Blood on Bronze (Blood on Bronze Book 1) (19 page)

“Lurshiga, we’ll never make it past the checkpoints
they’ll have up at the bridges, do you know anything about boats?” he asked.

“Boats? I do know a little bit. I used to like
sailors, and had reason to be in rowboats every now and then. Where do you plan
to go?”

“The G’abudim quarter”

Lurshiga’s face took on a frightened expression.

~

As they slowly made their way through the back
streets, the potion began to work its powers on Inina. The swelling on her face
reduced and her bruises started to fade. She opened her eyes again, but only
mumbled incoherently as they carried her.

“Lurshiga, I think we’d better avoid the mages and
alchemists district, too many ways to be spotted there, and lots of guards.
Let’s cut through the bazaar and then the merchant district to the river.”

“I agree,” she said, “but that way is a much longer. I
hope that potion can get Inina in a lot better shape”

“It will, it just takes a while.”

After a few more minutes, Inina started to speak, in a
soft wheezing voice.

“Where? Ah… Arjun…”

“We have to move fast my love, it will help if you can
walk a little”

She could, though after a block needed help again,
then a block further yet, as the potion worked and her wounds faded, she got on
her feet again more solidly, and started walking.

“Arjun… my belly… something is wrong. They kept
kicking me, over and over…”

He took her hand and kissed her, but kept her moving
as he swallowed his fears. In the shadows around them, shapes moved. Arjun was
glad for Inina and Lurshiga that they couldn’t see them.

To Arjun’s eyes, his sight now altered by two
permanent spells and a spirit mark of the G’abudim, night and day were now as
one. He could now see what he was sure were spirits, as distinguished from
things of shadow. He could also see a long way in the dark, far beyond the men
hunting them. Outside of the wealthiest areas, street lamps, in the form of
enchanted stones on pillars, were very rare, and this late few businesses had
lamps burning. The city guards thus depended on lamps to see, and he could spot
them long beforehand. He guided the women and together they evaded every patrol,
reached the river, and found numerous small boats. They grabbed the nearest,
and Lurshiga untied the lines as Arjun helped Inina in.

“Ready? Let’s go,” said Lurshiga as she pushed off.

Lurshiga grabbed the oars and rowed steadily. After a
moment, Arjun could see that each stroke was spreading agony through her
bruised and lacerated body.

“I’ll take those, Lurshiga,” he said.

“You’ve never rowed a boat in your life, boy, you’ll
crash us into the docks.”

“All right, then get us clear of them, and I’ll take over.
I’ll watch you, and learn.”

She grunted with disapproval, but once they were out
in mid river, handed him the oars.

“All right, give it a try.”

He had trouble at first, but at least out here in the
dark and the empty waters of a wide river, little harm could come of it. After
a while, and with much direction from Lurshiga, he got them going on the right
direction, and the followed the river out to the east harbor. There, they made
a vaguely southwesterly course toward the G’abudim quarter. Inina sat in quiet
misery at the front, clutching her stomach.

“All right Arjun,” said Lurshiga, “give me those oars,
I need to take us into the docks.”

“But…”

“Don’t argue, sweet, I’ll deal with the pain, I’m a
big girl.”

Reluctantly, he handed them back, but she did as
promised, and brought them without incident to the empty end of one of the
docks.

Arjun helped Inina out of the boat, then reached a
hand to Lurshiga.

“Oh no, I’d rather take up with a nest of scorpions
than follow you in there!” she said.

“Then where will you go?”

“I’ve got an old sailor friend in the merchant
district opposite here across the harbor. He owns his own ship nowadays. I
think he’ll be willing to put me aboard when it next leaves for Tema. I’ve got
a cousin there.”

“Lurshiga, I’m sorry for everything, for what I
brought down on you.”

“All you did is deal with what other people brought
down on you Arjun. I blame the ones who gave the orders, not you. You be sure
those G’abudim take care of Inina though, and count your blessings I changed my
mind about your head and that urn.”

