Blood on Bronze (Blood on Bronze Book 1) (4 page)

“It costs you
nothing, and I will make no demands, other than that you speak the truth to
me.”

“That itself
might be a cost.”

Arjun looked at
her intently, “All right, I will begin. You can follow my example.”

She looked on
nervously as he drew himself up straight-backed, raised his hands to the sky,
and then folded them across his chest.

“I Arjun, son of
Ashur, of the lineage of Artashad, declare before gods and men that I will not
betray Inina, who stands before me, and that I will keep secret that which she
tells me by her oath. May this oath bind me in this life and the next.”

The expression
on Inina’s face changed to wonder, and a change came also over her demeanor.
She gulped.

“I… Inina,
daughter of those I never met, declare before… gods and men that I will not
betray Arjun, who… ah, stands before me, and that I will speak the truth to
him. May this oath bind me in this life… and the next.”

“Now,” she said,
“let’s get out of this alley.”

~

Arjun and Inina
walked down the Street of Vipers as the sun rose. The early morning traffic of
wagons and porters was already growing. The noise was tremendous, but then many
who slept along this particular street had strong drink to help them ignore it.

She looked at
him, her big dark eyes flashing and a renewed smile on her lips. He’d done his
best to groom himself, washing up from a rain basin and smoothing down his
hair. “So, did you have any idea where, to what inn, you were going to go?”

“I presumed I’d
find one with an innkeeper wouldn’t ask too many questions.”

She laughed.
“The problem with that is that you wouldn’t find out until after you’d let
something slip, and any innkeeper who volunteers that she’ll keep secrets for
you will be one of the first to sell you out for the right price.”

“I can match
many prices.”

She eyed the
heavy-looking bags crossed over his shoulders.

“I’m sure. But
you aren’t smart to advertise THAT either. The trick to staying hidden, and
many other things, is knowing the right people. ”

“That, at least,
I can understand. In my life, I mean my life as I have known it, it is much the
same… as I have discovered,” he said, his expression turning dark, and
something he fought to control flashing in his eyes.

“Tell you what,”
she said, as a bit of jauntiness returned to her walk, “I’ll take you to The
House of Red. Old Lurshiga is one who won’t ask questions, and who can and will
keep secrets, no matter what. Her place is expensive for being so run down, but
that is because she has to build the cost of protection payoffs to the city guard
into her prices.”

“I thank you,
Inina,” he said gravely.

They left the
Street of Vipers, and went south down a side street. Arjun knew that a few
blocks more would take them to the wide King’s Road that ran, almost perfectly
straight, the long distance between the great plaza and the west bazaar. He
guessed that the neighborhoods Inina knew well ended there. Arjun himself had,
at one time or another, been to almost every district of the city, but he’d
been travelling with his father, carts of goods, and an entourage along the
main streets.  He’d never seen the back streets, like this, outside his own
district.

Zakran was a
vast place.

“There it is,”
said Inina.

Ahead of the on
the left was a brick and plaster building of three stories. A large round plaque
mounted on the wall above its door was painted bright crimson. The windows on
the ground floor were of an unusual design – tall but very narrow.  Its front
door was recessed in from the street, and as they approached, Arjun saw it was
heavily reinforced. The place as a whole was sturdy, but run down, like a
decaying fortress.

Arjun was
walking toward the door when Inina darted ahead of him.

“Wait! Aren’t
you going to get some new clothes first? Even in the House of Red, there are
people who won’t be as good at secrets as Lurshiga, and you really stand out. I
also don’t think you’re someone who usually goes barefoot, and your feet look
like they agree with me.”

Arjun stopped.
He’d been through so much barefoot in the last twelve hours that he’d almost forgotten
about it. His feet, however, were battered messes of cuts and dirt.

“Luckily there
are a couple of peddlers nearby I know and trust,” said Inina.

They first went
down the street to a dealer of simple unfitted clothes, the kind poor people
bought and adjusted themselves. The dealer, a heavyset greasy-looking man,
smiled at Inina, but gave Arjun a skeptical look.

“My friend had a
rough night,” said Inina, “He needs some good street clothes. Sorry, he’s still
a little addled.”

The dealer
smiled broadly, though his eyes moved to Arjun’s sword and ring, “Well young
sir, I have just the thing for you!”

