BRYTE'S ASCENT (Arucadi Series Book 8)

by E. Rose Sabin

  “Did you think we could pull right up to her door in this cart?” Frannie asked.

  Bryte should have felt relief that they had not done that, but instead she felt a perverse anger. Ileta and Kanra, who had been crouched behind her, came forward. Ileta put her hand on Bryte’s shoulder, and Kanra edged past her and descended.

  “We should trust them, Bryte,” her sister said. “I know I don’t understand all this the way you do, but I don’t see that we have any other recourse.”

  “No, you don’t understand all this,” Bryte said. “You don’t know how power works.”

  “I know you’re being unreasonable because you’re tired and hurt,” Kanra put in. “Now come on, let’s get started.”

  They were treating her like a child again. Her anger flared and her rage light burst forth.

  And sputtered out. “You must not do that here,” Kanra said.

  “You’ve no right to quench my power,” Bryte shouted.

  A puppet rose to its feet and clamped its hand over her mouth. Ileta slipped past and left the wagon as the puppet held Bryte to one side.

  “It’s the pain in her hand, I think,” she said apologetically to Aubie and Frannie. “Isn’t there anything we can do for her?”

  “Not yet,” Aubie said. “Gotta see about Pauline.”

  Peppet the Puppet marched Bryte to the wagon door and released her. Kanra grasped her hand and pulled her down. Bryte didn’t resist; she knew they were right. She just felt rebellious. And it wasn’t her hand, she told herself. She felt a dull ache now, not the former stabbing pain. But she was worried about Lina, worried about Oryon, and frantic with worry about Stethan, and they weren’t doing anything for any of them. She was concerned about Pauline, too, but she thought the widow must be dead. They could do nothing for her; they should be working to save the living.

  Nevertheless, she went with them, albeit grudgingly, into the building, which was indeed a warehouse, filled with boxes and crates. They had entered through a rear door, and led by Aubie, who carried the lantern from the cart, they wended their way around stacked crates to a side aisle off of which was a supply closet holding mops, buckets, brooms, and scouring powders.

  Like the linen closet in the boardinghouse, this closet had a false back that opened when Aubie pressed a hidden switch. Once again the small room behind that secret door ended in a descending stairway.

  “This leads down to the boardinghouse, huh?” Bryte guessed.

  Aubie nodded and lifted the lantern to show the way.

  “There’s a network of passages like this,” Frannie said. “It’s how the gifted keep in touch. We can only get together in secret; we can’t be seen going to our meeting places.”

  “Hush, woman,” Aubie said. “You talk too much.”

  Frannie rolled her eyes but said no more. They started down the stairs. The descent was easier with light, and in much less time than the descent from the boardinghouse to the puppet theater had taken, they arrived at a door that opened into a bedroom closet—the Widow Kipley’s closet, judging by the clothes hanging in it.

  “Wait,” Bryte said as Aubie stepped to the closet door. “Let me listen.”

  Aubie turned to her with a puzzled look. “It’s her gift,” Kanra said. “Special hearing.”

  “Ah,” Frannie breathed, as though some great mystery had been revealed.

  Bryte listened, heard no sound of steps or of speech, and whispered that it seemed safe to leave the closet. They trooped forth into the Widow Kipley’s bedroom.

  Bryte wanted to see the widow sleeping peacefully in her bed. The bed was unoccupied; the room was empty.

  They passed through it into the upstairs hall. Again Bryte listened. There should be sounds. The house had other boarders, but she heard nothing. The Peace Officers must have evicted all the residents—or arrested them. They started cautiously toward the stairs to the first floor, where the Widow Kipley had fallen under the officers’ blows.

  At the top of the stairs Bryte, now in the lead, put out her hand, stopping them and cautioning silence. She’d heard something.

  Something odd. Not the steps of a guard. A padding as of an animal prowling about below. A large animal. Like a panther.

  Bryte abandoned caution and rushed down the stairs.

  The hall below was dark except for the light thrown by Aubie’s lantern. But Aubie remained at the top of the stairs along with all the others. As Bryte moved forward, she nearly tripped over an outflung arm.

  She looked down, expecting to see the body of the Widow Kipley. What she saw instead was a guard, his throat ripped open, his uniform ripped savagely down the front.

