by Sam Barone
“He’s hiding something, Annok-sur.”
“Maybe he committed some crime in Egypt, something so horrible that he fears it even here.”
“Whatever his secret, we need to discover it.”
“I don’t know what else to try, Trella. We watch his men, we watch him, but all he does is spend time at the trading carts along the river. Still, he can’t live like this forever. Even servants need time for themselves.”
Trella picked up the emerald and returned it to the pouch. “I think I’d give this away to learn what Korthac is hiding.” She knotted the lace securely. Standing, she went to the bed and knelt down. Pushing hard, she slipped aside part of the leg of the bed, exposing a tiny hollow barely large enough to conceal the pouch. When she fitted the wood back in place, the jewel had vanished. Only a very keen eye and a close examination would detect the tiny compartment. There were more such hiding places secreted about the bedroom. She’d searched the room often enough, and discovered three others, but there might still be more. The previous owner had many secrets.
“Perhaps you should send word for Eskkar to return,” Annok-sur said.
“He’s been away long enough.”
“What would I say to him? That some rich trader worries me? That I can’t find out if he’s hiding something? He wouldn’t know any more than we do.” She shook her head. “Besides, he’s sent back gold as well as goods from Bisitun, and the council is happy that the lands up there are being pacified.”
“And this new woman Eskkar is keeping? Suppose he begins to forget about you?”
“The child will bring him back,” Trella said, though the same doubts had visited her. “Let him have his pleasures for now. He risked his life taking the village.”
“At least Bantor will return soon.”
“That will make both of us feel better, Annok-sur.”
“Maybe we should get rid of this Korthac, if for no other reason than to stop you from worrying about him.”
“No, not yet, not until we learn more. There’s plenty of time, and sooner or later, we’ll find out what he’s hiding.”
Chapter 15
Ten days after the feast of Ishtar, Korthac stepped from his house and into the lane. Well past dawn, his guards had already checked the street, and today Hathor waited there as well, looking as alert as the two soldiers protecting Korthac this day. No one in Akkad questioned his need for bodyguards. Everyone knew he often carried large quantities of gems or the gold from their sale on his person, and that made him a tempting target for any thief desperate enough to risk his life. So far no one had made the attempt. Korthac’s guards looked too alert, hands always on their swords and eyes constantly moving, searching for any threat.
For any thief bold enough to get past the guards, Korthac carried a long knife of his own, and no one doubted he knew how to use it. Even if a daring thief managed to cut Korthac’s purse and escape, the whole city would be turned out looking for the robber. Everyone understood that Korthac had made many friends in Akkad, and its traders and leading merchants would demand the soldiers hunt down the cutpurse, even if he tried to flee the city.
This morning, however, the lane outside of Korthac’s new dwelling appeared as peaceful as every other day, just the usual handful of vendors hawking their goods to those who, avoiding eye contact, hurried by.
Korthac’s lane didn’t have much foot traffic, not with the marketplace only two lanes over. Most of the more established and better quality vendors sold their merchandise there. Away from the market, goods tended to be of more dubious quality, with correspondingly lower prices. Most of the carts and booths near Korthac’s house were staffed by women, often surrounded by what seemed like gangs of children, all either shouting or crying, whose noise and antics managed to annoy anyone simply trying to get through.
Today the lane appeared relatively quiet, and Korthac started walking, one guard leading the way and the other following behind. Hathor took his usual place at Korthac’s left side, and the quartet of Egyptians began their journey to the docks.
“Another fine day,” Korthac said, glancing up first at the bright blue sky and then shifting his gaze to his still-tired subcommander. When Hathor and Nebibi had returned to Akkad the night before, both men reported to Korthac on Ariamus’s activities. Nevertheless, ever cautious, Korthac wanted to hear it again, in more detail. His plan required careful timing, and events had to unfold on schedule to avoid failure.
“Yes, lord,” Hathor said, his ever-vigilant eyes searching for danger as they walked.
They entered the marketplace, already crowded with buyers and sellers, some still arriving from the nearby farms. The most industrious rose well before dawn, to occupy the more advantageous locations in the square.
Those who had farther to travel would continue to arrive for the next few hours. Nearly all of the local farmers sold their crops and animals in the morning, and started returning to their homes an hour or so after midday.
Those farther away usually faced a long day, selling their goods to the boat captains visiting the city; unfortunately, many of the boats didn’t arrive until well into the afternoon.
Korthac stepped with care, watching not only where he placed his feet, but also the jostling crowd. A man could get bumped by a basket of fruit, or run over by a squealing cart laden with produce. Each day required charting a different path through the market, the result of constantly changing stalls, squealing animals, even buyers and sellers. The city’s local craftsmen, who usually sold their leather, tools, clay pots, and some bronze tools and bowls every day, had to take whatever space they could find, fitting themselves between farmers’ carts bearing fruit or vegetables, or cages of chickens. Raucous noise filled the square, with men trying to attract customers competing with frightened animals in cages or tethered to anything solid.