He then searched
his shelves and found a kilt and a cloak of plain cotton of roughly the right
size. “That will be three silver moons, young sir.”

Arjun might be
ignorant of street life, but he was a merchant’s son, and not ignorant of
prices. The man was asking about four times what those clothes were worth.

“Honorable
shopkeeper, as you can see from my tattered robes, my fortune runs low. I can
only afford seven copper moons.”

The man stopped,
looked at him, and the smile faded to a look of concentration. After some brief
haggling, they settled on eleven copper moons, or a bit more than a silver. It
was still on the high side, but Arjun was in a hurry. He changed behind a reed
screen in the corner. For good measure, he hid his amulet and his ring in a
bag, and then bundled the other bag and his sword in the remnants of his robe,
which he tied and slung over his shoulder as a kind of poor man’s back pack.

As they left,
Inina watched him with surprise and a bit more respect. “I didn’t expect that.
I thought people like you just sent your servants to go buy things, and didn’t
worry about the cost.”

He smiled, “I
might be rich, or was.  At the moment I actually don’t know. But I am not some
landowner living off estates. We didn’t get rich or stay that way without
worrying about the costs. How much does that merchant kick back to you?”

She started,
then relaxed again with a smile. “Not much, on what you paid, a copper crescent
or so. For what it is worth, I didn’t promise he’d give you a great deal, but I
DO trust him to keep his mouth shut.”

“I know, and
thank you,” said Arjun, “That was part of why I was willing to overpay. Now,
let’s go find your other friend, for the sandals…”

She laughed, and
felt for once, and most unexpectedly, she had some good company.

4.
The Tale of Ill News

The morning was
growing warm, and the streets more crowded. Arjun and Inina walked from a
sandal shop to the House of Red. As they did so, he turned to her.

“Since you won’t
be able to introduce me as ‘your friend’ forever, now would be a good time to
start calling me Sharur,” he said.

“I’ll have to
break some long time habits formed in the four hours I’ve known you, but I’ll
try,” she replied.

He opened the
door, and they entered the House of Red. Inside it was dark, but still cool in
the morning air. A smell of human bodies and old wine mingled with hints of
spices and incense. Low tables and stools ran in lines in Zakran fashion. A few
motley patrons sat at them eating barley gruel. At the far end, against a wall
lined with niches containing amphorae, was a stone table with a higher stool,
and on that stool was a large woman. She had graying hair tied back in two
heavy braids behind her head, and wore a billowy kilt of many faded colors.

When she saw
Inina, her eyes brightened, “My little sugar sweet! It is so good to see you.
And, ah! Who is this handsome young man you’ve brought? Someone special and…
very close I hope!”

Arjun was surprised
to see Inina blush.

Lurshiga rose
and walked over to Inina, enveloping her in a big motherly hug. She then turned
to Arjun.

“It is an honor
to meet you Lurshiga, my name is Sharur,” he said, “and I need a quiet place to
stay.”

She nodded to
him, and then looked at Inina. “Is everything all right, little sweet?”

“Yes, of course!
Why?  Ah, yes. He needs the room, not we.”

The most
interestingly complex expressions crossed Lurshiga’s face, first relieved, then
disappointed. “Well, if you want to visit him, spend the night, that would be
all right, very much so. I’m not one to stand on tradition here, and it is so
good to see you with… someone.”

Inina blushed
more deeply. Arjun decided to try to come to her rescue.

“I thank you
Lurshiga, and will accept your hospitality. Inina is simply helping me out as a
friend. How much do you ask per night for a room to myself?”

“Why don’t the
two of you come back with me?” and she led them through a curtained door to a
small back room with a cooking hearth and shelves built into the walls piled
with earthenware cups, bowls, and pots. She lowered her voice.

“Normally, six
copper moons a night, but since Inina brought you, I’ll offer five,” she
appraised him for a moment, “You are a very well spoken young man. I won’t have
any… large scale trouble, will I?”

“No Lurshiga, I
plan to lie low. In fact, would either of you have advice on how to disguise my
appearance?”

Inina turned to
him sharply, “I can put you in touch with a friend, but it won’t be cheap. What
are you up to?”

Lurshiga looked
a little worried. “On second thought, I’m going to suggest you take a special
room I have at the end, one that happens to have a sturdy wooden door and a
hidden exit of its own. And it will cost you more, a silver moon a night.”

