Blood on Bronze (Blood on Bronze Book 1) (17 page)

Arjun seethed, old wounds rubbed fresh in his minds.
He’d known most of the families of bronze makers in the city, and some of their
children had been friends of his growing up, at least before his mother had
died and he’d dedicated himself to work and knowledge. He pitied them now. He
might not be able to help them, but he could at least harm their destroyer,
Bal-Shim. It occurred to him to pay a visit to Enlil on his way back, for he
sensed the completion of his training might be drawing near, and wanted to see
if, for once, Enlil would give him a clear idea of where he stood, and what he
still needed to learn.

He made his way through the streets, and noted the now
omnipresent groups of guards, informers and Bal-Shim’s new so-called people’s
watchmen. Conversations on the streets were less lively these days, more hushed
and secretive, with glances over shoulders and guesswork as to trust. Whatever
was happening to his city, it was very bad, and far broader than what had been
done to him.

At the house of Enlil, it took a while for the door to
be answered. He was quickly hurried inside, and found Enlil with the tense air
he’d had for weeks.

“Apprentice, what brings you here at this hour?”

“Master Enlil, I’m trying to vary my schedule to throw
off any waiting eyes, including those that might follow me to your house. It
means my visits may become fewer yet. Can you tell me what I still need to
learn?”

Enlil watched him a long while. “Very little now. You
are near enough that I think we might call it good, but I’d like to do this
right, and give you a proper ceremony marking the completion of your training.
Why don’t you come back in a week or two?”

~

On the docks of the middle harbor, Arjun stood with
Maiat, watching ships sail past the mighty lighthouse called the Torch of
Zamisphar. Other ships arrived with cargoes from distant lands. He’d rescued
her and arranged passage out of Zakran to the city of Tema to the north, on a
ship captained by a friend of Lurshiga’s. Maiat turned to him and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you master Arjun, thank you!” 

“Here is some gold, divide it with Geb, Dur-Sim and
the others. I’m sorry I couldn’t find Tishat. The Zash-Ulshad keep a close
watch on their slaves.”

“Master Arjun, why don’t you and your wife come with
us?”

“We have other purposes, and I would only endanger
you. They might not care enough to go hunting in foreign lands for you, but
they will me. Now go.”

With a little bow she turned and set off to a new, but
safer life.

17.
The Tale of Stealthy Paths

It was a mild day, as was common this time of year in
what passed for winter in Zakran. Arjun made his way to the G’abudim quarter,
dressed as a laborer carrying sacks of planks. His face was smeared with dirt,
and a cloth was tied around his head. His kilt was plain cotton, brown with
dirt.

A seemingly random G’abudim from the crowd greeted
him, and put him in the care of another who guided him where he needed to go, a
courtyard compound with very high walls, deep in their quarter and far from
either the harbor or the city walls.

Within, he was brought to what looked like a larger
version of the ornately and grotesquely carved building he’d visited before.
Inside, the walls were decorated with strange symbols and hideous circular
faces. He could see magic sparkling from the decorations, the doorway, and
items on the men before him. He noticed something else; there were no things of
darkness in the building, or in the courtyard around it, none at all. Seven
G’abudim sat on a large low dais. The second from the left was Umrub. The man
in the center looked very old, and had numerous tattoos. The rightmost of all
the men bid Arjun to sit before them. Then he spoke,

“We have been watching your deeds, Arjun dra Artashad.
Those we know, that all the city knows, are yours, and those we guess. If you
wish to train with us, you will guard yourself with greater caution for a
time.”

Arjun nodded, “I will do as you wish.”

“Now, Arjun dra Artashad, tell us the full tale of
your deeds in this one-man war of yours. Leave nothing out, so that we may
assess you.”

And Arjun did so, from the time the guards smashed in
his father’s front door, through all the fights in between, his use of magic,
his failure in trying to rescue his father, and his successful rescue of such
former servants of his house as he thought could still be trusted. At the
mention of the thing he’d unintentionally released, then hunted down, there was
a ripple of interest even among the impassive G’abudim. It occurred to Arjun
that though he’d thought some sort of translation was going on when the elders
spoke in their language, and the juniors in his, they needed no translation
when he spoke to them.

The man on the right spoke again, “That opening of a
hole in the world was reckless, Arjun dra Artashad. You will not use magic you
do not understand while you are in our quarter here, or anywhere near our
people.”

“I understand,” said Arjun.

As he watched the G’abudim, focused his mind and his
eyes, he could see the faint glimmer of strange magic on their foreheads.

