Blood on Bronze (Blood on Bronze Book 1) Read online

  Arjun bowed, and left with gratitude, but many fears. Kartam had left, really, little hope that his father would be released or that Arjun would see him again. On the other hand, he had opened a new vista – revenge! For what, in the end, could exacting justice in his own way mean?

  ~

  Inina woke at dusk in her cramped little room. A fresh breeze blew in the single window. She remembered that she had never cached the spoils of the previous night’s deals and larcenies. That was stupid, what had she been thinking?

  She’d been thinking of Arjun.

  No! She tried to correct himself, she’d been thinking of the money she could make as his guide. He was a rich young man on the run, and could and would pay well.

  But she knew that wasn’t it. She’d been thinking of him.

  With that thought, she forced herself out of her thin little bed and started dressing.

  She knew very well how much men desired her for her looks, and had only avoided brutal treatment at the hands of the rougher sort by learning how to play them while keeping her distance, by keeping a network of friends – some of them dangerous, and by acquiring a few dangerous skills herself with her obsidian-bladed knife.

  Along the way, she’d come to value her ability to survive and remain independent in a ruthless world. Attachment, beyond a certain point, weakened that independence, and harmed her chances for survival.

  So then, she told herself, she needed to keep her head clear about this strange new entrant into her life. He was educated and sophisticated, yet very naïve at the same time. He needed her help! She wanted to give it, no, she repeated, she wanted to give it for a good price.

  She told herself the extra care she took with her appearance tonight was to make the best professional impression on a pretentious young aristocrat. In the meantime, she needed to stash at least some of her loot. At that, she unbarred her door, walked down the dim dusty hallway and the stairs below, and out into the night.

  ~

  Arjun sat in his plain cotton kilt at one end of a long table in the common room of the House of Red, his feet stretched out from the low stool. Inina was across from him, and between them were several mostly empty plates of food he’d bought at the western bazaar for the occasion. Lurshiga’s barley gruel was filling, but hardly appropriate for a leisurely dinner. They had each had a couple of glasses of her wine, however. It was slightly spiced, and tasty enough.

  They’d talked of many things. Arjun had told her about his life before the last night, and she’d listened with wide eyes. He didn’t know it, but she’d never once had a private conversation with someone of his background, of his class. For her part, she’d told him of her abandonment and her adoption by a kindly old street vendor, and how when she in turn had died, Inina had been left to fend for herself at a young age. She’d done so, but by means he found dishonest.

  Throughout the conversation, the nightmare of what had happened to his father and his household stalked him, as did the previous night’s terrors. There were times where only Inina’s beautiful eyes kept him focused on where he was. Had she lined them with a bit more kohl this night? Yes. That was interesting. Unconsciously, he hoped she’d done it for him.

  She was wearing a thin red kilt that hung a little lower on her hips, and was hiked a little higher on her thighs, than the one she’d worn earlier. In place of her other top, she wore one bedecked with brass discs and bangles. She even had a bit of perfume on her wrist.

  The conversation nonetheless moved on to practical matters. His disciplined mind could not allow otherwise.

  “Inina, I’m interested in learning how to fight properly. I got a little training when my father made me my sword, but I was focused on many other things that seemed more immediately useful at the time. So now, I find that my skills are less than I may need.”

  She replied, “You should learn how to use more than a sword. They are dangerous things, but hard to hide, and no good at all for surprising someone.”

  “Surprise?” he was startled, but then considered, “You’re right, I may need surprise on my side, some day.”

  She peered into his eyes thoughtfully, “I can almost see the wheels of the chariot turning in your mind, Arjun. All right, I’ll take you to a man I think might be the right sort of weapons trainer. He can teach techniques for fights that are far from honorable, and he won’t ask questions. I warn you though, Enlil iru Geb charges a steep price, and he isn’t the nicest.”

  “I don’t want the nicest, I want the deadliest,” was his reply.

  She gave him a black-humored smile, “Tomorrow then. In the meantime, I think it is about time I went. I have work to do.”

