hand, who guided him all these many months, whose strength supported him when he worried in the night.
“Tomorrow, we’ll give honor to Jalen. His funeral will be attended by all. We’ll give him praise for the success of the raid.” He put his arm around Trella and held her close, feeling her strength as she gripped him in return. “And you… you will remind me if I grow too proud, or if I ever forget the lesson of tonight.”
“You will not need to be reminded. You’re too wise to forget what you learn.”
He’d never considered himself wise, and wondered if she might be saying that simply to ease his mind.
She looked up at him, reading his thoughts. “You are a wise man, Eskkar, wise enough to know your own strengths, wise enough to learn from your mistakes, and even wiser to learn from the mistakes of others.” She pulled free and stood up. “Now come to bed, husband. You need to rest, and there will be much to talk about in the morning.”
Esk kar glanced up at the sky. Morning would soon be upon them.
“I wonder what happened to Thutmose — sin,” he said. “I struck him with the sword hilt, and he went down.” He told her about how the cart had burst into a mountain of fl ame and heat, about the strange noise that knocked them all off their feet. “His men dragged him away, away from the fires and away from us. He might even be dead. I wanted to kill him, to avenge my family. That would have been worth dying for. But he fought… he was too strong.”
“No more talk about dying, husband. And we’ll know soon enough about Thutmose — sin,” she answered. “But whether he lives or dies won’t change what the next few days will bring.”
“I suppose not.” He looked at her, recalling how he’d felt during their first days together, when he’d started to learn just how special she was.
Now she spoke just a few words, and the unimportant disappeared. She was right. The battle would go on, with or without Thutmose — sin.
He took her in his arms and held her tight for a moment, forgetting the pain in his arm and back, letting her strength wash over him. They walked together back into the house, ignoring the servants and soldiers who stared at them with respect and admiration. Falling across his bed, he had time for one more thought before sleep claimed him. Wisdom, he decided, was becoming less a matter of what you knew and more a matter of admitting how much you did not know.
Thutmose — sin regained consciousness in his tent, surrounded by his women. The first rays of dawn shone through the opening, telling him the night had passed. At first his eyes wouldn’t focus, but his wives helped him up to a sitting position. Touching his head, he flinched at the tenderness when his fingers, still clumsy, bumped against the swollen bruise just above his temple. His head hurt when he moved it, but he sat still for a moment, and the waves of pain began to lessen.
The fight came back to him. He remembered his sword breaking. In battle, anything could happen, and he’d seen enough swords shatter before, though never one of his, and never just as he’d readied the killing blow.
One more stroke… the weapon’s failure had unbalanced him, and the tall warrior managed to strike him with his weapon’s pommel. Thutmose — sin had twisted his head trying to avoid the blow, and the bronze ball had glanced along his skull, instead of hitting directly.
If it had, I might be dead.
His first wife, Chioti, lifted a water skin to his lips, and he drank and drank, letting the water spill down his chest. When he finally pushed it away, he looked at her. “What happened?”
“Your guards carried you back here a few hours ago. You were unconscious. They said the dirt — eaters burned the wagons. We saw a great burning.”
He shook his head, then regretted the movement. “Help me up, Chioti.”
Some of the wives murmured that he should rest, but Chioti knew his ways. She placed his arm over her shoulder and helped get him to his feet.
“Fetch Urgo,” she ordered, keeping an arm around her husband’s waist.
“Urgo wanted to know when you awoke.” Chioti moved in front of him and looked into his eyes. “Stay inside the tent until you’re sure you’re all right. You don’t want to stumble and fall.”
Or look weak in front of my men. Thutmose-sin smiled at her. “I will take care, Chioti.”
By the time Urgo arrived, Thutmose — sin felt strong enough to leave the tent. His guards looked at him. The relief on their faces mixed with fear; they’d failed in their duty to remain at his side, to protect him last night.
He looked at them coldly as they gathered around him; he would deal with their dereliction later. The morning sun had lifted well above the horizon. His strength grew with each breath of fresh air, though his head would likely hurt for days.
Urgo arrived first, carrying a bow in his hand. Rethnar, Altanar, and two other clan leaders were on his heels. They sat on the ground in a half — circle, facing Thutmose — sin.
“The dirt — eaters burned the fire wagons, Sarrum,” Urgo said without any preamble. “We lost about half the wood, and one wagonload of oil.
Fortunately, the other two carts carrying oil were spared.”
Thutmose — sin restrained himself from shaking his head in disgust.
“And the horses? The dirt — eaters that raided them?”
“The men got away, jumping into the river.” Urgo shrugged. “They may have drowned. We lost about thirty horses. The rest scattered all over the plain. The men are still rounding them up.”
“And those that burned the wagons?”
“We found two bodies, Sarrum.” He saw the question on his leader’s face. “We lost ten men. That included the two guards. The rest were killed in the fighting.” Urgo handed the bow to Thutmose — sin. “One of the dead carried this. The dirt — eaters sent their archers to raid us.”
“That was no bowman I fought,” Thutmose — sin said, examining the weapon with interest. They hadn’t recovered one before, and it took but a glance to recognize a well — made, powerful bow. “He recognized me, called out my name. He might have been from our clan.”
Urgo shrugged. “A renegade warrior… what does it matter? You may have wounded him. His men had to help him away.”
“And the wood? Do we have enough left?”
“I’ve already sent men out for more. We have plenty of oil, and we’ll have enough wood in a day or so.”
“He knew how to fight, Urgo.”
“The gods may be saving him for us to capture later, Thutmose — sin.”
“Or the gods may be sending us another message, Sarrum.” Altanar spoke for the first time. One of the older clan leaders, he’d said little up to now about the campaign. “Perhaps the gods are saying we should move on, that there is little here worth the death of so many warriors.”
“You would run from dirt — eaters!” Rethnar spat the words across the circle. “Are you afraid to fight cowards who hide behind a wall?”
“No, Rethnar, I’m no more afraid of them than I am of you.” Altanar’s hand went to his sword hilt. “But many more warriors are sure to die before we take this place. Will slaves make up for warriors lost? The dirt — eaters have no horses. Where will we find new horses even to replace those mounts lost last night?” He shrugged. “If Rethnar wants to stay behind and capture the village, so be it. But I say there is nothing here for us.”
“You are a coward,” Rethnar said, leaping to his feet and drawing his sword.
Altanar rose with him, his own blade flashing from its sheath.
“Sit down!” Thutmose — sin shouted the words, but the two clan chieftains, if they even heard his command, had gone too far to stop.
Pandemonium broke out in the camp. Clansmen of Rethnar and Altanar rushed up. Thutmose — sin’s guards, extra alert after last night’s failure, scooped their leader up and pulled him away from the circle. They formed a barrier between him and the melee that had exploded before their eyes.
A dozen men were fighting in a moment, and more would be rushing to join them. Thutmose — sin knew it needed to be stopped now.
“Guards,” he shouted in a voice loud enough to be heard over the fighting, “Kill anyone who doesn’t stop fighting now! Kill them!” His men surged forward. They easily outnumbered the handful of fighters, who saw the menace in their advance. The two clan leaders broke off their duel, and their clansmen followed reluctantly.
“Stand between them,” Thutmose — sin ordered, his voice carrying to everyone now that the clash of weapons had ended. “Kill anyone who doesn’t put down his sword! I’ll not have you killing each other because of
