Empire Rising es-2

by Sam Barone

  At last, Eskkar felt satisfi ed. It might not be the best course of action, but only time would answer that question. He never wanted this kind of responsibility, never dreamed that some day his decisions would affect so many people’s lives. Or even bring about their deaths. Nevertheless, Trella believed in him, and he didn’t want to disappoint her. Eskkar shook the dark thoughts from his mind. Right or wrong, he would continue the course he had chosen.

  He stood and stretched muscles grown stiff from inaction, looking up at the star-filled sky. The little glittering points of light that moved across the night sky had fascinated him as far back as he could remember; his father had taught him the stars’ names, and how to use them to travel at night.

  The moon had risen, shedding its own pale gleam on the land. For the first time, he noticed the silence of the night. Shulat’s screams had ended long ago. No doubt the women of Dilgarth regretted their revenge had ended so swiftly. The bandit’s demise had been the first of this campaign. Eskkar knew there would be many more death cries in the next few weeks. Just how many would depend on the course of action he’d chosen.

  3

  And so, Lady Trella,” Drakis said, finishing up his report, “Lord Eskkar dispatched me on one of the captured horses back to Akkad, to tell you and Gatus what took place.”

  Trella shifted her body slightly in her chair as she listened to the soldier’s tale. The meeting had lasted for some time, and her pregnancy had reached the stage where she felt uncomfortable if she sat too long. Into her seventh month, she already looked forward to the child’s birth. Her body kept distracting her with one thing or another, making it more difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. Not that anyone in the room noticed.

  Trella had grown very skillful at keeping her emotions and thoughts under control.

  In the middle of her fi fteenth season, Trella’s fi gure would have been slender except for the coming child. She was slightly above average height; her hair was her best feature, very dark and thick, reaching just below her shoulders. A thin silver headband held the tresses away from her face, leaving cheeks and neck bare. Around her neck a loop of thin leather held a small gold coin, hidden between her breasts, a gift from Eskkar for saving his life. Aside from the unadorned fillet and necklace, she wore no other jewelry, though Akkad’s shopkeepers produced some of the finest bracelets, rings, and earrings sold on the river. Strangers tended to notice her eyes first, deep brown and set wide apart, which seemed to overlook nothing, as if they stared directly into your mind. Hardened soldiers twice her age often got flustered in her presence.

  Not that her eyes revealed the power of her mind. Her father had trained her well, teaching his precocious daughter to listen, observe, and think. Her sharp wits did the rest. When anyone spoke, she listened intently while she watched his face, his hands, the shuffling of his feet, to better analyze his words. She perceived much by noting not only what men said, but how they said it and what they omitted. Few could hide the truth from her.

  Many men underestimated her abilities at first, seeing only a young woman. Those who knew her did not. Trella possessed a presence of authority, an aura of domination. The barbarian clan Eskkar had befriended called her “a gifted one,” a term that designated a woman singled out by the gods, even allowed to speak at the council fires.

  In Akkad, many thought the goddess Ishtar blessed her with special insight, a fact continually reinforced by Ishtar’s priest even as he took Trella’s gold. Others swore she’d learned the art of witchcraft, with the power to cast spells and control men’s souls. Trella smiled at all these ideas and did nothing to dispel any of them. Rather she used each to her advantage.

  “And you are planning to return to my husband immediately, Drakis?”

  “Yes, Lady Trella, as soon as I gather the supplies he requested. I must rejoin him before he reaches Bisitun.”

  Gatus leaned forward across the table. “How many men did he leave behind in Dilgarth?” Seated at Trella’s right, Gatus, the new captain of the guard, commanded the garrison soldiers in Eskkar’s absence. An old man, already past his fiftieth season, Gatus had trained nearly every soldier in Akkad.

  “He said he would leave three men,” Drakis replied. “The wounded man, plus two others. Lord Eskkar asked that you send more soldiers to Dilgarth as soon as you can, as well as craftsmen and whatever else you think best to help rebuild the village.”

