Blood on Bronze (Blood on Bronze Book 1) (10 page)

“Master Shirin iru Anlil, I am called Sharur.”

“And what is your true name, young Sharur?” said
Shirin in a clear, rich voice.

“Arjun dra Artashad, son of Ashur.”

“Welcome, scion of the founding lords. You risk much
in coming here, and I in helping you, but help you I will. You wish to learn
magic?”

“I do, master.”

“Do not call me that until I have agreed to train you,
and you have made your request with eyes open. Magic is perilous, young Arjun,
and not to be used lightly. I know of your plight, and can guess your intent,
but you must tell me more.”

“I seek to rescue my father and the servants of my
house that were unjustly imprisoned, and if that is not possible, to avenge them,
and if it may be, to put an end to whatever it is that lies behind their ill
treatment.”

“If you seek to undo the evil that lies behind all
such things, it is a greater task than you, or I, will ever accomplish. If you
seek to undo the actions of certain men, or perhaps the men themselves, this
can be done, and I would be most happy to help you.”

“The latter,” said Arjun.

“Very well, know then of magic,” said Shirin, “Despite
myths saying otherwise, anyone of sufficient mind may learn it, but the difficulty
lies in that it must be learned well.”

Arjun nodded and listened.

Shirin continued, “Those who do not wield magic see
only the successful end result, but it can go awry easily and in many ways. If
one is fortunate, it will simply fail, and if not, unexpected and dangerous
things may happen to the wielder. This, Arjun, is why those who are trained in
magic the traditional way start their training so young. They must learn many
preparatory things, so that if they fail, it will not kill them. Do you understand
my words?”

“Yes sir.”

“As you come to me because you wish to learn magic of
immediate application to your purposes, and with limited time, it is essential
that you learn only what I choose to teach you, exactly as I teach it, and that
you do not step beyond those bounds. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir”

“Now Arjun, because I share your goals, and those of
Kartam, I will not charge you fees such as you and he may have expected.
However, you will cover all costs incurred to me for taking such risk, including
those associated with certain contingencies for my own escape and survival,
should fortune go against us. With the message stone, Kartam informed me of the
gems which he gave to your keeping for my fees. They shall cover your costs,
and you may keep whatever funds you have yourself. Do you understand and
agree?”

“Yes sir.”

 “Then Arjun son of Ashur, of the lineage of mighty
Artashad, I accept you now as my apprentice. Call me master now to seal your
acceptance.”

“I accept, Master Shirin”

10.
The Tale of Aspirations

Arjun arrived at the stall of Umrub the G’abudim.  He
smiled, but the latter looked at him, as always, without expression.

“Honored Umrub, how goes business?”

“It goes well. I have a message stone for you today,
and news.”

They exchanged the stone and the word of unlocking.
Then Umrub looked at him long and intently, with eyes that almost seemed to see
through him.

“What I say now must remain in secret.”

“I will make an oath, Umrub.”

“Your Hayyidi oaths lack true force behind them, but I
would not speak to you thus if I did not trust you, I merely inform.”

Arjun frowned, and nodded.

“I have been given word, and give it to you now, that
you are permitted to speak with us of matters pertaining to what you might wish
to purchase from us, and how you might use it.”

“Thank you, Umrub.”

“Do not thank me until you have seen the ends of this
path. If you wish to begin it, come to the G’abudim quarter at a time we may
agree upon. You will be seen long before you arrive, and should answer in
earnest to the first man of G’abud who comes to speak to you.  He will then
pass word to they who will decide next what to do.”

“Will you be there, Umrub?”

“Yes, though it is likely we will not speak until
other decisions have been made.”

The dark and secretive tone of it all supported almost
every rumor Arjun had heard about the G’abudim, and that gave him no comfort.
However, he steeled himself, and began to discuss with Umrub what day and time
he might go there.

~

Back home, Arjun opened the message stone, and it contained
woeful news. Geb and Tishat had been sold as slaves to the house of
Zash-Ulshad, while Keda had been taken to the tower of guard to languish with
his father. The hunt for him had grown, and with it, by other channels, offer
of amnesty and the release of Keda, should he turn himself in.

Arjun marveled at the duplicity of his foes, who
promised bounties to many hunters, even as they planned to snatch the prize
from their jaws.

He however, had plans of his own.

His days were now alternated between master Enlil, who
taught him to fight, and master Shirin, who taught him the fundamentals of
magic. The latter was not yet ready to teach him anything of how to wield it.
Arjun’s nights, all of them, were spent with Inina. She’d stopped renting her
shabby little room, and moved in with him at the House of Red. Small as it was,
it was enough. She had few possessions, other than what they now shared, and
they needed no space from each other.

