BRYTE'S ASCENT (Arucadi Series Book 8)

by E. Rose Sabin

The panther snarled; its tail lashed; its claws dug into the man’s shoulders. But it did not use its teeth to rip open the man’s throat. Lina had heard.

  Supporting herself against the wall, Bryte moved nearer and said to the man, “She’ll kill you unless you tell me what I want to know.”

  The panther bared its teeth and snapped, its jaws dangerously near the man’s throat.

  “Wh-what do you want?” he asked.

  “I heard you talking about a child who was to be killed. Who is he and where is he?”

  “He—his name’s Stethan. I can’t tell you where he is.”

  “You can and you will, or you’ll die.”

  The panther turned her head and snarled—at Bryte. Even if Lina understood the reason for these questions based on what Master Onigon had told her, would it matter to her? Lina’s goal would be to learn something more important to her—where to find Oryon. But Bryte had to learn her brother’s location.

  “Hurry. Tell me.”

  The panther snarled and snapped again, and the claws dug deeper into his shoulders, so that he screamed. “All right. Call it off. Then I’ll tell you.”

  “Tell me first. Now!”

  “He’s in the Temple of Mibor. He—”

  “Well, well, what have we here? Isn’t this convenient?”

  With her strength low, Bryte hadn’t heard him come, but she recognized the voice before Lord Inver stepped to her side.

  The panther leaped away from her victim and sprang at Lord Inver. Lord Inver took a single backward step and raised one hand. The panther fell to the floor and changed, leaving Lina sprawled awkwardly on the floor at Lord Inver’s feet.

  “I suppose you’ve come hunting your friend,” he said. “I’ll be pleased to take you to him.”

  The man who’d retreated into the office came out looking terrified. “I’m sorry, L-Lord Inver,” he stammered. “I didn’t see anything to do but to call you.”

  “You were quite right to summon me,” Lord Inver said. “You were wrong to hide as you did.”

  He said it in a calm, even voice, yet Bryte felt the man’s terror. She had to escape. Lina’s fall had stopped the drain on her strength. The man had left the office door open. She darted inside, slammed the door shut, and slid the bolt into place. It wouldn’t stop Lord Inver, not for long. She ran to the window, threw it open, and looked out. The ground was five stories below her. And already they were working at the door.

  She glanced around and saw a side door that might lead to another room or to a closet or lavatory. She hadn’t time to debate. She banged on the window, screamed, and ran for the side door. If just for a few moments they’d think she’d thrown herself from the window, it might give her the time she needed.

  She was in luck; the door led into a second office, a larger one. She heard the two men break into the office she’d left; Lord Inver was not with them. He was dealing with Lina, and a faint sound of retreating footsteps convinced Bryte that he was taking his new captive away. She let herself out into the corridor just as she heard the door from the first office open.

  She didn’t see Lord Inver anywhere, so she dashed for the stairs, reached them, took them two or three at a time, nearly flying. The two men pounded after her, but she was younger and swifter, and Lina’s collapse had restored the strength Lina had taken.

  Down four flights of stairs she raced, her lead increasing with each flight. On the ground floor she paused for a couple of seconds to orient herself, then headed for the rear exit, guessing that at least one of the guards would have returned to the front entrance.

  By the time she found the rear door she was winded, and it took her last bit of strength to push it open and stumble outside. Blinking against the bright sunlight, she listened with little more than ordinary hearing for sounds of pursuit. She heard none, paused for a moment to catch her breath and gather the stamina for another sprint, and then headed for the stone fence through which they’d come.

  Lina had restored the stones to their original size, but the mortar holding them together had crumbled and the stones’ haphazard arrangement let Bryte easily push them out. She clambered through the space and into the park.

  They’d find the breach in the fence quickly enough. She had to get out of the park and make her way to the Temple of Mibor. Guilt preyed on her for deserting Lina for the sake of a half-brother she’d never met and only just discovered she had. Yet the immediate danger to the boy and the fact that he was her own flesh and blood persuaded her that her first obligation must be to him. Again she was reminded of the Widow Kipley’s odd counsel.

