Blood on Bronze (Blood on Bronze Book 1)

by Gillis, Anthony

  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.”

  “I’ve got to get back out front,” replied Hedu.

  “It’ll only take a second, and I can’t step away from this right now, unless you want everything burned.”

  “All right. Back in a minute.”

&nb
sp; Arjun waited for the footsteps, and as he did so, brought a tiny vial out of thin air. From it he pulled a little cloth bundle of herbs and oils, and crushed the seeds of the herbs between his fingers. He then reentered the hall, casually as anyone else leaving a privy. Someone else was coming, but he paid Arjun no attention, and scurried in the privy the moment Arjun was out. Arjun walked a few steps, opened a cloth door, and stepped into the dimly lit room he guessed was the pantry.

  Inside, Hedu was fumbling through shelves near the back, looking for the spice box. Arjun stepped silently behind him. At the last moment, Hedu must have sensed something, and turned round. His eyes went wide in silent shock as he looked at Arjun, but had no time to do or say anything else as the latter brought the hand with the bundle over his mouth. Hedu’s eyes went blank and his body went limp. Arjun lowered him to the floor, and knew the man would be out for several minutes at least, it would be long enough.

  Arjun switched clothes with Hedu as fast as he could, and having had no wine, quickly found the yellow box the man had been fumbling for. While in the basement, he had applied a little putty, taken from his portal and the same color as his skin, to the bridge of his nose. And, he had carefully shaved a bit of hair from temples, not much, but hopefully just enough to make his forehead look a little broader. It wouldn’t pass close scrutiny, but it might be enough for a busy house of happy drunken people in dim lamplight.

  He darted back into the hallway and entered the kitchen. A thickset man was there cooking multiple dishes at the same time at large oven hearth. He smelled of wine.

  “Ah! What took you so long? You almost ruined it. Eh, oh well, hand me that!”

  Arjun nodded, and did, then exited as quickly as he dared. As he went down the passage toward the dining hall, he heard Bal-Shim’s voice booming. It sounded thick with drink.

  “Hedu, where are you, lad? Get out here and taste this wine, so we can have our toast!”

  Arjun scurried at a trot and entered the huge, garishly decorated room. Carved jackals and ogres in multiple colors competed with hunters, lions, and stylized vegetation for space on crowded walls. Pillars carved into the shape of palms supported the lofty, two story roof. Rich cloth hung along railings, the floor was thick with carpets, and the seats with cushions.

  A hundred men or more, in all kinds of garb sat there with full cups of wine and plates of appetizers. Arjun recognized a few of the men, and hoped desperately they wouldn’t recognize him. He trotted over to Bal-Shim, who to Arjun’s altered eyes, crackled with defensive magics. Four guards flanked him, and several more stood around the room. Bal-Shim looked at him and squinted his eyes, pausing for a moment, then spoke.

  “Where’ve you been? Get over here!”

  Arjun ran over. Two servants tilted a heavy amphora, one of those Arjun had opened beforehand, and poured wine into a cup. Arjun drank, and bowed to Bal-Shim. The latter smiled, and the slaves filled his cup.

  “To all of us, good honest common folk of our great city, Zakran!” said Bal-Shim, “Let it be forever free of old dynasties and foreign masters. And… may the wine and the gold flow ever our way!”

  There was a raucous drunken cheer as the assembled men raised their cups. Bal-Shim drank his in one gulp, and the others followed each their own pace. Deep in his heart, Arjun smiled. Robbers called liberators, servitors and lackeys, petty tyrants who called themselves people’s watchmen, corrupt officials and brutal guards on the take, most of Bal-Shim’s closest were assembled here, and they drank deeply of the wine Arjun had measured for them.

  Without a word, he dropped spinning to the ground and in one smooth motion drew a bronze dagger from thin air. It was the dagger he’d made, with half the blade inscribed with a thunderbolt striking a snake. As he spun, he darted the plain side of the blade across the bare knees of the four startled guards. As he rose, they fell, nerve toxin stopping the muscles of their bodies, including their hearts.

  There were yells of shock from some of the assembled men. Bal-Shim rose in his chair, drawing a short sword. But Arjun was faster, he spoke aloud Words of Opening, and the defensive magics around Bal-Shim flickered away. There was recognition now in Bal-Shim’s eyes, and fear. Arjun blasted him in the groin with a line of flame, and he screamed and doubled over. Arjun coolly pulled his head back by his hair and with the inscribed side of the dagger, slit his throat from ear to ear.

  Some men in the crowd had the honor of wearing weapons in Bal-Shim’s house; they drew them now and advanced, as did the guards. Then, all of those who’d had the wine began to convulse, stagger and fall, faces turning to purplish red. But not Arjun, he’d taken the antidote before he’d started the night.

