by Sam Barone
“Or assassins,” Annok-sur said. “Bantor, or even Trella could be their target.”
Trella frowned. “And you think one of those who arrived yesterday is the leader?”
“Yes, the others seem to defer to him. Jovarik is his name, and he’s also a little older. No one knows if this is his first visit to Akkad. We followed him around today. He walked all over the city, and spent some time near each of the gates.”
“If the others, who have been here longer,” Trella said, “have also learned what they want about the gates and its guards, Jovarik may not need to see much more.”
“We could bring in the innkeeper,” Annok-sur said. “He might be able to tell us more about them.”
“No, if he’s in league with them, they would be warned. And we’ve nothing from Martana or the other prostitutes?”
“No, nothing,” Uvela said. “Martana serviced two of them this afternoon, but always with one or two of the others watching. They said nothing, except that they’re in Akkad seeking work. Last night four of them took another girl back to the house, but even after pleasuring all of them, she heard nothing suspicious. They say little when anyone is nearby, it seems.”
“We need to overhear their conversations,” Annok-sur suggested. “Perhaps one of your girls can get close enough without being seen.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Uvela said, after pausing a few moments to consider the possibility. “Those staying at the Spotted Owl say little, and the ones living in the house would be suspicious if they thought someone was trying to spy on them. They always keep someone at the door and they even watch the smoke hole every so often.”
“Perhaps we should just have Bantor’s men take them into custody,” Annok-sur said. “Some time with the torturers would tell us what we want to know.”
“Eskkar and the soldiers have been gone for five days,” Trella said. “And we know that enemy horsemen are approaching the city from the east. Those marauders must have some plan in mind, some way they think they can get into the city.”
“Unless they just want to raid the countryside.” Uvela hitched her stool a bit closer. “That’s happened many times in the past.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Trella said. “The war with Sumeria started suddenly. We had no hint of the threat. How is it then that the barbarians arrive on our doorstep at the same time? That seems too much of a coincidence.”
“Then we should have these strangers arrested, brought before Bantor’s questioners. That’s what Eskkar would do.”
“Yes, that would be his first reaction,” Trella agreed. “But that wouldn’t stop the horsemen from raiding our lands, and they might devastate the countryside, destroy all our crops. If Eskkar remains in the south more than a few weeks, there might be nothing left when he returns.”
Neither Annok-sur nor Uvela said anything. Eskkar and the army might never return, or if they did, they might arrive on the run, a broken force, with the Sumerian hounds right behind them.
Trella read their silence. Such thoughts, while never voiced, were no doubt often on the minds of those who knew the true situation. “I want to know what these men are planning. We need to get someone close to them, someone who can hear their words.”
“Any women in the inn would attract attention,” Uvela said. “Others like Martana would likely learn nothing.”
“I agree,” Trella said. “I think there may be another way. Send for Wakannh. He’s good at finding people.”
F rom the shadows Wakannh studied the small tavern up the lane. Not really much of a tavern, more like a hovel whose owner sold some overpriced and watered-down ale in the evenings to half a dozen drunks and thieves. Not that there was much to see, just a dim outline of a low doorway.
“Is that the place? What would someone at the Compound want with any of that rabble?”
“Shut your face,” Wakannh said. As a leader of ten in Akkad’s guard, he commanded this little group of four men tonight. Annok-sur had given him the information that the thief Sargat might be found within the tavern, but Wakannh didn’t intend to share Annok-sur’s name with any of his men, let alone a recruit of less than a hundred days.
“Sargat is one of the quickest thieves in Akkad,” Wakannh said. “So here’s what we’ll do. I’ll go in the front. You two go around to the next lane. There’s probably a secret way out to the back. And you
…” he grabbed the talkative recruit by the shoulder, “look agile enough. You get up on the roof. If Sargat tries to get away, make sure you stop him. And so help me, if you make a sound up there and give us away, you’ll be digging latrines for the rest of your miserable life.”
“Yes, commander,” the recruit said, fingering his sword in the darkness. “I’ll be quiet.”
“Better give me your sword,” Wakannh said. “It will only get in your way on the roof. And I want Sargat alive, remember that, all of you. The folks in the Compound can’t talk to a dead man. Now get going, all of you.”
Regretfully, the recruit handed over his sword. His leader of ten always seemed to take particular satisfaction in picking on him.
Wakannh waited while his men moved into position. He couldn’t see them in the next lane, but they were veterans who would do what they were ordered, without asking stupid questions or trying to do any thinking on their own. When he saw a darker shadow appear and disappear on the rooftop, Wakannh started down the lane.
At the entrance, the smell of fresh urine greeted his nose, even stronger than the usual night odors to be expected. A greasy blanket hanging at an angle half-covered the doorway. A fire burned inside, its light leaking out from around the edge of the door covering.
He pushed it aside, ducked under the door stile, and took a quick glance around the room. A single candle burned, adding its flickering light to that of the fire. A quick count showed eight men within, all of whom looked up as he entered. The sight of one of Akkad’s guards stopped all conversations. Annok-sur had described Sargat, so Wakannh’s eyes searched the little gathering, soon eliminating all but two of the group.
