for air, she turned her back to the bank and pulled her dress up over her head, then held it under the water and rubbed it vigorously.
She cleaned herself, rubbing the cold water all over her body. She finished up by ducking her hair several times, then retrieved her dress, pulling the wet garment over her head and wriggling it down around her body.
Gathering the other garments, she washed them as well. As she finished, the other girl came over to her, moving slowly through the water, her dress bunched up around her waist.
“You are Trella, the new slave of Esk kar?”
Trella examined the young woman. A large bruise covered her left eye and her lower lip was split and swollen. “Yes, I’m Trella. And you are…”
“Shubure. I’m a slave in Noble Drigo’s house. I must finish cleaning my master’s clothing, then return home. His son may summon me to pleasure him again before supper.” She lifted her hand to her face.
Trella had heard stories about Drigo’s son, and felt pity at Shubure’s plight. Trella thanked the gods Nicar, not Drigo, had purchased her. At least in Nicar’s home the master and his sons did not beat their women, not even their slaves. “Why did your master hit you, Shubure?”
Shubure ignored the question as she moved closer. “Tell your master to be wary. Noble Drigo is not happy with Nicar’s choice for captain of the guard.”
A chill went through Trella, not entirely caused by the cold water swirling around her thighs. “What did you hear?”
Shubure moved back to the rocks, picked up a garment from her basket, and dipped it into the water. The girl looked around, to see if anyone was watching. The matron still chattered with the little girl, and only Trella’s guard glanced in their direction.
“Not much. Just Noble Drigo speaking to his son. He said this Esk kar took too much upon himself and needed to be taught a lesson. One he and the other soldiers wouldn’t forget. That’s all.” She shrugged and turned slightly away, concentrating on washing the already clean garment in her hands.
Trella moved her own hands through the water. “Why did he beat you, Shubure?”
The girl turned back to face her, and a shudder passed through Shubure’s body.
“My mother is too ill to work. She doesn’t have any copper to buy food for my brothers and sisters. They’re all hungry. Soon my mother will have to sell them as slaves, as I was, just to keep them fed. So last night, after young Drigo bedded me, I asked if I could have a copper coin or two for my family, to keep them from starving. I promised to work extra hard to please him, to do anything he asked.” Her eyes closed, as if reliving the memory. “He hit me once to shut me up, then again for bothering him with such things.”
A slave could be well treated or badly treated. A hard master, Drigo had put one of his slaves to death a few weeks ago. The whispers said the son was even worse than the father.
Trella had never been beaten at Nicar’s house, not even slapped until the night Esk kar took her away. Yet young Drigo used his fist on Shubure merely for trying to feed her family.
Whatever Shubure’s misfortune, Trella needed to know more about Drigo’s plans. “Stay a moment, Shubure.” Trella turned away from the shore and opened the pouch that still hung around her neck. Copper and silver coins now mixed with Esk kar’s gold. She removed two copper coins from the pouch and reclosed it tightly before turning back. Keeping her hand in the water, she waded closer to Shubure.
“Take these for your mother. If anyone finds them, say you picked them up in the street.” Shubure’s hand met hers underwater. “If you hear anything else about my master, return here tomorrow. I’ll have more coins for you. What hour can you come?”
“An hour after sunrise, Trella… Mistress Trella. I’ll thank the gods for your gift.”
Mistress Trella. For the first time in her life, someone had acknowledged Trella as the head of a household. “It’s little enough, Shubure.
You’d better go, before they wonder why you dally so long and give you another beating.”
Shubure nodded and moved off, slipping the coins inside her dress.
Trella waited, splashing water around her as if she still worked, until Shubure disappeared behind the jetties. Then Trella gathered her garments and climbed up the riverbank.