  “Let me walk you home.”

  “What makes you think I’m going home?”

  “It is your choice what you do from there, but at least let me get you safely back. Besides, those don’t look like your most practical working clothes. I’d bet you plan to change them back home anyway.”

  She laughed, “Are you so sure I wouldn’t be protecting YOU? I live out here, remember. Oh well, all right.”

  He went to his room and collected his cloak and sword, then walked with her out the door. It was a pleasant night, and others in large numbers took advantage of the weather to go about business fair and foul. As they walked the streets, passersby greeted Inina. Some of them were very rough looking.

  “See?” she said, “Around here, even the ones that might rob YOU are on MY side. I’m home, Arjun, and you shouldn’t worry about me. Ah, here, let’s take this way,” she pointed to a black-shadowed alley, “We’ll save a few blocks.”

  He nodded uncertainly, not liking the look of it.

  As it turned out, she was right. They had no trouble in the alley. On the other side, though, on a back street that was more than normally deserted tonight, they found it.

  A group of men in filthy wide-belted kilts swaggered and staggered with drink. Their accents pronounced to Arjun that they were from the city of Ershum, in the League of Kasim, a hundred miles north along the coast, and probably sailors. They had weapons at their belts.

  Some of them whistled.

  “Oh ho! Look at this pretty young lady!” said one.

  “Ah, but who is this ugly girl she is with?” said another.

  “You, ugly, get out of the way so we can talk to your pretty friend!” said a third.

  Arjun burned at the words. No one since childhood had insulted him like that! In the life he’d known, such words among men could only lead to duels and death. These men spat them out casually, expecting no repercussions whatsoever. And why should they? He was little more than a boy, with no visible weapon, and they were seven armed burly toughs.

  They were approaching.

  Inina tapped his shoulder and whispered too him “Arjun, turn around and follow me back into the alley. We need to get out of here.”

  “All right”

  But as it turned out, an eighth sailor had been relieving himself in the shadows near the alley. He was a big man with a hairy belly that hung over the belt of his kilt. He stepped forth and blocked their way with an unpleasant grin.

  “Where ya goin’, pretty?” he said in a growling voice.

  Quick as a snake, she drew her dagger and waved it an inch from the man’s nose.

  “Out of my way, unless you want trouble with every cutthroat in this part of town!”

  Men of Zakran, who knew this neighborhood, might have taken that threat seriously. These foreigners did not. The man in front of Inina took a startled step back, but the others roared with laughter and charged.

  Inina tried to duck around the man blocking their way, but he leered and with one hand reached between her legs while with the other grabbed the wrist of her dagger hand. She spun and wrenched it free, and with a smooth motion plunged the dagger into the man’s belly. He howled in pain and rage.

  Then the others were upon them, clubs, obsidian daggers and bronze knives drawn. Arjun drew his sword from his cloak and slas
hed before them. The men stopped at the sight of the fine bronze sword.

  One of them, with thick tattooed arms, glared at him, “I’m going to rip that sword out of your hands, boy, and then we’ll all have your girl while you watch.”

  The man was interrupted as Inina ducked low and slashed the tendons of his knee. He screamed and fell sideways. Another of them, a man with a ragged scar across his face, aimed a vicious kick at Inina’s ribs and sent her sprawling, curled on the ground in pain.

  With the strength of fury, Arjun ran his sword through the man’s chest. The man made a horrible gurgling noise, then collapsed with blood spurting from his mouth. The remaining five unhurt sailors surrounded Arjun. They laughed no longer, and there was death in their eyes.

  They closed on him.

  He dodged a dagger, and slashed his sword at the man who wielded it, but the latter stepped back and the blade only whistled through the air. Arjun felt agony as a club connected with his shoulder, barely missing his skull. Another man slashed him with a knife, the blade gashing his side with blood and pain, but not piercing his ribs. As he spun and tried to defend himself, Arjun realized grimly that if not for the men’s drunkenness, the very drunkenness that made them dare to start this, their reflexes would be better, and he would already be dead.

