carpenters, shopkeepers, innkeepers, smiths, and dozens of other tradesmen. These skilled laborers provided any craft required to support the village, the river traffic, and the surrounding farms, taking payment in grain as well as the coins hammered out by the wealthy traders and nobles.
Only its size made Orak different from any other place Esk kar had visited. The village had been large when he arrived, and since then it had nearly doubled. In his travels Esk kar had learned that the larger the village, the easier he would be accepted. A big village always needed men to defend it, so a skilled fi ghting man who knew horses could usually fi nd employment and a safe place to sleep at night, even if the villagers might laugh behind his back at his barbarian heritage. They seldom laughed to his face; the battle scars on his body intimidated most villagers. At least they didn’t drive him away in their fear, something that had occurred more than once in his wanderings.
Those wanderings had taken him as far as the great sea to the south.
Three years ago, Esk kar decided to return to the land of his youth. He’d thrown in with a trader’s caravan destined for Orak, one of half a dozen guards hired to safeguard the merchant’s goods. When twenty bandits attacked the caravan at night, the outnumbered guards, caught by surprise, had been overwhelmed. Wounded, Esk kar and a few servants had escaped, reaching Orak a week later. The servants he’d rescued had not only vouch- safed him, but they stood by him until he recovered. Deciding to stay for a few months, Esk kar joined the force that guarded the village as a common soldier, and never got around to leaving. Since then he managed to work his way up to third in command, riding most of the patrols and chasing after runaway slaves or petty thieves.
Putting thoughts of the past aside, he decided to look at Orak as the Alur Meriki would. Taking a gulp from the water bag, Esk kar rode down the hill and headed toward the river.
The breeze refreshed him, the air cool and invigorating. Esk kar often longed for the feel of the wind in his face. The feel of a horse on the open lands always called to him, sometimes making each day spent in the village’s confines seem a day of torment. You’ll always be a barbarian, even though your own people cast you out. For years he had drifted aimlessly across the lands, scorned by the villagers and farmers he encountered, even beaten and abused.
Three years he had lived in Orak, longer than he had ever spent anywhere, and lately he’d thought about moving on, frustrated by Ariamus and his petty orders. Perhaps now was the time to forget Orak, move east and visit lands still new to him.
No matter what Nicar wanted, trying to fight off the Alur Meriki would fail, and simply get him killed for his trouble. Esk kar owed the villagers nothing. To them, he was just another barbarian, just as capable of murdering them in their sleep. He’d seen the distrust and fear in their faces often enough.
The idea of leaving tempted him, but only for a moment. A new place would be no better than Orak and probably a good deal worse. He’d have to start again from the bottom, a mere soldier, treated scarcely better than a callow recruit. No, he felt the same way as Nicar. Esk kar wouldn’t run away to start that life all over again. Not if he could find another option, especially one that didn’t end with him dead.
The Alur Meriki had murdered his family, driven him from the clan, hounded him across the plains, and nearly killed him more than once. Eskkar hated the thought of running from them again. Assuming something could be done that didn’t leave him with his throat cut, he wanted the chance to strike an avenging blow against them for a change, to repay them for his father’s death.
If he could accomplish it, Orak and Nicar would owe him much. As captain of the guard, he’d have more than enough gold to settle down for the rest of his days. Perhaps he’d join the ranks of the nobles and become one of Orak’s rulers. That would be almost as satisfying as crushing a part of the Alur Meriki.
Esk kar put the fanciful thoughts aside. He studied the landscape, riding slowly to the southwest, stopping from time to time to examine the approaches to Orak, picturing what the steppes people would see when they turned their eyes here.
He rode for nearly three hours, until he completed a circle around Orak and found himself back at the hilltop where he’d begun his observa-tions. Esk kar dismounted and sat down with his back to a rock. He let his mind turn over the ideas he had this day.
No one had ever called him quick in his wits, but Esk kar could build a simple plan as well as the next. That ability, plus his size, strength, and quickness with sword and knife, had won him promotion until he stood at Ariamus’s side. Now Esk kar stood alone, and Nicar had asked him to do something no man had ever done before- prevent the steppes people from looting and destroying the village.
The sheer scope of what needed to be done threatened to overwhelm him. He forced himself to remember that a plan had many parts and that each part could be considered separately.
Carefully, he reviewed the many tasks needed to defend the village, repeating them out loud several times to make sure he’d remember all of them. When he finished, Esk kar saw that the sun had moved far into the western sky. Grunting a little, he stood and stretched, then he mounted his horse and retraced his path back to the village and his appointment with Nicar. At least he knew what he would say tonight, though he doubted Orak’s leading merchant would like his words.
2
Riding back into Orak, Esk kar found two soldiers guarding the gate instead of the usual sentry. Both called out to him, looks of relief on their faces. Nicar must have ordered the extra guard to reassure the villagers. By now everyone must know about the barbarians sighted in the north.
As his horse picked its way through the narrow lanes, people stopped their activities and stared. A few tried to stop him, to ask him what he knew about the barbarians. Esk kar paid no attention to them. Everyone seemed to know that Nicar had summoned him, so now they looked at him for some sign of hope and protection. That thought deepened his frown.
Esk kar had no idea what to tell them.
At the barracks, the soldiers waited outside, squatting on the dirt or leaning against the wall, regular duties ignored, anxiety on their faces. The soldiers knew about tonight’s meeting with Nicar. Nearly thirty men, and some of their women, awaited him, eager to learn anything new. He dismounted and handed the horse to a stable boy.
Esk kar considered ignoring them, then thought better of it. “You know the barbarians are coming?” Heads nodded. “They won’t be here for at least five months, so you can sleep easy tonight.” He hesitated, not sure what to tell them. “I’m meeting with Nicar, to talk about the defense of the village. When I return, I’ll tell you what I know.”
He strode past them into the barracks and dumped his gear on his pallet. Esk kar thought about moving into Ariamus’s private room, but decided that could wait until after tonight’s meal. Reminded of his meeting, he stripped to his undergarment and wrapped his rough blanket around himself. Leaving the barracks, he went down the winding street and through the village’s rear gate, heading straight to the river. Esk kar ignored anyone who tried to speak to him and pushed past those few brave enough to try to block his path.
At the water’s edge, Esk kar tossed the blanket on a low bush, stripped, then dove in. At first he stayed in the calm of the eddy pool that hugged the river’s east bank, then moved away from the shore and took strong, overhand strokes against the current. That demanded hard work, and after a few strokes he had to use all his strength to avoid being swept downriver.
When Esk kar returned to the eddy pool, he rested in the chilled water.
Finally he pulled himself out of the river, reclaimed his blanket, and used it to dry off before returning to the barracks.
At least tonight he wouldn’t meet Nicar in a ragged garment with the smell of horses and wine on him. Putting on his one clean tunic, he considered wearing his short sword, then decided he wouldn’t need it. The men who might want him dead had left with Ariamus, and he doubted he had one enemy left in the village.
He returned to Nicar’s house. A few paces before Esk kar reached the gate, five men came out of Nicar’s courtyard and headed toward him.
Noble Drigo and his son, with three bodyguards, filled the narrow lane, and Esk kar had to stand aside to let them by. Noble Drigo glanced at him and smiled as he passed, the knowing smile of a man who already had all the