For her part, Inina felt the glow of their love, the
joy of their nights together, and the fear that one day, those nights would end
with armed men smashing in their door, or surrounding them in the streets. For
good and for ill, she had never lived like this. Money, or rather the lack of
it, had always shadowed her. Now, she could spend it as she wished on meals,
drink, song, and even, when she caught him in the right mood, dance. Yet at the
same time, she feared to spend too much, as they were getting no more of it,
and living well could attract notice.

 They’d made a bit more space in their tiny home by
selling off the bronze, other than what they kept to wear in their secret
moments together. Selling it all stealthily had taken time, care, and the use
of many intermediaries. Still, with every sale, there was a greater chance
something would slip. They’d converted as money much as they could into gold or
gems, and packed it in bags ready to be grabbed in flight at a moment’s notice.
Strong as it was, they reinforced the door with an extra bar, mounted such that
none could pull tricks with bits of copper. Every night in the dark, fear,
love, and their bodies intertwined.

~

“The new law is unpopular,” said an obese man in rich
robes of orange, green and gold, sitting on cushions in a richly appointed
dining room. Unusual for Zakran, his head was shaved. He wore a leather
headband with simple blocky designs. He had a broad face, strong-boned under
the fat, with deep old scars along one side. His thick black beard was only
loosely plaited. On his neck and arms were vast amounts of mismatched jewelry
of various metals, some of it cheap and some of it fine. On his thick fingers
were large rings, but those fingers and the hands they attached to were rough,
and the bangle-covered arms were leathery and scarred.

“As are many necessary things, Ayab. But rejoice, for
the fees may drive many out of their trades and into the unloving arms of your
slavers,” The second voice came from a tall, strong man of early middle years
and impeccable grooming. His black hair and beard were heavily oiled, and
perfectly plaited and cut. He wore tunic and kilt of purple and dark green
geometric designs, with heavy gold work along the hems, and little jewelry, but
what he wore was of pure gold and rich with precious stones. His eyes were
dark, piercing, and intelligent.

“That will likely be, lord of Zash-Ulshad,” said Ayab,
“but we all know it is not the true reason for the law.”

“No indeed, it is not” said a tall gaunt man dressed
in cheerless robes of gray and brown, it was he who had been with Bal-Shim at the
house of Artashad, “nor so is the wider purpose gathering the weak and foolish
under the guidance of the great and wise, worthy as that may be. No, Ayab son
of Heb, the true reason is a holy one, for all metals belong to the deep earth,
and he who is lord of it, Ur-Laggu the Embracer! It is high time that the
working of them be returned to gods-fearing hands, and taken from mere greedy
merchants and those of the cult of the thief and usurper Zamisphar!”

“Be at peace, Shalmansar,” said Naram dra Zash-Ulshad,
“your words are true, but people will not wish to hear of open conflict between
the gods. Do not the ancient tales say that save for Zamisphar, there has been
no strife among them since the war of earth and sky at the beginning of the
world, and even Zamisphar, after his long exile, was reconciled, at least in
part, with the other gods?”

“The war of earth and sky was not the beginning of the
world, but merely the end of an old age and the beginning of a new, lord of
Zash-Ulshad,” said Shalmansar, his eyes intense, “And Ur-Laggu, who was wronged
by Zamisphar, never happily joined that reconciliation. Now at last, the signs
are right that we might bring about its ending! Let men now obey the gods as
they ought, and as they once did, with fear!”

“This theological discussion is too remote from our
purposes today,” said a female voice, eloquent but cold. It belonged to a woman
of advanced years and elegant features. Her long gray and white hair was bound
in plaits with silver. Ornate silver jewelry fitted with turquoise and lapis,
much of it antique, draped her from brow to ankle. She wore a blue skirt, cut
long in the old style and heavy with more silver. Though it was warm, she held
her rich white and silver cloak closely over her slender frame.

She continued, “We speak in general of a return to
obedience and the old ways, and all of these are very worthy things. For far
too long has any fool with a misbegotten idea been free in this city to inflict
it on his neighbor. However, important now is the question of HOW we will
achieve our goals. We must take care that the laws we intend do not slaughter
more sheep than they shear, and do not move so quickly that the sheep panic as
they are being herded. All his we must do while keeping ourselves free of the
grip of Sarsa. I do not share the congenial view held by some here of the
League of Kasim. They might have banded together to resist Sarsa, but as their
bonds grow closer, they may change to chains. I think Kasim is ripe for a
strong hand to grip those chains, but they hold Zakran in too much suspicion
for that hand to be ours. And if not holding them, we would therefore wear
them.”

