BRYTE'S ASCENT (Arucadi Series Book 8)

by E. Rose Sabin

  He was giving the secret to Lina, and hiding it from her, though it was Bryte’s mother Lord Inver had poisoned, if Master Onigon’s tale was to be believed. She had a right to know the entire story.

  She went to the door and yanked at it. It was locked. He had made certain she’d be shut out. For her protection, he’d said. She did not want to be protected. She could take care of herself. She’d find a way to make Lina tell her the secret. At present, she couldn’t think how to do that.

  In fact, she couldn’t think at all—she was too angry. Angry at Master Onigon for not telling her what she needed to know, angry at Lina for agreeing to her exclusion, angry at herself for letting herself be fooled into the expulsion from Master Onigon’s rear office where the revelation was occurring, and angry with Oryon for deserting Lina and her, and thus propelling them into this situation. Her anger demanded action, movement.

  Pacing the small office area where she had to step over cats did not help. She slammed out of the shop, hesitated, went back inside, and found a scrap of paper behind the shop counter. Hastily she scrawled a note to Lina: I’ve gone to the mound where Oryon got so scared yesterday. Meet me there. She left the note under a paperweight on the counter and again stormed from the shop. Her stride fueled by her anger, she quickly reached the mound and climbed to the top.

  As always, she rose on tiptoes and peered upward to the house on the fifth tier. “It’s been a couple of days since I was here,” she told the sister who could neither see nor hear her. “I don’t have any earnings to report, but I have something better. I’ve made it to the third tier. And I might make it even higher. So look out. I’m coming!”

  It suddenly occurred to her that she might be overly optimistic in that assessment. Lina might not let Bryte stay with her after whatever it was that Master Onigon was telling her. She might be dumped back into the flats.

  She plopped down among the weeds, ignoring the dirt and the burs that clung to her new clothes. “Whatever’s here, we need to talk,” she said. “I think it was you that pushed me to the meeting with Lina and Oryon, and now there’s trouble and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it or what I can do about it or why Master Onigon won’t tell me what he knows.” The request or prayer (Bryte wasn’t sure which) burst out in a single breath. She inhaled and held that breath while she waited for an answer.

  Whatever she expected, it was not the haunting melody that came to her as from a great distance. The melody was played on cane pipes, and she recalled having heard a similar melody when she’d been led to Lina and Oryon.

  Not similar; the same. As she listened, she was sure of it. The music had an other-worldly sound about it, both sad and soothing. As she listened, the anger drained from her, and her restlessness ebbed. She relaxed, losing the tension she’d felt since Oryon’s defection. Her eyelids drooped, her head nodded.

  She might have slept had Lina not come to the base of the mound and shouted up at her, “Bryte! Bryte, by the Seven Levels, what are you doing, you stupid child! Get down here at once! Don’t you remember how dangerous we told you it was?”

  The music ceased but its effect remained. Bryte did not become angry. She stood and walked slowly down from the mound, and when she joined Lina she smiled at her.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “You and Oryon might have good reason to fear this place, but I don’t.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Lina demanded.

  “Just that whatever it is that’s here is friendly to me. I think it’s kind of a protector.”

  Lina snorted. “Fool of a girl. What’s here is connected to the Dire Realms, and there’s nothing friendly there. It’s more than dangerous; it’s deadly. Now come away while you still can.”

  She grabbed Bryte’s arm and pulled her away. Bryte didn’t mind. She had her answer. And Lina was wrong about the Dire Realms. Not wrong about their being dangerous. Bryte knew that was true. But they didn’t have to be deadly. Something there was friendly—friendly to her, if not to Lina and Oryon.

  As she went with Lina, a feeling of contentment went with her. Regardless of what Lina said, Bryte had a friend here, an ally. Something wanted her to achieve her goal.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FRIENDS AND ENEMIES

  Lina decreed that they should not return to the hotel for lunch, but should eat in a restaurant on the second tier. By the time they reached it, Bryte’s feeling of contentment had diminished and her anger at having been shut out of Master Onigon’s counsel revived. Enough of the mellowness did remain to let her wait until the food was served before prodding Lina for information. She had observed that Lina was more disposed to dispense information during a meal.