“Done, and thank
you,” he replied.

“Whatever
trouble you’re in, don’t bring it here, and,” Lurshiga’s expression turned
intense, “If you bring it to Inina, and she ends up hurt or dead, I’ll have
your head in an urn. Do you understand me?”

“I understand,”
he said gravely.

He reached into
the uncovered bag and pulled out three silver moons. As he did so, other coins
clinked inside, including numerous gold suns. The eyes of the two women turned
that way. Inina’s widened in some surprise, while Lurshiga’s hardened with
suspicion.

Whatever her
thoughts, all she said was, “All right Sharur, come with me. Inina?”

Inina smiled,
“Sure, I’ve always been curious about that room anyway. You usually have it
full.”

They went up
both flights of stairs to the third floor, then to a room at the end of the
hall with what was indeed a very sturdy reinforced door. On the other side, it
had a stout wooden bar. It was small and plain, with a cot, a low stool, and a
basin for water. It had a large window with very sturdy wooden shutters that
could be secured with a bar from the inside. The window overlooked a narrow
dark niche in the side of an alley.

“The key thing
about this room, Sharur, is that it has multiple ways out from that window. If
someone really needed to, they could climb down the niche to the alley, or up
onto the roof using these uneven bricks here, or climb across the niche to the
next building there, or if they were brave enough, jump across the alley to
that other building.”

“Lastly,” she
said, “the wall panel here in this corner comes loose, as do the bricks behind
it, and inside is a well-hidden little place to store things that you might
really need to keep hidden. See?”

“I will keep
them all in mind, thank you Lurshiga,” he replied.

“All right, I’ll
leave you kids to your… business,” Lurshiga said hopefully.

As she closed
the door behind her, Arjun looked at Inina, and she at him. There was an
awkward silence. Arjun realized that since coming of age, he’d never been in a
room alone with an unescorted marriageable girl, other than servants.

“Ah, right. So…
disguises…” she said.

~

Arjun walked
along the dingy back street leading from the house of Ishim iru Nem. It was a
hot afternoon. He was wearing a set of clothes in the concealing style of the
nomads of the desert of Harayah, which formed the land border between Zakran
and the empire of Sarsa. In a new plain bag, he carried the cheap clothes he’d
bought in the morning. At the moment he needed to hide his appearance.

Inina had been
yawning for some time, and admitted she’d been up all night. After introducing
him to Ishim, she’d pleaded exhaustion and left for the room she rented
somewhere nearby. Seeing his nervousness, she’d promised to visit the House of
Red that night.

It was curious,
thought Arjun, that he should feel so unsure in his own home city, and be so
eager for the advice of a girl younger than himself. But then, though he’d
lived in Zakran all his life, he’d never done so like this.

But that was not
all. Her face, her voice, and the curve of her hips, kept recurring in his
mind. He criticized himself for his weakness, and steeled his mind for the task
ahead. He first had to walk by his father’s house, and see if he could tell
anything of the state of affairs. He dared not try to visit inside, even in his
disguise, for there was probably a hunt on for him, and no doubt it was being
watched.

Then more, he
had to be careful of his disguise. He might be dressed like a nomad, and though
he’d seen them walk and noticed their manners, he had doubts as whether he could
really move enough like one of them to convince someone who knew. And he hoped
very much not to have to interact with an actual nomad.

His gear,
including unhappily, his sword, amulet, and ring, were stored in the
surprisingly large hidden alcove in his room. He dared not bring them. The
sword was hard to conceal, and finding any of those objects on him would
guarantee discovery of his identity.

Arjun made his
way through the busy streets to his own neighborhood, and the Street of Flame.
He thought uncomfortably that directly beneath his feet were the sewers, the
blackness, and the ghouls. His heart chilled, but he warmed it again with anger
towards the men who’d brought all this about. He thought of poor, quiet, loyal
Naram-Enki dying in a pool of his own blood, and the smirk on Bal-Shim’s face.

He imagined
wiping off that smirk, violently.

As he walked
east along the Street of Flames, he could see his house ahead on the left.
Something was very definitely wrong.  There were unfamiliar men loitering around,
while others hauled chests and furniture out to waiting wagons. Their kilts
were filthy and they sweated in the afternoon sun. Several servants of his own
household, wretched expressions on their faces, carried smaller items under the
close watch of a pair of city guardsmen.

