As they turned down the unlit side street, and the even darker alley, Inina drew her dagger, black in the inky night. Arjun drew his sword, but kept it under his cloak. It was quiet, and no one was nearby. Something, probably a cat, scurried off in a hurry at their approach.
Their eyes adjusted to the darkness, and by the light of the moons, they were able to see a recessed doorway with garbage strewn about it on either side. The walls of the warehouse, and the others built flush with it, loomed black overhead against the pale stars.
Arjun looked down at the base of the door. He could see no light, which held up hope there might be no guards on duty. The door was made so that the hinges were on the other side, and thus they had no way to remove them. He pulled out the flexible strip of copper from his bag, but Inina was quicker. She whispered to him.
“I’m still a lot better than you at this particular kind of thing, let me try.”
“All right,” he whispered back, his lips at her ear.
She unwound her own strip of copper from between the two leather layers of her belt, and wrapped one end in the cloth of her cloak. She held it by that end as she slipped the other expertly in the thin crack between the door and the wall, felt it contact the underside of the bar, and lifted. It was not particularly heavy, and rose without much work on her part, then slipped and fell with a clunk on the other side.
They both froze, weapons ready, waiting for noise from inside, or motion at either end of the alley. There was none.
Arjun carefully pushed the door open, sliding the fallen bar along with it, but so slowly it made little noise. He stepped inside with raised sword. It was dark and no one seemed to be around. Inina silently closed the door behind them and replaced the bar.
They were plunged into blackness. Arjun had unpleasant memories of the sewers. Behind him, Inina lit one of her tiny lamps, and dim light illuminated a corner of the big warehouse. Goods were piled in rows, with ragged aisles in between. Here and there were shelves or tables where smaller items were stacked.
There were inlayed wooden chests, painted urns, stacked amphorae, and carpets in rolls. Beautiful glazed tiles of many colors, pried from the floors of his house, were now tossed carelessly in heaps. On one shelf were piles of rich clothing. Everywhere were items of bronze; dishes, boxes, jewelry and weapons.
Inina sucked in her breath with a quiet whistle.
“Is all of this yours, I mean yours and your fathers?”
“Yes, most of it, though there are a few items here I don’t recognize, they might be Bal-Shim’s or maybe things he robbed from someone else.”
“You really are rich.”
“No, I was rich. We have no way to take back even a small part of this, and even if we did, nowhere to put it. It would be easy to trace back if, say, we tried to sell much of it through your network of friends.”
“Probably, there is a lot of it,” she replied, “but what DO you plan to do?”
“I’m going to take what I think I can carry and conceal, and burn the rest.”
“Burn… the whole warehouse?”
“Rather than see Bal-Shim profit even further from his theft, yes.”
“This is your whole life here, everything you grew up with.”
“No, my life is in those I love, whether they are still in the land of the living or now in the land of the dead, in what I learn, and in the values by which I live it. These here are merely things.”
“I’ve lived all my life wishing for such things,” she said with sad resignation.
“Someday you will have them, Inina, if I can make it so,” he said.
She looked at him in the dim light with a soft expression. He realized the possible implications of what he’d said, and was unsure of how many he’d meant. He turned to business.
“If you would, look for a large cedar chest with bronze fittings in the design of suns and eagles. It was mine, and there may be something they missed within.”
After a brief search, they found it. Arjun opened it, and saw that as expected, its contents had been taken and either sorted with like items or pilfered. But there was no sign of the false bottom being disturbed. The box was built to sit on low legs that kept both the true and false bottoms above the floor, making it harder to tell that there were two.
“Ah! Here it is,” he said, as his hands found the hidden release, “Bal-Shim’s servants don’t seem to have noticed it!”