  She gagged and looked away. Proceeding more slowly, she found the linen closet, outside of which the Peace Officers had attacked the widow. The Widow Kipley wasn’t there.

  She heard a low growl from a nearby room. Turning toward the sound, she said softly, “Lina?”

  The others were descending the stairs now; she heard their steps, careful and slow. A sharp exclamation from Kanra marked their discovery of the dead Peace Officer.

  At the sound, a sleek black form darted out of the room Bryte had been about to enter, sped past her, and launched itself at the group coming off the stairs. It landed on Aubie, toppling him to the floor and sending the lantern shattering against the wall. In a moment flames flickered up from the spilled oil. Frannie screamed.

  “No, Lina,” Bryte shouted, running toward them. “No, they’re friends. Don’t hurt anyone.”

  Ileta slipped off her long skirt and used it to beat out the flames rising from the burning oil. Kanra held and shielded Frannie. Fortunately, the lantern’s oil reservoir had been almost empty, so the fire responded to Ileta’s frantic efforts. Its extinguishing left them in darkness, but only until Kanra managed to make and hold in shaking hands a globe of light. There would be a lantern in each bedroom, if Kanra could keep her faint light going until Bryte could dash into a bedroom and retrieve one. She dared not do that yet; not until Lina changed.

  The panther snarled and sat back on its haunches on Aubie’s stomach. Its tail lashed and its paws remained on the puppeteer’s shoulders, but it did not maul him.

  “Lina, it’s me, Bryte.” Bryte came up beside the big cat. “These are friends. Change back, please. I have to talk to you. We need to know about the Widow Kipley.”

  The panther did not shift, not did it alter its position. The tail stilled; that was all.

  “Please,” Bryte begged, “please, change back. Can’t you?” She recalled that Lord Inver had prevented Lina from shapeshifting while she was his captive.

  “This creature is a shapeshifter?” Frannie asked.

  “Yes. Her name’s Lina. She’s a friend.”

  “I wonder … maybe I can help,” Kanra said, stepping to the panther’s side.

  The panther let out a low growl but made no other threatening move.

  “Can you tell it to get off poor Aubie and let him get up?” Frannie asked.

  “Not ‘it,’“ Bryte corrected. “She. And you just told her. I can’t make Lina do anything, whether she’s human or a panther.”

  The panther bared its teeth in what looked like a threatening gesture but Bryte suspected was a laugh.

  Her brow furrowed, Kanra stared down at the panther.

  “Well, can you do anything?” Bryte demanded.

  The priestess didn’t answer, didn’t move. Neither did the panther. Seconds passed. Minutes. Then with the suddenness of a breaking elastic band, Kanra jumped back and the panther got to its feet, freeing Aubie, and stalked from the room. Bryte started after it, but Kanra grabbed her arm and held her back. “Wait,” she said.

  Moments later Lina strolled in. She carried a lighted lantern.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SIXTH TIER

  Lina,” Bryte cried, “You’re back! What happened? Have you been to Lord Inver’s place? Did you see Stethan? Did you get the box?”

  Lina gave her the lantern and a ha
ughty look. “I don’t care to discuss private business in front of strangers,” she said. “Who are these people?”

  “They’re friends,” Bryte said impatiently. “Now tell me, did you? See Stethan? Get the box?”

  Lina’s glare was withering. Fortunately, Frannie stepped forward and gave a respectful bow of her head. “I’m Frannie Kranz, and this is my husband, Aubie.” She used her elbow to nudge Aubie forward.

  He gave a curt nod and did not smile. Ileta stepped up beside Bryte, did smile, and made a curtsy. “I’m Ileta Hallomer,” she said. “I’m Bryte’s sister.”

  Lina’s look of surprise almost made Bryte laugh. And Ileta’s declaration gave her a warm feeling. She smiled. “See, Lina, you can tell us everything.”

  Lina sniffed.

  Frannie said, “We came here to find and help Pauline Kipley. Do you know where she is?”

  “She’s in there.” Lina pointed to the room she’d come from in panther form and to which she’d retreated to change. “She’s hurt, and as a panther all I could do for her was take care of the guard and keep her safe.”

  “That’s quite a lot,” Frannie said approvingly.