Today only a few slave traders congregated at their usual corner of the marketplace. A scarce and unpredictable market, the slavers always attracted a good deal of attention from the crowd. Sellers paraded their wares, mostly women or young girls, shouting out their abilities and boasting of their skills. Some of the slaves promoted themselves, eager to find a good master and earn their keep and find a secure place to live in Akkad.
In many cases, parents sold their unneeded children, amid much crying and tears as fathers clutched a few coins and watched as their sons or daughters became the property of someone else. Dozens of gawkers, idlers, or even people just passing through, stopped and listened, always interested in the buying and selling of human flesh.
In Egypt, Korthac recalled, the slavers’ market operated in much the same manner, except the snap of the whip echoed out over the slaves’ cries more often. Here, a steward or head of a household watched the slaves, and little force or punishment was needed. Indeed, Korthac had been surprised to find that most of those in Akkad’s slave market offered themselves for sale, hoping to find an easier life than whatever one they’d left behind on the farm or in some remote village. Even parents selling their children hoped their child would find a better life as a slave to some well-off merchant or craftsman in the growing city. Selling a daughter was less painful, since there was little difference between a slave and a wife; both obeyed someone else for the rest of their lives.
Thieves and bandits made up the last group of slaves, and these were watched and guarded more carefully. Ordered into slavery for their crimes, they knew the life they faced; they’d labor hard for the rest of their lives.
And if any slaves ran away, Akkad’s soldiers would hunt them down and bring them back. Apparently, so Korthac understood, Eskkar himself had fulfilled that menial role not so long ago. A slave hunter who now thought he ruled a city.
But not for much longer, Korthac knew. Hathor’s latest report told of steady progress by Ariamus and Takany. The number of men and horses under Korthac’s command increased steadily, and soon they would be put to use.
The crowds thinned as Korthac and Hathor cleared the mar
ketplace, and soon they passed out of the river gate. Activity at the docks varied each day, as boat captains arrived and departed, some making more than one trip a day, others passing through Akkad and going up or down the great river on longer voyages.
Korthac reached his chosen place of business, close enough to the docks to see every arrival, but far enough away to avoid being trampled underfoot by those loading or unloading goods. Other gem traders sold in the marketplace, but Korthac needed a quieter place to run his business, away from the mob of gawkers who didn’t have two coppers to rub together. Since he sold only high-quality gems, serious buyers soon learned where to find him. At least this morning Korthac wouldn’t have to wait for his hired man to arrive and set out his stall. For a copper coin each day, a carpenter living just inside the gate agreed to store Korthac’s narrow table, three-legged stool, and awning pole safely each night, and return it first thing in the morning.
Today everything was in place, and the carpenter stood there, grinning and waiting for his coin. Hathor handed it over while Korthac took his seat on the stool. He could have had his guards carry the load each day from and to the house, but Korthac decided that would make him a figure of fun, a rich man who traveled throughout the city with two guards carrying his makeshift stall.
Once paid, the man rushed off, eager to be about his own trade, without a word of thanks to either Hathor or Korthac. Not that Korthac really cared about words of gratitude; he intended to cut the man’s ears off as soon as he took power.
Korthac settled in for another day of sham trading. As usual, he sent one of the guards to take a place near the gate, with orders to look for anyone who might be taking too much interest in Korthac’s table. The other guard stood a few paces away, hand on his sword and watching everyone that passed to and fro.
Meanwhile, Korthac took his seat on the stool, sharing his morning meal of bread and hard cheese with his subcommander. Gem buyers and sellers seldom did business so early, and by now Korthac and his table attracted no more attention than any other dockside trader. He let Hathor take his time retelling his observations and conversations at Ariamus’s camp, speaking between bites, as he related everything he had seen and heard. Both men spoke in Egyptian, and kept their voices low.
“So, Ariamus will be ready,” Korthac said, when Hathor finished up.
“Yes, lord. He may have to sweep the land for the last ten or twenty horses, but by then it won’t matter.”
“And the men you brought back with you? Will they do?”
“I was with Ariamus when he chose them, lord. I tested their skills with the sword myself. They’re all experienced fighters, quick and more than competent. For that much gold, they’ll kill anyone.”
Korthac wanted to speak to them himself, but that would be too dangerous. The four men had spent the night at a small inn only a few paces down the lane from Korthac’s house, with Nebibi keeping an eye on them, to make sure they saw no one and kept their mouths shut.
“Good. Give them their gold, and get them out of the city before noon. And tell them there will be an extra ten gold coins each when they succeed.”
Surprise showed on Hathor’s face. “That much gold . . . they’ve already agreed to the price.”
“I want to make sure they finish the job. I don’t want them getting up to Bisitun and deciding it’s too dangerous. Besides, there will be plenty of gold to pay them with by the time they get back.” Korthac smiled at the thought. “And tell them if they fail, I’ll offer the same gold to others to hunt them down and bring me their heads. That should help stiffen their nerve.”
“I’ll send them out of the city one by one,” Hathor suggested. “They’ll be less likely to attract attention that way. They need to buy one new horse, to replace the one that went lame.”
“Make sure they know the schedule. They’re to ride hard to Bisitun, and strike as soon as they can. If they delay, they’re of no use to me.”
