Authors: Sam Barone
She would have liked to take her time and explore, but she wanted to get back to Esk kar. So she hurried until she reached the shop Adad had suggested.
Entering the low doorway of the merchant Rimush, she found two other women ahead of her. The older dressed like the wife of a well - off tradesman. Her younger companion looked to be a servant or slave, in more humble clothing. The large room, illuminated only by the sunlight coming through the door and a small hole cut in the ceiling, held several rough - cut tables and shelves, all covered with clothing or lengths of wool and linen. The intense smell of the fresh linen tingled her nose. Goods were stacked on the floor as well, covering nearly every open space, and Trella had to be careful where she stepped. A colorful blanket curtained off another room at the rear.
The women and shop owner gave her a quick glance, then ignored the poorly dressed slave. Ignored her, until Adad followed her inside, looked around, then leaned in the doorway. The sight of the armed soldier accompanying Trella stopped all conversation, and now Rimush turned to her, taking only a moment to guess who she was.
“You’re the new slave of the soldier Esk kar?” Rimush spoke rapidly, his curiosity plain. Esk kar and his new status were the main topic of conversation everywhere in Orak since sunrise.
Although not particularly tall, Trella knew how to stand properly and how to deal with merchants, so she drew herself up before answering.
“My master is Esk kar, captain of the guard. He wishes me to purchase sandals and a tunic for him. Do you have such items, or should I seek elsewhere?” She kept her head high, her voice low but firm. The merchant would recognize the tone of one accustomed to dealing with shopkeepers and servants.
The older woman seemed annoyed at the interruption. “When I’m finished, slave, you may buy whatever it is you can afford.”
“I’ll look elsewhere, then,” Trella said calmly and turned to go.
“No, wait, girl,” Rimush called hastily after her. “I have what you need here.” He turned to his other customer. “I will return to you when I have finished with … what is your name, girl?”
“Trella.” She watched in amusement as Rimush ignored the tradesman’s wife to go to the darkest corner of the shop, returning in a moment with a pair of sandals. While he went to fetch some tunics, Trella inspected the sandals, then called to him. “These sandals are not strong enough, Rimush.
I want the finest, strongest pair you have, sturdy enough to fight in.”
Muttering under his breath, he returned in an instant, handing her another pair of sandals he’d picked up without stopping, then went again to the back room. His other customer, angered at Rimush’s treatment, banged down the cloth she’d been inspecting and left the shop. Her companion gave Trella a broad smile as she passed, trailing behind her mistress.
Trella inspected the sandals, then rapped one sharply on the counter.
Next she twisted it with both hands, to make sure nothing shifted. “These are of fair quality,” she commented as Rimush returned, carrying half a dozen tunics. “I’ll take them, upon my master’s approval, of course.”
“There are no better sandals in Orak. Your master will be pleased.” He pushed a bolt of cloth out of the way with his elbow, then put the tunics down on a narrow table, fanning them out. “Your master is tall and has broad shoulders. Not many carry tunics of his size.”
“You know my master, then?”
“No, he has never come here. But I know who he is.”
Trella ignored the first four garments, soft, decorated tunics for rich merchants or nobles. The one she selected looked more fitting to a captain of the guard, well made but unadorned except for a red stripe around the simple square collar. She wet her finger and rubbed the stripe to make sure the dye stayed true, then reversed the garment to check the stitching and the seams, tugging on the half sleeve to make sure it held fast.
“This one will do,” she announced. “Also, I need a dress for myself, something simple. Have you anything for me?”
This required the assistance of Rimush’s wife, who had come out from the back of the house to stare at the captain of the guard’s new slave. She helped Trella make her selection, then escorted her into the back of the house where she could try it on. “You look very pretty in it, Trella, like a fine lady,” she added, admiring the way the dress fit. “Are you sure you don’t want a newer one, or something of finer quality?”
Trella smiled at the compliment. “This is good enough. Now I must be on my way.” She took the new garment off and put her old one back on.