  Ileta shuddered and cast a furtive glance toward the mauled body of the Peace Officer left to keep guard.

  Aubie headed for the indicated room, and Frannie followed. Lina blocked Bryte’s way. “How do you know these people are safe?” she demanded.

  “They helped us,” Bryte said. “They’ve got power.”

  “I can sense that,” Lina said. “That doesn’t mean they’re okay.”

  “Frannie is, for sure,” Bryte answered. “Aubie doesn’t like us much, I don’t think, but he pretty much does what Frannie says.”

  “And her—Lord Hallomer’s daughter.” Lina indicated Ileta with a scornful look. “Why should you trust her?”

  “Hey, I’m Lord Hallomer’s daughter, too,” Bryte reminded her.

  “Yes, but you weren’t raised by him. She was.”

  “Doesn’t matter. We’re sisters,” Bryte insisted.

  “You gifted?” Lina asked Ileta, then answered her own question, giving a disgusted shake of her head. “No, I can tell you aren’t. So why’re you here?”

  “We were gonna kidnap her and offer to exchange her for Stethan,” Bryte explained. “But she came with us willingly, and she’s been helping us. And I’m glad she’s my sister.”

  She added the last defiantly, daring Lina to say anything more against Ileta.

  Lina only shrugged and walked away, into the room where Aubie and Frannie had gone. Bryte followed, along with Kanra and Ileta.

  The Widow Kipley was stretched out on the sofa, a lighted lamp showing bruises and cuts on her face. Frannie took her hand and rubbed it, clucking like an angry hen at the injuries that had been inflicted on her friend.

  “Now, Frannie, it’s better than it was,” the widow was saying. “I’ve been healing myself, but that’s harder, you know, than healing someone else. It’s going slow, but I’ll be all right. Thanks to Lina, there.” She smiled, acknowledging Lina’s arrival.

  “We’ve been so worried about you,” Bryte said, reaching the widow’s side. “We couldn’t get out of that place you put us in, not back out through the closet, I mean. We had to go down all those steps in the dark, and we came out on the stage at the puppet theater, and then we had to convince Aubie that we weren’t spies or anything.”

  The widow smiled. “Aubie is cautious, that’s all. It’s stood him in good stead many times through the years.”

  Kanra pushed her way in to stand beside Bryte. “Do you think you have the strength to heal Bryte’s hand?” she asked. “It really looks bad.”

  “Oh, my. I’d forgotten. Let me see it.”

  “It’s not hurting as bad as it was,” Bryte said, holding her hand out for the widow to examine.

  “It still needs healing,” the Widow Kipley said. “I don’t have much strength, but if Frannie will lend me some o’ hers, I think I can take care of it.”

  Frannie nodded. The widow put her hand over Bryte’s, and Frannie put her hand on the Widow Kipley’s.

  Bryte winced at the weight of the hands and bit her lip to keep from crying out as the pain surged back.

  Ileta placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. Scowling, Aubie watched the Widow Kipley as if ready to leap in and snatch her hand off Bryte’s to protect her from harm that might come from working a healing on someone else when she was not yet healed herself.

  Her hand felt about to explode. She wanted to jerk it from the Widow Kipley’s grasp, but she resisted the impulse. Just when she could resist no longer, the pain eased and her hand seemed to be shrinking. The widow withdrew her hand, and Bryte looked down to see the swelling and bruising gone, her fingers straight and unbroken: a perfectly normal hand.

  The widow sank back against the sofa pillows. “Leave me now,” she said. “I have to rest.”

  “Gave too much of yourself, did you?” Aubie grumbled.

  “No, no, I’ll be fine once I’ve slept. Don’t worry about me.” Her eyes closed and her breathing slowed.

  “Poor thing, thinking of others, as bad as she must be hurting,” Frannie said. “Well, sleep will bring back her strength, enough to finish healing herself, I hope.”

  Bryte guessed she’d been selfish in letting the widow heal her. But she needed her hand, needed all her physical strength and her power, to rescue Stethan. “Lina, we gotta go to Lord Inver’s,” she said. “I’ll help you get the box if you’ll help me save Stethan.”

  Lina frowned. “We agreed to go our separate ways.”

  “That was your decision, not mine,” Bryte said. “I wanted us to work together. But you were mad at me for losing the power net.”

