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Bryte’s Ascent (Book 4 in the Arucadi Series)
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Bryte's Ascent ©2010 by Elenora Rose Sabin Art by Anna Luther, ©2010
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BRYTE'S ASCENT
Chapter 1: STRANGERS Two male voices, bargaining over the price of a hat, came loudly from a shop Bryte was passing. She tuned out the sound. A woman from a balcony overhead called across the lane to another woman hanging clothes on a line strung from one balcony railing to another. Bryte ignored their gossipy banter and, wrinkling her nose, stepped carefully around the garbage tossed into the street, its smell made stronger by a recent rain. A shopkeeper two doors down told his assistant to cut back on the amount of wheat he was pouring into cloth bags. Bryte stored away that bit of information; it might be something she could use. Not today. It was already late afternoon, and she had to visit Master Onigon before he closed his shop. She focused her hearing, listening to the people on the lane: vendors, beggars, workers dragging home after a long day. No one seemed interested in her, and she heard no sound of footsteps sneaking up on her. Nothing but idle chatter. Confidently she entered the moneylender’s shop. She stepped over the large tabby cat snoozing in the doorway. It opened one eye, recognized her as a frequent visitor, closed the eye and went back to sleep. Another cat, a thin white tailless animal, greeted her in the shop, rubbing against her legs and mewing hopefully. She leaned down and scratched its ears until Master Onigon shooed it away. “Come in, Bryte, and welcome.” The heavy-bearded, bushy-browed moneylender smiled as he rose from his chair. “Have a good day?” “Good enough,” she said with an answering smile. Master Onigon ushered her into his back room, brushing two more cats out of the way. She handed into his keeping the coins she’d gathered: a generous handful of coppers of assorted sizes and one silver coin. “A trium, eh?” Master Onigon held the coin close to his face and peered at it with his right eye; a black patch covered the left eye. “Was someone that generous or did you lift it?” “I earned it,” she said, grinning. “I earn all my money. Hurry up, now. Give me my accounting.” “Have patience,” the moneylender grumbled. “Let me get this into the safe.” He disappeared behind a curtain, and she listened to the sound of tumblers turning, a metal door clicking open, coins being stacked one on another. The metal door snicked shut, and Master Onigon reappeared, went to his desk, and took out a ledger, a sheet of lined paper, and a pen. The pen scratched against paper as he inscribed numbers into the ledger and copied those numbers onto the lined sheet. After blotting the sheet, he handed it to Bryte. “It’s getting to be a goodly sum. Not bad at all for a twelve-year-old girl,” he said. A voice called from the outer room, “Hey, Master One‑Eye-Gone, you here?” “Be there in a minute,” Master Onigon shouted back, ignoring the nickname all the locals called him by. All but Bryte. She knew that despite the patch that hid what she assumed was an empty socket, Master Onigon saw more than most people. He was one of the very few people she trusted, and for that reason she placed into his care the money she earned each day begging, stealing, guiding tourists around the city, or selling cheap trinkets. “I don’t want to be seen here,” she whispered. He motioned her to a back door, unlocked it, and let her slip out. She heard the lock snap shut behind her. She hurried away from Master Onigon’s shop, the paper he’d given her folded small and hidden in her closed hand. The beggar children who hung around the shop were ever curious, and although they could not read words, they read numbers well enough. It would not do to let them know the size of the sum she’d deposited with the moneylender. She walked rapidly to the spot where she could safely open her hand, unfold the paper, and read the neat column of numbers. Most people avoided this low, bare mound, sandwiched between ramshackle buildings, because it gave off a sense of horror and menace that grew stronger with the approach of night. Bryte’s curiosity had first attracted her to the mound; she’d overcome her fear of the place, and here at this hour she felt reasonably safe from attack by marauding gangs or a lone opportunist. Now her daily visits were so routine that she scarcely noticed the feeling of dread that deterred others. The mound was not far from the thick stone wall surrounding the first tier, and its top was almost on a level with the top of that wall. Unlike the walls supporting the higher tiers, invisible behind flowering vines, the first tier’s retaining wall was unadorned except for an occasional scrawny weed that had taken root in a chink between stones. Most of the buildings on the first tier had no more than one or two stories, and Bryte could easily see above their roofs to the city’s upper tiers. Her view extended all the way to the crowning tier, the seventh, where a single tall palace of white marble gleamed in the late afternoon sun. In that building the Triumvirate that ruled all of Arucadi held its councils and its three members had their offices. From that tier Bryte’s gaze traveled down to the tier directly below it, on which imposing white-colonnaded buildings held the offices and council chambers of the principal governing agencies that served under the Triumvirate. Interspersed with those buildings were massive monuments to outstanding leaders of the past. Those two highest tiers formed the very heart of Arucadi—not the geographical center but the center of government for the vast continent‑nation. Somewhere in that imposing sixth tier her