  She made her way to a stream that flowed through the park, knelt beside it, and splashed the cool water on her face until she felt refreshed enough to stand and look around her. Trees beside the stream offered both shade and shelter from the view of any pursuers. She leaned against the trunk and rested as much as she dared. Not that she was idle; her gaze perused the strollers and picnickers. The park was far from crowded, but a few couples and individuals were strolling its winding paths, and one or two families sat at the rustic tables scattered about.

  The temple was on the far side of the tier, and she could not run all the way. Bryte walked to the nearest picnicking group. Striving to look young and lost, she appealed to an older woman in the group. “Please, ma’am, I was supposed to meet my mother and my sister here, but I’m late and I can’t find them. Have you seen a woman with a little girl walking around like she’s looking for someone?”

  “Oh, dear,” said the woman, as sympathetic as Bryte had hoped. “No, I haven’t seen anyone like that, but surely they wouldn’t have gone off and left you.”

  “She must have,” Bryte said, a sob in her voice. “I’ve looked all through the park, and they just aren’t here. I was supposed to be here an hour ago, but I lost track of the time. I guess they decided I went home instead of coming. And that must be where they’ve gone.”

  She produced a trickle of tears, a skill she’d mastered at an early age.

  “Well, dear, why don’t you go home and see?” a younger woman put in, equally solicitous but more patronizing.

  Feigning embarrassment, she swiped at the tears. “We live on the third tier, and it’s a long walk. I used up all my money on a carriage to bring me here. I don’t think I can walk all the way back.”

  “Well, here now, a public carriage isn’t all that expensive. Among us we can find the money.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that,” Bryte said, acting horrified. “My mother would be furious if she thought I’d begged money from strangers.”

  “Now, now,” consoled an old gentleman, probably the first woman’s husband and grandfather of the children in the group. “Your mother won’t know. It’ll be our secret.”

  “Oh, I shouldn’t, but … but,” she paused and sniffled, then gushed, “I’d be ever so grateful.”

  The women reached for handbags, the men dug wallets out of pockets, and in no time Bryte had a handful of coins, all coppers but ranging through three sizes and values. After offering effusive thanks, she stuffed the coins into the pockets and walked to the park entrance.

  First satisfying herself that no Peace Officers were about, she hailed one of the carriages parked near the park entrance, their drivers hoping for fares. “Take me to the Temple of Mibor,” she told the driver.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE TEMPLE OF MIBOR

  Lord Inver boasted to me that he’s caught Lina. He’s quite pleased with himself. I should feel something—concern possibly, anger certainly. But I feel nothing.

  Lord Inver said it was stupid of Lina to get herself caught, and I can’t disagree. He wants to know what she was up to, but I neither know nor care. Probably looking for me. She should have had better sense.

  Nothing seems to matter anymore. Not even this thing Lord Inver asked me to do. I can’t refuse his order. Not because I’m afraid of him, though his servants are. The two that came in here groveling a short while ago were terrified. With g
ood reason, I suppose.

  I can’t feel fear. Ever since I reproduced the knots in the box’s design, I’ve been numb. It’s as if I’m bound within that knotted circle and can’t get out. But that’s ridiculous. I’m in Lord Inver’s apartment, enjoying its luxury. I’m not locked in. I can leave any time I want.

  I will leave to carry out the assignment Lord Inver has given me. I could just walk away instead of doing it. I won’t; I can’t disobey him.

  When he asked me whether I’d ever killed anyone, I said I had. That wasn’t strictly true. That was a different me, and it was mostly an accident.

  It’s too complicated to think about. I can kill; I know that. And I will. I will do as my lord directs.

  §

  The late afternoon sun cast long shadows by the time Bryte descended from the carriage and walked toward the temple. Night fell quickly in the summer. When the sun’s last rays hit its portal, the temple would close its doors. She had reached it with little time to spare.