“I’ve told them, lord. They understand the urgency. They’ll strike as soon as they can.”
“Good. That will mean one less thing to worry about.”
Korthac glanced around, always checking to see who might be watching them. Trella’s spies were everywhere, and not always easy to spot. He put thoughts of the assassins aside.
“Make sure Nebibi has time to study the land across the river this morning. Takany may need a place to hide if he arrives early, or if we need to delay. Get Nebibi on his way back to Takany as soon as the others leave. Will he have any problems traveling alone?”
“No, the land on the west bank is peaceful enough. A few farmers live there, but mostly herders. Nebibi’s got a good horse, and he’ll carry enough food so he won’t have to stop. Less than three days ride, if he avoids the villages.”
“Let’s hope he isn’t murdered by bandits on the way.”
Hathor laughed politely at his lord’s joke. “Is everything ready here, lord?”
“Yes, I’ve nearly finished my list”—Korthac tapped his head with his forefinger—“of those we can use. Rasui, of course. He hates both Trella and Eskkar, thinks they’re upstarts who should both be driven out of Akkad. And five or six of the city’s leading traders, mostly ones who’ve been penalized by Eskkar or the council. I’m sure they’ll all be glad to become part of the new Council of Nobles. They’ll influence their friends to join us. More than enough to build upon.”
“Have you spoken to them yet? I mean, did you tell them what you plan?”
“No, nothing so soon,” Korthac didn’t mind discussing this with Hathor, the only one of his subcommanders with the wits to see the need for subtlety. “But I’ve listened politely to their petty complaints, and offered my sympathy. So they consider me one of their worthy companions. The moment we’ve seized the city, they’ll all thank the gods for the chance to become my followers and take my gold. They’ll gain power and wealth, as well as a chance to pay back their enemies. The rest of the city will hate them, but that’s a small price to pay.”
“Is there anything that can go wrong, lord?”
“Of course,” Korthac said with a laugh. “Eskkar may return, or that Bantor could arrive early. If Gatus’s scouts get wind of Ariamus’s force, that could change everything. But so far, everything seems to . . .”
“Lord!” The bodyguard called out to Korthac. “Lady Trella is approaching.”
Korthac turned toward the gate, surprised to see Trella on her way toward the docks. Despite her pregnancy, she moved gracefully enough, head held high, surrounded by four Hawk Clan guards and walking beside a man Korthac recognized as a river trader from the south. Nicar accompanied her, and the group walked to the very edge of the river, where Trella and Nicar spoke at some length to the trader.
“Well, our mighty ruler visits even the docks,” Korthac said.
“Her guards look alert enough,” Hathor commented.
“She’s been attacked once before. Pity she survived. Still, I suppose that worked out the best for us.” Korthac studied her guards, and had to admit they knew their business. They faced outward, eyes moving all the time, watching everyone who passed by, especially those who tried to approach Lady Trella.
At last, Trella’s good-byes ended. The trader bowed first to Trella, than Nicar, and trod carefully down the gangway to his boat, where his two-man crew waited, no doubt eager to depart. Trella and Nicar turned away and started wending their way back to the gate. Then Trella caught sight of Korthac, and changed her direction, heading toward him. Nicar, however, continued into the city. In a moment she and her entourage arrived.
“Good morning, Korthac,” she said, bowing slightly.
“Good morning, Lady Trella,” Korthac said, bowing as well. “I haven’t seen you on the docks before.”
“And you are Hathor,” Trella said, giving him a smile. “I remember you from the feast.”
“I am honored, Lady Trella,” Hathor said, bowing low.
“Please, Lady Trella,” Korthac said, “take my s
tool. And come under the awning. You should not stand in the sun.”
“I’ll take your shade,” she said, “but I’d rather stand. You don’t seem to be doing much trading this morning,” she added, touching the bare table in front of them.
Korthac laughed. “I usually don’t display my wares unless someone shows interest,” he said. He reached inside his pouch and brought out a dozen or so gemstones, which he spread across the table. The stones sparkled in the light: a bright green emerald, three good-sized citrines, a blue sapphire, and two dark red garnets, standing out even among the others.
“The women of Akkad would love to wear any of these, I’m sure,”
Trella said, fingering the darker of the garnets.
“A special price for you, Lady Trella,” Korthac said, smiling.
She shook her head. “No, not until after the birth. Then there will be a reason to celebrate.”
“I look forward to the happy day,” Korthac said. He turned to Hathor.
“You should be about your duties. The sun is rising ever higher.”
“Yes, lord,” Hathor said, and turned to Trella. “You will excuse me, Lady Trella?”
“Of course,” she said, giving him another smile. “I’m sure you still have much to do in your master’s new house.”
Hathor bowed to both of them, and strode off, stepping between the guards as he headed back to the gate.
“I am glad you decided to stay in Akkad,” Trella said. “Your trading will bring benefit to many in the city.”
“I did think about moving farther south,” Korthac said, “but in truth, your city seems to be growing so fast that my business cannot help but grow with it. And your wise administration keeps the people content. I have never seen so large a city with so few thieves and beggars.”