Authors: Sam Barone
and the will,” he added, with a smile.
“Unlike most women, she can count, as well as read and write the symbols, and she seems levelheaded enough. I will give her to you, and I think you’ll find her useful for many things in the coming months. She’ll be much more than a simple bed companion. You’ll need someone to help you with the planning and to keep you out of the alehouse at night.”
Even through his surprise, Esk kar knew it to be an exceptional and costly gift, given graciously and with subtle advice. “I thank you, Nicar.”
Esk kar suddenly realized what else it meant—that Nicar had agreed to his demands.
“All of us will need your advice and guidance, Nicar. If we are to do this, we’ll need many men working together. So, again, I thank you.”
“You may not have the wit of Ariamus, but you can think and I know you can fight,” Nicar replied. “The rest you can learn, and I and the others will help you. Not many men can know and do everything. Most of us need to learn to accept all the help we can be given. Don’t let your pride stand in the way of what you can accomplish with the help of others.”
Nicar remained silent for a moment. “Know one other thing, Esk kar.
If we succeed, then I will owe you much, more than I and my family can repay. And if we fail, then let us fail together.
“I meet with the nobles the day after tomorrow, when Noble Nestor returns from the south. Until then, you are captain of the guard. When we meet, we’ll confirm our decision to resist the barbarians. Take the girl tonight and move into Ariamus’s quarters. I’ll send you some gold tomorrow so you can buy whatever else you need. In the next few weeks, I’m sure there will be a house available for you. The other Families will provide servants as well, to help free you from everything except the defense of the village.”
Esk kar understood his meaning about the house. Despite what Nicar said, many would flee Orak in the coming months. Esk kar suddenly understood that a bond had formed between them. They shared at least one trait—neither gave up easily. They would live or die in this together.
No matter how it ended, Esk kar knew that his life had changed—that he would never again be the simple warrior who lived by his sword for so many years. Now he’d have to learn to think, plan, prepare defenses, and train people. Not for the first time that day, he wondered whether he was up to the task.
But he’d taken the first step—persuading Nicar that he could save Orak. To accomplish that, he would have to change even more, become someone different, someone better than the drunken fool who passed out last night in the tavern. That would never happen again, he swore.
Nicar stood, signaling the end of the dinner. “Then it’s settled. We’ll do what’s never been done! We will save the village.”
Esk kar smiled, already thinking of the girl who’d accompany him to the barracks. “No, Nicar, if we succeed, we’ll use the new word and call it the City of Orak.”
“Let us pray for that day,” Nicar said. He reached out his hand and clasped Esk kar’s arm, sealing the agreement. Then the merchant strode to the door, calling to his wife, speaking quietly to her before they disappeared into the living quarters.
After a few moments Esk kar heard women’s voices raised in heated debate, followed by an anguished cry, cut short by the sharp sound of a slap. Then Nicar’s wife reappeared, dragging a girl by the shoulder. Creta pushed the girl in front of Esk kar.
“Here’s the slave, Esk kar. Her name is Trella.” Creta’s voice now cut like a rasp. “Of course, you can change it to anything you like. I suggest you give her a good beating to make sure she understands her place. She’s willful and proud.”
The girl flashed a look of hatred at her former mistress, and Esk kar guessed Nicar might have more than one reason for getting rid of the girl.
Life in the rich homes of the Five Families might be more complicated than he’d thought.
Esk kar took a step and lifted up the girl’s chin. She had large, dark brown eyes that refused to meet his gaze. Her slightly darker skin, clear except for a few faint scars from the pox on both cheeks, told him she came from the lands to the south. Her narrow face held a thin nose and small even teeth, hiding behind a trembling lip that still held a drop of blood in the corner, where Creta had slapped her. She looked rather thin and plain, but she had one treasure. Her hair, dark and heavy, fell in a wave around her shoulders.
He saw the fear in her eyes, the fear that came to any slave handed from one man to another. Esk kar had seen that look many times before.
She moved her head away from his hand and returned her gaze to the floor.