“What do you see, Arjun dra Artashad?” said the man on
the right.

“The faint flicker of an unfamiliar kind of magic on
your brows,” said Arjun.

Thoughtful expressions crossed the faces of the
G’abudim. At last, the one on the right spoke again, “You could not perceive
them, even with your magic of seeing, without some special sign upon you.
Should we agree to train you, and you accept, you will learn more of such
things.”

Arjun nodded.

“If you are to train with us, you will undergo certain
tests. You will not find them pleasant. Understand that though we of G’abud are
known for secrecy, we value honesty as much as discretion. We do not tolerate
lying among ourselves. We must be sure of you. If you pass the tests, you will
be given a mark such as the lesser of us bear, and then we will train you in
the poisons and subtleties you seek. You however will then owe us a service of
our choosing.”

“I will not do deeds such as were done to me and
mine,” said Arjun, worried.

“Do not fear. There are only two kinds of men who make
truly effective assassins, Arjun dra Artashad, those of no conscience at all,
whom we do not take into our service, and those who believe intently in
something. We would find such a task as would be in accordance with your
conscience, so that you might find the will to succeed.”

“And what of your consciences?” asked Arjun, still
unsure.

“They are ours to guard. We ask no more of you than we
have said, and you may ask no more of us.”

“I accept,” said Arjun.

“First you must pass the tests,” was the reply.

~

Arjun was taken to a small room, the walls of which
were thickly carved with symbols, patterns, and faces. Magic was everywhere. It
was lit by a single flickering lamp. There were no windows. In the center was a
wooden cot.

“Lie here,” said the G’abudim who had been chosen as
his guide.

He was shorter even than the norm for his folk, his
kilt was uneven in the usual G’abudim style with short sides and long center
panels in front and back, but trimmed in black, as were the panels on his chest
and back. He wore a bag slung over one shoulder with many small compartments,
and intricate designs stitched outside. Arjun could see no magic on the bag,
though one of the man’s amulets bore it.

Arjun lay down on the cot, arms at his side. The
G’abudim walked up to him, pulled out a small ornately carved obsidian knife
from a black sheath, and without a word, nicked Arjun’s right forearm. He had
felt far too many wounds to flinch at the small cut, but what followed was
something else entirely.

A cold wave swept through his nerves around his body.
Not numbness, for he could still feel, but immobility. His lungs, heart, and
organs still seemed to be working, but the muscles of his arms and legs, not at
all. That was not the worst of it though. For behind the G’abudim in the
black-trimmed clothes came another differently attired carrying a small cage.
Something about half the size of a fist moved angrily and buzzed inside.

Arjun felt a new wave of cold run through his mind,
and for a moment doubted his choice in accepting training. Still, they’d said
there would be tests. He steeled his thoughts.

The second G’abudim walked forward without a word, and
opened the top of the little cage. With a deft motion like a striking snake, he
put his fingers inside, and emerged with an insect that looked much like a
wasp, but larger, and with its wings clipped. It writhed its body trying to
sting the man who held it, but he had a grip in exactly such a way that it
couldn’t. The man stood next to Arjun, and lowered the wasp-like thing to his
left forearm. He felt the sting.

Pain like liquid fire flowed up through the veins of
his arm, as it entered his chest, the pain diffused into a kind of heat, and he
began to sweat. He felt something affecting his mind. Not dulling it, just
making it harder to edit or analyze what passed through it. He tried to shake
off the feeling, but failed.

Then the G’abudim who’s sat on the right, the one who
spoke fluent Hayyidi, entered the room. He stood at the foot of the cot as the
others made complex gestures to him, then left with calm steps. Then, he spoke
to Arjun, asking him to relate his tale once more, which Arjun did. After that,
he had certain pointed questions to ask, questions that seemed designed to
discover hidden motives or treacherous goals in Arjun and perhaps to better
assess his beliefs and his capabilities. For his part, Arjun found himself
answering with what came first and most directly to mind, what he thought to be
true. The questions went on for a long time.

At last, the G’abudim ceased with questions, and told
him something new.

“For most, it is impossible to lie under the effects
of what is in your body. By your words I believe you have established the truth
of what you told us before. We also now know of what you actually think yourself
capable, and can make judgments of our own besides. If you are to be of use to
us, we must make the right use of you. Understand that you are being given a
great gift and an expression of trust by us. Once you don a spirit mark, you
will see.”