  The man Inina had stabbed in the belly was pulling a knife of his own, and slowly advancing toward her crumpled form, his face a sadistic leer. Arjun ducked between two of his enemies and leapt towards Inina. As he did, she staggered to her feet, the wind knocked from her lungs only now returning.

  The wounded man was paying no attention to Arjun, his eyes were locked onto Inina. He raised his knife and made a stumbling charge that came to a sudden halt as Arjun’s sword pierced his kidney. The man fell to the ground writhing and screaming in agony. The other five closed on Arjun and Inina.

  At that moment, there were yells from down the street. The five men halted in uncertainty. Inina glanced over her shoulder, turned back to them, and laughed viciously.

  “See! Sons of whores and dogs, I meant it when I said you’d have trouble!” she yelled.

  Arjun thought that had the opposite of its intended effect. The men snarled and charged. One of them, with a copper ring in his nose like a bull, brought his club down on Inina. She failed to dodge in time, but blocked the blow with an upraised arm. There was a cracking sound. She staggered back screaming. Arjun ducked low and felt a dagger rake across his back as he slashed his sword at the groin of the man with the bull’s ring in his nose. The man howled, but did not fall. Arjun had only grazed his thigh.

  But then Inina’s friends arrived. Fourteen young men in bright but dirty clothes, brutal looking themselves, swarmed the sailors with clubs and daggers. It was over in seconds. Inina’s friends were not kindly. They stabbed, clubbed, and kicked the bodies of the foreigners until nothing moved.

  Arjun kneeled by Inina, his body was in agony, but his will and his fear for her kept him up. Her beautiful face was covered in sweat. A bone protruded from her forearm. One of the local toughs, a tall young man with a patchy beard, a pockmarked face, and a large bronze dagger, squatted down by her side. He eyed Arjun suspiciously, and spoke to Inina.

  “Inina, you all right?”

  She hissed, “Belil, what do YOU think?”

  “Sorry we didn’t get here sooner. What were you thinking, insulting those guys like that? They were ready to run!” said Belil.

  “I was keeping them around long enough for you to get here.”

  “They could’ve killed you before we did!”

  “Nah, I had my friend Sharur with me…” she smiled weakly and clutched Arjun’s hand.

  Belil eyed Arjun, but his expression softened to a smile. Then he turned to the boys in his gang and barked, “Search the bodies and clean out whatever loot they’ve got, then dump ‘em in the alley!”

  6. The Tale of Growth and Decay

  Belil and the gang of toughs took Inina to someone they knew. He was a thin old man in a white kilt. Prominent in his home was a statue of a slender man with a shaved head and an upraised arm, Inkiddu of the White Hand, god of healing. He was only mildly surprised at someone showing up with wounds at this hour, but was a good deal more so when Arjun offered to pay for her treatment on the spot, and in full.

  “My boy, thank you. People here often pay me back over time, except when they don’t. I can hardly tell you how much this helps!”

  Belil whispered quietly through his teeth, “Sharur, you’re lucky we knew you were Inina’s friend BEFORE you flashed all that coin.”

  The healer looked Arjun over.

  “You need some help too, my lad. No broken bones, but you’ve been bleeding quite a bit. I’ll tell you what, for paying so promptly for her, I’ll add your treatment for free.”

  Arjun felt too weak to argue.

  Inina turned out to have a cracked rib as well. They carried her in and put her on a soft mat as the healer called upon his magic and went to work. In a couple of hours, it was done. Inina’s bones were set and mending, and Arjun’s wounds were clean and closed. He still felt like his body had a lot of recovery to do.

  “Honored healer, what should we do next?”

  “Just get some rest, and a good breakfast in the morning. It will take your bodies a day or so to recuperate and restore energy, but you’ll be fine.

  “Thank you,” said Arjun, with a stiff and painful bow.

  Belil and his gang insisted on accompanying them as a guard back to the seedy apartment block where Inina stayed. When she got inside the door, she smiled weakly and thanked them.