  She waited until Lina took a bite of pork roast before asking, “So, you’re still going to let me help you, right?”

  Lina nodded as she chewed and, when she’d swallowed, said, “As long as you don’t pull any more stupid stunts like parking yourself in the middle of that nexus. Your special talent can come in handy.”

  Bryte wanted to protest that going to the mound that Lina insisted on calling a nexus hadn’t been stupid, but this was not the time to argue. Instead, she asked, “What do you want me to do?”

  “The first thing we have to do,” Lina said, spearing another piece of roast, “is to move out of the hotel. It’s become too dangerous. I’ll get our things from there tonight. Master Onigon gave me the address of a boarding house in the second tier, run by a woman he says we can trust. You’ll have to find it. I still can’t figure out how the streets run here.”

  Bryte thought about how Lina had insisted on searching for Oryon on her own throughout the night, but again she kept the thought to herself.

  Lina handed her a piece of paper torn from a larger sheet. The scrap held an address written in Master Onigon’s precise script.

  “This is a good way away from where we are now,” Bryte said. “It’ll be a long walk, but we can—”

  “We’ll take a carriage,” Lina interrupted. “The sooner we get there and get settled, the sooner we can get on with our hunt for Oryon.”

  The Widow Kipley, owner of the boarding house, was a pleasant-faced woman with merry brown eyes and a wide smile that revealed two gold teeth. “A room for the two o’ ye, eh?” she said in an accent that revealed a provenance other than Tirbat. “Well, ordinarily I’d turn ye away, f’r all my reg’lar rooms are rented out, but I’ve a fine room that was my late husband’s. I keep it f’r family—m’ daughters come to visit from time to time. But since Master Onigon sent ye, and I’ve heard naught from the daughters in a good while, I’ll let ye have it f’r my reg’lar rates. I’ll just need a bit o’ time to freshen it up.”

  “That sounds fair,” Lina said. “May we see it now?”

  “In a rush, are ye?” the woman said. “All right, this way, then.”

  She led them through a neat but small parlor and up a carpeted stairway to the first door on the right. “This is right across from my room,” she told them as she threw open the door. “Handy—anything you need, you just have to step across the hall and ask.”

  “Your accent—it’s Northpoint, isn’t it?” Lina asked.

  The Widow Kipley beamed. “Recognize it, do ye? I’m from Siller, ‘bout as far north as you can get, ’less ye count the islands. Master Kipley, though, he was from Tirbat. Came up to Siller on gov’ment business—an inspector, he was. Brought me back here, a young bride with not a lick o’ sense. Made me a good life here, but I still get homesick f’r the far north. Where’re you girls from?”

  “Most recently from Castlemount Province,” Lina said.

  “That’s a big province. What part?”

  But Lina had walked into the room and was checking it out, opening the chifforobe door and poking into dresser drawers, avoiding Widow Kipley’s question. “This room will be quite satisfactory,” she said. “Where is the bath?”

  “Two doors down the hall, same side as your room,” the widow replied. “I’ll ge
t towels and washcloths f’r ye, if ye’re wanting to wash up right now. I did want to air the room afore ye move in. It’s been closed up a good while. I’ll change the bed linens, too.”

  “That will be fine. We have errands to run. We’ll bring our luggage later. You serve meals here?”

  “I do. Ye’ll be joining us for supper, then?”

  “Possibly, but we can’t be certain. Our errands may take longer than we think. Don’t worry,” Lina added when Widow Kipley’s smile changed to a frown. “We’ll pay the full price whether we show up for meals or not.”

  “Guess that’s all right then, though I don’t like to see good food go to waste.”

  “Well, if we aren’t here, you can save our portions, and when we come in, we’ll eat in our room.”

  The widow scratched her head, mussing her gray hair. “I don’t like guests having food in the room. Attracts bugs, y’know.”