“You will find that you perceive things previously
hidden, what this may do in combination with the magics you have already rashly
placed upon yourself, we cannot say, but it will likely give you both power and
danger to yourself. So be it. You will also find that you cannot lie to any
other bearing a spirit mark, or they to you. Not because the magic has means to
know your mind, but because you do. You may keep secrets, as we do, but not
lie. You will find that with truth comes risk, and responsibility.”

“Also, because you are now in a state where it is
difficult for you to lie, even to yourself, and this is an irrevocable choice
you must make, we ask you again, do you wish what we offer?”

“Yes,” said Arjun, with jaw muscles that barely
worked.

“Then I will bring the seers here so that they can
place the mark upon you. Now that you have earned the right to know it, my name
is Dahu’ud.”

After what had befallen him, Arjun expected another
painful or uncomfortable experience. But instead, the seers, two elderly
G’abudim in mostly white clothes, simply traced designs along his forehead with
jade wands, and he felt the tingling of magic. As they finished, he felt his
eyes grow heavy, and he fell asleep.

When he opened them, his cot had been moved to the
larger room, where the seven seated G’abudim had been joined by seven more in
front of them, at the base of the dais, and another twenty-one who stood. The
seers and the one in the black-trimmed clothes were among the seated. The marks
on their foreheads looked very different. Instead of the faint glimmer of
unfamiliar magic, brilliant colors glowed. He saw those standing had the same
basic symbol of gold light in a shape that resembled stylized hands holding a
rising sun, and he felt, or somehow knew, that his was of that kind. Those
seated had symbols of increasing complexity and more color as one approached
the elder in the center. The elder himself had many-colored designs that
covered his entire brow and the upper part of his face.

Dahu’ud, whose mark was of gold, red, and green,
spoke, “Welcome, Arjun dra Artashad. Tonight you are being watched by all who
may need to deal with you, but will be introduced only to those who will give
you training. Then, I will teach you some basic needful things. Then you will
acquire further knowledge over time. For the first two weeks, do nothing but
learn.  After that, it will be yours to judge when the time is right to use
what you know.

Arjun bowed, and they began.

~

For the next few days, Arjun crossed the city before
dawn to train with the G’abudim in poisons, their use, and the techniques of
stealth and self-discipline that went with them. Each night, long after the sun
had set, he returned weary. Sometimes Inina was already asleep. When she was
awake, she seemed withdrawn. They spoke little. One night, though, she wore a
pained expression, intense and mobile, as if water was breaking through a dam.

“Arjun, this is getting difficult to take.”

“What do you mean?”

“Seeing you leave every day, gone all day, and I’m
trapped here, powerless as to whether you live or die, whether WE are going to
live or die!” she said, pain rising in her voice.

“What can I do? With our baby, you shouldn’t be
fighting anymore…”

“I know! But why should YOU be fighting anymore?”

“You know the answer to that,” he said, grimly.

“Maybe I do, as you see it, but why do I have to
accept it?”

“We discussed it, and you agreed,” he said gloomily.

“Things looked different then. In not long at all,
maybe two months, we’re going to have a child Arjun, our child! I don’t know
how much longer I can take living like this, hiding here in this little room
out of fear…”

Arjun gnawed at his own thoughts and plans. She did
deserve better than this. And how, really, were they going to live like this
with a baby? Since his failure rescuing his father, he’d been obsessed with
training himself more, and more, for the moment of revenge to come. In the
meantime, though, his enemies were also getting stronger.

He knew too, that despite her love for him, and even
if they’d had no child, this was his fight not hers, and there was some part of
her, a growing part, that would be more than happy to flee the city and make a
new life somewhere they didn’t have to hide in fear for their lives every day.
And he couldn’t blame her.

But… and he hardened his thoughts, there was no way,
none, that he would run like that, not while Bal-Shim lived, and as the man was
constantly under heavy guard, with magic, that wouldn’t be easy. Inina had
finished speaking, and was waiting on him.

“Two weeks, my love, give me two weeks, and I’ll
finish this.”

She looked at him with unhappy resignation, and curled
up on their bed.

As he sadly watched her drift off to sleep, Arjun
considered what he could do. He had first to finish his initial training with
the G’abudim. Then, he would need to search out Bal-Shim’s home, if he could.
He’d been there before, but only to the audience hall, and there was much he
would need to know, when the time came.  While the specific path he’d have to
follow would depend on what he found, he had no doubt of what would ultimately
be required, and the tools he’d need. It was the reason, from the beginning,
he’d wanted certain of the magics he’d asked Shirin to teach him. Soon, for
good or ill, that time would come.