  “Yes, and I still am,” Lina said with a growl that sounded too much like the panther. Bryte stepped back and watched to see if Lina would shapeshift.

  She didn’t.

  Kanra helped plead Bryte’s case. “We have a better chance of success if we all work together.”

  “I want to help, too,” Ileta said eagerly. “I don’t have power, but I do know some things that will help.”

  Lina whirled to face her. “Like what?”

  “I know a secret way into Lord Inver’s house.”

  “Tell me!” Lina demanded.

  “Not unless you agree to work with us,” Ileta said.

  Bryte was coming to love her sister more and more.

  Lina’s pantherlike snarl again alarmed Bryte, but Lina shrugged and conceded. “All right, we’ll work together, but I’m in charge.”

  No one objected, but neither did anyone offer ready assent. Lina was clever and had a lot of power, so Bryte judged it best at present to go along with her plans.

  “Let’s get going,” Bryte urged.

  “We’ll need a lantern to replace the one that broke,” Kanra pointed out.

  “We have a couple in the wagon,” Aubie told her.

  “But we have to have light to get back to the wagon,” Kanra pointed out. She headed from the room and returned in moments carrying a lighted lantern. “I borrowed this one from one of the guest rooms,” she announced. “I doubt the guests will be back any time soon.”

  “Then we’re ready,” Bryte said, not concealing her impatience. “Let’s go.”

  Everyone’s nerves were on edge as the cart, with Aubie driving, approached the Ministry of Justice compound on the sixth tier. Aubie made no secret of his opinion that Ileta was leading them into a trap. He groused the whole way up the stairs to the cart (an arduous climb for them all), and then muttered to himself from the driver’s seat as they proceeded from the third to the sixth tier. The others could not hear him, but Bryte heard every word.

  “Sheer folly, goin’ right to the headquarters of the Peace Officers. Why don’t they see it?” his diatribe went. “What makes them think they can trust Lord Hallomer’s daughter? Just because she’s Bryte’s sister doesn’t make her honest. Not even gifted. That oughtta
tell ’em something. That Lina, now, she’s got some smarts, but what she don’t have is any concern for anybody but herself. She’ll betray us all if the notion takes her. And Bryte’s a child; what’s she know? Can’t rely on her to use good judgment. And that Kanra. What’s a priestess of Mibor doing mixed up in this mess? How’d she get to be a priestess, anyway, being gifted? Thought they weeded out all those. Likely she’s a spy for the temple. Or worse, for Lord Inver himself.

  “Shouldn’t’ve agreed to take ’em, ’specially not with Frannie staying behind to look after Pauline. If Frannie hadn’t insisted … But Frannie always did have too soft a heart. So there she is, safe enough, and here I am, driving into big trouble, and not enough sense to say no.”

  The unceasing litany of complaints and recriminations had Bryte ready to scream at him to stop and let them out to continue on their own. But the way was too long, they were all tired, and as she was the only one who could hear him, she was the only one annoyed and upset by it.

  Part of her anger was caused by the doubts his suspicions aroused in her. A curmudgeon Aubie was, but he wasn’t stupid. It was odd to be going right into the headquarters of the Peace Officers—like rats rushing into a trap. Ileta assured them she knew of a passageway leading from the Ministry of Justice compound to within the gates of Lord Inver’s compound without passing through or too near the Peace Officers’ Headquarters. Bryte had to have faith that her sister would not lie or lead them into a trap.

  They reached the sixth tier and proceeded down the wide avenue that passed in front of the major ministry compounds. As they approached the Ministry of Justice, Aubie pulled the cart over to the side of the road beneath the overhanging limbs of large trees. He descended from the driver’s seat and came to speak to them. “They aren’t going to let this cart through the gates, you know,” he said. “I don’t know how you’re going to get in, but I might as well find a spot to park the cart now, and you’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  “No, we can’t get into the compound on foot,” Ileta said with an emphasis bordering on panic. “You can take the cart in. Use the excuse you gave earlier of being here to give a command performance for … for … let me think. There are family homes in the compound. Someone with several children. I have it! The Overseer of County Courts. I believe he has five or six young children. We can say it’s for a birthday party for one of them. The guards can’t possibly know who has birthdays or when.”