He directed her as they walked, slipping through the stream of people who walked Orak’s narrow dirt lanes, a noisy mixture of men, women, children, and animals. She saw that most of the mud — brick houses had a single story. But the homes and shops of the better — off merchants usually had a stall or table in front to display some wares. Images painted on the wall identified the type of establishment or what goods could be had.
Though she had lived in Orak for almost two months, she’d rarely been allowed outside Nicar’s courtyard, and then only to accompany Creta or one of the senior servants. Now she looked closely at the people and stalls that lined the streets. At each stall a merchant, his wife, or an older child tended the merchandise, both to deter petty thieves and to encourage those looking to buy. Orak seemed much like her former village, only much bigger and with more fine houses.
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.
4
Eskkar 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.