The haggling over prices went faster than Trella had expected. Five silver coins for the expensive sandals, four for the tunic, and two for the dress. The price seemed reasonable enough, but she countered with an offer of eight coins for everything. Rimush complained about being robbed, but eventually accepted a price of ten silver coins when Trella tossed everything on the counter and prepared to leave.
Rimush looked surprised when she handed him a gold coin. Gold was scarce and slaves not often trusted with such coins. He took the coin, pinching it hard with his fingernail to make sure it was real and noting Nicar’s mark on it before he gave her ten silver coins in change.
Trella smiled as she watched him. Rimush would spread the word that Esk kar had access to Nicar’s gold. Gathering up her goods, she thanked him and his wife.
“No, Trella, our thanks to your master. The gods protect him, and may he save us from the barbarians. And from Noble Drigo as well. I’m too old to start over in another place.”
“Noble Drigo?”
“Yes, Noble Drigo.” Rimush spat the words out. “His bullies take what they like and pay as little as they can, if they pay at all. They say Drigo will take charge of Orak soon.”
“Nicar won’t allow that,” Trella answered. “Nor will my master. He will protect you, Rimush,” she told him confidently. “He’ll protect all of us.”
Outside in the street, Adad waited patiently for his charge. They walked back toward the barracks, the soldier two steps behind her, stopping once for Trella to purchase a good quality comb to manage her hair, her own having more broken teeth than good ones, then again to buy a small oil lamp.
As she walked and shopped, however, Trella noticed that everyone was staring at her. No one had ever seen a soldier assigned to protect a slave before. She’d have received quite a bit of attention for that reason alone.
But they all knew her status as Esk kar’s slave, the man who claimed he could defend Orak against the barbarians. That made her someone of importance.
A few people asked what she knew about the barbarians or about Eskkar’s plans. She smiled at anyone who spoke to her but said nothing. Fear of the barbarians showed in their faces, so worried that they looked even to her for some sign of hope.
The walk through Orak’s streets gave her much to think about. She’d seen the villagers’ apprehension, the anxiety she had warned Esk kar about, and that meant anything could happen in the next few days, for good or evil. Trella pushed the thought from her mind. She had more than enough to worry about in the next few hours.
–-
Esk kar found Gatus sitting against the barracks wall, dozing in the early afternoon sun while waiting for his captain. Climbing to his feet, Gatus yawned loudly, then led the way to the stable.
Fewer than a dozen horses remained. Ariamus had taken the best, leaving behind animals past their prime. Not that Esk kar would have trusted any of them in a hard fight, including those taken by Ariamus. It took gold to buy, maintain, and train good horses, and the miserly nobles spent as few of their coins as possible on the soldiers’ mounts.
They picked two horses that needed work, and Esk kar led the way to the hilltop where he’d done his thinking yesterday. The two men sat facing each other, and Esk kar repeated everything he’d told Nicar, this time in much more detail. Gatus made suggestions about the food and supplies needed, the quantity and quality of weapons, and how the men would be paid. They discussed the soldiers, talking about individual abilities and how best they could be used. Gatus agreed with the three Esk kar had in mind for subcommanders.
They tried to come up with everything needed to raise, train, and support a large number of fi ghting men. Then they attempted to put tasks in order, what must be done first, what could wait a few weeks longer. Last, they discussed the barbarians, guessing what they might do when they saw the wall, how they’d use their weapons and horses, and the most likely points of attack.
Esk kar had never had such a discussion before. All his life, fighting was something you just did, not something you planned for. You might try to ambush your enemy, or catch them asleep, but for horsemen, there was little else in the way of tactics. In true steppes tradition, Esk kar believed the best plan of all was to have more men and better horses than your enemy. If outnumbered, barbarians tended to avoid battle, preferring to fight another day. Neither Esk kar nor the Alur Meriki felt any loss of honor in turning away from such unfavorable conflicts. Now Esk kar had to devise ways to resist not only a numerically superior foe, but one whose individual warriors were stronger and more capable. Just as important, he had to convince villagers that his tactics would be effective.