  Bryte had often brought tourists here to the Temple of Mibor. She’d been inside the main sanctuary several times, had even toured the small adjoining chapels. But she knew nothing of the other parts, the rooms behind the main sanctuary. No tourists—or tour guides—were allowed in those sections. Yet that was where she must go, because that would surely be where her brother had been hidden.

  How would she get into those forbidden sections? She had to find a way.

  She walked into the central sanctuary, redolent of incense and the smoke of votive candles. The white marble walls sparkled with inlaid traceries of gold; the enormous statue of Mibor in the center front gleamed with its sheathing of gold leaf. Alcoves along both sides held fragrant floral offerings placed before smaller images of the god. These were sights she had seen often. Exquisite as they were, they did not interest her now. Not even the large mirror in the first alcove, angled to reflect the entire sanctuary and the alcoves along the opposite side, drew her as it usually did. Above all she did not care to see her own reflection, knowing it would show her new clothes dirty and mussed and her face smudged with dirt.

  She strolled along the side of the sanctuary, pausing to admire a carving here, a frieze there, until she reached the alcove that was her destination.

  The sanctuary was almost empty, the few lingering tourists heading reluctantly toward the doors. She slipped into the alcove and wedged into the narrow space behind a statue of Mibor standing on a low pedestal. The god, dressed in flowing robes, stretched out his hands, offering a fish in one and grains of rice in the other, representing as his gifts the most abundant products of Delta Province.

  The form of the statue—its height and width—made it impossible for her to be seen once she was behind it. From this refuge she heard the Servants of Mibor hurrying the last visitors out the doors. Her plan was to hide here until the sanctuary was locked for the night. After that, she had to find her way into the private areas behind the sanctuary, where Stethan would be found.

  She rejected the idea of identifying herself to a female Servant of Mibor as Stethan’s half-sister and asking to see him, doubting that her story would be believed or that, if it were, she would be allowed to take Stethan from the temple. The deed would be best accomplished by stealth.

  Remaining very still despite the discomfort of her cramped position, she listened to the conversations of the departing visitors and of the Servants talking among themselves. She hoped to hear some reference to Stethan in those conversations, but she heard only idle gossip and unflattering remarks about the gawking tourists.

  The welcome jingle of keys and the thud of closing doors and snick of locks came at last. She remained still, waiting until there was nothing more to hear.

  Just before that time, the sanctuary lights were extinguished and the alcove in which she hid was plunged into darkness. She stepped out from her hiding place, groped around on the small stand in front of the statue until she found votive candles and matches to light them, and in a moment had a flickering light, enough to let her find her way to the doors at the rear of the sanctuary.

  As she had hoped, she found a door that was not locked. After listening carefully and hearing nothing, she opened it and stepped through into a short hallway that led to a longer corridor running at right angles to the short one. That corridor was empty, but sounds came from rooms leading off it, principally from a large room that could only be a communal dining hall. The noise from it explained why she had found these hallways empty—most of the residents were eating their evening meal.

  It might be that her half-brother was eating there or, more likely, that he was among the servers. She could distinguish young voices offering food and drink. Although she had no idea what Stethan’s status in the temple might be, she thought it probable that his age, if nothing else, would relegate him to the status of server.

  Bryte had to find him and spirit him away before Oryon came. That Oryon had resources that would allow him to get into the temple, do his foul deed, and get out again, she did not doubt. She only wished she had similar resources.

  Lina had told Bryte that she probably had other abilities she had not discovered. If they were ever going to reveal themselves, there would be no better time than the present. But so far as she could tell, her only talent was her exceptional hearing. She would have to rely on that and the cunning that came not of magic but of years of living by her wits.

