The moment of truth had come. If Kapturu gave the order, a death fight could break out within the tent, to be matched by another outside. Shulgi dropped his left hand to his own scabbard, the gesture telling everyone in the tent that he was as willing to fight as to talk.
Kapturu’s smile had vanished. Jaw clenched, he considered his options.
Shulgi kept talking, as much to relieve the tension as to give the Tanukh time to reach the right decision. “After your men remove the body, tell them to wait outside, Chief Kapturu. Our discussion should be more private, I think.”
No one spoke. Either the tent would erupt in bloodshed, or the Tanukh leader would realize how vulnerable he was, with Vanar and his men outside, and this boy-king facing him.
The silence dragged out, the Tanukhs still not moving, while Kapturu worked out the implications. Suddenly, he leaned back and laughed, then clapped his hands on his knees.
“Yes, it looks like a good blade. Perhaps one day I can give you a gift of equal value.” He turned to his men. “Remove the body, and wait outside.” Kapturu smiled up at Shulgi. “Then we can begin our talk.”
Shulgi moved to stand beside Razrek. He stood there while Kapturu’s three men rose and dragged the corpse of their companion out of the tent. A babble of voices rose up outside, as the Tanukhs saw the body. Shulgi kept his face calm, but he knew a moment of legend had come. Soldiers would talk about this story around the campfires for months, even years. How their leader had killed a Tanukh who offended him, how King Shulgi defied the desert- dwellers to strike back.
Kushanna had known the importance of such moments. She had urged him to seek out danger, to prove to his men that he was worthy of their loyalty and respect, to add to his reputation, and downplay the fact of his youth. “Just don’t get yourself killed, my husband,” she whispered in his ear.
Killing his father had been one such moment, Shulgi knew, but that had to remain an unspoken secret, only hinted at by those who could guess the truth. Now this story would begin to expand his reputation, and men would think twice before they dared to laugh at him or his youth.
At last only Kapturu and Razrek remained with Shulgi in the now uncrowded tent. The sword still remained in the tent’s center, bloody sand crusted around the blade where it emerged from the ground.
“Let’s us begin.” Shulgi settled himself on the ground, hitching his sword around until he found a comfortable position. “We have much to talk about, Chief Kapturu. Together, we can destroy our enemies, loot their villages, and take their women and horses.” He hadn’t ridden from Sumer to mince flattering words with any desert barbarian. “First we’ll destroy the Salibs, and then we’ll turn our attention to the north, where the real wealth of the land between the rivers lies. To make all that happen, we need only to work together. A few years, a few battles, and the desert and all it contains will be yours.”
Kapturu leaned forward, no doubt already anticipating the wealth that would flow through his fingers. He, too, knew how to speak directly.
“Then let us talk about the destruction of the Salibs… King Shulgi.”
I n Sumer, Kushanna frowned at the man standing before her, shuffling his weight from foot to foot. “Gone? Just gone? Gone where?”
“Yes, my queen.” Sohrab kept his eyes on the chamber’s floor. “I waited seven days in Akkad, but they never arrived. They must have continued north, probably by boat. Horses are scarce in Akkad, and almost none can be purchased at any price.”
Kushanna resisted the urge to have the man flogged. It was not the fool’s fault for being the bringer of bad tidings. The two spies she’d dispatched to Akkad had taken her gold and disappeared. They might even have sold their story to Trella, earning a few more pieces of gold before running to the north. Trella would be laughing at the Sumerians — at Kushanna — if that were the case. The traitors would stop laughing soon enough if ever they returned within the grasp of Sumer’s guard.
“And the other cities? Are our men in place there?”
Sohrab lifted his eyes, grateful for a chance to present good news. “Yes, Queen Kushanna. We have people in place in all the southern cities. They are still settling in, but already they’ve provided useful news.”
The most useful news of all would be the names of those who spoke out against Sumer’s growing influence. In the next few months, that would prove more valuable than any news of Akkad’s activities.
“Good.” Kushanna leaned back in her chair. Sohrab would continue to stand in her presence, at least until he learned to bring better news. “And what of Razrek? What have you learned about our brave horse commander?”
Sohrab met her eyes for the first time. “Razrek is not his true name. His birth name is Sondar. No one knows where he was born, but he lived many years in a small village in the north-eastern part of Sumeria, named Carnax. A prosperous but dreary place, from all accounts. Bandits destroyed the village, killing or enslaving its inhabitants. Only a few farmers live nearby now. The rest remains in ruins, and men say the land is accursed.”
“But our brave commander survived somehow?”
“More than survived, my queen.” He glanced around, as if concerned that someone might be listening. “One person claimed that Sondar himself was involved in the village’s destruction, that he killed his master, the village elder. At any rate, Sondar survived, and with plenty of gold. He formed a band of horsemen, and began plundering the countryside. Eventually, your father, King Eridu, took notice and… persuaded Sondar to change his ways and fight for Sumer.”
Kushanna’s irritation at the mention of her father’s name almost made her miss something. The name of the village, Carnax… she’d heard that name before. It took her a moment, but then she recalled the conversation. One of the spies reporting on Akkad had mentioned that Lady Trella, as she preferred to be called, rather than queen, had come from a Sumerian village named Carnax.
She leaned forward and stared straight into the man’s eyes. “What else do you know of Razrek’s past?”
Kushanna dragged every bit of information she could extract from Sohrab, but he had little more to add. At first she’d been merely curious. Now she sensed something more useful might be gleaned.
“I want you to discover everything you can about this village of Carnax. Visit it yourself, talk to those living nearby, find out exactly what happened to the survivors. If you can, bring one or two of them here, so I can question them myself.”
Sohrab had proved useful in finding things out, but he lacked the skill to probe beneath the surface. Any information about Trella would be useful, if only to understand how she’d gained her power over the men of Akkad. Kushanna didn’t believe in the priests or their gods and demons, but witches existed. Everyone knew that some women could bend men to their will, or call down spells to render them impotent. More than a few in Sumer had called her one, too.
“Yes, my queen. I’m sure I can find a few survivors from Carnax. It was only four or five years ago that it was destroyed, so many should know about it.”
“Good. And this time bring me back something useful.”
When she dismissed Sohrab, Kushanna moved from the table to the balcony. She liked to sit and gaze out over the city. Her city. Already everyone obeyed her slightest wish, and in the coming months and years, her power would only increase. Shulgi desired only conquests, and there would be years of fighting ahead of him, leaving her more than enough time to solidify her grip on Sumer. And fighting could prove deadly, even to Shulgi. After a few years, if he fell in battle, she could continue to rule in his name, at least until she could sit another, even more pliable, man on the throne.
That brought a smile to her face. She’d already caught one of Vanar’s commanders staring at her every time she passed. Kushanna had given him the slightest smile, just enough to keep his interest. Like many others, he was smitten by her beauty. Such a soldier would do well enough, should she need another man at her side.
Nevertheless, she hoped Shulgi survived the battles in the desert, and the coming war with Akkad. At least, survived until victory was assured. Then, she knew, anything could happen. In her private chest, hidden in the false bottom, was a small box containing three different kinds of poisons. Any one of them, their taste masked by strong wine, would free her of her husband’s company, should he need to be removed.
For now, Shulgi worshipped her body, and that gave her all the power she needed. Together they’d killed their foolish father and taken his city. Now the son and daughter would build Sumer into an empire worthy of them both. And she would be right at his side, to whisper in his ear at night. Yes, such thoughts brought a pleasant glow to her body. Shulgi rode her well, long into the night, leaving them both exhausted and satisfied. She’d allowed only a handful of men to enjoy her body, and he was by far the most energetic.