Suddenly the image of another girl, about the same age and just as frightened, came to mind. A few years after leaving the clan, he’d befriended Iltani, saving her life and protecting her from rape and worse. She’d repaid that debt by giving herself to him, his first time with a woman. And twice afterward, she risked her life to save his, an obligation he’d never managed to repay. Perhaps the gods had sent Iltani’s image, to remind him of that debt.
“Listen to me, girl,” he said, again lifting her chin, and keeping his tone gentle. “Don’t be afraid. You’re to help me, and I will need your help. Do you understand?”
Her eyes turned up to him and Esk kar held her gaze, seeing this time the strength that lay behind the dark, wide - set eyes. Her lips stopped trembling and she gave him a quick nod, the movement making her hair swirl gently around her face.
“Good. Come with me, then.” A thought struck him and he turned to Creta. “Does she have anything of her own that she should bring?”
“She has some things,” Creta admitted grudgingly. “She can return for them in the morning.”
Whatever trinkets or possessions she might have would be long gone by morning, taken either by Nicar’s wife or the other servants. He started to turn away, hesitated, then faced Creta once again. “A cloak. She’ll need her cloak against the night’s chill. She does have one, doesn’t she?” He made his tone reasonable. “Or perhaps you could find one for her?”
Nicar’s wife must have remembered her husband’s words. She pursed her lips, then gave in. “She has no cloak of her own,” Creta admitted. “But I’ll give her one of mine.”
She clapped her hands and another girl appeared almost instantly, no doubt standing just out of sight beyond the doorway. Creta told the servant to fetch a particular cloak. In moments the girl returned, carrying a faded and patched cloak that looked serviceable enough.
Esk kar took the garment and draped it around the girl’s shoulders.
“Thank your mistress for her gift, Trella.” He watched her closely. Now he’d start to learn what kind of girl he had acquired.
Trella looked first at Esk kar as if trying to read his face. He said nothing, just stared at her. The silence began to lengthen. Then Trella turned to Creta and bowed her head. “Thank you, mistress.” She spoke softly, her words properly servile.
When she straightened up, she looked at Esk kar as if to say, “Is that what you wanted?” and he found himself hiding a smile. He turned to Creta and bowed low. “And I thank you, Mistress Creta. The food you prepared was delicious and well served.” He’d rehearsed the unaccustomed words earlier and was happy to get them out without stumbling.
Out of the house and into the lane, Esk kar laughed aloud as he took Trella’s hand, fi nding it soft and warm in his own as he guided her toward the barracks. “Did you have a cloak of your own?”
A shake of her head answered him, as she kept her eyes on the rough ground underfoot.
“Good, then. At least you got something from her.”
The girl stole a glance at him, then looked down again.
Esk kar’s thoughts raced ahead to the big bed in Ariamus’s chamber and he quickened his pace, glancing up at the stars. Only a few hours before midnight. He’d have to be up before dawn.
Turning the corner at the alehouse, he nearly stopped in surprise. Two torches lit the common area outside the barracks, illuminating a crowd of soldiers, their women, and villagers. Apparently they all had nothing better to do at this late hour than wait for his return. Automatically Esk kar took a quick count and guessed there might be as many as sixty villagers mixing with the soldiers, probably a hundred people all told.
All thoughts of enjoying Trella in his warm bed now vanished, as he remembered his promise. He would have to say something, a prospect that dried his mouth and put an uneasy feeling in his stomach.
Everyone started speaking as soon as they spotted him. A rush of men surrounded him, hands picking at his tunic, eager questions tossed at him like stones. Esk kar knew he must speak to silence the crowd, but his mind remained as empty as last night’s wine cup as he reached the barracks, stopping only because the soldiers waiting there blocked the doorway. He had to face the crowd.
Esk kar felt his hand squeezed hard and realized the boisterous crowd had frightened Trella. He looked down at her and saw the question in her eyes.
“What do they want?” she asked, her voice uncertain.
He tightened his lips before answering. “Nothing, girl. They’re only afraid of what is coming. They think the barbarians are already camped outside the gate.” Somehow her worry gave him strength, and he faced the crowd. “Stay here,” he commanded Trella, letting go of her hand and moving a few steps toward one of the mounting stones, then standing on it to rise a little above the crowd.