“I want to talk to Sargat. Which one — ?”
The figure farthest away from the doorway burst into motion. Before Wakannh could react, Sargat had sprung to his feet. Two quick steps and he launched himself at the ladder that led to the roof, his foot landing unerringly on the third tread before the slow-reacting Wakannh started moving. Sargat’s legs had almost disappeared up the ladder before the ceiling shook and rattled. The thief’s body came tumbling down, to crash onto the earthen floor with a thud.
To Wakannh’s astonishment, the fall hardly slowed the man down. Sargat twisted to one side and leapt to his feet, but by then Wakannh had barreled his way through the patrons, knocking two men aside. He shot out his hand, caught Sargat by the hair, and jerked him back with all the strength of his bowman’s arm.
This time the thief landed flat on his back, and Wakannh planted a knee on Sargat’s chest and the tip of his sword on his neck. “Going somewhere?” With a quick flip of his wrist, the sword’s pommel struck down on Sargat’s forehead, stunning the man. “I don’t think so, scum.”
“I got him good, didn’t I, commander?” The recruit had swung down from the roof and now stood beside his commander.
Wakannh opened his mouth to bark at the recruit, but changed his mind instead. If Sargat could move that fast, he might have slipped past a less alert guard, even one waiting on the roof. “Yes, you did, for once. Good job. Now go get the others.”
Within moments, the four guardsmen had Sargat’s hands bound behind his back, and his legs hobbled together, so that he wouldn’t try running away. Wakannh didn’t intend to take any chances with someone who moved that fast.
“Where are you taking me?” Sargat had regained his wits quick enough.
“To the Compound. And if you open your mouth again, I’ll deliver you with your balls cut off and shoved down your throat.” He turned to the still smiling recruit, busy massaging his right fist. “
Put a sack over his head. The less he sees and hears, the better.”
45
Sargat’s fingers dug into the wall, and he swung himself onto the ledge, taking care to keep his silhouette as inconspicuous as possible. Once on the inner side of the ledge, he settled in and remained motionless. Over the years, he’d learned many things about climbing about on other people’s rooftops, but the most important lesson was to fade into the shadows and avoid the slightest movement. Many times the creaking of a ceiling beam or rustling of cut branches had caused a head to pop up from the smoke hole and look around. Thick shadows, dark clothing, and the absence of the slightest motion tended to render him unseen.
Another lesson well learned was patience. He’d reached the roof adjoining the hut that held Jovarik and his companions. Now he needed to assure himself that anyone below who might have heard something became reassured, until whatever sound from the sagging roof faded from memory.
While Sargat waited, he thought about what had happened earlier. The guards had caught him easily enough. Sargat hadn’t thought anyone even knew he’d returned to Akkad. He’d only slipped into the city twenty days ago. In that time, he’d robbed only three houses, descending through the smoke holes, taking what he could, and disappearing into the night as silently as he’d come. He would have sworn that no one had seen him. Despite all his care, the guards had come straight to the tavern. Someone had planned his capture with care, to ensure that he didn’t escape and vanish once again into Akkad’s criminal underworld.
He soon learned who that was. When his captors removed the sack covering his head, he found himself sitting across the table from Annok-sur. Lady Trella sat just outside of the candlelight, a half-step behind the older woman. When he glanced around, Sargat realized he was in the king’s Compound, the so-called workroom where Lady Trella dispatched her agents to spy on Akkad’s troublemakers. Which included him, Sargat decided. As his eyes grew accustomed to the light from the single candle, he realized that no guards or servants stood nearby. They would be within call, of course. Still, their absence meant that something private needed to be discussed.
Annok-sur’s hands remained below the table, and he guessed a weapon would be in her hand, ready should he make any sudden movement toward either of them. His own hands remained bound, but the rope looped about his ankles had been removed before they had escorted him up the stairs, and not replaced.
“Welcome to the Lady Trella’s house,” Annok-sur said. “Do you know who I am?”
“Yes.” Still trying to collect his wits, he didn’t trust himself to say more. The less he spoke, the harder it would be for the witch-queen of Akkad to read his thoughts. Or so he hoped.
“Good. We only learned of your return to the city a few days ago. You should know that guards are waiting in the courtyard to bring you before the King’s Justice. I expect that you’ll be found guilty of enough crimes to warrant you being sentenced to the slave gang for the rest of your life.”
Sargat heard the threat, but they hadn’t brought him here in the night to remind him of his fate. Sentenced to the labor gang meant that they would break his legs first, so that he couldn’t run, then, when he had recovered, he’d work for the rest of his life. He put that thought out of his mind. They wanted something from him, but what?
“Of course, you may be able to avoid the work gang, and earn a few silver coins in the bargain. If you’re interested, that is.”
His eyes flickered to Lady Trella, but the shadows hid her eyes, and he couldn’t read anything from her expression. Whatever she wanted, and it must be something important to warrant her presence, he’d find out soon enough.
“What can I do for you, and… Lady Trella?”