  She took careful note of her surroundings. Although lacking the opulence of the sanctuary, these rear quarters were clean and attractive, the floor of well-waxed wood, the plaster walls hung with paintings in gilded frames. Security in this portion was lax. Doors were open along the corridor. With most of the residents in the dining hall, Bryte felt safe enough to look into several rooms. They proved to be the apartments of the temple attendants, all attractively furnished, thanks, doubtless, to the offerings of worshippers. In those she entered she looked for clues that might tell her if a child lived there, but she found none.

  Not daring to walk past the open door of the dining hall, she had to leave that end of the hall unexplored, but when she’d gone as far as she could in the other direction, she reached a locked door that was of a different design and might open not into an apartment but into another area of the temple. This intrigued her, and she set about finding a way to open the lock.

  She was less skilled at picking locks than at picking pockets, and the lock confounded her. Sounds from the dining hall warned her that the meal had ended and the diners were pushing back chairs, ready to leave the hall for whatever evening activities they might engage in. Quickly she looked for a place to hide and, seeing nowhere better, ducked into the nearest apartment.

  It contained a sleeping room, a bath, and a tiny writing room only big enough to hold a desk with a wall-mounted bookshelf above it. The sleeping room held a chifforobe, which she looked into and found too small and with too few items of clothing to provide a hiding space—she’d be spotted by anyone who opened the chifforobe door.

  The only other refuge was under the bed, and, hearing approaching footsteps, she lay down on the floor and squirmed under. A trunk at the end of the bed would conceal her from anyone coming into the room, but she’d be visible to anyone who bent down and looked from the side.

  The door opened. Footsteps entered the apartment and walked directly to the chifforobe. Bryte breathed a prayer of thanks that she had not hidden there.

  A voice called out from the hall, “Hurry, Kanra. We’ll be punished if we’re late again.”

  “I’ll be right there,” the woman in the room shouted amid rustlings and shuffling that meant she was changing clothes. Bryte could see little from her refuge but she did see a garment fall to the floor. If the woman bent to pick it up and looked toward the bed, she’d see Bryte.

  “Kanra, come on!” the voice outside urged, closer now and more insistent.

  Kanra left her blue priestess’s robe where it had fallen. “I’m ready. Just let me get my flute.”r />
  Bryte looked in the direction of Kanra’s voice. A black flute case leaned against the bedside table. She lay perfectly still, holding her breath, as the woman bent and grabbed the handle of the case.

  Long auburn hair hung around Kanra’s face when she bent, screening her vision like blinders on a horse. She straightened, holding the instrument case, and ran from the room to join her impatient companion.

  As soon as the footsteps receded, Bryte wriggled out of the tight space.

  She heard the footsteps of Kanra and her friend join with others, heading away from the apartment, away from that end of the hall. The practice they’d spoken of must involve most or perhaps all of the residents. Bryte recalled that the priestesses of Mibor were chosen for musical talent and presented public concerts on special occasions, like the blessing of the fishing fleet that would depart Tirbat in a few days’ time to sail south on the Tiros River as far as the delta where the river spread out into fingers reaching into the Great Waters into which the river flowed.

  Feeling safe, Bryte took time to look for something to utilize as a lock pick. In the desk drawer she found a slim letter opener and metal paper fasteners that she could open and reshape into straight wires. From the dressing table she took hairpins and a barrette with long prongs.

  She slipped these implements into her pockets and headed back to the locked door. The door could lead outside, but she didn’t think it did. The temple building was quite long, and she should find another sizable section behind the section she was in now.

  It also occurred to her as she worked on the lock that Lord Inver probably knew that the Mibor priesthood would be holding its practice at this hour. What better time to send Oryon on his lethal errand? The thought spurred her to greater haste, and in a few moments the lock yielded. She listened, heard nothing, and eased the door open.

  The hallway into which she stepped was more dimly lit, but she could see well enough, and what was most important, from a distant room came the boisterous sound of children’s voices. She proceeded cautiously in that direction. As she drew nearer to the room from which the sounds of laughter and chatter came, she was able to distinguish individual voices and overhear conversations, most of them teasing and joking, some complaining about work assignments, others anticipating the next day’s activities.