He had a thought, opened the seal stone at his neck,
and reached inside the space beyond, it was densely packed, but he found what
he was looking for. He pulled out a gem, and handed it to Lurshiga.

“What… is his for?” she asked, incredulous. The gem
was worth more than she’d netted in an average year at her inn.

“To remember us by, until we meet again.”

“Can I remember you by selling it and using the gold?”

“Absolutely,” he replied.

She leaned forward and kissed Inina, and then him, on
their cheeks, hugged them both, and rowed away across the moonlit waters.

In the darkness before dawn, Arjun helped Inina along
the dock.  The healing potion would now have done as much work as it ever
could, and she was still far from well. They went up the steps behind, and onto
the waterfront street of the G’abudim quarter. It was very different from
waterfront areas in the rest of the city. There were no shops, no taverns, no
crates of goods stacked against walls, and no sailors wandering about with
drink. Instead, there were only the blank walls of G’abudim compounds, and the
dark gates leading inside.

In the deep shadows, of an alley, Arjun could see a
pair of men. They looked like G’abudim, but were dressed in concealing black
clothes, cloth wrapped around their heads and faces. No one without sight like
his could have seen them there. He walked straight toward them. If they
actually were G’abudim, he knew the spirit mark on his forehead would be as
bright as a lamp to them. They seemed to react in some surprise at his obvious
ability to see them. Nonetheless, they silently stood up and pulled back the
wrappings from their faces. Arjun could see the golden spirit marks like his
own.

“Hail, and halt,” said one of them, “Why do you come at
this hour?”

“I come because I seek master Dahu’ud, and within
twenty-four hours I will be ready to offer such service as was required to earn
this mark.”

“She who is with you bears no mark, and she is both
hurt and with child. Was she offered a place here?”

“No, and on this I throw myself on the mercy of those
who decide. She is my wife.”

The sentry made a grave expression, “Follow me, and we
will wait inside his courtyard, in safety.”

~

As the sun rose, Dahu’ud and a few other G’abudim
gathered in a small room with Arjun and Inina. With them was a woman of the
G’abudim, one of the few Arjun had seen here. As with others of their women,
she had the same shaved head and general garb as the men, save that the plaques
were suspended lower, below bare breasts. This woman was older than the others
he’d seen, and dressed in a costume that included much red. Her spirit mark
included a complex symbol, also of red.

Dahu’ud spoke, “this is Ith’un, she is a healer and
midwife of much experience, and she will watch over your wife, Arjun dra
Artashad.”

Inina was lying on a low couch, still in pain. She’d
been correct, something was wrong, and the healing potion hadn’t been enough.
Arjun looked around doubtfully. His mind was a chaos of grief, anger, and cold
purpose, but his body was exhausted, and beginning to win out.

“Sleep now, for I can guess what you must do tonight.”

Arjun rose in the afternoon, visited Inina, who was
sleeping deeply yet fitfully. Light filtered in through the lattice windows,
and incense burned in a clay pot in the corner. Ith’un was sitting on a mat
near Inina, meditating, and watching her. After a moment, Dahu’ud came in the
room, and stood close. He spoke in a low voice.

“Arjun, your wife will recover in some hours, but I
must give you very bad news. She miscarried, but Ith’un found that the boy had
been dead for hours. From your wife’s condition, you must have given her a
potion of healing, but it would not have helped the child. Such things cannot
bring back those already dead, nor can any art known to us. I am sorry.”

He looked at Dahu’ud, eyes blank. Then the rage hit
him. Bal-Shim and his friends had killed his child! Faces passed before his
mind’s eye, the brutalized faces of Inina and Lurshiga, the dead faces of his
servants, his father, Keda, Enlil, and now… his son! He seethed in blind
white-hot fury, then mastered it, channeled it, let it burn through his body
and spirit until he could control it, and use it.