“There are some men in Akkad who may be plotting with our enemies,” Annok-sur continued. “We want you to discover what it is that they plan. You would need to get close enough to hear what they’re saying.”
“And if I do that…?”
“If you learn what they’re plotting, you can go free. And you’ll have ten silver coins as a reward.”
Another glance toward the still silent Lady Trella. Obviously, they wanted to use his skills as a thief to gather the information they wanted. Sargat knew how to play that game. He’d dealt with men who’d hired his services for such tasks before. But never a woman, let alone the one in charge of the city’s spies and informers. “And if I can’t learn anything?”
“Then I fear you will have to face the King’s Justice. Of course, if the men discover you, you’ll probably be killed outright.”
Death, or mutilation and slavery for the rest of his life. “For ten silver coins, I would be happy to help you.” Promise them anything, he decided. The minute he was on his own, Sargat would be over the roofs and gone. They wouldn’t catch him again, and he knew of several ways to slip out of the city undetected. “What do you want me to do?”
Annok-sur told him about Jovarik and his companions, and the place where they were staying. He knew the lane, but didn’t remember that particular rat-hole. Still, it was familiar enough ground for him.
“And you need this information…”
“Tonight, if possible. They are still eating their supper and sipping ale, and there is plenty of night remaining before they sleep. If you don’t succeed tonight, you may not have the chance to try again.”
The haggling began. He asked for more coins, more assurances of protection, more promises of safe passage while in Akkad. Annok-sur had agreed to them all. Sargat let himself relax the tiniest bit. All those tales he had heard of Annok-sur and her power now sounded foolish. She was just another woman, one willing to believe whatever she was told.
“Then I should go and see what I can learn.”
Annok-sur smiled, but turned to Lady Trella. By now he had nearly forgotten her presence.
“How many seasons do you have, Sargat?”
Lady Trella’s odd question surprised him, and despite the soft tone of her voice he felt a hint of his prior nervousness return.
“I have eighteen seasons, Lady Trella.”
“You shouldn’t lie to us, Sargat. You have only sixteen seasons.”
He started to protest, but she held up a slim hand.
“That doesn’t matter, of course. But lying about helping us, when instead you plan to just disappear again, that is something we cannot tolerate. You may be a very agile thief, but your eyes, your face, all show your lies.”
“Lady Trella, I…”
“Be silent!” She raised her voice. “Wakannh!”
The door opened at once, and Wakannh stepped inside the room. In one hand he carried a large block of wood. In the other, a small bronze axe. The block, Sargat noticed, appeared stained a darker color.
“The penalty for lying to us is to have your tongue removed.” Trella leaned closer for a moment, and Sargat caught a glimpse of her brown eyes fixed on his own, as if staring into his heart. “The penalty for being a thief is to have your right hand cut off. Which of these would you prefer to have done to you first?”
She uttered the words in the same soft voice a woman would use with her lover, but Sargat felt a chill pass through him.
He glanced back at Wakannh, standing there, patiently waiting for the order to begin. Suddenly he realized that she would as easily give that order as not. “I… Lady Trella…”
“You had a friend named Tammuz once. Do you remember him? He befriended you many times, even saved your life once by hiding you from the guard. You undertook a similar mission for him once, just before Korthac seized control of the city.”
Sargat felt his heart racing. How did she know about these things, events that happened years ago? He’d told no one, and only Tammuz knew. “Yes, I remember him, Lady Trella. But Tammuz left the city years ago.”
“And I know where he went. Before he left, Tammuz told me you could be trusted. Was he wrong? Or would you let Akkad’s enemies capture the city and put everyone to the sword, yourself included?”
“I… I will do as you ask, Lady Trella. I swear it on Marduk’s — ”
“No need for that, Sargat. Just your word as a thief. And you will be rewarded, and I will be able to tell Tammuz how well you served both him and his city. If you try to escape, you will find no one will help you, no hiding hole so deep that I cannot find you. And if you give away your presence to our enemies, then you will spend many days with the pain-givers before you repay your crimes. So think carefully before you speak again. Will you learn what these strangers want in Akkad, and will you bring that information back to me — if for no other reason than it would give honor to your friendship with Tammuz?”
Sargat found his throat dry, and had to swallow before he could answer. “I will not fail you, Lady Trella. If you speak for Tammuz, then I will do what you ask.”
She kept her gaze on him for a moment, as if searching for the truth in his words. “Wakannh, take Sargat to where the strangers are staying. Give him whatever help he needs, and when he is finished, bring him back to me.”
“Yes, Lady Trella.”
Sargat saw the guard bow, but caught a glimpse of disappointment on his face. No doubt the man would have preferred to use his axe.
All that had transpired not long ago. Now Sargat lay stretched along the roof of the adjoining hut, his weight spread out over as many roof poles as possible. The poles had creaked a little when he settled in. Unless one kept to the edges of the mud-brick walls, a little noise was unavoidable. Sargat had squirmed and wriggled his way over the tops of people’s heads for more than ten of his sixteen years. Victims, he’d learned, might wake at any little sound, but if they then heard nothing, they were likely to fall back asleep, or attribute what they’d heard to some bird, cat or rodent moving about.