Tarmaks.
Linsha pushed herself to her knees and sat upright on her heels. Kneel she might. Grovel she would not. Casting a quick look around, she realized this tent was the same-or at least a copy-to the one she had been in before when the Tarmaks had left her to find the Abyssal Lance. The general sat in the same carved couch padded with pelts. A low table sat to his left-still covered with writing implements, scrolls, and what looked like building plans. The ornate banner decorated with the lion and the geometric designs still hung in its accustomed place behind him.
The general had not changed much in the past few months. He was still a magnificent specimen of a Tarmak, statuesque and dangerous. The war paint was absent this night, revealing his fair skin and numerous scars, and his kilted skirt had been replaced with a linen cuirass decorated with small disks of brass that looked suspiciously like brass dragon scales. The general gestured his warriors to leave and silently watched Linsha in front of him.
“You are called Akkad-Ur?” she said before he could address her.
The golden mask stared down at her. “Akkad is a rank, Lady Knight. It is similar to your rank of general. Ur is part of my name.” He continued to study her for a few moments, then he called out something.
Immediately two women entered the tent carrying several basins, jugs, and towels. Linsha stared in astonishment at one she recognized-a lovely buxom blond with flexible legs and a talent for turning a profit with her body. It was the courtesan Callista, the favorite of the captain of the city watch and one of Linsha’s informers. After Linsha’s flight from the Solamnic citadel, Callista had loaned her some clothes to escape detection. Since then Linsha had neither seen nor heard from the woman. She lifted her eyebrows in a silent question, but Callista shot a furtive glance at the Akkad-Ur and gave her head a quick shake.
She and her companion laid their burdens down in front of Linsha, helped her to her feet, and to her utter mortification, stripped off her clothes. Not that the clothes were in excellent repair or that Linsha was sentimentally attached to them. They were filthy and little more than rags. But now she stood naked in front of the Akkad-Ur. Her embarrassment burned in her face. Silently, while the Tarmak watched, the women washed Linsha with water and soap from the basins. They cleaned off days of sweat, blood, dirt, and grime. They washed her hair and rubbed her muscles with a sweet oil. Callista’s eyes widened at the number of scars and the half-healed wound on Linsha’s body, yet she said nothing.
If Linsha hadn’t been so unnerved by the sight of the Tarmak general sitting only a few feet away, she would have enjoyed this first cleaning she had had in days and the attention of someone other than smelly, grumpy men. She wanted to talk to Callista, to ask her a dozen questions, to inquire if she was all right and why she was in the service of the general. And more than anything she wanted a drink of water!
But for Callista’s sake, she gritted her teeth and said nothing until the ladies gathered their jugs and basins and prepared to leave. Only then did Linsha realize they had not brought extra clothes with them, and they were picking hers up to carry them away. She held out her hand in entreaty, and Callista could only shrug a bit and hurry after her companion, leaving Linsha alone with the Akkad-Ur.
The general chuckled, a rumbling sound behind his mask. “My informant was right. You do clean up well. You should not feel embarrassed by your nakedness. In our world, the body is a utensil to care for and use well. You have the body of a warrior-a thing that would bring you much respect in my city.”
Linsha wasn’t sure whether she should feel complimented or threatened. She stood still, trying to feel at ease, and waited for him to make a move. When he did nothing but continue to study her, she lost patience. She did not believe she was particularly desirable. Compared to someone like Callista, she was too thin, too old. Her breasts were small, and her hair was a curly disaster.
Yet who knew what the Tarmak males desired? She had heard that a number of young women had been taken and shipped out of the city by the Tarmaks, and she knew the warriors had enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh among many of the women. Was the general any different?
“So now what?” she demanded. “You left me hanging in a cage all day, and now you clean me up just so you can stare at me?”
He lifted a hand and waved away her questions. “I was satisfying my curiosity. Nothing else.” Reaching down beside his chair, he picked up a tunic and some pants and held them up. “Where is the bronze dragon?”
She crossed her arms over her breasts and glared at him.
“All right. I will tell you. He returned to his lair in Sanction. Not a wise move. I have heard the Knights of Neraka desire that city for their own. They will get it eventually, I believe.”
He sat back in his chair and regarded her for a moment, then he tossed her the tunic. Linsha caught it.
“I know, too, your owl has left the city to seek the dragon. I believe he will come to your aid.”
Linsha was so surprised by his words that she simply stared at him, the tunic dangling from her hand. “I told her not to,” she whispered.
“The owl has a mind of her own. As does the dragon. I am told he cares for you. He stayed longer than he needed to because he worried about you. If it wasn’t for the lord governor of Sanction, he would never have left.”
“How do you know this?” Linsha snapped.
But she knew. Gods, she thought miserably, the informant had been a busy little spy. Only someone who lived in the Wadi and observed her and Crucible day by day would have known these details.
The Akkad-Ur held up the pants. “Our spies are numerous. And quite good. I asked you today where the militia would rendezvous. However, I have already learned where they are.”
The cold threat of his words stung her. “If you already know everything,” she said nastily, “why do you bother asking me?”
“It is your spirit of cooperation I wish to test. Just because you are a prisoner does not mean you are entirely without choice. You may choose to help us or you may accept to suffer our displeasure.”
He tossed the pants to her and stood.
“No boots?” she said, her hands tightening around the clothes.
He stepped away from the couch. “Bare feet will make it more difficult for you to run away.”
Linsha wasted no more time. She pulled on the clothes and stepped back to keep some distance between herself and the Akkad-Ur. Apprehension and anger shared equal parts of her thoughts.
“You have already wiped out the militia. Just like the mercenaries. What difference does it make where a few pitiful stragglers go?” She hoped to steer him away from the subject of escape and keep him talking about something else. If he was distracted by discussing his plans and ambitions, perhaps he would not touch her or use his magic. It hadn’t worked the last time she’d tried it, but at least she had gained some very useful information. Her eyes flicked up to the ceiling of the tent, but the Abyssal Lance was not there. Had the Tarmaks been the ones who retrieved it from the cavern?
“There are a few survivors we missed.” The Akkad-Ur crossed his arms over his muscular chest, and his piercing eyes glared out the eyeholes of the mask. “I dislike leaving loose ends. I had planned to wipe out the militia earlier, to use the eggs to lure them out and slaughter them on the field. But we changed our plans when you took the Abyssal Lance and organized such a neat plan to rid us of Thunder. If it soothes your mind to know, your militia has proven more tenacious and useful than we expected. We have been impressed with your resistance.”
Linsha edged a little farther away and skimmed her mind for something else to say, anything to keep him talking. “Why did you massacre your mercenaries?”
“They were like Thunder. Useful for time before they grew too lazy and greedy. They would not be of help on our next campaign, and we could not afford to leave them behind. Their slaughter also served as an excellent lesson to the inhabitants of the city and as a distraction for your troop. Their deaths allowed us to, as you say, kill two birds with one stone.”
Linsha kept her face impassive, but her heart began a heavy pound. Several thoughts impressed her mind at the same time: the Tarmaks knew where the militia was hiding, and the army planned to march soon. By all that was sacred, she had to get out of this place and warn the survivors. Sinking Wells was not a fortress. It was simply an old sinkhole, a place of well-worn campgrounds, scattered trees, and old dunes. Anyone who made it safely there could not mount a successful defense against the likes of the Tarmak. They would have to flee, perhaps north to the King’s Road or northwest to Duntollik. They had to be warned.
