Blood on Bronze (Blood on Bronze Book 1) (9 page)

“Arjun, no!”

“Inina, please.”

“I… all right,” and with wild and impossible dreams in
her mind, and passion in her heart, she covered him with kisses, pressing her
perfumed and jeweled body to his.

Even as they found life and joy in their little room
together, outside on the streets, men searched for them with gold and power on
their minds, and death in their hearts.

9.
The Tale of Blade and Spell

Under a hot midday sun, Arjun stood with Enlil iru Geb
in the courtyard of sand.  Today marked his thirtieth day of training, and
despite what he’d come to know of Enlil, he’d expected at least some kind of
formality to mark what the weapons master had told him from the beginning was
his transition from tentative student to accepted apprentice. He watched Enlil
carefully, waiting for some sign. 

“Break for lunch,” said Enlil.

Arjun started to turn, but some instinct kept him on
his guard, and when the sweeping kick came at his knee, he was ready. He
dodged, spun, and parried the sword that aimed straight for his heart. He then
tried to grab Enlil’s sword arm while brining the point of his sword to the
trainer’s neck, but the latter was too fast, made a leaping step away, and then
spun around, sword ready. Enlil smiled.

“Well done, you who were a student, and are now an
apprentice.”

“Master, that strike at my heart did not seem feigned.
What if I had not seen it and defended myself in time?”

“Who can say? But now, attend to your meal.”

Arjun sat at his place in the shade, feeling confused,
unsettled, and honored all at once. Finally, he could stand it no more, and
spoke, “Master, how will my training change, now that I am an apprentice?”

Enlil finished his bite of food, chewed slowly, and
watched Arjun’s discomfort with impassive calm. Then he replied, “Besides you
having a say in when you train? Now, I’ll no longer go easy on you.”

At that, Arjun steeled his heart, and his body, for
the battering to come.

~

Notices, clay tablets hanging by cords, appeared in
prominent places around the city, offering a reward of five gold suns from the
city, and no less than fifty from Bal-Shim iru Shulggi, for the arrest of Arjun
dra Artashad, who had escaped from city guardsmen under unspecified charges,
then gone on to rob and burn the warehouse of a law abiding merchant, and
murdered two of his guards. It attempted to give a description of the fugitive,
but such things were vague guidance at best. Those who posted the notices could
not know that the only person in Zakran who both knew Arjun by his true name,
and knew his whereabouts, was a young woman who’d given him all her heart.

Nonetheless, when Arjun saw one, he knew it was time
to be more alert. He was thankful he didn’t have any distinguishing scars or
other marks, and that though strong, he was otherwise a man of average height,
build, and complexion for a Hayyidi. There were thousands of men in the city of
his approximate age and description. Still, he might want to alter something,
to avoid looking too much like his old self.

Below the offer of rewards for his capture was a
second section, describing the imprisonment of his father on also unspecified
charges, and incongruously suggesting that if he, Arjun, turned himself in to
the authorities, he’d be allowed to see his father and together they would
obtain a fair public trial. Arjun dismissed it out of hand. If they’d been
interested in giving a fair trial, they wouldn’t have smashed in his father’s
door in the middle of the night. For that matter, what originally had his
father been charged with?

Though he knew he wouldn’t take the bait, his heart
ached at the thought of abandoning any chance, however unlikely, to see his
father. He still had hopes of rescuing him, poor as his chances of success
might be, or barring that, to avenge him. To that end, he’d been training
pitilessly in battle and stealth. As he stood staring at the plaque, he
considered he might need more than these to succeed.

Then another notice caught his eye. It was larger, and
bore a ceramic seal glazed in a coppery finish and bearing the symbols of
Zakran. That marked it as the announcement of a new law. He read it carefully,
and was shocked. Henceforth, certain professions were going to require licensing
by the council of the city, the requirements for which could be obtained in
detail from scribes at the citadel, but which included at least a fee of ten
gold suns and some kind of approval process. Arjun found it startling. While
some professions, such as that of his family, had maintained formal or informal
guilds, they’d never had the actual power of law to keep others out, and the
city government had wielded no such power since the days of the kings!

At the top of the list were bronze makers. Below them
were smiths who worked in gold, silver, copper, tin, or lead, and last, a long
list of other kinds of workers in the same metals, such as miners and those who
worked forges. It was all very disturbing. Smiths at least could afford ten
gold, but those others would almost certainly have to find wealthy sponsors or
employers. Some of course already did, but since the demise of the kings three
centuries earlier, and the breakup of the old system of estates and patronage,
there had been many free workers. He considered another unpleasant possibility,
slavery had been on the rise in recent years, and the number of ways to become
enslaved had been increasing. Men unable to pay the fee, who lost their
profession and thus livelihoods, might then find themselves performing them
again in thrall to a man rich enough to pay for both fees and slaves.

But also troubling was the selectiveness of the list.
All were workers in metal. Why? He guessed that there was something special
going on regarding bronze makers, given the treachery of Bal-Shim, but what had
the others to do with them?

He had much to think about.

Now though, he must deal with the practical task of
how, if ever, he was going to rescue his father. The time was probably growing
short. His chances of success were improbable at best, but as he’d reflected
earlier, if they were going to even be that, he’d need something more.

He’d need magic.

~

A beggar walked up a steep path to the house of Kartam
dra Argesh. He walked with a shambling gait, hunched under a filthy cloak. His
face was dirty and his face was unshaven. Someone who looked closely might have
noticed that the face under the beard and dirt was young, and the build under
the cloak was strong. But beggars walking to the house of Kartam were a common
occurrence, and this footpath came straight from the busy streets below,
avoiding the houses of his neighbors.

