by Sam Barone
“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?”
Sargat remembered that Tammuz had fought against Korthac when the king recaptured the city. Sargat had thought that a foolish risk at the time, but now he realized that even then Tammuz must have been working for Lady Trella. That meant … what did any of this mean?
“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.
This roof was scarcely two body lengths from end to end. He picked his way across, taking his time and always letting part of his weight settle before he moved the rest. When he reached the small ledge that separated the two huts, he heard movement on the other side. Either someone was sleeping on the roof, or a guard was keeping station.
Gradually he lifted his head, moving so slowly that, even if the guard happened to be looking in that direction, he might not notice the tiny change in the ledge’s silhouette. When Sargat’s right eye cleared the top, he saw a man laying on his back, staring upwards, his hands behind his head. The relaxed position told Sargat that the sentry didn’t expect anyone to disturb his rest.
Sargat settled back down and considered his choices. Despite all of Annok-sur and Wakannh’s warnings, Sargat hadn’t expected to find anyone up on the roof. At worst he’d expected the thieves or whatever they were to stick their heads up occasionally through the smoke hole and look around. That was usually enough to ensure privacy for those below. But the guard’s presence ended most of Sargat’s easy plans. It also confirmed that these strangers were up to no good, and were probably dangerous.
He took another glance over the wall, studying the prone form of the man less than four good paces away. Before Sargat ascended to the nearby roof, Wakannh had sketched the layout of the two chambers that formed the structure below. Twice as long as wide, the men were likely gathered near the back end of the house. That meant that Sargat could hear whatever conversations were being held below without coming too close to the smoke hole. If he could get across the ledge, and take up a position directly behind the guard, he might lie there unnoticed, even if the sentry should glance around. With nothing breaking the line of the roof, Sargat knew the guard’s eye would skip over the darkness, and search only for the contrast lines where dark and light met.
Ordinarily, this would be foolhardy, and Sargat had never been a fool. But the chance for plenty of silver – not to mention placing Lady Trella in his debt – made the risk worthwhile. Besides, if the guard did notice Sargat’s presence, he would be up and running over the rooftops to where Wakannh and his men waited. Despite what Lady Trella had said, he didn’t think they’d kill him if the strangers detected his presence.
The decision made, Sargat rose up and began climbing over the dividing ledge. Moving each of his limbs one at a time, he resembled a spider more than a
man. The sentry never moved. The man remained relaxed and at rest, lost in his thoughts. The idea that someone might try to creep up beside him on the roof never entered his head.
Sargat kept his eyes focused on the guard. The slight creaks that his slow movements created were not what was important. Those down below would attribute any noises to the guard shifting about. As long as the sentry didn’t decide to turn his head and study carefully the rooftop behind him, Sargat kept moving forward.
At last he reached his position, about an arm’s length from the back of the guard’s head. Turning his eyes downward, he eased his face against the roof poles, his weight spread out over as wide an area as possible. He didn’t worry about the poles giving way under his slight weight, since those who dwelt inside would be used to sleeping on the roof during the hot weather, and most families added more trimmed branches than they really needed.
Beneath him, he could see almost nothing. Vague shadows outlined heads, and he guessed about five or six men were in the main chamber. Wakannh had made the same estimate, so at least none of the strangers had slipped away. No candles burned, and only a little moonlight filtered down through the smoke hole.
At least now he could hear them talking, actually make out what they were saying. But the men spoke about women, ale, even the warm weather. One complained that he preferred the ocean breezes of Sumeria. The desultory conversation went on and on, without Sargat hearing anything of use to anyone. It looked as if he would have to remain where he was until they decided to fall asleep. Even Sargat started relaxing, despite the presence of the guard less than an arm’s length away.
Then another voice broke into the conversation, one that Sargat hadn’t heard before. He realized that another man had entered the hut and joined the group. All the idle talk ceased, and the men shifted about, as if preparing themselves.
“Rattaki! You awake up there?”
The newcomer’s low voice sounded harsh, the voice of someone used to giving orders.
The sentry jumped at the words, and shifted his body to lean over the smoke hole. “Yes, I’m awake. Think I can sleep up here without a blanket?”
“Stay alert, then. You can listen from up there.”
The sentry shifted his position, twisting his body and swiveling his head, and Sargat knew the man’s gaze had swept over Sargat’s prone figure. But the man saw what he expected to see, which was nothing. Sargat lowered his gaze, so that the whites of his eyes didn’t show.
“The rest of you, pay attention. I’ve gotten word back from the horsemen. They’ll rush the wall tomorrow night when the moon reaches its highest point. It should give us enough light, and most of the guards will be half asleep by then. All we have to do is kill a few sentries, and get the ropes over the wall. Then the eight of us will hold the Akkadians off until the barbarians mount the wall. Each of us will wear a strip of cloth tied around the right elbow. Otherwise these bastards are as likely to kill us as anyone else inside the city.”
Tomorrow night! If barbarians captured the city, Sargat’s own plans would be disrupted. The barbarian horsemen would put everyone to the sword, men and women, honest men and thieves alike. And they’d be trapping everyone inside the city, to make sure no one escaped with anything of value.
“How many will be coming, Luroc?”
A new name, one that Annok-sur and her agents hadn’t learned. Sargat decided that this Luroc was staying somewhere else, away from his men. He peered down through the branches. He couldn’t see much of Luroc’s features, but the man possessed a barrel-like body and a thick beard that concealed much of his face.
