thick clay pot. A battered bronze kettle full of stew hung suspended over the low flames. Occasionally, a boatman or even one of Akkad’s dockside guards would offer a copper coin for the kettle’s contents, a more than fair price for such basic fare. Both mother and daughter were known to the city’s guards, who made sure that no ignorant farmer or foolish vendor disturbed their places, trinkets or even themselves.
From where Uvela sat she could see everyone entering Akkad through the river gate. For more than two years she’d watched an assortment of people step on or off the docks, coming and going, and by now she could read their faces almost as well as Lady Trella.
Most strangers entering the city for the first time looked about them in awe, impressed by the high walls, surprised by the size of the docks, overwhelmed by the dozens of craftsmen selling everything conceivable. Gangs of laborers from the market loaded or unloaded the steady stream of boats, adding to the confusion. Gawking newcomers — their mouths open and clutching most of their few worldly goods — would walk slowly into the city, jostled about by those whose regular business brought them in and out of the gate, usually at a hurried pace.
Some people, their eyes downcast, arrived wearied or troubled by some anguish or misfortune that brought them to Akkad. These usually wore ragged clothes and carried all their possessions in a simple sack slung around their necks. Uvela could guess their stories, how bandits or Sumerians had ventured across the border to harass and plunder those weaker than themselves. With their homes destroyed and their crops burned, these desperate folk hungered for a new life in Akkad. Since the outbreak of war with Sumer, their numbers had swelled, as everyone sought the safety of the city’s high walls.
After years of such observation, Uvela knew families could usually be ignored, as could the very young and very old. That left only a few who caught her eye, but when someone did, she stared at them carefully. None of them ever noticed her gaze. With her lank gray hair practically covering her face, her eyes could scarcely be seen. If they did happen to gaze at her, they saw only an insignificant old woman, whose patched and faded shift hung loosely over her thin shoulders, and marked her status as one of those who often needed to beg for food to supplement their meager earnings.
Now two men walking off the docks and toward the gate attracted Uvela’s attention. Their poor clothing couldn’t conceal the strong muscles that lay beneath the worn garments. They strode up the slight incline with ease, despite each carrying a heavy sack almost as large as the ones used by a merchant’s porters as they transported goods from city to city.
The new arrivals gave the city’s walls the briefest of glances, then moved forward, letting the crowd carry them through the wide open double gate only a few paces away from where Uvela sat.
“Have you see those two before?” Uvela rose to her feet as she spoke, determined to have a second look.
Her daughter, sitting beside her, didn’t raise her head or her voice. She, too, knew how to use her eyes. “Never.”
“I’ll follow them.” Uvela pulled a scarf from a pocket in her dress, and swept it over her head and across her neck. The gray hair vanished in an instant. Meanwhile, her daughter removed her own hat, a large reed affair that would cover both head and scarf if need be, and handed it to her mother.
Uvela moved quickly through the gate. The guard there gave her a glance, but said nothing. No one questioned or even spoke to one of Annok-sur or Lady Trella’s women when they went about their business. In fact, the guards made sure that no one else disturbed them, either by accident or on purpose.
In moments, Uvela caught sight of the two men moving deeper into the city. She slowed her step, staying about twenty paces behind them, the usual crowd of men and women filling the lane between them. The men glanced around from time to time, but a ragged older woman blended into the throng, almost unseen and beneath notice in any event. Nevertheless, Uvela kept well behind the two as they moved closer to the center of the city. They stopped only once, to ask directions from a vendor, before they continued on until they reached the Spotted Owl, a tavern often used by travelers.
This time both men glanced around before they entered the dwelling, but if they saw a woman wearing a large reed hat, they never noticed.
Uvela found a place to stand and waited. The Spotted Owl, while not one of Akkad’s finest, provided good food and decent ale at reasonable prices. After a river journey it was only natural for travelers who could afford the price to want to partake of some ale and food. She settled in, the scarf and hat held out of sight behind her back, expecting to wait some time while the two men quenched their thirst. But before long, one of the men came out and turned up the lane, away from where Uvela sat. She moved to her feet, prepared to follow the stranger, but before she’d taken more than a few steps, he ducked under a low doorway and disappeared into one of the endless huts whose uneven walls formed the lane.
Retracing her steps, Uvela returned to her vantage point. With a little stretching she could see both tavern and hut from where she stood, and her slight stature made her almost invisible as she leaned against the wall. Before long, the second man stepped out of the tavern, glanced up and down the lane, and followed his companion’s steps to the same house.
By now her interest was more than idle curiosity. Even before the outbreak of hostilities with Sumer, Annok- sur’s network of spies and informers had kept their eyes open for any suspicious strangers. With the armies of Akkad and Sumer marching toward each other, Uvela and others like herself had heightened their activities. Any stranger, boatman, merchant or uncouth farmer could be a spy for Sumer, even a possible assassin. Before Lady Trella became queen of Akkad, or even Eskkar’s wife, she had nearly succumbed to an assassin’s knife.
Now Trella rarely left the Compound, and when she did venture forth, a compliment of Hawk Clan soldiers guarded her person as zealously as they protected the king’s. And although Eskkar had marched south with Gatus and the army, there were still other possible targets for hired killers within Akkad.
An attractive young girl, her hips moving suggestively, strolled down the lane, smiling at potential customers and trying to talk to the any of the passersby who showed the slightest interest. Her shift, cut low, revealed much of her breasts. As she drew close to the spot where Uvela waited, she gestured casually, and the girl approached.
“Good day, Uvela.”
“And good day to you, Martana. Are you busy right now?”
“No, only one customer so far today, and that took but a few moments.” She laughed at the memory. “He had to rush back to his wife and four children.”
Uvela smiled at the story. “Then perhaps you can do some work for me.” She told Martana about the two men, and described them in detail, including where they seemed to be staying.
“See what you can find out about them from the people in the tavern.” She reached inside her dress and handed the girl a copper coin. “You’ll earn a silver coin if you discover anything useful. But be careful. Don’t arouse any suspicions. They could be dangerous.”
Martana tossed her head. “Everyone knows I’m curious about men. Will you be here long?”
“No, I’ll be up the lane, where I can watch the house better.” And where she could send a message to Annok-sur to ask for help, but there was no need to tell Martana that.
Uvela waited until the girl disappeared inside the tavern, then moved up the lane, just another old woman beneath the notice of most men in the city.
A street vendor Uvela knew was happy to dispatch one of her daughters to carry word to Annok-sur, and just as eager to provide a doorway from which Uvela could keep a close eye on the stranger’s hut. She settled in for a long wait, but at least she knew she would soon have plenty of help.
T he next day, just after dusk, Trella, Annok-sur and Uvela sat at the table in the workroom, their heads almost touching. Though the room provided plenty of privacy, Bantor and a few of his commanders lingered in the Map Room, so the three women kept their voices low, out of habit as much as for any other reason. Successful women learned almost from childhood to keep their thoughts and conversations to themselves, lest what they think or say upset or anger the men in their lives.
“They’ve settled in for the night,” Uvela said. She had just arrived from her post in the lane, where three other women now kept watch on the strange men staying at the Spotted Owl. “It seems they’ve joined up with seven or eight others who’ve been hanging around the inn. Some are staying at a house just up the lane. This morning the two newcomers split up, and spent most of the day wandering around the city, each accompanied by one of those who’d been living here. None of them appeared interested in seeking work, or buying anything but food and ale. They don’t look or act like laborers. They might be just thieves.”
