Naked Empire

Richard glanced up just as the guard backhanded him, knocking him flat on his back. He instantly took a firm grip on his anger. Wiping blood from his mouth, he decided to stay where he was.

"He's right," Anson said, drawing the guard's attention. "We were weeding beans. If you wish it, we will bring you some eggs tomorrow-as many as you want."

The guard grunted a curse at them and swaggered off, taking his companion with him. They headed for a nearby long, low structure with a torch lashed to a pole outside a low door. In the flickering light of that torch, Richard couldn't make out what the place was, but it appeared to be a building dug partway into the ground so that the eaves were at eye level.

After the two soldiers were a safe distance away, Anson offered Richard a hand to help him up. Richard didn't think he'd been hit that hard, but his head was spinning.

As they started out, faces back in doorways and around dark corners peeked out to watch them. When Richard looked their way, the people ducked back in.

"They know you are not from here," Anson whispered.

Richard didn't trust that one of those people wouldn't call the guards.

"Let's hurry up and get what we came here for."

Anson nodded and hurriedly led Richard down a narrow street with what looked like little more than huts huddled together to each side. The single torch burning outside the long building where the soldiers had gone provided little light down the street. The town, at least what Richard could see of it in the dark, was a pretty shabby-looking place. In fact, he wouldn't call it a town so much as a village. Many of the structures appeared to be housing for livestock, not people. Only rarely were there any lights coming from any of the squat buildings and the light he did see looked like it came from candles, not lamps.

At the end of the street, Richard followed Anson through a small side door into a larger building. The cows inside mooed at the intrusion. Sheep rustled in their pens. A few goats in other pens bleated. Richard and Anson paused to let the animals settle down before making their way through the barn to a ladder at the side. Richard followed Anson as he climbed quickly to a small hayloft.

At the end of the loft, Anson reached up over a low rafter to where it tied into the wall behind a cross brace. "Here it is," he said as he grimaced, stretching his arm up into the hiding place.

He came out with a small, square-sided bottle and handed it to Richard.

"This is the antidote. Hurry and drink it, and then let's get out of here."

The large door banged open. Even though it was dark outside, the torch down the street provided just enough light to silhouette the broad shape of a man standing in the doorway. By his demeanor, he had to be a soldier.

Richard pulled the stopper from the bottle. The antidote had the slight aroma of cinnamon. He quickly downed it, hardly noticing its sweet, spicy taste. He never took his eyes off the man in the doorway.

"Who's in here?" the man bellowed.

"Sir," Richard called down, "I'm just getting some hay for the livestock."

"In the dark? What are you up to? Get down here right now."

Richard put a hand against Anson's chest and pushed him back into the darkness. "Yes, sir. I'm coming," Richard called to the soldier as he hurried down the ladder.

At the bottom of the ladder, he turned and saw the man coming toward him. Richard reached for his knife under the coat he was wearing, only remembering then that he didn't have his knife. The soldier was still silhouetted against the open barn door. Richard was in the darkness and the man probably wouldn't be able to see him. He silently moved away from the ladder.

As the soldier passed near him, Richard stepped in behind him and reached to his side, seizing the knife sheathed behind the axe hanging on his belt. Richard gingerly drew the knife just as the man stopped and looked up the ladder to the hayloft.

As he was looking up, Richard snatched a fistful of hair with one hand and reached around with the other, slicing deep through the soldier's throat before he realized what was happening. Richard held the man tight as he struggled, a wet gurgling the only sound coming from him. He reached back, frantically grabbing at Richard for a moment before his movements lost their energy and he went limp.

"Anson," Richard whispered up the ladder as he let the man slip to the ground, "come on. Let's go."

Anson hurried down the ladder, coming to a halt as he reached the bottom and turned around to see the dark shape of the dead man sprawled on the ground.

"What happened?"

Richard looked up from his work at undoing the weapon belt around the dead weight of the soldier. "I killed him."

"Oh."

Richard handed the knife, in its sheath, to Anson. "Here you go. Now you have a real weapon-a long knife."