Walking back toward Adad, she saw his eyes staring at her body, her wet dress outlining her breasts and hips. What would be a disgrace in her father’s house meant nothing now. No one cared about a slave’s clothing or lack of it. Adad finally remembered his manners and looked away as he handed her the cloak. She rubbed her hair vigorously with it for a few moments, then wrapped it gratefully around her body. Carrying the wet clothes in her arms, she started back home, thinking hard about what she’d just heard.
Nicar knew of Drigo’s ambition to become the first man in Orak, to lead the nobles and decide the future of the village. Drigo had pressed that goal more and more in the last few months. But with the barbarians coming, Nicar believed Drigo would leave, removing himself and his ambitions, and solving at least one problem for Nicar.
He wanted the council of nobles to vote to stay and fight. If Drigo abandoned Orak and the barbarians were driven off, he’d find it difficult to reestablish his authority. But if Drigo persuaded the other nobles to leave Orak, Nicar’s authority would be weakened. When they returned to pick up the pieces and rebuild, it would be Drigo wielding the power and influence. He’d take Nicar’s place as the first man in Orak.
But Nicar wielded great influence. If Esk kar proved he had a workable plan, and if Nicar chose to stay and resist, the nobles would likely side with him.
Trella stopped short, so suddenly that Adad bumped into her. They’d passed back through the gate. She stepped away from the center of the lane and leaned up against the closest wall, hugging the wet bundle to her chest and ignoring the looks from those who passed by.
Until now, Trella hadn’t really worried about the consequences of tomorrow’s meeting. If they all stayed and fought, Esk kar would win great honor and be able to establish his own House in Orak. That made it worth the risk, though Esk kar had repeated that he wouldn’t remain unless he thought they could prevail.
If Drigo left and Orak survived, the noble would have lost face and honor, but would’ve saved all his gold, and would soon reestablish his trading routes. Then why would Drigo want to discredit Esk kar’s plan? Surely the arrogant noble would benefit if the village held out, even without his presence.
What Trella had just worked out, Nicar must have reasoned as well.
That’s why he told Esk kar not to worry about Drigo. Even Esk kar, though not politically astute, knew that Drigo’s choice mattered, that it would influence many in Orak.
Perhaps Drigo had a different plan, something Nicar hadn’t thought of.
Trella considered Drigo’s alternatives. They seemed simple enough: go or stay. Leave, taking everything of value with him, or remain, and risk his life and his fortune under Nicar’s orders. The choices seemed straightfor- ward, so clear. Unless Drigo had discovered a third course of action.
She recalled everything she’d heard about Drigo. Ambitious, arrogant and cruel to his servants, miserly with his goods and gold, always seeking more and more gold. But gold, she reminded herself, could be obtained in more ways than just buying and selling. For Drigo, the barbarian invasion might be seen as a blessing from the gods, not the disaster that Nicar foresaw.
And then Trella knew the answer. Knew that she’d guessed Drigo’s plan, something even Nicar had failed to do. She looked at Adad, but then her eyes focused on the sword belted to his waist. She needed to learn something else, just to be sure.
“Come, Adad, we must get back. I must speak with Esk kar.”
Esk kar handed off his horse, then went to the well to wash the dust and horse smell from his body. He looked forward to an hour in bed with Trella. Afterward they’d go to one of Orak’s better inns, one where they could get decent wine and food, a previously unheard — of luxury, before returning to bed.
Entering his room, Esk kar looked about in surprise. Even in the afternoon shadows, the room seemed brighter. He noticed the new flaxen mats that covered half the floor, then saw that the rest of the dirt had been cleaned and brushed evenly. The place looked almost as clean as one of Nicar’s rooms, though the poor furnishings and begrimed walls left much to be desired. The fact that Trella had managed all this in a few short hours whetted his desire. His previous women had cared little for cleanliness.
He’d just hung his sword up when Trella entered, a bundle of damp clothes in her arms. His satisfied mood vanished as soon as he saw her face.
“Master, we need to talk.” She looked toward the open doorway. Adad had gone, his duties done for the day.