“Silence,” Esk kar said loudly. He repeated the word, this time using his command voice. “You’ll wake the whole village with your chattering, and no one will get any sleep tonight.” He jerked his head at the soldiers, and they began to move in front of the crowd, ordering the excited crowd to be silent. When the voices finally died down, Esk kar began to speak.
“Yes, it’s true. The barbarians are coming.” Esk kar let the words run through the crowd, let them jabber for a moment, watching their faces as he confirmed their worst fears. “But they won’t be here for months, so go back to your beds—before your wives cut your throats for being out so late.”
That brought nervous laughter from some, but others shouted at him, asking from what direction the barbarians would come, whether they should leave the village, or whether Orak would try to fight them off. Eskkar raised his hand and eventually they fell silent.
“In two days, Nicar and the other Families will meet. Then we can begin preparing to resist the barbarians. We will fortify Orak so that it can turn back any attack.”
Shouts of disbelief rose up, as well as questions, and the clamor grew louder. Esk kar glanced down at the soldiers. “Quiet them down,” he commanded. His men moved through the crowd, silencing the loudest, pushing back the most aggressive.
Strange, now these soldiers watch my every gesture and obey my smallest command. Yesterday only his fists, backed if necessary by his sword, had provided the slimmest shred of authority. This must be what real power is like, Esk kar realized, more than a little amazed at the sensation.
The people are afraid. Even the soldiers are worried. They want to be told they’ll be safe, told by someone in charge, someone in whom they can believe, even if only for a little while.
“I know you have many questions,” he went on when the murmurs abated, “but they’ll have to wait until Nicar speaks. But hear this, my friends. We have the means and the men to make Orak strong enough to stop the barbarians—if we stand together. I will guide you all in this, and I tell you it can be done, and it will be done. Now, return to your homes and to your beds. Let Nicar speak in two days. By then you’ll know what you must do.”
They shouted at him, but Esk kar ignored them as he jumped down and grabbed Gatus, a grizzled veteran approaching fifty seasons. A subcommander when Esk kar joined Orak’s guards, Ariamus had demoted Gatus back to the ranks for questioning his orders. Esk kar had no real friends among the soldiers, but he respected the old fighter, who knew his trade better than most.
“Gatus, you’re second in command now.” Esk kar raised his voice so as many soldiers as possible could hear him. “Clear out this crowd. Make sure the gates are fastened for the night and guards stationed there. Have a few men patrol the streets until dawn as well. They don’t have to do anything, but have them armed and looking impressive. Then come see me.”
The man nodded, accepting without question his new authority as well as Esk kar’s.
“And Gatus, I’m moving into Ariamus’s quarters. Put a guard at my door. Otherwise some of these fools will be pounding on it until dawn.”
Esk kar turned to Trella and found her staring at him, her fright gone, her wide eyes now locked fi rmly on his as he returned to her side. Taking her hand, he led her away from the crowd, toward the rear of the barracks where his new quarters were located.
Guiding her inside, Esk
kar noted in surprise that somebody had
cleaned and packed down the dirt floor, thrown out most of the refuse, and moved his few belongings in there as well. Some of the men had anticipated his promotion.
The thought of his possessions made him smile. It wouldn’t have taken long to move a thin blanket, a tunic, an old horse sword, and a common short sword.
A fire burned in the tiny hearth and someone had piled a stack of wood nearby. A soldier entered, bringing a precious candle that he set in a pool of wax on the rough table in the center of the room. The soldier glanced admiringly at Trella, then grinned at Esk kar before he left them.
Esk kar closed the door and leaned against it, the crowd noises already fading as his men started herding the villagers away. The candle flared up, adding its light to that of the fire.
Trella walked slowly around the room. Esk kar’s eyes followed her as she took in her new home. She removed her cloak, then hung it on a peg near the door. From a pocket of her dress she removed a small pouch that no doubt contained the rest of her possessions, and hung it over the same peg. She crossed over to the fireplace, then turned and stood facing him, her head held high.
Esk kar saw the swell of her breasts against the thin dress as she took a deep breath and let her eyes meet his.