  Bal-Shim’s throat poured blood and his eyes stared up at Arjun’s with horror and impotent hatred. The other poisoned men would soon lose consciousness, their bodies overwhelmed by the agony coursing through them. Not Bal-Shim. On the inscribed side of the dagger had been another poison, one that didn’t kill but kept its victim conscious through the entire process of dying, however it might come, unless their brain itself should be destroyed. Bal-Shim’s was intact, and he would feel every moment as his lifeblood left his body, as searing poison coursed through it, and as charred flesh burned where his lower vitals had been.

  Some of the guards had drunk no wine, they advanced on Arjun. He had one more thing prepared. From his portal, the tiny world in his hand, he pulled out his other bronze vial, the one he’d hidden from his father’s disapproval. He opened it now and in a sweeping motion poured liquid fire, fast-spreading and almost impossible to quench, across the thick hangings and carpets around Bal-Shim’s chair. The slaves fled the room in terror. The guards stopped in surprise, and Arjun ran for the front door at full speed.

  As he went, Arjun blasted flame into whatever was wood or cloth along his way. The passages behind him became infernos, and the sounds of pursuit slowed, then stopped. With fires of his own raging in his heart, fires that rose in triumph, and burned with the pain of all that had preceded that triumph, Arjun raced into the waiting night.

  20. The Tale of Flight

  Arjun took Inina in his arms, she was dressed for travel, and had perhaps physically recovered. He covered her with kisses. She covered him with kisses of her own, and with tears. But under the tears, her expression was dark.

  “Do you still plan to flee, my love?” she said.

  “Yes, we have to get out of the city, and soon.”

  “The G’abudim have offered to take us on one of their ships, to G’abud itself. Is this for that service you owe them?”

  “It is the only reason I can think why they would.”

  “Arjun, do you think they would offer us, or me, more… training there?”

  He looked at her, and saw the fires in her eyes.

  “Only they can answer that, but if it suited their purposes, I think so…”

  “Then I want to do so!” she said through clenched teeth, “I want to learn everything they can teach about stealth, poison, and handing out death. I want come back here someday, and rip the hearts out of every one of the people who sent those guards, of the people who killed my baby… our baby!”

  Arjun looked at her in shock. But he understood, oh by the uncaring gods he understood. She was right, though it meant grim years ahead.

  “We’ll do so, my love,” he said, and held her fiercely in his arms.

  She softened once more, and the fires were quenched with tears. She put her face against his chest for a while, and then tilted it back to speak. “Beloved… Ith’un the healer said something else. She told me she didn’t think I’d ever be able to have children again…”

  Her voice broke and she collapsed into him with uncontrollable sobs. He held her close, and brooded in his own black thoughts.

  ~

  In a cabin on a lower deck aboard the G’abudim ship, Dahu’ud introduced Arjun and Inina to another one of his folk who would be their guide. He was tall and slender for a G’abudim, and had a spirit mark with b
lue amidst the gold. His name was Imu’dur.

  “I will accompany you across the sea, and to our city of Ma’is. There, depending on what those who decide think best, I will either remain with you, or be replaced by another. On the voyage, we will have many things to discuss. G’abud is a difficult place for foreigners, and dangerous. It would be advisable for you to learn as much of our customs and our language as there is time to teach.”

  Arjun made the first of the polite gestures they’d taught him, while Inina nodded.

  Dahu’ud then spoke, “I have one more thing for you, Arjun dra Artashad, given to me in turn by Umrub. A message stone. And now, I must return. Do what is right, and all will be well. Know that not a word will pass from any G’abudim, in life or death, to those who pursue you.”

  “Thank you,” said Arjun, “I thank you more than I can well express for the help you’ve given me.”

  “Our help has been for a purpose, Arjun dra Artashad, but it so happens our purpose is in accord with yours. Farewell!” said Dahu’ud, as he went out the door and up the richly carved and painted stairs beyond.

  “I will also give you some time. When we are safely at sea, I will get you, and you may emerge from hiding,” said Imu’dur, and he also departed.

  At the thought of leaving hiding, some spark of happiness, however faint, returned to Arjun’s mind. He felt a touch of the romantic light he’d felt when he first dressed Inina in bronze jewelry. Now, from the larger portal under the granite seal, he pulled out his fine clothes, and a set he’d bought for her in secret, and gave her the bag of her jewelry.

  “Arjun?” she said.

  “We’re starting a new life together, Inina. Let’s wash ourselves, dress in clean clothes, wear our best, and for a little while at least, try to put our minds on something other than pain.”

  “I… you know it isn’t as simple as that.”