One of the
serving girls, short sturdy little Maiat, placed an amphora into a wagon, then
was stopped by one of the guards and by a tall fat, stringy-bearded man that
Arjun recognized. He was one of Bal-Shim’s hired overseers.

“You there!” the
man snarled, “run this to the House of Scribes and deliver it to the warden of
the front door. He’ll know what to do with it from there. Don’t think about
delaying or going anywhere else! Those are now official city documents and if
they go missing, I’ll make sure you wish you were never born.”

The man handed
her a small box of the kind used to store clay tablets. As soon as he’d done
so, he opened another box at his side with fresh blank tablets, and set to work
writing.

Maiat gulped,
“Yes… sir.”

She set off at a
trot.

Arjun knew there
were only one or two practical ways she could get to the citadel from here, so
he ducked down a side street and ran to head her off. Passersby watched the
strange sight of a Harayah nomad with flowing clothes and covered face running
down the street. He realized it was a bad idea to attract that much attention,
and slowed down to a brisk walk. He hoped he’d gained enough time.

He reached the
next main intersection, and to his relief, there was Maiat. She’d grown up in
the household, and so far as he knew, he could trust her. If he was wrong,
things were going to get difficult. Arjun moved to intercept her, and a look of
fear crossed her round face.

Of course! How
else might she react, seeing a nomad with concealed face walking straight her
way! He spoke to her in a hissing voice he hoped didn’t sound like his own to
passersby.

“Maiat!”

She looked
startled, and came to a complete stop, hesitating. He walked to her, and spoke
in his own voice, but low and quiet.

“Maiat, it is
me, Arjun. Please walk with me.”

She shook with
fear, then mastered herself, and did so. Her eyes turned to him, and tears
welled in them.

“Master Arjun!
We thought you were captured, or dead!”

“I am as well as
can be, for now. What of my father and the others?”

She hung her
head.

“Some of the
others woke up faster than I, and were there near the end. They said that when
your father sent you away, he tried to talk to the guardsmen, but they would
have none of it. Eb-Sim tried to block their way, and their captain walked up
without a word and plunged his sword into Eb-Sim’s chest.”

Inside his
concealing head cover, Arjun’s face was bleak.

Maiat continued,
“Then your father and Madu fought them. They killed Madu, and gravely wounded
your father. Someone knocked Keda over the head with a club and they dragged
her and your father out into the street.  I heard other guards ran up the
stairs after you and ransacked the rooms up there.”

“That was about
when I ran into the main area. They rounded the rest of us servants up and told
us we were now serving Bal-Shim! As if we were slaves! Geb and Tishat refused,
and they beat them with clubs, then dragged them out with your father and Keda!
After that the rest of us didn’t have the courage to argue. I’m so sorry master
Arjun!”

He felt misery
wash over him, and then a fresh wave of anger. With effort, he mastered
himself, and spoke again. “Maiat, what were they doing with all the household
goods, and do you think these tablets are a manifest of what they’ve taken?”

“They are taking
them to a warehouse belonging to Bal-Shim. I don’t know more, master. As for
the tablets, I don’t know, but this is actually the second box, Dur-Sim carried
the other earlier. That man of Bal-Shim’s has been writing things all day on
them as your father’s possessions have been coming out.”

Arjun spoke
through clenched teeth, “Then yes, likely a manifest for register with the
city, so that it all stays… official.”

“Master Arjun,
what should I do?”

“Do what they’ve
told you, and forget you spoke with me. Any connection with me could put you in
danger of what happened to Geb and Tishat, or worse.”

“Yes, master
Arjun.”

“Go now.”

She cried, took
his hand and kissed it, then darted off into the crowd.

Arjun ached in
pity for her, sorrow for those murdered, and fear for his father, Keda, and the
others. He hoped her gesture had not been noticed by anyone who would care, and
ducked down a side street.

~

The late
afternoon air was cooling. The spicy scent of cooking meals began to waft
across the city. Arjun walked in his robes along streets near the great plaza.
He turned over matters in his mind.

His father had
been arrested, not killed, so whatever his supposed crimes, they either wanted
him alive, or feared to execute so well-known a man without at least some
pretense of following the law.  Keda and the others had been beaten with clubs
and hauled off. It was likely, highly likely, that if they survived, they would
be sold as slaves for resisting city guardsmen.