Blood on Bronze (Blood on Bronze Book 1) (5 page)

Whatever was
going on under the surface, it was for the benefit of Bal-Shim, but he himself
must be the ally and tool of others more powerful. Why would they single out
his father, his household, for destruction? Surely not just as a sop to the
greed of their new friend!

If his father
was imprisoned, he wouldn’t be kept with the ordinary prisoners in the
cavernous caged rooms under the citadel. They’d have a close watch on him, and
only someone very highly placed would have, or be able to obtain, any idea what
had become of him. Of the two dozen members of the council, there were only two
he was sufficiently familiar with to have any hope of an audience, and even
that would be very dangerous. There was Enlil dra Dekkuru, father of his
acquaintance Sinin. He could probably see him, but there was no reason to
believe Enlil would take any sort of risk to help him.

Then there was
Kartam dra Argesh. The old man was something of a legend. He’d come from a
respected, but long-poor lineage of bowyers said to descend from Argesh the
archer, an ancient hero of Zakran. In his youth he’d gone to the Empire of
Sarsa, and from there to somewhere in the far east, beyond the Taranian Hills.
He’d never revealed what happened there, but had returned fabulously rich. But
more immediately important, his time in Sarsa, where the system of slavery was
harsher than Zakran, had made him one of the few non-smiths to honor Zamisphar.
Arjun’s father had been on very good terms with him.

Arjun saw
clearly what he must do. He made his way toward Kartam’s house, on the high ground
near the east wall, north of the citadel.

5.
The Tale of Forging in Fire

The street to the house of Kartam dra Argesh wound
past the homes of wealthy landowners, and was lined with palm trees. The place
itself was palatial. It followed the general layout of wealthy homes in Zakran,
a great house with a main entrance, backed by a courtyard surrounded by wings
and outbuildings, but on a larger scale than any other in the city. It was
plastered in brilliant patterns of orange, gold, and red.

Kartam was famous for his generosity, for the
menagerie of animals he kept, and for his habit of sometimes combining the two
by riding about the city on an elephant, tossing coins to beggars and children.
Unusual for Zakran, though more common in Sarsa, he’d taken two wives and
fathered a host of children, now middle-aged, who squabbled among themselves.
None expected his vast fortune to survive intact once he passed on, but in the
meantime, he continued investing and building it. Despite nearly fifty years of
trying, none, even his own children, had managed to get him to share the story
of how he’d come by it in the first place. He stayed clear of all factions on
the council, but none of those factions dared bounce him off of it, for fear of
the reaction of the people.

Kartam’s bronze-bound front doors loomed ahead, and
Arjun, still in his desert garb, walked toward them. As he approached, the
doors by some magic opened of their own accord, and beyond stood a doorman
flanked by two armed guards. The former spoke.

“How may I assist you, o’ son of the desert? It is not
often we see the folk of Harayah at the gates of dra Argesh.”

“I am no son of the desert,” replied Arjun, “but the
son of Ashur dra Artashad, with whom your master is acquainted.”

A knowing look passed slowly across the doorman’s
face. He nodded and spoke again.

“I think I understand. I will speak with my master.
Wait here.”

And with that, the doorman ran off to doors at the far
end of the cavernous, three-story great hall. Arjun waited. The guards in their
bronze helms watched him impassively.

After a time, the doorman returned.

“My master will see you. Please follow me, and once
you are inside, remove your head covering.”

Arjun did as asked, crossed the colorful tiles of the
great hall, observing with amazement the treasures collected there on display,
and passed through a pair of gold-inlayed doors to Kartam’s lavish office. It
had been some months since Arjun had seen him, and he looked as stout and hale
as ever. His immense gray beard was plaited with bands of gold, and he wore
robes of many bright colors.

He spoke in his deep, rich voice. “Son of Ashur, you
are safe while you are here, but I fear not so in many other places. Why have
you come?”

Arjun bowed deeply.

“Lord Kartam, you know of what has befallen my
father?”

“Yes, and with great sorrow.”

“Is it possible, lord Kartam, to discern what has
become of him since his capture, and what his foes intend?”