The beggar came to the door, and it opened slightly.
Out of it stepped a doorman.

“Seeker of alms, master Kartam is not dispensing them
this day, but if you tell me your name and tale, he may remember you for a day
that he is.”

“Tell your master that the son of Ashur seeks his help
once more.”

The doorman looked him over, and his expression passed
first to recognition, then concern, “It would be wise if you made this your
last visit unless bidden, young Arjun, matters grow much more dangerous for
you, an in these times, it is quite possible that the house of Argesh is being
watched.”

“For me?”

“No, but the reasons for the watching are quite
independent of whether such a watcher might recognize you, and report. However,
I will go speak to my master, and he will tell me what he wishes.”

The doorman stepped back inside, and closed the door
behind him. There was a long wait. At last, he returned.

“Come inside, and he will help you as he can.”

Arjun followed him again to Kartam’s office. The
latter had grimmer expression than Arjun had ever seen on his face.

“Lord Kartam, thank you for seeing me. You seem
troubled.”

“There is much at work, and I can only perceive part
of it. But that which is visible on the surface is most worrying. You have seen
the new law?”

“Yes, lord Kartam.”

“That law was passed over the objection of nine of the
council. I did not know those behind it had gathered so many allies. It is
strange that a group of men vocal in calling themselves harbingers of new times
should revive a style of law from the darkest old days.”

“So I thought as well, lord.”

“However, that is not why you are here Arjun. I am
glad you have not fallen into the trap baited for you by your enemies, though I
now fear even more for your father, and for you. What has caused you to open
yourself to scrutiny in coming again to my house?”

“In my own plans, lord Kartam, such as they are, I
believe I have need of magic.”

“So you may, for though whoever helped you with your
disguise has skill, you may need magic to pass close scrutiny as a beggar.”

“I was thinking, lord, of magic related to the opening
of ways and portals.”

“Ah, then they are dangerous things you plan. You have
come to me to advise you of a magus who might be trusted?”

“I have, lord Kartam.”

“There are none of whom I could be completely certain
in the manner of Umrub the G’abudim, but those who prepare magic for my uses
will be unlikely to wish to incur my wrath. Of them, I will recommend to you
Shirin iru Anlil. We will be asking him to take great risks on your behalf, and
for that and other reasons, his castings will cost great amounts of gold.”

“I wish to have him train me to do my own casting,
lord Kartam.”

At that, the old man’s face took on a look of
surprise.

“Arjun! You have long amazed me, and do so still!” he
laughed, “to start training as a magus at your age, when you have never been an
apprentice, is a task any master would be loathe to do. And lacking prior
preparation, it will be difficult for you! It will also likely be even more
costly than purchasing magic made by others. What funds do you have?”

“I have coins, gems, and bronze in total worth in
total, assuming average sale prices, perhaps five thousand gold suns.”

“You escaped with far more than I would have imagined!
Though I presume you have much supplemented it by recovering stolen items at
the warehouse of Shulggi.”

“Yes, lord.”

“Such sums may well be enough, but I cannot in good
conscience send you forth to spend on that scale unaided. Go now, and wait
outside, acting as a beggar once more, and I will have my servant give you that
which is needful.

Arjun bowed low, “Thank you, lord Kartam.”

He then returned outside, and after some minutes, the
doorman emerged.

“Seeker of alms, master Kartam has relented, and gives
them to you now,” and with those words, the doorman handed him a small stone
and a few copper crescents.

Arjun made the humble clumsy bow of a beggar, and left
the way he’d come. As he walked he wondered at Kartam’s intent. The stone would
have a message for Shirin, but what purpose, beyond slightly aiding his
disguise, was served by the coins? No matter, it was not wise or his place to
question now. He put them in the coin purse he kept under his cloak, hidden
from thieving hands.

 When he returned to his room, he opened the purse,
planning to move the crescents to the hidden box containing the rest of his
coins. But inside, instead of copper crescents, he found gems of great worth,
sparkling in the fading light.

~

The house of Shirin iru Anlil was built like a
fortress. Lofty walls met at a gatehouse with only two windows, high overhead,
and the great house itself was hidden in the center behind tall trees. All in
all, it was an excellent place not to be seen, and that suited Arjun perfectly.

He approached the front gate, which was carved in what
must be deliberately obvious wards and runes. He was no closer than ten feet
away, when a deep booming voice spoke from nowhere. “Who seeks the house of
Shirin?”

“I am Sharur, sent by Kartam dra Argesh.”

“Sent by lord Kartam, are you? Produce some proof.”

“He gave me this stone.”

“Wait.”

 The gate opened, and in the dim light of evening, he
could see the flicker of magic. On the other side of the gate was an ogre,
dressed in a tunic of bronze scales over a red tabard, and carrying an immense
bronze axe. A memory of childhood struck Arjun’s mind, and he recalled his
father had made that axe.

“Give me the token, and wait again,” said the ogre.

Arjun did so, and much time passed. The sky grew dark,
the stars sparkled overhead, the copper moon rose, and a warm breeze blew,
scented with spices. At last, the gate opened once more, and there was the
ogre.

“Follow me, and do not stray from the path.”

Arjun did as asked. He and the ogre walked a straight
path of stone between beautiful gardens. Ahead was the great house. It was
ornately carved in geometric patterns interspersed with runes. He could
sometimes see, and at all times feel, the faint crackle of magic.

A door of bronze and gold opened before them, and
inside was a small but well appointed audience hall. In a chair at one end sat
a small, thin man in blue and purple kilt and cloak inscribed along the hems
with runes. He wore bands of various metals on his fingers, arms, ankles, and
brow. All bore traceries and runes.

Arjun bowed low.