  “Good night, Inina, talk to you soon,” the rough young man said as he and the others faded into the shadows of an alley.

  Arjun turned to leave as well. Inina grabbed his hand.

  “Don’t go. I’m not feeling safe by myself right now, and… I’m a little dizzy.”

  He helped her up the stairs and to her room. He barred her door. She sat on the edge of her cramped little bed and thanked him in a quiet voice, tried to start a longer conversation, but then tipped over and curled up asleep instead.

  Arjun rested on the floor next to her, his head near hers, and his sword in his hand. He thought with shock that he had killed a man tonight with that sword. But then anger welled in him at what the man had done, and had planned to do. That man’s face blurred with Bal-Shim’s in his mind. Red anger flowed, and then gradually faded. The man had deserved it, Arjun thought harshly as he drifted off to sleep.

  ~

  When Arjun awoke, the sun was already high in the sky. Inina was curled in the same position she’d fallen asleep, save that her arm had dropped over his chest. He thought of all that had happened to him in what was still only a day and a half. The contrast of horror and beauty, of pain and of the simple joy he felt sitting near her, seemed almost too much to bear.

  But he had to. He had much to do.

  He took her hand from across his chest, and held it for a moment, unexpected feelings stirring beneath his stern self-control. She opened her eyes, looked up at him, and smiled.

  “I suppose you want to go talk to my friend the weapons master today?”

  “Yes,” he said, “but first let’s go have that breakfast the healer recommended!”

  ~

  Some hours later, Arjun stood before a grim, square-faced man with a gray-streaked beard, a black kilt fringed with bronze discs, and many scars. The audience hall was small and dark, but its walls were lined with many weapons of bronze.

  “Master Enlil, I seek training at arms,” said Arjun with a bow.

  The man surveyed him unsmilingly, “Training of what kind?”

  “Sword, dagger, fist, and feet… and how to use them with surprise.”

  Enlil arched an eyebrow that was split by an old scar. “I see, then Inina has directed you to the right master, however for such things, I do not work cheaply.”

  “What are the terms of study with you?” replied Arjun.


  “Five silver moons per day with me, provision of your own weapons and gear, strict obedience to my commands while training is in session, and no questions asked by either party.”

  “That is agreeable, master Enlil.”

  “One reason I am more expensive than most masters is that my students often do not wish it known they are being trained, and so I train them alone rather than in classes. Such attention also means that you will acquire better training.”

  Enlil continued, “You may expect thirty days of training with me to reach the barest minimum proficiency I will accept for you to call yourself my apprentice, and during that time I expect you to be here every day except sacred festivals. After that, you may attend as needed, and I will alternate with other apprentices, but know that it may take two hundred days or more before you reach the skill whereby I would call you fully trained. Do you have sufficient funds, and do you accept?”

  “I have them, master Enlil, and I accept.”

  “Very good then, student, we shall sign and seal the compact now, and begin your training at first light tomorrow.”

  ~

  The next morning, at the very glimmer of dawn, Arjun was admitted to Enlil’s single-story house by a grim-faced doorman in armor and bearing twin axes. The doorman led him through the audience hall and down a narrow corridor that went past a kitchen and storerooms to a small, high-walled courtyard with a sand yard in the center.

  In the middle of the yard stood master Enlil. He was wearing a kilt of bronze scales, a leather breastplate reinforced with copper discs, leather bracers and greaves, and a bronze helmet. He had a sturdy plain bronze sword drawn.

  Arjun threw off his cloak and the bag he’d brought with food and water. He walked to the center of the sand yard with his own sword at the ready. Enlil nodded to him, and he bowed low.

  “Now, student, let us see what skill you bring to your training.”

  Enlil took a half step back into a fighting stance. Arjun did likewise, as he’d learned in his brief formal training when he first got the sword. Enlil stepped to one side, bringing his sword around in a slashing movement. Arjun parried it easily, but went flying as Enlil’s unexpected kick connected with his flank. Arjun sprawled on the ground, and swift as a hawk, Enlil put his sword to his neck.