  “We’ll be careful.” Lina’s tone revealed her impatience.

  Bryte was impatient, too. They had wasted too much time already; they should be doing something, though she had no idea what.

  “I’d rather ye’d get back here in time to eat in the dining room wi’ the rest of us.”

  “The sooner we leave, the more likely we are to do that.”

  Bryte thought Lina was being quite obvious, but Widow Kipley did not take the hint. She puttered about in the room, throwing open the windows, stripping the bed, and all the while keeping up a steady stream of conversation.

  “We must leave,” Lina said firmly, interrupting the flow of chatter. She grasped Bryte’s shoulder and propelled her from the room, following so closely that she trod on Bryte’s heels.

  “Ow!” Bryte yelled.

  “Keep moving,” Lina ordered.

  The Widow Kipley trailed after them, nattering on as though she’d had no one to talk to in months, seeming oblivious to their haste to leave.

  Bryte closed out the old woman’s chatter, deeming it of no interest or importance to her. But as she and Lina descended the stairs with the Widow Kipley behind them, Bryte thought she heard her name. She listened a moment, concluded that the woman had only said something about having “bright daughters,” and would have closed off the sound again except that the word “bright” (Bryte?) was repeated, followed immediately by “take care, don’t fall,” something about “treacherous stairs,” which should have been clear to Bryte’s ears but was not, and then the words “under her influence.” By this time they’d passed through the parlor and reached the front door. As Lina opened it, Bryte felt her arm pinched and heard Widow Kipley say, “Sometimes ye’re better off alone.”

  The door closed behind them, shutting off the flow of words, except that Bryte distinctly heard a low whisper from behind the closed door: “I know you heard me, Bryte. Take it to heart.”

  Bryte glanced quickly at Lina, but Lina strode forward giving no evidence of having heard either that final warning or the message their new landlady had fit into her conversation.

  “I don’t see why your Master Onigon thought this place would be so perfect for us,” Lina grumbled. “The room’s fine, but I won’t be able to stand that interminable talk.”

  No, she hadn’t heard the warning. It had been meant for Bryte’s ears alone. Interestingly, Lina had made the rental arrangements and had not given Bryte’s name. Yet clearly the widow knew exactly who Bryte was. Master Onigon must have somehow been in touch with her.

  Due to her inattention she’d missed some of the words meant for her. The “treacherous stairs” part might have been no more than a piece of the Widow Kipley’s rambling conversation, yet she had heard the words distinctly, and they seemed to relate to the “Take care, don’t fall,” warning. And then there was that phrase, “under her influence.” Was she warning Bryte about Lina? It seemed so in light of the clear statement, “Sometimes you’re better off alone.”

  Bryte wasn’t sure how seriously to take the woman’s warning. She wanted to stay with Lina, though she knew Lina could be dangerous. But the widow’s counsel seemed to be that she should go off on her own.

  And do what? Why hadn’t Widow Kipley told her that?

  Unless some specific course of action presented itself, Bryte decided she would disregard the widow’s advice and stay with Lina. She didn’t want to be left out of the search for Oryon.

  Alone again. Wonder where Lord Inver goes all the time. I wish he’d tell me what it is he wants me to do; I hate sitting around like this with nothing to do.

  Nothing obvious, anyway. I can try again to decipher the symbols on the box, now that he’s left it here. But if the box is so important, why did he leave it behind?

  More Kelsere on the phonograph, Eighth Symphony this time, his Triumpho. That should help me think. No wine today—I learned that lesson yesterday, having Lord Inver come back to find me sound asleep and too groggy to think straight when he woke me up. I didn’t even remember where I was for a few minutes. He just laughed, but I sure didn’t make a good impression. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t given me an assignment.

  At least he fed me. Good quality food, but not as much as I got at the hotel. Lots of meat—Lina’d like that. I’d prefer fresh fruit or a vegetable dish, but those don’t seem to be on Lord Inver’s menu. Maybe he should have hired Lina instead of me. She wouldn’t have accepted, though. She doesn’t need the money like I do.