And he would. Tonight was the long-promised feast of
Bal-Shim for his trusted supporters and servants. Tonight, Bal-Shim would have
an unexpected guest.

19.
The Tale of Vengeance

It was a cool evening in Zakran, the mildest yet all
year, so much so that some wore their cloaks pulled tight for warmth. However,
no cool weather could dampen the warm enthusiasm surrounding Bal-Shim’s feast.
He was known to reward his followers with raucous parties with free-flowing
drink and dancing girls, and this was supposed to be the biggest one yet.

No wagons arrived with supplies. Bal-Shim had already
looted, or as he called it, liberated, as much as he needed from the homes of
fallen oppressors of the people and enemies of the city. Men however arrived in
great numbers. Rough-looking fighters and porters from his liberation crews
rubbed shoulders with oily-mannered overseers and grim private scribes. His
personal servants mingled with intense aggressive officers of the People’s
Watch. A few minor officials and other allies turned up as well. None of his
key friends in positions of real power were there. These big parties were
purely for those who benefitted from his generous patronage.

As night fell, servants were in the courtyard
gathering supplies, hurrying back as fast as they could to rejoin the fun, and
numerous guards, in rotation so none would entirely miss out, patrolled the
outer walls and the streets beyond.

None of the men outside or on the walls had the power
to see magic. If they did, one of them would have noticed as the enchantments
along a section of the parapet disappeared. But, there was hardly a man in the
world that could have seen the shadowy form in black that slipped over the
parapet, and without pause, dropped into the darkness between two storehouses.

Arjun waited in his dark crevice, standing atop tall
storage urns that had been wedged in the space, blocking the lower parts of the
ladder. When he could see no more servants, he crawled forward, careful to
avoiding disturbing the huge pottery jars. He peered around the corners and saw
no one, dropped down into the courtyard, and ducked low, freezing in place.
There was no change in the demeanor of the guards.

He slipped from shadow to shadow, sometimes right
through things of darkness that either ignored him or looked on with dull
curiosity. Ahead of him were the stairs down, and the entrance to the basement.
It had wards on it, but whereas the main back door was the scene of much light
and constant activity, it was dark and at the moment unused. From his hiding
place, he watched the guards. At the right moment, when the eyes of both were
elsewhere, he darted to the stair well, and raced down. At the bottom, nearly
ten feet down, it was pitch black, but that impeded him not at all, and hid him
perfectly from anyone else in the courtyard.

In front of him, several magics glowed. He was now
starting to be able to readily distinguish the differing colors and radiant
effects associated with different types of magic. It was very strange. Nothing
in the books Shirin had given him led him to think that the Eye of
Comprehending Truth, or magic like it, granted perception so vivid. Regardless,
it was useful. He focused his mind and silently called forth several forms of
Words of Opening, in a specific order. The magics on the door winked out one by
one. Then he felt the door itself. It had a bar on the other side. He pulled
out a copper strip, and carefully lifted the bar. To avoid making it clatter to
the ground, he now pushed a loop of wire through the small crack, caught the
bar in it, tightened, and then finished lifting. The bar swung loose, caught as
he pulled the wire back, but bumped into something on the other size with a
clatter. Arjun froze.

Nothing moved up above, and he heard nothing either
from there or within. He slowly lowered the bar, then pushed the door open.
Inside was a vast space held up by thick pillars. Bal-Shim had probably knocked
out internal walls to make room for more goods. And goods there were, packed
everywhere up to head height, except for narrow aisles. Arjun slowly closed the
door behind him, reset the bar, and then allowed the ward to return.

He followed the one of the aisles down to the end
where he guessed stairs might go up, and saw that he was correct. Near the base
of the stairs were a great many wine amphorae of different makes. Dim light
filtered in from the crack at the bottom of the door, and he heard both
footsteps and conversation. He ducked behind the amphorae, but no one entered.
He opened the wax seal and ceramic stopper of one of the amphorae, pulled a
little vial from thin air, through a portal visible only to him, and poured
something into the amphora. Then he replaced the stopper, and using the
smallest gentlest flicker of fire from his hand, melted the wax back into
place. Slowly and painstakingly, he began to do the same with others.

