among Carnax’s elders. A trader named Fradmon sought vengeance for the death of his son, executed for murder by the village elder. This Fradmon hired some bandits, and they attacked the village at night. The village elder, a man named Ranaddi, perished at Fradmon’s hand. Ranaddi had a trusted advisor, and he had a grown son and a young daughter named Trella.”
“It’s not that uncommon a name.”
“No, my queen. But this Trella was favored by Ranaddi, favored enough that she attended many of his meetings. She was said to be keen of wit.”
Kushanna frowned. That sounded like the witch of Akkad. “How old was this child?”
“Not a child, my queen. She had already been given the rites of passage. Despite that, no man had claimed her for a husband.”
A shriek erupted from the courtyard. Kushanna glanced down just as the guard tossed the first finger into the dirt.
“And what happened to this Trella?”
“It seems that Fradmon, who planned the attack, was killed by the leader of the bandits, who turned on his master and then took all the gold for himself and his men. Instead of killing everyone, the bandit spared the women and a few young men. He took them with him when he departed, probably to sell as slaves.”
Another scream of pain echoed against the walls. This time the guard looked up at the balcony. Kushanna signaled the guard to cease.
“And Dilse was one of the bandits?”
“That’s what the people living nearby believed. He returned to the area a few months later, still with plenty of coins in his purse. Apparently, he is not quite right in the head. A few times he got drunk, and boasted of the raid on Carnax.”
Down below, the guards were binding up Dilse’s hand. It took only moments before they disappeared from view.
Kushanna turned away from the balcony. “Well, we’ll soon know.” She led the way into the chamber. The guards returned, dragging the prisoner between them. They’d wrapped his right hand in a rag, to catch the bleeding. They knew she didn’t like bloodstains on the floor.
“He’s ready to talk, Queen Kushanna.”
They usually were, after a losing a few fingers. “Give him some water,” she ordered.
Dilse managed to choke down a mouthful, but more spilled on his chest and the floor. “Mercy… mercy.” His voice trailed off into a whimper.
“Tell me of Carnax,” she ordered. “Tell me everything you know of the raid, or you’ll lose more than your fingers.”
The story came out between sobs. Dilse had been a servant for the merchant Fradmon. He and his steward had returned and slaughtered almost the entire village. But then the steward, a man named Sondar, turned upon his master, killing him, and taking the few survivors as slaves. They marched the captives, mostly women and children, off to a slave trader waiting nearby. Dilse even remembered the name of the slaver — Drusas.
The name made Kushanna smile. An odious little man, he lived right here in Sumer, flaunting his wealth and still dealing in slaves. A stroke of luck that Dilse remembered the slaver’s name, Kushanna decided. Drusas took delight in every one of his slaves. She felt certain he would remember what happened to Trella and her brother.
“And this Trella and her brother were sold to Drusas?”
“Yes, my queen.” Dilse had to pause to choke back the sobs. “Sondar sold all the captives to Drusas. Once they were gone, all of us rode north, eager to get away from Carnax.”
“No doubt.” She turned her gaze toward Sohrab. “Did you speak to Drusas?”
“I tried to, my queen. I went to his house last night to ask if he remembered anything about Trella’s brother, but Drusas had departed yesterday morning for the slaver’s camp upriver. He won’t be back for several days.”
At least Sohrab understood the importance of the information.
She decided there was little more to glean from the wretch, kneeling at her feet. Then she had another thought. “This Sondar… can you describe him?”
A few moments later, Kushanna glanced at Sohrab. He nodded agreement.
“I think we have no further need for poor Dilse,” Kushanna said. “Take care of him.”
The guards smiled and dragged the prisoner away. They’d take him to the rear of the courtyard and drive a sword through his heart.
“You’ve done well, Sohrab. Keep all this to yourself. It may prove useful. Wait here for a moment.”
“Of course, my queen.” Sohrab bowed at the compliment.
Kushanna returned to the balcony. She wanted some time to think. Sondar had changed his name to Razrek, and within a few months had become King Eridu’s most favored leader. Not that Razrek’s murderous past made any difference. He could have burned a dozen villages for all she cared. But there might come a day when such knowledge might be useful.
Even more useful might be Trella’s brother, if he were still alive and could be found. At the least she should be able to sell him to Akkad for a heavy price. Depending on Trella’s feelings of affection, perhaps even further advantages could be obtained. But first the witch’s brother must be found. She turned away from the courtyard and swept back into the room.
“I want Trella’s brother brought to Sumer. Go after Drusas and find out what he knows. Make sure he tells you everything about the raid on Carnax, as well as what befell Trella and her brother. Tell him if I’m not satisfied with what he remembers, he may find more of his property in Sumer confiscated.”
“Yes, my queen. And if I find that the brother is dead?”
“I’ll reward you well if you bring him back. But even if he’s dead, knowledge of his fate might be useful.” Kushanna smiled. Yes, alive or dead, Trella’s brother would help Sumer.
27
The morning after he returned to Akkad, Eskkar went down to the barracks to see Gatus. Last night, at the evening meal, the old soldier mentioned some new training routines that he wanted Eskkar to see. Eskkar promised he would stop by the barracks at mid-morning. Even with Gatus’s warning, Eskkar slowed in surprise when he entered the training ground.
Months had passed since Gatus’s last demonstration. Eskkar had seen the men training during that time, but between governing the city, working with the slingers, visiting Nuzi and the horse camps, not to mention his own training, he hadn’t paid much attention to the men’s training. He had more than enough to occupy his time.
Eskkar’s eyes widened at the size of the group. Today one hundred spearmen stood there waiting for his arrival, all of them carrying shields, swords, and resting the butt end of their spears on the ground. Every man wore thick sandals and each had a bronze helmet, the latest idea Gatus and Trella had come up with. It made the soldiers appear both taller and fiercer. They looked ready to march into battle. Gatus sat on his stool facing them, waiting patiently.
The men had assembled in four ranks of twenty-five each. Two of the ranks faced the other two, about twenty paces apart.
Gatus picked up his stool and strode over to where Eskkar stood. “Good morning, Captain. I think you’ll enjoy this.”
“Were you waiting long for me?” Eskkar imagined the men standing in the hot sun all morning, waiting for his arrival.
“No, I told a runner to let me know when you left the Compound.”
Eskkar remembered seeing a boy dash off down the lane. And, of course, Gatus was too good a commander to let men stand about in the hot sun doing nothing. At least, not without a good reason.
“What am I going to see?”
“I’ve been thinking about Sumer’s army. We know they’ll have men armed with swords and shields, and I think we should expect them to have plenty of spearmen as well. So I decided to figure out what our first encounter
