still-shaking woman. She had waited until Hamati’s men had bound the prisoner and gone off to chase after the loose horses.
Blood still dripped from the man’s eyes and nose, as well as from his neck and chest. Eskkar guessed she stabbed the helpless man a dozen times before someone pulled her off him. The victim must have done some injury either to her or to her kin. Eskkar couldn’t do anything about it now.
He turned to Hamati, but the soldier, after shaking his head in disgust at his men’s carelessness, had already given orders to guard the two remaining prisoners.
Eskkar went to the well and brought up a fresh bucket of water, drinking his fill and dumping the rest across his face. Once again, he was surprised at how thirsty he became after a fight, even one as brief as this. That was the way of most battles, he decided—a sudden, brief burst of activity with no time for thought or fear.
Then he recalled the long battles for Akkad’s walls. Those fights had seemed endless, and every man had been completely exhausted when they ended. He remembered men on their knees, trying to catch their breath, Empire Rising
39
some with tears running down their faces, suddenly unable to control their emotions or even to raise their arms. Eskkar shook off the gloomy vision, refilled the bucket, and drank again. His thirst satisfied, he went back inside the house, picked up the same stool he had used last night, and brought it back outside.
He sat down under a small tree barely large enough to provide a bit of shade. Hamati’s men dragged the two prisoners in front of Eskkar. Both of them were bleeding and covered with dust. They were forced to their knees, the hot sun directly in their faces. No doubt they were even more thirsty than Eskkar. They had ridden a wide circle to return to Dilgarth, where they found death waiting for them instead of food and water.
“What are your names?” Eskkar asked sharply.
The wounded man answered immediately. “I am called Utu, noble.”
His voice cracked as he spoke, and he swayed a little from side to side.
Loss of blood had drained the color from his face. “Water, noble, can I have . . .”
“Keep silent, you dog of a coward!” His leader spat the words at him, though his own voice croaked harshly as well. Before anyone could stop him, the bandit leader threw his shoulder against Utu’s body, knocking him into the dirt and wrenching another long moan of pain from the wounded man who lay twitching in the dust.
This time Hamati kicked the leader with force, using the heel of his sandal. Once. Twice. And a third time, until the man let out a moan through clenched teeth.
“Bring Utu into the house, Hamati, and give him some water. Go easy with him. Keep the other here, and keep him quiet! ” Eskkar stood, picked up the stool, and carried it back into the house.
Inside, the mud walls and roof provided some shelter from the heat of the day. Eskkar sat down again while Hamati and one of his men carried Utu inside, then held a ladle of water to his lips. Eskkar studied the man while he drank. His face had turned as white as unleavened bread, and his wound still bled, though not as rapidly as before. The man had lost much blood, and Eskkar guessed he didn’t have long to live. Utu finished the water and asked for more. Eskkar nodded, then waited while the wounded man emptied a second ladle.
“Utu, you’re in pain, and you’ll probably be dead within the hour. I want you to tell me about your leader and what you’ve been doing for the last few weeks. If you do, you can have plenty of wine and water to 40
SAM BARONE
comfort yourself. If not, you will be put to the torture. I can even hand you over to the women outside and let them toy with you. They won’t be in such a rush this time.”
A sob came from the man, and tears ran from his eyes. “Then I’m to die?” He whispered the words in a trembling voice.
“You are dying, Utu. The arrow struck deep and hard.
Blood still dripped from the man’s eyes and nose, as well as from his neck and chest. Eskkar guessed she stabbed the helpless man a dozen times before someone pulled her off him. The victim must have done some injury either to her or to her kin. Eskkar couldn’t do anything about it now.
He turned to Hamati, but the soldier, after shaking his head in disgust at his men’s carelessness, had already given orders to guard the two remaining prisoners.
Eskkar went to the well and brought up a fresh bucket of water, drinking his fill and dumping the rest across his face. Once again, he was surprised at how thirsty he became after a fight, even one as brief as this. That was the way of most battles, he decided—a sudden, brief burst of activity with no time for thought or fear.
Then he recalled the long battles for Akkad’s walls. Those fights had seemed endless, and every man had been completely exhausted when they ended. He remembered men on their knees, trying to catch their breath, Empire Rising
39
some with tears running down their faces, suddenly unable to control their emotions or even to raise their arms. Eskkar shook off the gloomy vision, refilled the bucket, and drank again. His thirst satisfied, he went back inside the house, picked up the same stool he had used last night, and brought it back outside.
He sat down under a small tree barely large enough to provide a bit of shade. Hamati’s men dragged the two prisoners in front of Eskkar. Both of them were bleeding and covered with dust. They were forced to their knees, the hot sun directly in their faces. No doubt they were even more thirsty than Eskkar. They had ridden a wide circle to return to Dilgarth, where they found death waiting for them instead of food and water.
“What are your names?” Eskkar asked sharply.
The wounded man answered immediately. “I am called Utu, noble.”
His voice cracked as he spoke, and he swayed a little from side to side.
Loss of blood had drained the color from his face. “Water, noble, can I have . . .”
“Keep silent, you dog of a coward!” His leader spat the words at him, though his own voice croaked harshly as well. Before anyone could stop him, the bandit leader threw his shoulder against Utu’s body, knocking him into the dirt and wrenching another long moan of pain from the wounded man who lay twitching in the dust.
This time Hamati kicked the leader with force, using the heel of his sandal. Once. Twice. And a third time, until the man let out a moan through clenched teeth.
“Bring Utu into the house, Hamati, and give him some water. Go easy with him. Keep the other here, and keep him quiet! ” Eskkar stood, picked up the stool, and carried it back into the house.
Inside, the mud walls and roof provided some shelter from the heat of the day. Eskkar sat down again while Hamati and one of his men carried Utu inside, then held a ladle of water to his lips. Eskkar studied the man while he drank. His face had turned as white as unleavened bread, and his wound still bled, though not as rapidly as before. The man had lost much blood, and Eskkar guessed he didn’t have long to live. Utu finished the water and asked for more. Eskkar nodded, then waited while the wounded man emptied a second ladle.
“Utu, you’re in pain, and you’ll probably be dead within the hour. I want you to tell me about your leader and what you’ve been doing for the last few weeks. If you do, you can have plenty of wine and water to 40
SAM BARONE
comfort yourself. If not, you will be put to the torture. I can even hand you over to the women outside and let them toy with you. They won’t be in such a rush this time.”
A sob came from the man, and tears ran from his eyes. “Then I’m to die?” He whispered the words in a trembling voice.
“You are dying, Utu. The arrow struck deep and hard.
Similar Books