“That time is not yet here, lady of dra Keshil,” said
Naram, “and for now, the League is still of use to us. As to power, it requires
one with a gift for making friends, for winning the hearts of the common
people, who after all, must be led willingly to the yoke we have prepared for
them. And for that, we have Bal-Shim iru Shulggi.”

Bal-Shim made his face like a smile and bowed his head
respectfully to the two aristocrats. His inner thoughts were quite different.
He certainly admired Mada dra Keshil’s vast estates and deep silver mines, as
well as the obedience she exacted, even in these times, from those who worked
them. He also admired the cunning of Naram, and the many strange and hidden
sources of wealth he and his family had acquired over the years. He had much
enjoyed the fruits of some of them, though the slaves who’d been those fruits
had not. However, all the wealth of dra Keshil and dra Zash-Ulshad shared a
common flaw: it was in the hands of the haughty aristocrats who bore those
names, and not in his.

~

Arjun made his way in the glow of late afternoon to
the G’abudim quarter. It was far across the city. He had first to proceed along
the King’s Road through the plaza and the great bazaar, then follow it through
the tangled district of small merchants on the other side, along the mighty
bridge across the river, and then past the fish market, and finally taking the
South Road through districts of some other foreign merchants. There in the far
southeast of the city, along the south docks near the Gate of the Sun and the
Citadel of Ahmrud, was the quarter of the G’abudim.

There was no gate, but at once the foot traffic
thinned. The buildings were mostly in the normal style of Zakran, thick walls
on the lower floors decorated with blocky geometric patterns, large windows
above. The windows here however were screened wherever they were visible from
the street. High walls had been built to join some of them together, and inside
those walls tall shady trees of strange appearance had been planted. The outer
door of the houses so joined had been bricked up, and entrance could only be
made through courtyard gates carved in intricate, but hideous shapes. The scent
of the exceptionally spicy food of the G’abudim wafted through the air. It was
seasoned with many things, but derived its heat from the small red and green
seed pods, shaped like darts, that grew in their land.

Some ships of the G’abudim were visible at the south
docks. They were built higher than the low coastal galleys of the Hayyidis,
with strange structures like castles at front and back, painted in designs of
fearsome monsters, and had large many-colored sails.

A G’abudim man walked down the road carrying bags over
his shoulder. He wore a costume much like Umrub’s, but with a hooked bronze
sword at his waist. He was tall for one of his people, and strongly built. As
he was about to pass, he turned without seeming care alongside Arjun, and spoke
in a quiet voice.

“May this day find you well, son of Zakran, many
things you might find here, but what do you seek?”

“I am Sharur, and I seek Umrub, regarding a matter I
spoke of with him in the great bazaar some days ago.”

“I see, and if word should come to Umrub of your
presence, would he be prepared, having discussed the time, and informed those
whom he might inform, or would it be a… pleasant surprise?”

“He expects me.”

“Then wait with me in this portico to the side.”

And with that, the man stopped, seemingly at random, a
boy of his folk, perhaps about fifteen, and spoke to him in their whispering
language. The latter then walked, again without seeming concern, in another
direction.

In shade of the portico, they sat cross-legged and
waited as the sun went down. The armed G’abudim man neither introduced himself
nor spoke further. He seemed to pay no special attention to Arjun, but the
latter knew his every motion was noticed.

After a while, a different boy appeared, carrying a
large basket. He stopped at the portico, said something to the armed man, and
went on his way.

“Follow that boy,” said the man with the sword.

Arjun followed him to a side street, the in through a
gate into one of the courtyards of tall trees. The air was fragrant, and birds
and monkeys rested in the trees. They proceeded to a small house that was
completely contained within the courtyard. This house was carved and brightly
painted in intricate designs of serpents and snarling beasts. Arjun recognized
glyphs among the patterns, and saw the sparkle of the magic.

As they entered, the G’abudim boy made a complex
series of gestures. Inside was a small room with a clean floor of fragrant
wood. On a low dais opposite the door were three men seated on mats. The man on
the left was Umrub, the others he did not know. The boy kneeled and bowed his
head to the ground before the man in the middle. Arjun, who’d expected some
sort of meeting of merchants, was taken aback. He was unsure of G’abudim
customs, but decided as he was not their servant or inferior, he would not
emulate the gesture of the boy. He bowed his head slightly while folding his
arms across his chest as he would to one of his training masters.

The seated G’abudim returned no gestures of any kind.
Instead they silently appraised him for a length of time that became
uncomfortable. At last the one in the center, who was older than the others,
and who had many tattoos on his skin, spoke in their whispering language, and
then the one on the right spoke in Hayyidi.