“It is possible, and I have already done so, Arjun. He
languishes now in the tower of guard near the west gate of the citadel. Magic
wards him and binds him. As to his foes, I have not been able to see within the
deep waters of their plots, but I believe it is but the first blow of something
much greater.”

Arjun bowed his head in misery, and then looked up at
Kartam, who waited patiently.

“And have you heard any news of our servants that were
taken?”

“None, but they are likely held under the citadel
until they can be sold as slaves.”

“Lord Kartam, what counsel can you offer?”

“Watch, wait, and build your strength, young Arjun.
This matter is beyond my power, and far beyond yours, as yet. With time perhaps
you can change that. Things change in the city, Arjun, and for the worse. I am
an old man and may not live to see the full measure of what house Zash-Ulshad
and its friends are gathering for us, but you might, if you can avoid death. In
the meantime, I can send you such news as I find.”

“Alas, I fear to reveal my location, lord Kartam.”

“I Kartam dra Argesh, swear before gods and men that I
will not betray you, Arjun dra Artashad, and will never knowingly reveal your
whereabouts. May this oath bind me in this life and the next.”

“However,” Kartam continued, “who knows what can be
found through spies or magic? Therefore, as I discover word, I will write it
with hidden magic on a stone, and deliver it by a trusted man to the stall of
one Umrub the G’abudim in the great market. There you may visit this latter man
at such times as you dare to retrieve the stones. Use the watchword ‘D’unur’
and he will thereby know you. He in turn will give you the word of unlocking.”

“Lord Kartam, do you trust this G’abudim?” asked
Arjun.

“For many reasons, yes, not least of them being that
he has sworn me an oath under the blood bonds of his people. The oaths of the
G’abudim so sworn, if violated, will swiftly bring on the violator fates one
cannot pleasantly contemplate.”

“I thank you Lord Kartam, and offer you such service
in return as I can.”

“The only service I wish of you is to stay alive, son
of Ashur. If I can retrieve your father from his unjust imprisonment, I will.
If not, it will befall you to exact justice in your own way, someday.”

Arjun bowed, and left with gratitude, but many fears.
Kartam had left, really, little hope that his father would be released or that Arjun
would see him again. On the other hand, he had opened a new vista – revenge!
For what, in the end, could exacting justice in his own way mean?

~

Inina woke at dusk in her cramped little room. A fresh
breeze blew in the single window. She remembered that she had never cached the
spoils of the previous night’s deals and larcenies. That was stupid, what had
she been thinking?

She’d been thinking of Arjun.

No! She tried to correct himself, she’d been thinking
of the money she could make as his guide. He was a rich young man on the run,
and could and would pay well.

But she knew that wasn’t it. She’d been thinking of
him.

With that thought, she forced herself out of her thin
little bed and started dressing.

She knew very well how much men desired her for her
looks, and had only avoided brutal treatment at the hands of the rougher sort
by learning how to play them while keeping her distance, by keeping a network
of friends – some of them dangerous, and by acquiring a few dangerous skills
herself with her obsidian-bladed knife.

Along the way, she’d come to value her ability to
survive and remain independent in a ruthless world. Attachment, beyond a
certain point, weakened that independence, and harmed her chances for survival.

So then, she told herself, she needed to keep her head
clear about this strange new entrant into her life. He was educated and
sophisticated, yet very naïve at the same time. He needed her help! She wanted
to give it, no, she repeated, she wanted to give it for a good price.

She told herself the extra care she took with her
appearance tonight was to make the best professional impression on a
pretentious young aristocrat. In the meantime, she needed to stash at least
some of her loot. At that, she unbarred her door, walked down the dim dusty
hallway and the stairs below, and out into the night.

~

Arjun sat in his plain cotton kilt at one end of a
long table in the common room of the House of Red, his feet stretched out from
the low stool. Inina was across from him, and between them were several mostly
empty plates of food he’d bought at the western bazaar for the occasion.
Lurshiga’s barley gruel was filling, but hardly appropriate for a leisurely
dinner. They had each had a couple of glasses of her wine, however. It was
slightly spiced, and tasty enough.

They’d talked of many things. Arjun had told her about
his life before the last night, and she’d listened with wide eyes. He didn’t
know it, but she’d never once had a private conversation with someone of his
background, of his class. For her part, she’d told him of her abandonment and
her adoption by a kindly old street vendor, and how when she in turn had died,
Inina had been left to fend for herself at a young age. She’d done so, but by
means he found dishonest.

