two others accompanied Esk kar. Dressed in his new tunic and sandals, Esk kar moved confidently, taking long, purposeful strides that parted the crowd ahead of him. His short sword hung from his belt, freshly oiled to stay loose in its scabbard.
Behind him walked Trella, head properly downcast, wearing her new dress. The garment hadn’t been woven from the fancy cloth worn by rich merchants or wealthy farmers, but it fitted her new station and looked much better than the cast — off garment she’d worn as Nicar’s slave. Esk kar hadn’t thought to tell her what to buy or how much to spend, but it didn’t surprise him that she had sense enough to buy something practical.
Turning into the lane where Nicar lived, Esk kar found what he’d been told to expect. Almost twenty men lounged about, the hired bodyguards of the Families. Using the authority of their masters, they lorded it over both the villagers and the soldiers for at least as long as Esk kar had lived in Orak. When they saw him approach, most of them straightened up and a rough line formed across the lane, a dozen paces from Nicar’s gate. Most of those blocking the way wore Drigo’s emblem on their tunics.
Naxos, Noble Drigo’s chief bodyguard, had broad shoulders and a coarse red beard that failed to cover a poxed face and a missing tooth. He stood in the center of the lane, directly in Esk kar’s path.
“The meeting of the Five Families is closed to soldiers,” Naxos said in a loud voice, as Esk kar’s party approached, making sure everyone heard his authority. Naxos hooked his thumbs on the thick leather of his sword belt.
“I’ve been summoned by Nicar,” Esk kar answered reasonably, stopping about five paces from the line. “Am I forbidden to enter as well?”
Naxos, one of the few men in the village as tall as Esk kar, stared him in the eyes and took his time before replying. “You may enter,” he answered, still speaking in a forceful tone that carried the length of the lane, as if deciding the matter himself, “but the rest of your men must return to their shit — hole of a barracks. There’s no need for play soldiers here.”
So they wanted him alone. No doubt Drigo didn’t want too much bloodshed either. Then they’d jump him as he passed through their line.
Esk kar mentally thanked the man for his offensive words. Nothing could have provoked his men or stiffened their resolve more. They’d all been bullied and ridiculed by Naxos and the other guards. Esk kar looked at the men standing boldly beside Naxos, hands on their swords, smiles on their faces, confident in their authority. Esk kar could hear the crowd behind him begin to melt away.
“My men go where I tell them, Naxos,” Esk kar said firmly. “Stand aside and let us pass.”
Naxos’s laugh boomed across the alleyway. “You’re a pig of a barbarian, Esk kar, and should have been taught a lesson long ago. I’ll have your head on a plate if your men aren’t on their way.”
The man standing next to Naxos, burly and young, drew his sword, eyes wide with excitement. “Let me kill him for you, Naxos,” he said eagerly.
Esk kar didn’t reply. Instead, he slowly raised his left hand above his shoulder, palm outward, as if to appease the man. But instead of saying anything, Esk kar simply pointed his finger at the troublemaker. There was a hiss in the air and a soft thud, and the man looked down to see a long arrow buried in the center of his chest.
No one moved as the dying man first gasped a long breath, then looked up, the sword slipping from his hand and falling to the ground. Then he was on his knees, pitching facedown into the dust. Nobody moved. All of Naxos’s men looked up, open — mouthed, at the rooftops along the alleyway where ten archers rose up, five on each side of the street. Jalen commanded them and they stood ready, bows drawn to the nock, targets selected, waiting for Esk kar’s next signal.
The rest of the bodyguards made no movement, their eyes locked on the archers, as Gatus shouted an order. Bantor and a half — dozen men, raced up to stand on either side of Esk kar and Gatus. They carried shields and drawn swords as they quickly fanned out in a line, facing Naxos and his men.
The bodyguards’ bravado had changed to fear in an instant, and now they were paralyzed with indecision. No one attempted to draw a weapon, and most took their hands off their hilts. A few, especially those serving the other nobles, stepped back a little, as if to distance themselves from Naxos and Drigo’s men.
