Eskkar stood and stretched. He felt relaxed now, his stomach full and with enough sleep to get him through the evening. “Has Ninazu said anything useful?”
Sisuthros shook his head. “We haven’t even had time to put him to the torture.” Sisuthros sighed as he contemplated yet another task. “I’ll talk to him.”
“No, Grond and I will deal with him. You keep your thoughts on the villagers.”
Grond led the way to the other end of the common room, to the bedroom farthest away from where Eskkar had slept. This windowless room had only a tiny aperture near the ceiling for light and ventilation.
It possessed the only other solid door inside the dwelling, the still-fresh wood indicating a recent improvement. A soldier guarded there, sitting on a stool, but he rose up as the two men approached.
Grond pushed the door open. Inside, another guard, this one from the Hawk Clan, sat on a chest, his short sword unsheathed across his lap, facing Ninazu. The prisoner had a large bruise on his forehead, where Eskkar’s sword hilt had struck, and the side of his swollen face showed cuts and bruises from Grond’s fist. They’d trussed Ninazu up like a chicken, his hands tied behind his back and his arms tied to his sides. The silver bracelets he’d worn were gone, given to Grond and Sisuthros as gifts. Another rope looped around his neck, the other end knotted around a second wooden chest.
Ninazu’s legs remained free, but his captors had smashed his right shinbone. The swelling on the leg had bruised to a deep blue, with blood crusted along its length. Whoever had done the work knew his job. No one bothered to set the bone straight. Ninazu would be dead long before he could walk or die from infection. For a moment, Eskkar almost felt sorry for the man, a daring bandit who had gambled for a rich village and lost.
Ninazu turned toward the door, his eyes alert, as Eskkar entered. The expensive tunic told him all he needed to know about his visitor.
“Greetings, Ninazu,” Eskkar began. When the man didn’t answer, Eskkar reached out with his sandal and touched Ninazu’s right leg. That sent a jolt of pain through the prisoner, and he couldn’t control a sharp intake of breath. Eskkar turned to the guard. “Has he been given anything?”
“Some water this afternoon, Captain. Nothing else.”
Eskkar nodded in satisfaction. Give him just enough water to keep him conscious, so he could feel his pain and worry about the future.
“We’ll give you more water later, maybe even some wine, if you tell us what we want to know,” Eskkar went on. The man said nothing, just looked up at Eskkar with hatred in his eyes. “Your brother looked at me that way before he died, Ninazu. He took the torture for a long time, before we gave him over to the women of Dilgarth, who took hours killing him. He told me all about you and your men.”
Ninazu flashed a look of hatred at his captor, but said nothing.
Eskkar leaned against the wall and looked about the room. Two chests were crammed with dozens of golden statues, bowls, and other valuable items, most of the wealth of the village. Four good-sized sacks contained gold, silver, and copper coins, as well as jewelry, gemstones, and even some fi ne leather goods. Ninazu remained surrounded by his loot, at least until tomorrow.
“In the morning the village elders and I will sentence you to death, Ninazu. It’s up to you how much you suffer between now and then. There isn’t much we need to hear from you. If you tell us what we want to know, you will be given as much wine as you can handle, and you’ll feel less pain.”
Eskkar paused a moment. He didn’t hate the man, nor even condemn what Ninazu had attempted to do. Many others would have done the same, including Eskkar in his younger days. Now those days seemed from the distant past, the days before Trella had explained the ways of power and the mysteries of farm and village. “Or, we can just give you plenty of water, to make sure you enjoy every sensation. The choice is yours, Ninazu.
Your brother chose the wine, but too late, and he suffered much.”
“Who are you?” Ninazu had a deep voice, one filled with anger and hatred. “Why did you come to Bisitun?”
It would be a waste of time to explain Akkad’s plans to Ninazu. “I came to claim the land for Akkad, and I have done so.” Eskkar turned to the guard. “Give him as much water as he wants.” He glanced about the room, filled with the bandit’s booty. Such things meant little to Eskkar, now that he’d learned the ways of power. Gold had its uses, but it didn’t put strength into a man’s sword arm, or even crops in the earth. He nodded to the guard, and stepped back into the common room, closing the door behind him. Eskkar and Grond passed out of the house, into the
village square. The afternoon sun had dipped below the horizon, and soon another night would begin.
“Grond, there must be more loot somewhere, and Ninazu’s subcommanders might have hidden their own valuables. Make sure he tells us what we want to know. Start on him in the morning, right after the morning meal. Remember he has to last into the afternoon, so not too much wine.”
“This one will talk, Captain. He’s finished, and he knows it. Shulat could at least hope for his brother’s revenge, but Ninazu has nothing to live for. By tomorrow the fever will weaken his will.”
“The sooner he’s out of the way, the sooner the villagers can get on with their lives.”
Eskkar spent the rest of the evening with Sisuthros. Eskkar encountered three of the new elders, but they only wanted to talk about how much they had suffered under Ninazu, and Eskkar could only stand so many hours of that kind of talk. Leaving them with Sisuthros, Eskkar and Grond, accompanied by two soldiers, toured the village, checking on the guards, the horses, and the men.
That task finished, they found a small tavern, well lit and filled with the sounds of singing and laughter. Packed to overflowing, happy villagers celebrated their deliverance from Ninazu. Eskkar and his men entered, received a drunken cheer that went on as the happy patrons made room for them. Eskkar spent an hour there, squeezed behind a table, buying drinks for everyone and talking with the common people. But he drank only one cup of ale. Grond had two, and, after the second one, mentioned that he thought Tippu the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
By the time they returned to the marketplace, most of Bisitun had prepared itself for bed. Even from Ninazu’s house, only a single oil lamp burned. Few people had the wealth or reason to burn oil or candles long into the night, not when the moon and stars shone brightly overhead. The big well in the market square’s center stood deserted for the first time all day, and Eskkar stopped to drink some fresh water and wash his face and hands.
At the house, two soldiers stood guard, and inside, he found Hamati asleep sitting at the big table, his sword beneath his hand. Eskkar stopped to check on Ninazu, and found the prisoner had fallen into a restless sleep.
Nevertheless, his guards remained alert, watching their charge through the open door.
Sisuthros had taken one of the bedrooms for himself, and gone to bed an hour earlier, his snores audible in the common room.
Eskkar bid good night to Grond and entered his room. He didn’t bother with the lamp, just left the door open. The soft glow from the main room gave him enough light to see the bed, covered with fresh linen. He unbelted his sword and pulled the weapon from its sheath and laid it on the low table that stood beside the bed, then sat to unlace his sandals. He went back to the door, pausing for a moment to make sure he knew where everything in the room was placed. Eskkar closed the door and dropped the wooden bar to seal it. Pulling his tunic over his head, he tossed that on the foot of the bed, and sank tiredly onto the bed.
He thought he would be asleep in moments, but instead he lay there, staring up at the faint moonlight that shone in through the tiny window set high in the wall. A long day had finally ended, but everything had worked out well enough. Bisitun would enjoy its first night of freedom. Now he just needed… He sat up in the bed, his hand reaching for his sword.