hedu’s body brushing against him, as she turned in her sleep.
It would be difficult to restrain himself. Still, if Tammuz had learned one thing since smashing his arm, it was how to be patient.
They woke together at dawn, bodies curled against one another. Tammuz hadn’t shared a bed with anyone, let alone a woman, in months. Since the day he and Kuri moved into the alehouse, he’d slept alone in the back room, enjoying the luxury of privacy he never experienced before in his life.
Nevertheless, despite the shared bed and the shortened night, Tammuz slept deeply. Turning toward En-hedu, he saw that she’d pushed the blanket down during her sleep, exposing her breasts to the morning light.
En-hedu, conscious of his gaze, closed her eyes and turned away. She didn’t try to cover herself. She said nothing, simply lay there, waiting for him to take her. Be patient. Trella’s advice echoed in his mind. He pushed himself up off the bed and dressed before speaking.
“The chamber pot is there. I have to wake the customers. Kuri is never much help in the mornings.”
She sat up in bed, and once again he found himself looking at her body. In the light he could see scars and lingering bruises from her former master. He must have enjoyed hurting her. No one should be beaten like that. To carry bruises for so long… her old master must be a savage, worse than any barbarian.
Tammuz remembered the countless beatings he’d had growing up.
Like all boys, he expected to be beaten, and not only by his father. The older boys took advantage of the younger, the same as the strong took advantage of the weak. He’d learned that fact of life early. When he’d grown old enough to steal, he’d received a few more beatings, this time by his victims, until he learned not to get caught.
But even the worst of these chastisements left no scars on his body more punishment than for the pleasure of inflicting pain. Then he’d joined Eskkar’s men as a stable boy. He worked with horses before, knew their ways, and made himself useful to the soldiers. A few weeks later Tammuz begged his way onto the captain of the guard’s first expedition against the Alur Meriki. Tammuz remembered how thrilled he’d been when Eskkar asked if he wanted to care for the horses.
Now he’d grown into manhood, and, crippled or not, no one would beat him again. The knife he wore every moment of the day insured that. When Kuri fi rst saw him fumbling with the blade, the former soldier showed him how to use it. How to hold it, how to move with it, how to strike and counterstrike, how to retreat, and the parts of the body where a thrust would do the most damage. Most of all, Kuri taught him how to read his opponent’s eyes, and how to wait for the right moment to strike. Be patient. Trella and Kuri apparently shared the same beliefs.
As Kuri explained, a knife fight often turned into a bloody affair for both combatants, and even the victor could bleed out. Practice hard now, the old man advised, and stay alive later. Since he’d taken over the alehouse, Tammuz spent an hour or more each day practicing, handling the knife, moving and thrusting with it. He found he had to work extra hard to compensate for his nearly useless left arm.
The patrons helped instruct him. Some had plenty of experience handling a knife, and their nimble hands and feet moved far quicker than the aging Kuri could ever do. Tammuz felt the strength and coordination of his right arm grow each day, and the quickness of his feet soon made up for his weak left arm. Those who frequented the alehouse took notice of his growing skill. No one considered him a boy anymore.
Putting such thoughts aside, he unbarred the bedroom door. Tammuz worked his way through the inn’s only other room, using his foot to nudge those still sleeping awake. Kuri, snoring loudly, slept against the door, the sword at his side. Each morning Tammuz had to wake the old soldier. Depending on how much Kuri had drunk the night before, getting him awake could be a chore.
“Get up, Kuri. It’s past dawn.”
By the time he had the old man on his feet, the other patrons had reached the door, mumbling and shuffling out into the lane, shielding their eyes from the already bright morning sun, to relieve themselves against the nearby walls. Tammuz turned to find En-hedu standing beside him and looking about.
“Is there food here for your breakfast, master?”
There might be, but nothing he would offer to her. He shook his head, and reached into his pouch. “Take this to the market, and buy enough for the three of us,” he said, handing her a few copper coins. “Kuri, go with her, and keep her safe. Make sure everyone knows who she is.”
Once those living and working nearby knew she belonged to him, she’d be safe enough. In a day or so, she could go about on her own.
While they were gone, Tammuz spoke with two men who still remained inside, men who preferred not to be seen in daylight, men being hunted by their victims or by the captain of the guard’s men. Fortunately, most of the guards knew Kuri had soldiered with Gatus. That friendship usually kept any members of the watch outside, though once, while looking for a murderer, they pushed their way inside. Luckily for Tammuz, the killer had already left. The guards’ leader had looked about at the poor furnishings, spat on the floor, and left.
Tammuz told the two men what they owed for food, ale, and use of the floor to sleep. One who had the coins paid up; the other left to earn it, by whatever means he could. He knew better than to come back empty-handed. If desperate men needed a safe place to stay, they would have to pay for it, and how they got their copper didn’t concern Tammuz.