Esk kar calmly drew his sword, but kept the tip pointing toward the ground as he crossed the five paces that separated him from Naxos. The man’s eyes stared up at the roof, looking at the three men aiming arrows at his chest. He didn’t even react when Esk kar raised the blade and held it against his stomach. Instead, Naxos looked down at the sword as if he’d never seen such a weapon before.
“All of you men,” Esk kar called out, “don’t move. Throw down your weapons. Anyone who draws a sword dies here in the dirt.” Nothing happened. The guards seemed rooted to the ground. Most of them still stared at the archers above them.
“Now!” Esk kar barked the command savagely. His voice broke the spell, and in a moment the dull sound of weapons striking the dirt was heard.
Esk kar looked into Naxos’s eyes and saw fear replace the shock of seeing the line of bowmen. Esk kar gave him no more time, either to speak or to act, thrusting the sword deep into the man’s belly. A grunt of pain and astonishment escaped from Naxos’s lips even as he tried to grasp the blade that pierced him. Viciously, Esk kar turned the blade, wrenching another groan from Naxos’s open mouth, then jerked it from his body.
Blood spurted everywhere, escaping through the man’s hands as he tried to cover the fatal wound, sagging to his knees as his legs gave way, then falling hard on his back, one leg under him, the other twitching in the dust. Naxos tried to speak, but couldn’t get the words out. Even before he died, Esk kar’s men had moved, closing to within striking distance of the guards.
Stooping down, Esk kar wiped his sword on the dying man’s tunic, ignoring his death sounds and twitches. Esk kar even changed hands and cleaned his right hand and arm, both spattered with the blood gushing from the man’s stomach. None of Naxos’s men moved or said a word.
Esk kar returned his blade to its scabbard. Turning his back on the cowed guards, Esk kar faced the frightened villagers who’d hung back behind him, hoping to see some excitement. They, too, stood rooted in place and stunned into silence.
“I do not like to be called a barbarian,” Esk kar said, his voice carrying down the lane. “Nor do my men like to hear their commander so addressed.”
He turned to Gatus. “Gather their weapons and keep them quiet.”
Trella had stopped a few paces behind Gatus and his men. Esk kar called her name, and she followed him as he pushed past the still — shocked bodyguards. They walked through the open gate and entered the spacious garden that separated Nicar’s house from the street.
The door stood slightly ajar and unattended, and they entered without knocking. Once inside, Esk kar realized that no one was aware of what had happened in the lane outside. The house servants, busy waiting on Nicar’s guests, had no time for events in the always noisy lane.
Trella held his arm for a moment, took a scrap of cloth from her pocket, moistened it in her mouth, and wiped a drop of blood from his cheek and another from his arm. She examined him carefully for any other blood traces. Her face looked pale and her hands shook a little, but her eyes showed no panic. He guessed she had never seen men die like that.
“Killing people is never pretty,” he kept his words low, so only she could hear. “If I hadn’t killed him, he’d have challenged my authority every day.” He touched her arm for a moment. “Can you still face what may come inside?”
She nodded.
They turned at the sound of footsteps to find Creta coming toward them.
“Good day, Esk kar,” she glanced at Trella, then stared more closely, noting her new dress. “Come this way, they’re waiting for you. You’re already late.”
“Good day, Creta,” Esk kar answered, nodding his head. “We’ll follow you.”
Creta stopped abruptly, and Esk kar spoke before she could protest.
“Nicar said I should use Trella to assist me, and I need her with me.” He kept his voice firm and hard.
Without a word, Creta turned and led them to the same room where he’d dined with Nicar. She knocked once, then opened the door. Esk kar and Trella moved past her, and she shut the door behind them.
Today the room looked different, set up for business rather than dinner. Gone were the soft chairs and cushions used for dining. Another table had been brought from somewhere and joined to the one Nicar and Esk kar
