The King of Sumer also glanced around the table, but his gaze came to rest on Yavtar, still sitting away from the others, almost by himself. “You are in favor of this, old friend? That we put our trust in Akkad?”
Yavtar picked up his empty cup and twirled it between his fingers. “Much of the information on the Elamites has come through my agents and traders. We have sent many boats and caravans into the eastern lands. Eskkar speaks the truth about the Elamites’ plans. They come to conquer and enslave.” He set the cup down. “So I make the same promise as King Eskkar. I will stand by you, old friend, to the end.”
Gemama turned toward Naxos for the first time. “Then Jarud and I will fight with Akkad.”
Eskkar understood how hard that decision must have been for the soft merchant turned king. Soldiers, even after they became kings or advisors, understood that there always came a time when you had to fight to keep what you had built. Those who did not grow up with a sword in their hand had to be even braver to go to war.
“Then we will be at your side, King Gemama.” Trella’s voice held an intensity that turned every eye back to her. “Now it is up to you, King Naxos.”
Naxos met her gaze. “I will not bend my knee to any foreign ruler, not as long as I can fight. If there is a way to drive them off, if Sumer and Akkad are united, then Isin will stand with you.”
Eskkar realized that Naxos had at last grasped the full situation. The last nine years of peace had changed the power structure in the Land Between the Rivers. Prosperity, at least for a time, had dimmed the glory of war and conquest. If Naxos did not join them, sooner or later, Akkad and Sumer would deal with him. And Naxos understood that, if it came to a choice, the other cities would choose Akkad, whose intentions had proved peaceful, over Isin.
“Then we are agreed.” Eskkar leaned back in his chair. He felt as if a vast weight had lifted from his shoulders. “Now, let me show you how we can defeat these invaders and drive them back across the mountains.”
Chapter 3
Later that evening, well after the moon had risen, Annok-sur set in motion the last step of her plan to confound and confuse the Elamites. She had waited at the Compound until King Eskkar and Trella rode back from their meeting at Yavtar’s farm. As soon as Eskkar helped his wife dismount from her spirited horse, Annok-sur needed only a few whispered words from Trella to confirm the success of the day’s meeting at the farmhouse.
“Is everything ready?” After the long day of tense negotiations, Trella’s weariness sounded in her voice, though only Annok-sur knew her well enough to notice.
“Yes, Trella. Everything is in place.”
They hugged for a brief moment, then Annok-sur crossed the courtyard and stepped out into the lane. Two Hawk Clan guards waited to escort her. She set out for her destination, with one guard walking ahead and the other behind.
At the time when the hard-working men and women of the city prepared for sleep, Annok-sur and her guards passed through the city’s narrow lanes. The few people who glimpsed the shadowy figures shrank aside, more apprehensive of Annok-sur’s presence than that of the formidable looking guards. The sentinels at Akkad’s northern gate passed them through without a word, and the trio headed for the farm almost two miles away.
The half-moon made the night walk pleasant enough, illuminating the few places where the ground might prove difficult. Annok-sur had traversed the path many more times than her escorts. Her sturdy legs had no trouble keeping pace with the longer strides of the soldiers.
They arrived at the small farmhold close to midnight, but more than enough night remained for her purpose. Some things were best done while the city slept, and far from the eyes and ears of others.
Three mud-brick huts comprised the homestead. All the dwellings needed repair, and daylight would reveal the extent of the neglect. Only one showed a glimmer of light through a narrow doorway as they approached. Annok-sur knew the others would be waiting for her inside. She spoke to her guards. They halted fifty paces from the farmhouse, and Annok-sur finished her journey alone.
She eased her lean body through the narrow doorway and sat down on an old stool with its shaky legs, behind a wobbly plank table. Annok-sur barely noticed the odor that permeated the room, though newcomers had a tendency to gag the first time they entered the chamber. Over the years, she had grown accustomed to the rank smell of dried blood, sweat, piss, and excrement that had seeped into and now lingered in the mud walls and dirt floor, despite an occasional sweeping or bucket of water.
A glowing fire pot on the opposite side of the table gave off its own vapors that ascended to the roof’s sagging wooden scantlings, covered with mud. A jagged hole overhead provided the room’s only ventilation, aside from the door, but plenty of smoke from the fire never seemed to find its way out.
Two candles also burned, an unknown luxury for most households, but somehow provided little light, as if the flickering flames themselves recoiled from the dank room and its foul air. A solitary but stout pole in the center of the room helped support the weight of the roof. It also had other, darker purposes.
In the light of day, the single room hut didn’t appear so sinister. But once the sun went down, the chamber became a place of pain and terror, a secret place where Annok-sur questioned Akkad’s most dangerous enemies. And learned, in time, their secrets.
Tonight the half-moon had risen late, and only now touched the highest point in the sky. It was time to begin.
Annok-sur stared at the man sitting less than three paces away, a dirty grain sack covering his head. “Is he conscious yet?”
Years ago, the torturers had nailed a small bench to the center pole. Zahara sat on its blood encrusted surface, his hands bound behind the pole and his spread ankles fastened to the wide legs of the bench. Aside from the hood, Zahara was naked.
“He’s coming around.” Wakannh’s booming voice filled the chamber. The hood jerked and twitched, reacting to Wakannh’s words. He reached over and yanked off the covering, then tossed it on the table.
Zahara’s eyes stared blankly for a moment, then widened in horror as he took in his surroundings. First he stared at Wakannh, Akkad’s Captain of the Guard. When his gaze rested on Annok-sur, his mouth fell open and he gasped, seemingly unable to catch his breath.
The door behind her opened and a man named Rue-el, Wakannh’s second in command, entered. Using a rag to protect his hand, he carried a dented copper bowl brimming with glowing embers, and proceeded to dump them into the fire pot. The flames crackled, welcoming the additional fuel, and another burst of smoke rushed upwards, to swirl around over their heads.
Annok-sur waited until the prisoner grasped the extent of his situation. “It’s good that you understand your position, Zahara. You’re going to talk to me. And if you don’t tell me the truth, if you don’t tell me everything I want to know, you’re going to die, slowly and painfully. I can see to it that you linger in agony for several days. But if you speak truthfully,” she hesitated for several moments, to stretch out the suspense, “you may yet be allowed to live. The choice is yours, so make it carefully.”
“But I’ve done nothing! Nothing!” Zahara glanced down, as if seeing his widespread legs for the first time. The ropes held him fast, his genitals completely exposed. “My grandfather is Noble Rebba. He will tell you. Whatever you think I did, it’s not true!”
Annok-sur sighed, and shifted to a more comfortable position on the stool. She kept her voice low and pleasant. “Do you think we don’t know that you’ve spied on Akkad for the Elamites for over a year? That you’ve made two trips through the mountains, to report to your masters in Elam? And that you’ve sent messengers to them on nearly every caravan that departs to the east? Did you think we didn’t know what you were doing? Are you going to say that you are not a spy?”