“How should I know? Five hundred, a thousand. They’ve got a dozen ladders prepared, and they’ll head for the gate as soon as enough of them are over the wall. More than enough to brush aside these old men and new recruits.”
Sargat concentrated on Luroc’s voice. He possessed a strong accent, marking him as a man from the southern-most lands of Sumeria.
“You’re sure they know where to attack? Can they find –”
“They’ve already marked the Tanner’s Lane,” Luroc said. “They’ll be able to find it even if clouds hide the moon.”
“And our gold? When do we get paid?”
“As soon as we get back to Sumer. A boat will be waiting to take us south and we’ll be there in four or five days. Queen Kushanna will be eager to hear of our victory. And you’ll take onboard whatever loot we can pick up when the barbarians overrun the city. So just keep your mouths shut for another day. That means no drinking, no women, and no talking. Stay in the house as much as possible. And no one goes anywhere alone. I’ll cut the heart out of anyone who even thinks about doing or saying anything stupid.”
Luroc answered a few more questions, until he grew annoyed with the process. Sargat decided that all these things had been discussed before, probably more than once. Luroc had come only to inform his men about the date and time of the attack, and go over the plan one final time. He would slip back into whatever hideout he had prepared for himself, one where his name would not be Luroc.
At last the men grew silent. “Enough then. I’ll meet you at the wall just before the moon reaches its peak.” With one last word of warning to keep quiet and out of trouble, Luroc left the room. The sentry on the roof swung his legs over the smoke hole and skimmed down the ladder, his eyes focused only on his descent.
Sargat waited until the first snore wafted up through the hole. Then one by one he stretched his muscles for the first time, making sure he could move without any problem. Taking his time, he retraced his movements back to the ledge. This time he used the ledge to travel across the back of the huts, until he reached a place where he could drop lightly down to the ground. A dozen paces away, Wakannh and one of his men waited, but neither of them heard or saw Sargat’s approach until he stepped out of the shadows.
“Demons below!” Wakannh swore. “Where did you come from?”
“Did you see someone enter and leave?” Sargat couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice.
“We saw a man enter, but didn’t see anyone come out. Thought it was just one of the men returning from taking a piss. Why?”
“Never mind. Take me back to the Compound. I need to talk to Annok-sur and Lady Trella.”
“It’s the middle of the night. Are you sure … ?”
“I’m sure. Now let’s get moving, before any more time slips by!”
Lady Trella sat across the table from Bantor, his face framed by the two thick candles burning at either side, despite the lateness of the night. He’d just arrived from the barracks, at Trella’s summons. Annok-sur sat next to Trella, as she usually did. An excited Sargat, accompanied by Wakannh, had just completed the second recitation of what he’d heard for Bantor’s benefit, before leaving Akkad’s leaders alone.
“And Sargat is convinced the attack will come tomorrow?” Bantor’s face showed his concern. “There’s been no word of any horsemen loose in the countryside, at least not anywhere near here. Our scouts have reported nothing so close. According to them, the barbarians are still many miles away.”
“That’s what he heard them say,” Lady Trella said, “and I believe him. If we had any word of barbarians drawing near, you would have doubled the sentries on our gates and walls. Shulgi must have prepared this attack the same way he plotted the assault on Kanesh, a sudden strike by horsemen without any hint of their movements. Food for the riders and grain for the horses could have been hidden along their way, awaiting their arrival.”
“It is possible, isn’t it?” Annok-sur leaned forward. “If they wanted only to attack Akkad, and not raid the countryside, could they reach here without any word?”
Trella saw Bantor clench his fist on the table. He’d brought the news of the Alur Meriki raiding to the east and coming this way, and he didn’t like the idea that his outriders might have failed to detect their close approach. But despite what he lacked in imagination, he was no fool when the possibility of danger to Akkad arose
. He knew the Alur Meriki could travel vast distances when necessary.
“If they swung to the north-east, then rode straight in. They’d have to cover a lot of ground at night, at least fifty miles from daybreak to midnight. That’s a lot of riding in the dark.”
“Skilled riders, with extra horses, carrying torches, and a well-marked trail prepared in advance.” Trella kept her voice persuasive. Bad enough Bantor had to deal with his wife’s authority from time to time. “We’ve done such things ourselves. We’ve no reason to believe Alur Meriki can’t do such things even more efficiently.”
He gave in to their pressure. “I guess they could manage it. But there’s only one direction they could take to make this work. I can have riders out in the morning. As soon as we see them coming, we’ll have plenty of time to prepare.” He glanced up at the window, to gauge the progress of the moon. “Plenty of time left tonight to round up the Sumerians. It won’t take much to make them tell us who their leader is and where he’s hiding.”
Trella took her time replying. In the interval since Sargat had completed his story, and Bantor’s arrival, she’d thought long and hard about the choices facing her. The easiest and safest solution was to do as Bantor said. Capture the Sumerians, put them to the torture. Even if they didn’t know where their leader was, they knew enough of the plan to confirm Sargat’s story. And once confirmed, the city could prepare itself. No force of horsemen, no matter how fierce or numerous, could scale Akkad’s high walls once they were properly defended.
Nevertheless, that solution left her unsatisfied. Like everyone else, she wondered what Eskkar would do faced with the same facts. Unlike Bantor and the other commanders, Eskkar would seek to gain some opportunity from this information, to turn the enemy attack into a defeat. She knew he would not enjoy sitting idly behind Akkad’s walls while raiders – foiled in their attempt to slip into the city – terrorized the countryside.
“Is there something else you would consider, Trella?” Annok-sur realized the time for a quick reply had long passed.