  “And he didn’t say why,” Gatus went on, “he wanted the ropes and oil?”

  “No,” Drakis answered. “He just told me to bring ten coils of rope and as much of the black oil as I could carry on one spare horse, plus my mount.”

  “I hope he’s not planning on burning Bisitun to the ground.” Corio, one of the Noble Families that helped rule Akkad, said the words only half in jest.

  Trella turned to her left. Each day at least one of the city’s ruling families sat with Gatus and Trella to review any important matters. Today Corio represented the nobles at the council. Akkad now possessed seven such families, and the council room had scarcely enough space to hold all of them, though they rarely came together as a group.

  A skilled artisan, Corio had designed and built Akkad’s wall, the wall that enabled Eskkar and his soldiers to defeat the barbarians. Undertaking that task had changed his status and brought him into the Noble Families.

  Trella knew that many in Akkad, especially those critics unhappy with Eskkar, regarded Corio and his wall as the real saviors of the city.

  “I’m sure that’s not his intention,” Trella said, smiling at Corio’s words.

  “If it were, he would have said so.”

  Corio nodded agreement. Those who worked closely with Eskkar knew he was not a subtle man. “And the oil will have to go in wineskins,”

  Corio added. “It’s too easy to break pots on horseback, even if they’re well wrapped.”

  “I don’t like this at all.” Gatus shook his head as he spoke. “There could be more men in Bisitun than Eskkar has with him, and this time they’ll be the ones behind a stockade. Maybe we should tell him to come back to Akkad. Bisitun can wait until we have more men.”

  “Eskkar knows the situation, Gatus,” Trella said calmly, though she didn’t like it either. They had expected that Eskkar would encounter small, isolated bands of robbers and thieves, bandits who would flee before an organized force of fighting men. No one had foreseen a village full of armed men. Still, Trella had learned not to question her husband’s decisions on military issues. Eskkar had been fighting one battle or another for most of his thirty-odd seasons and he often saw things on the battlefield that another man would miss. And something told him he would need ropes and oil at Bisitun. That meant he thought he could capture Bisitun without too much loss of life.

  “Drakis,” Trella began, “you say that after Shulat revealed his information, Eskkar remained on the roof for over an hour?”

  “Yes, Lady Trella. Night had fallen, and the horseflesh was well cooked before he came down to join us. After he finished his meal, he gave me my instructions and told me to leave at dawn.”

  One lesson Eskkar had learned well was the need to think and work out his campaigns in advance. Trella knew that if Eskkar thought about Bisitun that long, then he must have come up with a plan, and he would have weighed all the alternatives. She sighed to herself and shifted her weight once again. Short of an urgent plea to return, Eskkar would do whatever he decided. He would take too many chances, but that was the man he was.

  “You will see to Drakis’s needs, Gatus?” If the man left at first light tomorrow, Trella reasoned, and the horses held up, Drakis would rejoin Eskkar just as he reached Bisitun.

  “Yes, Lady Trella.” Gatus softened his gruff tone whenever he spoke to Trella. “I’ll make sure he has the two best horses left in Akkad, and an extra man or two for Dilgarth. And I think I’ll send another man with Drakis, to make sure he doesn’t fall off his horse, or wander off somewhere and get drunk.”

  Eve
ryone smiled at the jest. A member of the Hawk Clan, Drakis had proved himself steadier than most.

  “Make sure you carry plenty of food with you, Drakis,” Trella said.

  “But tonight you will eat and sleep at our house. You need to rest. You’ll be riding hard for at least four days.” She knew the words weren’t needed, that the man would do his duty regardless, but the effect achieved all she could wish.

  The thought that the leader of Akkad worried about his dinner and sleeping arrangements brought an embarrassed flush to Drakis’s face. He stood up and bowed. “Thank you, Lady Trella. I will be honored.” He bowed again, this time to Gatus, and left the room.