Nevertheless, all of his customers had received one warning: no killing. Murderers would not be protected. Even Tammuz couldn’t chance harboring a killer, exposing himself to the villagers’ wrath for anyone who violated the customs by concealing such an offender.
That task done, Tammuz checked the ale supply, first to make sure none of the guests had tapped the big clay jars during the night, and then to see how much more he needed to buy. His stock needed frequent replenishing. That meant a trip to the market this morning for at least two more jars.
En-hedu returned, carrying a basket that smelled of fresh bread, with Kuri limping behind. The three went into Tammuz’s room to eat their breakfast bread and sausage, and sip well-watered ale from crudely carved cups. When they finished, Tammuz gave Kuri some silver coins, and told him to buy more ale.
Kuri left, grabbing two new customers to accompany him and carry back the filled jars. A free mug of ale would pay for their labor.
En-hedu swept the bread crumbs into the basket, then faced Tammuz across the table. “What should I do, master?”
A good question, one that needed discussing, but one he couldn’t talk about here, not with the door open and men hanging about. “Come, let’s go for a walk.”
Fortunately, during the mornings, usually nothing much happened at the alehouse, and Kuri could take care of the few customers that came. At dusk, things got busy, and Tammuz knew En-hedu would be useful serving the customers.
Once in the lane, she moved to his left side and took his hand without saying a word. He led the way down the lane. Her touch affected him, and the vision of her naked breasts flashed into his thoughts. By the time he got the sight out of his mind, they’d traversed two lanes, and reached the lane where Korthac resided.
Tammuz slowed his pace. “That’s where Korthac is staying,” he said, pointing to the inn a few dozen paces ahead. A bored guard stood at the door, a sword at his waist. “The Egyptian won’t stay in this place much longer. He’ll be moving to a fine house, away from common folk.”
“Lady Trella said only Korthac’s men lived inside, except for the innkeeper,” En-hedu said.
The guard didn’t even look up as they passed. They kept going, and soon they reached the river gate. Turning south, they walked in silence until the walls of Akkad slipped behind them, and the fresh air of the farms cleared their lungs. A flat rock near the river gave them a place to sit.
“You want to learn about this Korthac?” En-hedu pulled her knees up and held them with her arms.
“Yes. Lady Trella wants to know what he’s planning.” Tammuz told her everything he knew about Korthac, his tight control of his men, the way he kept them apart from the rest of Akkad.
“We should find out where his new house will be,” she said. “Perhaps I can help. It would be good to keep watch on his new home, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, but they’d soon notice anyone hanging about all day.”
“Yes… but if I were selling something or other, like any street vendor, no one would notice me.”
He looked at her. A woman normally didn’t make such suggestions to a man, let alone a slave to her master. But she wasn’t merely a slave. Trella had urged him to listen to her, which meant Trella believed in her wits.
“And if I set up my cart before they moved in, no one would suspect anything.” She shifted on the rock, to look straight into his eyes. “This is something I can do, Tammuz. A slave has to earn her keep. It’s what any servant would do for her master.”
“And at night, you could return to the alehouse,” he mused, “to help with the serving. Once it grew dark, I could keep watch on Korthac’s home from any of the rooftops.” He touched her hand. “You would do this?”
“To help you, to help Lady Trella… this is nothing, master. I worked from dawn to dusk with my old master, tanning hides. Look at my arms.”
She lifted her hands up.
Her arms looked as strong as any farm woman’s who labored all day in the fi elds. But his eyes noted her arms for only a moment, before being drawn to her breasts. He looked away when she dropped her arms.
“Master, you need not look away. You may take me whenever you wish. I’ve been taken many times.”
Tammuz ground his teeth at the thought of her former master. “En-hedu, I’ve never been with a woman. When I do lie with one, I want her to be willing… to want me.” The words had come out without thinking, but what surprised him more was that he remembered where he’d heard such words before: at the campfire a few days before Eskkar’s return to Akkad.
Someone had asked the captain of the guard about his slave, Trella. And Eskkar had answered that he no longer wanted to take women against their will, that he found it more satisfying to take his pleasure with someone who wanted him.
“Tammuz, I’m not sure I will ever want to be with a man. All I have is the memory of pain. Pain and humiliation.”
Her former master again. The man should die. And why not? “En-hedu, Lady Trella gave you to me so that you could help me.” He stood and extended his hand. “Perhaps we can help each other. But for now, let’s make our plans for this Korthac, before we have to get back. Otherwise Kuri will drink all the fresh ale.”
She clasped his hand, and he felt the pleasure of her touch flow through him. Be patient, he thought. Then he thought about her former master. I’ll be patient with him, too, he decided, patient until I put my knife between his ribs.