There was fresh movement.  He heard steps, and the
door above opening. Arjun sunk deep back into the shadows under a shelf behind
the amphorae. Servants entered, laughing loudly and full of drink, collected a
pair of amphorae, and carried them up. They were not among those Arjun had yet
touched. He went back to work. Half an hour or more later, it was done, every
one of the waiting amphorae had been given drops from the vials he carried.

He then left the area near the door and searched for
somewhere a little better hidden. He had a change of clothes to make, and it
wouldn’t do to get caught then of all times. As he went, he also looked for
something he hoped to find, but couldn’t be sure of. Then, there it was! The
faint, very faint, traceries of magic from behind some boards stacked endwise
against the wall. It was illusion magic specifically designed to conceal, and
if had the ordinary sight of other magi, he wouldn’t have seen it at all. He
was again glad for the price he’d paid.

He called forth Words of Opening to dispel the
illusion, and saw behind it a well concealed secret door, and yet more magic in
the form of some kind of ward. It was complex and powerful, and for a moment he
wondered if he dared try it. As his mind worked through the possible combinations
he might need, he stripped off his black concealing clothes, stashed them deep
in the packed goods under a shelf, and donned a moderately decorated red and
black kilt he pulled from his invisible portal. He cleaned up and groomed
himself, as fitted a person who’d had a normal day of work, and not one
sneaking through alleys and over walls.

Then, he had it! Or thought he did. He realized he was
taking a big risk, one that could ruin what he intended, but if he was right…

He spoke the Words, in complex combination.

The ward cleared, and he opened the door behind,
passed through, and closed it behind him again. This time he decided to chance
keeping his magic in place rather than letting the wards return. He needed to
conserve his strength, and did not want to have to open this one a second time.
Arjun had reasoned Bal-Shim, who had his hands in many dangerous things, might
have a secret escape route of some kind. This one was built on a narrow spiral
stair rather than the thin shaft at his house. He saw that the basement level
was the bottom, and with black humor thought it a defect that it didn’t
continue to the sewers.

Arjun looked up the spiral stairs. No doubt at the top
was the door to Bal-Shim’s private quarters, and that might be where he’d find
what he sought. But then he saw once more the faint outlines of concealment
magic on the floor of the little crawl space under the base of the stairs. He
carefully used the Words of Opening to remove it, and saw that it was not
otherwise warded. The trap door itself was made to look like any other
flagstone of the floor. That was clever, he thought. He removed it, and saw
more stairs down. Perhaps he’d thought too soon that Bal-Shim ignored the
sewers. Arjun descended the stairs. Halfway down was another ward, a simple one
which he easily opened. At the bottom was something else. A solid bronze door,
with a lock!

Locks were very rare. Only the dwarves made them, and
they were as costly as magic. Arjun had always thought a bronze smith of
sufficient skill might do so too, but it could take years of training, and it
was unlikely those who already had a difficult but rewarding trade with bother
with something so mysterious. This place had to be what he hoped! Even the main
vaults from which Bal-Shim paid his guards and supporters would not be hidden
and guarded like this. The lock itself had no magic, but the door did. He
slowly, painstakingly, opened the wards, and became mindful of how long it was
taking.

The lock itself would have been more of a problem, but
Arjun was a bronze maker, and one who wielded flame from his living hand. He
carefully melted through the bronze around the lock, slipped in shims of broken
crockery from the basement, allowed it to cool, and removed the lock and it’s
bolt whole.

On the other side were things he expected, and things
he did not.

