its distance. He hoped the other boats followed behind, all at their proper intervals.
Whether he rowed or rested, Eskkar kept his thoughts fixed on Akkad.
The possibility that Trella might be dead kept disturbing his thoughts, filling him with anger and anguish. He remembered the fear that had numbed him when she’d been stabbed in the street. She had almost died that day.
He remembered how he’d turned away as the healer dressed her wound, unable to watch her suffering.
At least then he could turn his thoughts to vengeance. Now he faulted his own actions for whatever might have befallen her. Eskkar had over-stayed his trip to Bisitun. He’d taken his pleasure with Lani, with hardly a thought to Trella, her well-being, or even the coming child. Whatever fate had befallen her, it would not have happened if he had returned earlier.
Instead he’d postponed his return again and again, telling himself Trella had everything under control, that he could do more good in Bisitun. Staring down at the river, he blamed himself for whatever evil had arisen, his thoughts as black as the parting water.
Grond must have known what thoughts troubled his leader. “Captain, there was nothing you could have done. The assassins left Akkad ten days ago. If we’d been in Akkad, if four men suddenly attacked you in the street, we might both be dead. Staying in Bisitun may have saved your life.”
“And what of Trella? I don’t know if she’s alive or dead. I just hope she’s still safe.”
“What you should be thinking about is how this plot came about,”
Grond countered. “How did this happen without Trella’s spies learning of it? Who could put such a plan together, gather enough men, ambush Bantor, and send assassins after you? None of the messengers, including the Hawk Clan riders, had mentioned even a rumor of a problem.”
Those same thoughts had plagued Eskkar. “It takes gold to bring that many men together, even with such a prize as Akkad at stake. I know of no one in Akkad who could devise such a plan.”
“And I don’t think anyone in Akkad could do this without some word getting to Lady Trella,” Grond offered. “Perhaps it’s this Ariamus. Who is he?”
He told Grond about Ariamus and the gloomy days in Akkad before the Alur Meriki. Grond grunted when Eskkar finished, but said nothing.
Nevertheless, talking it all over with Grond helped clear Eskkar’s mind. For perhaps the first time since the attack last night, he started thinking clearly.
He kept paddling, the slow, deep strokes occupying his muscles and soothing his mind, while he began running what little he knew in his head.
Bantor attacked on the road, a few hours from reaching Akkad. That would destroy any organized force of soldiers outside the city. Assassins trying to kill him in Bisitun. Eskkar’s death would certainly have disrupted the soldiers, and might have slowed down any response to word of trouble in Akkad. So someone wanted to keep soldiers away from the city, no doubt while they consolidated their control. His death, even the ambush of Bantor’s men, meant nothing without taking power in the city.
And Grond spoke the truth. Little went on in Akkad that Trella didn’t learn of sooner or later. Ariamus wouldn’t dare show his face in the city.
Despite the former captain of the guard’s fi ghting skills, he wasn’t capable of outwitting Trella. Ariamus, Eskkar decided, would need an ally inside the city, someone who could put together a grand scheme to seize power over the thousands that now lived there. That meant there must be someone else in Akkad, a disgruntled noble or wealthy merchant, even possibly a newcomer. Eskkar swore under his breath. He needed more information.
“There is nothing to do now, Captain,” Grond said, hearing the curse,
“except get to Bantor and Rebba. They’ll tell us what’s been going on.”
So Grond had come to the same conclusion.
“We’ll need to be careful, Grond, when we get to Rebba’s place. There might be a trap. Bantor and his men might have been captured days ago and put to the torture.”
Yavtar called out from the stern, telling them to take a break. Eskkar lifted the wet paddle and rested it across his knees. He wanted to keep rowing, to not waste a moment in delay, but the others needed their rest.
The boat kept moving, gliding with the current, every moment bringing him closer to Akkad.
The night passed quickly enough. When the men didn’t row, they slept at the oars. Eskkar checked his wound several times, but noticed no signs of bleeding. The pain had gone, though the arm felt stiff and sore.
Dawn found them many miles downstream from Bisitun. When Yavtar worked out how much they had traveled, he smiled for the first time since the voyage began. “We’re doing well, lord,” he announced. “More important, we haven’t capsized, lost any paddles, or drowned anyone, at least not yet. Your men aren’t bad sailors. I think we can pick up the pace, after the men have eaten.”
They ate without leaving their positions, hunks of dry sausage washed down with water scooped directly from the river. Bread completed the meal. Yavtar slowed the boat and waited until all the other craft had caught up with his. After checking with the other shipmasters, he shouted out some incomprehensible orders about how much faster they would travel today, his voice booming over the river. He ordered the sail raised, and the men back to their paddles.
Eskkar scarcely noticed the extra effort demanded by Yavtar, but the boat moved much more rapidly. The morning sun brought a slight but steady breeze from the east, so they quartered the sail in the wind’s direction, and that alone would have kept them going at a good pace. With six men working the oars, the boat appeared to move twice as fast as yesterday afternoon, the water curling noisily from its prow. He asked Yavtar about their speed, wondering if they could move even faster.
“Not likely, lord,” Yavtar answered, sitting back in the stern with the steering oar under his arm. “Everyone will be tired enough by the end of the day at this pace, I promise you. Better pray the gods don’t shift the wind any further, or it will hold us back instead of pushing us along.”
To keep his mind occupied, Eskkar studied the wind, noticing how Yavtar’s sailor kept adjusting the sail to meet the breeze. By noon, Eskkar thought he had the knack of it, and could have handled the sail himself, even without Yavtar’s orders.
The midday sun slackened the wind. Yavtar began eying the riverbank, searching for landmarks, until he found what he sought. A small island appeared near the west bank, with two poplar trees growing on it. Yavtar turned his rudder and put the boat directly into a sand spit that hissed beneath Eskkar as the boat ground to halt. The sudden cessation of movement felt unnatural after being in constant motion for over a day. Before Eskkar could question the delay, Yavtar spoke.
“We’ll rest here while I check the other boats, and rearrange our cargo.
We can all stretch our legs.”
One by one, the other boats beached themselves on the soft sand as they pulled alongside Yavtar’s craft. As soon as the men settled onshore, Yavtar called the boat captains together and spoke with each of them.
When he finished, the boatmen went into the water, checking the hulls for leaks, tipping each craft from one side to the other to inspect all they could see. Afterward, Yavtar made sure each boat captain had what he needed, and understood his orders.
As soon as his men had checked the boats and made any needed repairs, Yavtar ordered the food unpacked. The constant labor in the fresh air had given all of them a huge appetite, and they devoured nearly half their food. After they fi nished eating, they had to wait until the sailors rearranged the goods and weapons, lashing everything securely. Only then did the soldiers climb back aboard the boats, to take their carefully arranged positions. With a single grunt, Yavtar ordered them downstream.
“We’ve had our big meal for the day, lord,” Yavtar said a little later, still chewing on a piece of bread. “Supper tonight will be day-old bread as we row, and we’ll try to keep this pace.”
“How far have we come, Yavtar?” Eskkar asked.
“Farther than I thought we could. Your men have strong backs, I’ll say that for them. I always wondered how fast a trip could be made by sailing through the night, but I never thought I’d make such a voyage. Too risky for the cargo.” He laughed at that thought, but then lapsed into silence.
The land on either side of them flowed steadily by, and those on the land took little if any notice of their passage. A handful of farmers paused to stare at them with open mouths, and once some shepherds tending a small flock of sheep ran along the riverbank, calling out greetings and shouting in excitement as the ships glided by.
