Stephen Baxter - Bronze Summer

Teel grinned, and murmured to Milaqa. ‘Now we see Kilushepa’s tactics. We told her about the apprentice we wanted. Did you imagine the queen would ask for him from the beginning? No, for it would never have been granted. But by arguing so hard for the Master, Kilushepa makes the loss of the apprentice seem a trivial price to pay.’

Advised by Teel, Noli agreed to the deal.

But Milaqa was shocked when the panku, led by Tushratta, again refused, with bland smiles and apologies. Even the apprentice was too precious to be given up.

Suddenly Teel’s smugness was gone; he was furious. He growled in their own tongue, ‘I’m starting to think these slimy creatures never meant to give us anything at all. This isn’t negotiation, not bargaining — this is robbery!’

But Kilushepa, as calm as ever, continued to press her case. She at least did not seem downcast.

Then a runner summoned Muwa. He went to the chamber door. When he returned, he looked grave. ‘Members of the council — honoured guests — I am afraid your discussion is moot. For Zidanza the apprentice won’t be going anywhere.’ He stood aside.

Hunda walked in, heavily bloodstained. He bore a body, limp — a tall man, but lightly built, and dressed in a scarred leather apron. He put the body on the floor. The stink of blood was shocking in these fragrant surroundings.

Kilushepa shrieked. Coming from such a calm woman, the sudden noise was doubly shocking. ‘Zidanza! Dead!’ She rushed to the body, and pulled back his apron. The hilt of a dagger protruded from the lower belly, which was a torn, bloody mass. Kilushepa grabbed the knife and hauled it out of the body, and the courtiers gasped and turned away.

And while everybody else was distracted by Kilushepa’s performance, Milaqa stared at the body. At the young man’s face. At his chin.

Hunda said, ‘The body was found not far from the citadel walls. He had been raped, I am sorry to say. There is bruising around his mouth, his thighs. Abused, raped, then killed.’

Kilushepa held the knife resting on her palms, and showed it to Muwa, Noli, Teel, Milaqa. ‘Look at this! Do you know whose this is? Do you?’

‘It is the Trojan’s,’ Teel said. ‘There is no doubt.’

Hunda nodded, as if reluctant to admit it. ‘But none saw Qirum do this.’

Kilushepa pointed dramatically at Muwa. ‘But you heard him, Chief of Bodyguards. You were there in my apartment when I goaded him to make his threats. He said he would do anything he could to advance his own ambitions against the King. How better than to slaughter this apprentice, and then his Master of the Iron — for surely he will be the next victim? And the sexual frenzy that has been visited on the boy — is this not some kind of twisted revenge for Qirum’s past, when in the ruins of Troy he was forced to prostitute his own young body to survive?’

Muwa looked grim. ‘I’m afraid you are right, madam.’ He turned to his men. ‘Send the orders. Find this Trojan. Kill him if you have to. Make sure he gets nowhere near the Master of the Iron.’

The meeting of the panku began to break up. The council members flooded out into the street, looking back with horror at the corpse, or with disdain, Milaqa thought, as if the boy were somehow ill-mannered to be bloody and dead in such surroundings.

Over the hubbub, Nuwanza called across to the Northlanders, ‘I am afraid the Chief of Bodyguards was right. Our discussion has no further purpose; clearly we cannot give you what you want. Let us meet again tomorrow and consider some other recompense. You will leave Hattusa laden with treasures for the service you have performed for the King, believe me.’ He spread his hands. ‘But not the iron you sought.’

Kilushepa nodded, and Teel bowed gracefully, and thanked him.

Milaqa plucked Teel’s sleeve, and whispered urgently in her own tongue, ‘That’s not Zidanza.’

‘Hush,’ he said mildly.

‘But it isn’t! Zidanza has a mole on his chin. I noticed it; it looked like a burn, but wasn’t. This man, whoever he is, has no mole.’

‘Well, he wouldn’t, would he?’

‘What?’

‘He’s not the apprentice.’

She was utterly confused. ‘Then who is he?’

‘That doesn’t matter, does it? I see it now. The real Zidanza is in hiding. Soon we will smuggle him out of the city, and we will bring him back to Northland.

‘What a strategist the woman is! Kilushepa knew the panku would not give up the Master, or even his apprentice. But she wanted to fulfil the agreement she made with us; she sees the value of our friendship in the long term, where these fools cannot. So she arranged for this — subterfuge. We get the apprentice. They believe he’s dead, and will not miss him. In the meantime they have their Master, who will soon train another junior, once they stir him from his bed. And all the time the councillors think that Kilushepa has won them the secret of our foods for nothing! What a victory she has won.’

‘This is insane,’ Milaqa said. ‘And what of Qirum? Did he kill this stranger?’

‘Oh, of course not. Why would he?’

‘Then who did?’

‘That doesn’t matter either, does it?’

‘But why would Kilushepa falsely accuse Qirum? He saved her life — he was her lover.’

‘She’s said it herself. He was a stepping stone. Useful to her once, but he had become an irritant. Evidently she used this opportunity to resolve that problem too.’

Anger burned; all she could think of was Qirum. ‘Is that how you see people too, uncle? As problems to be solved?’

‘This is how the world works, Milaqa. And if you want to be a Crow you need to learn to think more like Kilushepa. What a woman!’

She turned on her heel, leaving him behind.

At the door the sergeant was still waiting, his tunic stained by the blood of the stranger.

‘Please — Hunda…’

‘Yes?’

‘Get me out of here. Out of the citadel. Now.’

He hesitated for one heartbeat. Then he led her out into streets bubbling with agitation and rumour after the exit of the panku members. People flinched back from the bloodstained soldier. Hunda led Milaqa towards the gate of the citadel, but when she got the chance she turned a corner faster than he did, and disappeared from his sight. She felt tremendously guilty; Hunda was a good man, and today he was obviously bewildered by the events he was suddenly caught up in, and here she was using him unscrupulously. But she had to get to the gate before the palace bodyguards.

When she arrived at the gate Qirum was still standing there, where she had last seen him. For once, it seemed, his own sense of self-preservation had deserted him. And, she noticed, there was no blood on him, no sign of a desperate struggle with an iron-maker. He asked, ‘How did it go? Did my Kilushepa-’

‘Your Kilushepa betrayed you. Run, Qirum.’

His face clouded. ‘She would not.’

‘She claims you killed a man. An iron-maker.’

‘She would not — I did not!’

‘Where is your dagger?’

He checked his belt. He drew a dagger, but it was not his — a clumsier design, good enough to mimic his own weapon’s weight and size. ‘ She took it when I slept. After our love. She betrayed me. And the Northlanders? That snake Teel-’

‘He knew nothing of it. But now the deed is done, he relishes it-’

‘I am betrayed by all but you, Milaqa.’

‘Run. Hide. Get out of the city. You have only heartbeats before they come for you.’

He hesitated. Then he kissed her, once, on the cheek, just as he had on the first day they had met. ‘I won’t forget this.’

There was shouting behind her, from the citadel. She glanced back, saw men running, swords drawn — Hunda coming, yelling at her.