For someone village - bred, Gatus had plenty to contribute. He had survived years of fighting and had ideas of his own and no hesitations about putting them forth, especially those concerning weapons and training. He kept challenging Esk kar, looking for weaknesses or flaws that would doom Orak’s defense. When Gatus did fi nd a weakness, they worked out how to resolve it.
Nearly three hours later, Esk kar nodded in satisfaction. They had reached agreement on every item. Gatus had helped him specify his plans.
For the first time Esk kar felt confident he could answer any question at Nicar’s meeting, that no one could brush off either his ideas or his facts.
They might not share his beliefs, but that would be a matter for debate.
The two men rode down the hill to repeat Esk kar’s survey of the land.
This time they paid particular attention to the farmlands north and south of the village. Flooding these would change the usual approach to Orak’s main gate. When they finally finished their circuit, Gatus admitted Orak might have a chance, with luck, of surviving the invasion.
Esk kar wanted more than just Gatus’s approval. He wanted the old soldier waiting outside Nicar’s house, in case the nobles wanted a second opinion. Gatus had lived in Orak for more than five years, and most of them would respect his words.
“But we’ll need to train bowmen, three or four hundred of them at least,” Gatus said. “And assuming you can provide weapons for all of them, it’s still going to take at least two months to train a good archer.”
Esk kar didn’t understand why it took so long to teach someone how to use such a simple weapon, but he had to defer to Gatus’s experience with villagers. “Then we’d better get started at once, Gatus. You know how to train men better than anyone. They’ll do as you say.”
And they would do it faster for Gatus than for a barbarian. Esk kar might be captain of the guard, but he hadn’t proven himself to the men. They’d follow him for now, but for a real battle, where men had to trust their commander completely and be willing to risk their lives … that needed a leader with a different kind of authority.
“And what of everything else that must be done? Are you sure you know what’s needed from Nicar and the nobles?”
“Yes. I went over all that with Trella. She thought of a dozen things I’d missed. She knows how to ask for what we’ll need. We just have to tell her. Then she can deal with the craftsmen. She knows the symbols, she can count, and she remembers what she hears. She comes from a noble family.
Her father taught her the ruling ways.”
“Ah, she’s one of those.”
“Those what?” He looked toward Gatus.
“One of the special ones. You’ve spent time in other villages, haven’t you?”
“Yes. Now stop talking in riddles. What about her?”
Gatus took his time before answering. “How many women in Orak know the symbols, or can count higher than ten?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “None, I suppose. All the clerks and scribes are men.”
“You don’t know the symbols; I don’t know them. But Nicar’s wife knows them.” Gatus saw the surprise on Esk kar’s face. “There are a few others, wives of the big traders and merchants. Who do you think runs their trading business when they’re away or sick? There are some women, you ignorant barbarian, who are trained for more than just bedding. If she’s one of those … tell me what else Trella said.”
Esk kar grimaced at the slur, but told him everything he’d learned.
“Then she was raised to be a wife to someone like Nicar or Drigo,”
Gatus mused, “a ruling noble.”
“What does that …”
“Listen to me. You were raised to fight, trained from childhood, taught how to use weapons, how to be strong.”
“Yes, that’s the barbarian way. You spend your whole life learning how to fight, how to …”
“Trella was raised to help rule. She probably spent her whole life at her father’s feet, watching the rulers of her village, learning how to read men’s faces, listening to what they say, judging when they lie. Trella’s what, fourteen seasons? She may have spent every day for the last five years watching her village’s nobles, learning the mysteries of gold and bronze, the secret symbols, studying the ways of farmer and villager. If her wits are as sharp as you say …”
“They are,” Esk kar said, trying to grasp this new concept. It had never occurred to him that the nobles in Orak might have trained to learn their ruling ways. As he’d been trained to fight, Trella learned to use her wits, to study men and their ways. Their talk this morning … he realized that Trella had guided him through the preparations for tomorrow’s meeting with more than just her knowledge of Nicar’s house. If she knew the secret ways of the nobles, could read men’s thoughts, then she might be worth even more than he’d thought.