He lifted the false bottom loose, and in the shallow space underneath were several things. There were some childhood trinkets of no obvious value, other than to Arjun. There was a very fine double-bladed bronze dagger with a design of a thunderbolt slaying a snake along one blade, there was an assortment of men’s jewelry in bronze, there were two wax-sealed bronze vials, and a small leather pouch. Arjun opened the pouch to show Inina, and inside were gems.
Inina’s eyes widened, “I’d say you are rich still, and that might be the finest dagger I’ve ever seen, at least up close. Did your father make that?”
“No, I did,” he replied, “that was done to prove my worthiness to become a bronze maker of the second circle, and thus gain the right to work in it without supervision. My father, by comparison, is a bronze maker of the third and highest circle.”
“What about those vials?” she asked, with curiosity rising in her voice.
“They are potions I purchased, the one inscribed with a hand will cause wounds to heal much faster than normal, and the one inscribed with a flame will burn whatever it touches, if it can be burned, in liquid fire.”
“I can understand healing, but why did you have something like the other one?”
“It seemed useful to have a way to make fire regardless of conditions, but my father disapproved of the idea, as we had Lamps of Zamisphar. So, I hid the potion to await the time when it might be needed.”
“Lamps of Zamisphar?”
“Bronze lamps that flame on command for a few hours each day,” he replied, “They are the focus of shrines in honor of Zamisphar, since he will have no idols or temples to himself”
“Ah. But now, how could Bal-Shim’s men have missed all these things rattling around in the bottom of a chest?”
“There are some minor magics placed on it to keep things from shifting, and to silence any noise they might make.”
“Arjun, the life you led still amazes me…”
“Do not forget that led, rather than lead, is the correct word. Now, speaking of the Lamps of Zamisphar… I wonder if Bal-Shim cared enough to keep them? He is, in name at least, a follower of Zamisphar, and so ought not to sell them, but they would bring in quite a price if he did.”
They looked for some time, but did not find them. As they did though, Inina insisted that they gather up as many valuables as they could in the sacks. Bal-Shim seemed to have personally taken, or at least kept elsewhere, anything of gold or silver, but there were plenty of bronze items, a few of them inlayed with lapis lazuli, jade, ebony, or other stones. Arjun had made some of them with his own hands.
Then they heard a noise.
The front door opened, and a bright light appeared at that end of the warehouse, as of a full sized lamp. With it came a pair of loud male voices, in mid-conversation. The conversation stopped abruptly. The lamp lowered to the floor. Arjun and Inina started to make for the back door.
Two men in armor came running with swords drawn. Inina stopped, spun, and in the same motion pulled her obsidian dagger. Arjun turned more slowly, and drew the sword from his back as the men reached them. The man on the left, bigger, with a damp-looking beard and reeking of wine, brought his sword down towards Arjun’s head. As Enlil had taught him, Arjun dodged to the left, tripped the man, and as he did so brought the point of his sword up into the other’s throat. The charging man’s own weight and momentum drove the blade deep. Arjun dodged his falling body and turned to face the man on the right.
The other guard was pressing forward with stabbing moves at Inina, while she dodged backward. Arjun ad
vanced and ran his sword toward the gap between the man’s bronze breastplate and belt. The guard dodged the attack and turned to face Arjun, sword raised in defense. At that moment, Inina darted forward and plunged her obsidian dagger into the same gap Arjun had tried. It seemed to miss his vitals, but the man roared in pain and fury. In a furious rage he turned back to Inina and lunged at her, sword level with her chest.
She jumped backwards like a cat and barely avoided being run through. Arjun closed and slashed the man’s tendons behind his knee, he buckled forward, and Arjun ran his blade deep under the man’s arm and into his chest from behind. He crumpled screaming. Blood streamed from the wounds and from his mouth.
Arjun stopped for a moment and looked down at this man. He was just a guard, and no doubt had little part in Bal-Shim’s deeper plans, but then the guards of Arjun’s household had just been loyal servants too, and they were pitilessly killed. White hot hate swept through Arjun, and he ended the man’s misery with a blade through the base of the skull.