Throughout the conversation, the nightmare of what had
happened to his father and his household stalked him, as did the previous
night’s terrors. There were times where only Inina’s beautiful eyes kept him
focused on where he was. Had she lined them with a bit more kohl this night? Yes.
That was interesting. Unconsciously, he hoped she’d done it for him.

She was wearing a thin red kilt that hung a little
lower on her hips, and was hiked a little higher on her thighs, than the one
she’d worn earlier. In place of her other top, she wore one bedecked with brass
discs and bangles. She even had a bit of perfume on her wrist.

The conversation nonetheless moved on to practical
matters. His disciplined mind could not allow otherwise.

“Inina, I’m interested in learning how to fight
properly. I got a little training when my father made me my sword, but I was
focused on many other things that seemed more immediately useful at the time.
So now, I find that my skills are less than I may need.”

She replied, “You should learn how to use more than a
sword. They are dangerous things, but hard to hide, and no good at all for
surprising someone.”

“Surprise?” he was startled, but then considered,
“You’re right, I may need surprise on my side, some day.”

She peered into his eyes thoughtfully, “I can almost see
the wheels of the chariot turning in your mind, Arjun. All right, I’ll take you
to a man I think might be the right sort of weapons trainer. He can teach
techniques for fights that are far from honorable, and he won’t ask questions.
I warn you though, Enlil iru Geb charges a steep price, and he isn’t the
nicest.”

“I don’t want the nicest, I want the deadliest,” was
his reply.

She gave him a black-humored smile, “Tomorrow then. In
the meantime, I think it is about time I went. I have work to do.”

“Let me walk you home.”

“What makes you think I’m going home?”

“It is your choice what you do from there, but at
least let me get you safely back. Besides, those don’t look like your most
practical working clothes. I’d bet you plan to change them back home anyway.”

She laughed, “Are you so sure I wouldn’t be protecting
YOU? I live out here, remember. Oh well, all right.”

He went to his room and collected his cloak and sword,
then walked with her out the door. It was a pleasant night, and others in large
numbers took advantage of the weather to go about business fair and foul. As
they walked the streets, passersby greeted Inina. Some of them were very rough
looking.

“See?” she said, “Around here, even the ones that
might rob YOU are on MY side. I’m home, Arjun, and you shouldn’t worry about
me. Ah, here, let’s take this way,” she pointed to a black-shadowed alley,
“We’ll save a few blocks.”

He nodded uncertainly, not liking the look of it.

As it turned out, she was right. They had no trouble
in the alley. On the other side, though, on a back street that was more than
normally deserted tonight, they found it.

 A group of men in filthy wide-belted kilts swaggered
and staggered with drink. Their accents pronounced to Arjun that they were from
the city of Ershum, in the League of Kasim, a hundred miles north along the
coast, and probably sailors. They had weapons at their belts.

Some of them whistled.

“Oh ho! Look at this pretty young lady!” said one.

“Ah, but who is this ugly girl she is with?” said
another.

“You, ugly, get out of the way so we can talk to your
pretty friend!” said a third.

Arjun burned at the words. No one since childhood had
insulted him like that! In the life he’d known, such words among men could only
lead to duels and death. These men spat them out casually, expecting no
repercussions whatsoever. And why should they? He was little more than a boy,
with no visible weapon, and they were seven armed burly toughs.

They were approaching.

Inina tapped his shoulder and whispered too him
“Arjun, turn around and follow me back into the alley. We need to get out of
here.”

“All right”

But as it turned out, an eighth sailor had been
relieving himself in the shadows near the alley. He was a big man with a hairy
belly that hung over the belt of his kilt. He stepped forth and blocked their
way with an unpleasant grin.

“Where ya goin’, pretty?” he said in a growling voice.

Quick as a snake, she drew her dagger and waved it an
inch from the man’s nose.

“Out of my way, unless you want trouble with every
cutthroat in this part of town!”

Men of Zakran, who knew this neighborhood, might have
taken that threat seriously. These foreigners did not. The man in front of
Inina took a startled step back, but the others roared with laughter and
charged.