  Trella, Gatus, and Corio remained seated at the table in what had come to be called the Council House, a good-sized, one-level dwelling located only a few dozen paces from Akkad’s marketplace. Eskkar and the Noble Families met in the Council House to govern the fast growing city and manage its affairs. The structure contained only two large rooms: an inner chamber where the leaders met, and an outer room that functioned as a waiting area for those with council business. Three clerks worked there, to keep a record of what the council decided, and to keep track of those seeking to speak with the council. Two guards kept wary eyes on every visitor, and made sure no one brought a weapon into the inner room.

  Two other Hawk Clan soldiers, Trella’s usual guard, waited there as well.

  Another soldier stood watch outside the house.

  Trella leaned back in her chair as she felt the child within her moving about. At least the business of the day had nearly finished. “How are the plans for the new wall, Corio? Are you any closer to completing your design?” Trella knew he had been meeting every day for over a month with all the master builders and artisans in Akkad.

  Corio stood, then moved around to the other side of the table, so he could face them more easily. A tall man with large hands, he preferred to talk while standing. “We argued all day and into the night about it, until there was no more oil for the lamps.” He shook his head as he remembered. “No one is really satisfied. But based on what everyone needs and how much Akkad is expected to grow in the next few seasons… we finally agreed to begin.”

  “And where will this new great wall be placed?” Gatus asked, his voice already rising. In addition to providing soldiers to maintain order during the building process, he would have to develop and train additional men to defend the expanded city in the event of another attack.

  Corio shook his head ruefully. “You won’t like it, Gatus. The new east wall will be eight hundred paces from the present one. The north and west walls will remain as they are, but the south wall will also need to be shifted.

  The area enclosed by the extended walls will be more than three times greater than what Akkad is today.”

  “And how long will it take to build this wonderful new wall? Trella will be a grandmother before it’s finished, I’ll wager.”

  Trella smiled at the old soldier’s words. He thought of her almost as a daughter, and considered himself one of the few in Akkad that didn’t need to use a title when he spoke to her, though in formal occasions he still addressed her properly.

  “The new walls will be thirty-five feet high,” Corio said, “but ten of those will be belowground. With the many towers that you and Eskkar have demanded, it will take at least three years to build.” The value of towers that projected above and over the wall was no longer questioned-they had learned that lesson the hard way during the Alur Meriki siege.

  Trella showed no surprise, though privately she thought it would take closer to five years to complete. She’d attended many of the discussions, and knew that Akkad’s need for new space would be great. It would be a huge project and take many years, and she worried more about where the gold, soldiers, and laborers would come from. With the new wall in place, Akkad would be the greatest and strongest city in the world, and her child would be safe within its mighty walls.

  Gatus slapped his hand on the table in disgust. “Three years! That’s if we can find soldiers and workers aplenty to work on it. More likely twice that, if you ask me. I doubt I’ll live long enough to see it built.”

  Trella placed her hand on top of his and smiled. “You will see it, Gatus, as will all of us. Corio will build a great city for us. We must be patient.” She held him in as much respect as the soldiers did, though for a different reason. The soldiers honored his experience and his years. Not many fighting men survived past their fortieth season. For Trella, Gatus had proven his loyalty to her and Eskkar more than once.

  She turned to Corio. “I am glad all of you have agreed on what is needed. As always, you have done well, Master Builder.” She stood, grateful for the chance to ease her back and already looking forward to returning home.

  A shadow crossed the open doorway and one of the attending scribes appeared, a young man with the sallow face of one who rarely saw the sun.

  He had a thin beard and a high-pitched voice. “Lady Trella… Captain Gatus, there is one more waiting to see you, a stranger from the far west.

  The messenger from Noble Eskkar was brought in ahead of him. Shall I tell him to return tomorrow?”

  Trella felt tempted to do exactly that, but the far west meant the stranger came from the land beyond the other great river. They seldom met travelers from the region west of the Euphrates. She saw the same curiosity on Corio’s face and changed her mind. “No, we will see him now.