Inina looked at him, eyes wide.
“Arjun, I think we’d better go,” she said in a faint whispered voice.
“Not till I’ve burned this place to the ground.”
Then, there was a new voice from the front door. It sounded young.
“Ha!” it said, “and Bal-Shim told me I’d find you two drinking and loafing outside the front door! Where are you, and where’s the wine? Oh…!”
Arjun ran for the front door, his bronze sword still running with blood. There stood a very young thin man in a dirty yellow kilt. He was probably younger than himself, thought Arjun as he advanced. The latter however bolted at the sight of him, and went running down the street at a speed that Arjun, heavier and far more tired, couldn’t hope to match.
Inina, thinking quickly, walked forward, closed and barred the front door, and spoke, “we don’t have much time. Is there oil or pitch in some of those amphorae?”
“Yes. Follow me!”
She did, and grabbed the big lantern the guards had used.
They found the amphorae with oil and pitch, and threw them recklessly around the warehouse, smashing on whatever they might hit.
Then they set fire to makeshift torches, and threw them into the pitch. Flames began to roar as they fled the building. They grabbed the sacks of Arjun’s family possessions, darted out the back door, and raced into the shadows.
8. The Tale of Consequences
Arjun and Inina arrived at the House of Red, dirty, exhausted, and carrying heavy sacks of bronze treasures. Considering all of that, they decided it was best to knock on the back door in the alley to Lurshiga’s kitchen, and hoped she would hear them.
She did, and boggled.
“WHAT have you two been up to?”
Inina forced a smile, her voice still panting, “Oh, just a good haul tonight.”
“I’ll say! Did Sharur get you mixed up in whatever this was?”
“Oh, no, it was all my idea.”
Nonetheless, Lurshiga gave Arjun a skeptical look. For his part, he tried to soften the intense expression he’d worn since the fight at the warehouse, and spoke quietly.
“Lurshiga, for a couple extra copper, would you be able to send up some jugs of water, a little wine, and some clean cloths, if you have them around?”
“No problem about the water and the wine. For a third copper I could send a boy to go round up some clean cloth from someone around here.”
“Done,” he said, and handed her the coins.
Inina peeked around the door and through the curtains into the common room. Though it was late, there was a decent sized crowd there tonight.
“I’m not so happy about the attention we’ll attract coming out of here and going up the stairs with these sacks.”
Lurshiga smiled, “That is why I have a little hidden back way for just such purposes, and for some occasion where I might need to leave in a hurry. Inina, you are about to be one of only a few people in the world who know about this, so be glad I trust you. And you Sharur, be glad she is your friend.”
“I am, more than I can say,” he whispered exhaustedly.
Lurshiga moved some large pots on the floor level of one of the plastered brick shelves built into her kitchen walls. She pushed the wall with a kind of sideways motion, and a panel slid back. Behind it was a crawlspace, barely big enough for Lurshiga, but roomy enough for the two young people, at least if they weren’t carrying too much at a time. The base of a ladder could be seen, going up.
“Here you go, my children. You’ll probably need to make a few trips, but that ladder is built for me, and definitely sturdy enough for you.”
Inina kissed Lurshiga on the cheek and gave her a tight hug. Arjun bowed gravely to the older woman, then set to distributing goods among more bags. Lurshiga led them up the ladder. It was a dark cramped space, but the panel at the top worked as easily as the one at the bottom. They found themselves in Lurshiga’s small but comfortable room on the top floor, and made several more trips until everything was there. Inina peered out into the hallway. No one was around. Lurshiga wished them well, and then climbed back down to her kitchen. In one heavily laden trip they darted to Arjun’s room.