There were vast amounts of treasure. Bal-Shim had been
busier than even he’d imagined. He was only interested in certain things
though, things that belonged to his family. He found some of them, a chest of little
gold rods of standard weight, of which he took as much as he had room for, a
box of his father’s containing pearls and emeralds, which he poured into a bag,
and the small box containing his mother’s favorite jewelry. All of it was gone,
except for one bronze bracelet traced with gold and garnets. He took that, put
it in the bag with the rest, and tucked them into his portal.

Then he saw the other things.

In a corner was a small shrine. It was in brown and
silver, the colors of Ur-Laggu, and the symbols of that god were on it, but the
idol that stood in the shrine looked nothing like the images he’d seen of a
thickset, muscled, bearded man with eyes of red coal. It was of vaguely
humanoid form, but misshapen and bloated, with no eyes and oversized arms. Its
jaw distended halfway down its chest. From that jaw came two tongues like
headless serpents. It looked like the stylized hideous gods he’d seen in the
old tunnels. Arjun considered the words of the priests of Ur-Laggu in the
tunnels, and wondered what Bal-Shim and his friends were really up to.

But even that was not the worst. For among the
treasures were what looked like the severed body parts of women, mummified in
herbs and salt. Arjun paled and his stomach turned. What kind of man was
Bal-Shim? Arjun had hated the man for months, known he was evil, and wanted
more than anything to kill him for what he’d done to his family. But he’d still
thought Bal-Shim was evil in some comprehensible, greedy, human way. This was…
something else.

Arjun turned and made to leave the room, and saw it
staring at him.

A hideous shape rose before him in the darkness. It
rose from smoke that emanated from the idol, which a moment earlier, had shown
no magic. The smoke solidified into a leering form somewhat like the idol itself,
but skeletal and gaunt, with long rending claws. It looked at Arjun and seemed
to pause as if it realized he could see it in the pitch black. It took a step
back, hesitating, then readied to strike.

Arjun gave it no chance. He blasted a full burst of
flame from his hand, over a foot long and widening outward in a cone, into the
thing’s distended mouth. It made no sound, but reached for him with his claws,
he dodged it, stepped back and burned the nearest hand, then moved up the arm.
The thing recoiled, and Arjun pressed on, he covered it with withering fire,
the room grew warm. At last, something changed, and with a quiet snap of air,
the thing became smoke again and retreated into the idol.

Now Arjun guessed that it was an entity somehow tied
to that idol, but not, at least not now, summoned or created with magic. He
blasted fire into the idol, melting it to ruins before whatever it was could
regain strength. Then he darted out of the foul place and up the stairs, left
the trap door open in hopes others might find what Bal-Shim had hidden there,
and reentered the basement, looked around, saw no one, and returned to the area
by the stairs. Two more amphorae had been taken, which meant he didn’t have
much time left to act. He climbed the stairs, looked under the crack in the
door, and listened. There was dim lamplight, but no motion and no sound.
Quietly and slowly, in the clothes of a party guest, he opened the door a crack
and stepped through.

He emerged in a back hallway near the kitchens and
pantries. Bal-Shim had spent the money to have it painted in band of stylized
palm leaves. There should also be a privy for servants around here, but for a
party it was likely to be commandeered for general use, and that meant people
with good reasons to be wandering around. He decided to imitate one. Ambling
down the hallway, feigning slight drunkenness and good cheer, he spotted the
privy. Another man, a fat squinting fellow, was leaving. The man looked at him
in apparent recognition.

Arjun nodded to him, but the man looked back with
slight confusion, as if no longer sure he was seeing someone he recognized.
Arjun passed him with no special notice, and the man seemed to shake it off as
if blaming the wine, then moved on. As he passed the kitchens, Arjun saw the figure
he’d been hoping to see, Hedu, the food taster. Arjun ducked into the privy,
then waited. He heard voices.

“Hedu, thanks for the wine,” said a slightly slurred
voice, “could you go grab a box of dried spices for me from the pantry? Painted
bright yellow, you can’t miss it.”