  Please send him in.”

  By the time she and Corio had taken their seats again, the stranger stood before them. Trella guessed that he neared his thirtieth year, though his smooth, unblemished face made him seem younger. Not much taller than her own height, the man had a slight build, though he seemed sturdy enough. His garments appeared worn but well made, his features smooth and even. Except for his gray eyes and darker complexion, nothing distinguished him from any local trader. He bowed politely, turning to face each of them as he did so.

  “I thank you for receiving me, Captain Gatus.” Korthac spoke softly, with a pleasant voice, and even though he had a strong accent, his meaning was clear. “My name is Korthac. I realize it is late in the day, and I saw that Noble Eskkar’s messenger was unexpected. I can return tomorrow, if you wish.”

  Gatus turned toward Trella, but she gave no sign, just studied the stranger. The old soldier nodded formally at the visitor. “No, we can speak now. And there is no need to stand.” Gatus waited until Korthac took a seat facing them across the table. “This is Corio, our master artisan, and this is Lady Trella, the wife of Eskkar, our ruler. You say you’re from the lands west of the Euphrates?”

  “Yes, Captain. From beyond the great desert. I arrived yesterday with a small caravan. I am a trader, and I would like to establish a House here in Orak… I mean, Akkad.” He smiled at his mistake. Everyone seemed to have trouble getting used to the city’s new name.

  “What kind of trader?” Corio leaned forward on the table. The question was more than just idle curiosity. Every trader had his own contacts and trade secrets, and if this man truly came from across the desert, he might bring new trading links to the city.

  “Noble Corio, I deal in gemstones and other small items that can be traded profitably. I plan to bring such goods across the great desert, and trade in emeralds, onyx, rose quartz, peridot, amethyst, and glass beads.

  To make a profit over such a great distance, the items traded must be small and easily carried, as I’m sure you understand.”

  “Jewelry made from beads of glass is very rare here,” Corio mused.

  “They are much prized for their beauty and healing properties. And peridot is in short supply as well, since it has the power to dissolve enchantments.”

  “Then perhaps I shall do well in Akkad,” Korthac said politely, his smile showing white and even teeth. “If, Noble, I am permitted to open a House of my own.”

  “There is a tax that must be paid before you can establish a trading house,” Corio said, glancing at Trella be
fore answering. “You understand, Korthac, we have just defeated a barbarian invasion, and at great cost to all of us, I might add. Newcomers must pay to do business under Akkad’s protection. There are other taxes and rules as well.”

  A frown passed briefly across Korthac’s face. “I hope that such fees will not be too great, Nobles. I have had to struggle across a great distance and my own expenses have been high.”

  Trella cut in smoothly. “Perhaps you can tell us a little about the lands to the west. What are they like? Are there many people there?”

  “Once you get across the great desert, to the land called Egypt, there are many villages and great numbers of people,” Korthac answered.

  “Villages as great as Akkad?” Gatus had more than a hint of doubt in his voice. “Distant lands are always magical or mighty, it seems, but I traveled widely in my younger days and never encountered a city with as many people as Akkad.”

  “Oh, no, none so great as Akkad,” Korthac said. “Akkad is a mighty …”

  “Please forgive me, Korthac,” Trella interrupted, “but you may speak plainly here.” She knew a visitor would be expected to praise Akkad to the skies, to flatter its rulers and important citizens. “We wish to hear the truth about the lands to the west. Those few who come to us from afar are mainly lost men or desert wanderers, who understand little about the ways of village and farm. Such as those can tell us little.”

  Korthac looked at Trella carefully before continuing. “In truth, Lady Trella, Egypt is a vast and fertile land of many villages, some of them larger than Akkad. Egypt has much gold and silver, as well as great fl ocks of cattle and other beasts. The numbers of its people are beyond counting.”

  “Do these villages have walls around them?” Corio sounded unconvinced.