Once inside, they barred the door and hurriedly stowed the big sacks in Arjun’s hidden alcove, which was now quite full. There would be time enough to sort things out in the morning. Inina looked around. The room had changed quite a bit since she’d last seen it. Arjun seemed to have thoroughly cleaned the place, bought some new bedding, touched up the plaster, and even done some minor repairs. He’d added a small chest in the one free corner. It had a tiny bronze incense burner on it that looked to have been used earlier, and the room carried the scent.
“You’ve fixed the place up!” she said.
“I decided since I might live here a long time, at least I should like it.”
“I’m surprised you were fine with doing that much manual labor… I mean considering the way you grew up, I mean, that doesn’t sound nice of me, sorry,” she said, looking apologetic.
Arjun however, wasn’t bothered, and he noticed how beautifully her eyes peered up through the disheveled braids of her hair as she said it.
“Bronze makers work with our hands,” he said, “even when we also have other hands to help us. It is dirty work, at a forge. I’m used to it.”
There was a knock at the door.
“This is Lurshiga, I’ve got everything.”
Arjun unbarred the door. She was there with two of her street urchin part-time helpers, several jugs, a carafe of wine, a tiny clay jar, and a stack of fresh cotton cloth.
“What’s in the jar?” asked Inina.
“A little soap-salt with spices in it. Thought you might like it after the night you’ve had. I keep a few around for nights when I really need to forget the world. Tell Sharur not to worry, my sweet, this is on me.”
Arjun bowed to her again, and with a smile, she departed.
Inina barred the door, opened the little jar, sniffed it, and spoke, “This smells like you did, the morning I met you… ah, uh, I am so glad tomorrow is a festival and you don’t have to go train…”
Then she began to blush, realizing where she was, and how close they were.
Arjun steeled himself, “Let’s get washed up. I have some cheese and dried spiced meat in that bag hanging on the wall. Here, I’ll turn around, pour you some wine and get everything ready while you wash… while you wash privately.”
Inina flushed again, but started pouring water into the room’s basin, then scrubbed with water and the salts. Arjun did his best not to look back at her as he assembled their little meal. In Zakran, people were not particularly modest about exposed skin, but there were some limits, and what might have felt fine at a public bath seemed very different here, in a small room together.
A little while later, clean and fresh, they shared the food and wine cross-legged on the little mats Arjun had put on the floor. Despite their increasingly sleepy efforts at lig
ht talk, the conversation turned to the fire and death at the warehouse, and what might come of it,
“Arjun, you know they’re going to send out a manhunt for you, and whatever reward they might have had out, it is going to be a lot higher now.”
“I have expected nothing else. However, this is the largest city in the world. The number of people who know me personally, by sight as Arjun, is not that large by comparison, and none of them in this neighborhood.”
“Still, you should watch yourself, and I think change your look… not that I want your look to change, I mean how you look is beautiful, but you need to hide out, and oh… I don’t know what I mean…” she said, with drowsing eyes and drifting voice. Her head nodded.
Arjun picked her up. He had the strong arms of a smith, and she felt very light in them. He put her in his small bed, blew out the lamp, and curled up on the floor next to her.
Some hours later, in the dim light before dawn, Inina awoke with a start. Arjun turned around, and instinctively put his arms around her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Arjun, I had a terrible dream that you were being chased by shadowy men whose eyes were wells of darkness! They had long serrated spears that turned into snakes! I…”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and their faces touched, then their lips. Inina breathed in his scent, and emotions long-repressed flooded her mind and heart. Arjun held back for the briefest moment, then his blood ran with fire, and he gripped her tight in his arms, she gasped and kissed him again. He joined her in the bed as their hands, lips, and bodies shared the very fire of life.
~
Far east across the city, Bal-Shim looked with black rage at the ruins of his warehouse. The thick mud-brick walls had contained the fire, and city slaves had come to douse it, but not before everything flammable inside had been burnt to ash. The bronze had survived, though some items were partly melted, but Bal-Shim could see there was a lot less of it, particularly among the smaller pieces.
Blood on Bronze (Blood on Bronze Book 1) Page 7