  Wonder what it’d be like growing up as she did with rich parents who gave her everything she ever wanted. Wonder why they wouldn’t let her go home after she graduated. They sure were generous in the money they gave her. Was it a buy-off? She won’t talk about it, and there’s no getting information out of Lina that she doesn’t want to give.

  Gotta stop thinking about her and concentrate on the symbols on this box. I’m sure I studied something about these symbols in Master Hawke’s course on Symbolism in Magic last year.

  I do remember some of it. The knotted circle is for protection. The spiral is a symbol of life and of change. And of course the flaming stars on the box’s sides are pentagrams, and it’s not good that they’re upside down in relation to the top of the box. But why the flames? And why the arrangement of the symbols on the top of the box? I know that has to mean something, but I can’t think what.

  The inside of the box is plain—I would have expected designs there, too, at least on the inside of the cover.

  Well, it’s no good just sitting here flipping the cover up and down—or tracing the designs with my finger. That circle of knots—every knot is different. If I figure out the knots, how they’re formed, that might tell me something. Can’t do it in my head, but if I can find a piece of string or a bit of rope, then maybe …

  Won’t do to have Lord Inver come in and see me searching this room. Hmmm, I wonder … That Marquez rug—I could pull out a few threads from its fringe. They’re thick enough. And I can hide them fast when Lord Inver comes in.

  I’ll take them from the corner, where if I’m lucky Lord Inver won’t notice. Have to cut them with my pocketknife, or they’ll keep on pulling and ruin the rug. There, that should be enough, and it doesn’t show—not much, anyway. Working out these knots will give me something to do to fill the time and keep my mind off … things I don’t want to think about.

  There, that’s one knot I’ve worked out. It was the easy one, just a square knot. And this one’s a figure eight. Don’t know what this one’s called, but it’s a lot more complicated than the others. Umm, that’s not right. Try something else. Here, this looks like it.

  No, not quite, but I’m close. There! That matches; I’m sure of it. And just one more to go.

  Hah! Lina would like this one—it’s a cat’s-paw knot, I’m sure it is. Let’s see, that end goes through this loop and twists around and goes through this other loop here, and … I have it! The circle’s complete, and it does match. Not quite the same size as the one in the design, but definitely the same knots. Now I just have to …

  What? Have to wh
at? What’s happening? Why suddenly do I feel so strange? Like the walls are closing in on me.

  Hot. Hard to breathe. What have I done?

  Lord Inver’s here. Didn’t hear him come in. Can barely see him. Everything’s gone dim. He’s speaking, but I can hardly hear him.

  “Clever, clever boy.” I think that’s what he said. “I knew you’d reason it out if I gave you enough time.”

  What’s he mean? Can’t ask. Can’t speak. What’s wrong with me?

  “Too clever for your own good—I saw that right away. You’re all mine now. You’ll do exactly what I ask of you.”

  I heard that clearly enough. He’s laughing at me. Don’t know why. What did I do?

  Doesn’t matter. Nothing seems to matter. Lord Inver will take care of me. He’ll tell me what to do.

  Lord Inver. My master.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  FIFTH TIER

  So what do we do now?” Bryte asked. “Go back to the hotel for our things?”

  “No. I’ll get them tonight. Right now we’re going to hire a carriage, and you’ll show me how good a guide you are. We’re going to the fifth tier, where you’ll point out all the sites you know—shrines, monuments, government offices, residential districts, everything.”

  Bryte didn’t see what this would accomplish, but she was willing. It might be possible to find Lord Inver’s offices or apartment, though she thought it unlikely. He would have his residence and offices in a restricted area, and they would have no way of getting in.

  They hailed a carriage and spent the afternoon playing tourist and guide, riding past sites of interest but not stopping to go inside any, to the puzzlement of their patient driver. The day was hot and muggy, and the summer sun beat mercilessly on the black carriage top. Lina appeared unaffected by the heat. She listened intently to Bryte’s identification of each site and what might be found there, and she took careful note of the location.