father, Stavros Hallomer, Minister of Commerce, had his office, from which he issued regulations, imposed restrictions, or dispensed advice and assistance that made or destroyed businesses throughout the nation. She had no idea where that office was—in which building or even in what segment of the circle of buildings—so she did not linger on that tier but shifted her gaze to the fifth. On the edge of the fifth tier was a fine home with a balcony from which the residents could look down over the four lower tiers. The house was her father’s, where he lived with the sister she’d never met, the sister who, unlike her, had been granted her father’s name and a share in his wealth and social position. Bryte’s mother had been wed to Lord Hallomer shortly after the death of his first wife, but the marriage had not lasted. For reasons Bryte did not understand, Lord Hallomer had sent his young wife away shortly before Bryte’s birth. Her father must know of her existence, but he’d never given any indication of caring. Bryte had heard that he’d married a third time, but of that marriage she knew only that it, too, had not lasted long. Lord Hallomer’s only acknowledged heir was the daughter born of his first marriage, the daughter who lived in the house at which Bryte looked and who enjoyed all the privileges that had been denied to Bryte. Sometimes she spied a small figure on the high balcony. It was too far to make out any distinguishing features, but Bryte liked to believe it was her fortunate half-sister. The balcony was empty this evening, but still Bryte followed her daily routine. “Today I earned nineteen copper coins: 11 midis, 6 minis, and 2 great coppers. And a single silver trium,” she whispered, imagining her sister listening. “That brings my total to 13 triums, 48 mini‑coppers, 18 midis, and 11 greats. That may not seem much to you, but there’s more every day. I’ll soon have enough to start a business. And one day, not too far from now, I’ll be as rich as you. Then you’ll know who I am, and you'll envy me the way I’ve envied you.” It was the same promise, the same vow she’d made every evening since her mother died and she’d been forced to make her own way in the world. Her ritual finished, she refolded the paper, placed it carefully in a pocket of the tunic she wore over baggy trousers, and after a last look at the house on the fifth tier, she descended the mound and headed for the shelter she’d fashioned of mud and sticks under the Sarun Bridge so she would not have to spend her precious savings on housing. The sun had not yet set, but the shadows of the surrounding buildings had fallen over the mound, and even Bryte could not abide the site when darkness claimed it. She hurried to the lane where she should turn left to take the route to the bridge. At that point, although she heard no one behind her, hands grasped her shoulders and turned her to the right. A glance behind her confirmed that no one was there. More curious than afraid, she continued in the direction in which she’d been turned. The lane wound back toward Master Onigon’s place of business, but she did not go that far. When she would have crossed a wider, straighter street, again a ghostly grip pointed her to the right and sent her up the street. She thought she heard a low chuckle followed by the distant sound of a melody played on pipes. The noise of traffic swallowed the sound—the clip clop of horses pulling carriages, the dinging of bicycle bells, even the occasional roar of a motorcar. The rumble of a more powerful engine and a heavy odor of exhaust fumes warned her of a bus coming into the station toward which her path was taking her. The late bus from Kannia, to the south, swung into the bus bay. Faces peered through its windows, people coming home or visiting friends, or perhaps seeking their fortunes in the nation’s capital. The bus’s arrival explained the heavy traffic; cabs and carriages were gathering to take the travelers to homes or hotels on upper levels. The large buses could not negotiate the steep and narrow ramp leading to the first tier, so they discharged their passengers in a station built on the flats. Peace officers guarded the station, and porters hurried the passengers to a carriage or hailed a cab to take them above the flats as quickly as possible. As Bryte stood watching, a young couple emerged from the station and looked around. No porter was in attendance, nor were they carrying any luggage other than a single leather bag too small to hold more than cosmetics or a shaving kit. They were both dressed entirely in black, which marked them as first‑time visitors to Tirbat. Here in southern Arucadi the heat and humidity led people, residents and visitors alike, to favor bright colors and more casual fashions than would be acceptable in the large cities of the north. These two seemed unbothered by the summer heat. Their proud carriage and their long, steady strides spoke of determination and confidence. Bryte fell into position behind them, not close enough to alert them to her presence but close enough to allow her to hear their conversation. The girl was speaking. “I’m tired of sitting. I don’t care if it is a long walk to the first tier. I need to stretch my legs.” “So do I, but not that far. It’s almost dark and this section isn’t well lighted.” The girl laughed, a low, musical laugh. “You aren’t afraid, are you?” “No, just prudent.” She laughed harder at that. “When have you ever been prudent, Oryon Brew?” He laughed, too, and Bryte liked his laugh. Light and cheery, it made Bryte eager to see his face and that of his companion. She was edging around to pass them and turn back to get a good look at them, when the young man spoke. His words stopped Bryte and made her fall back again. “I’ve been more prudent than you, Lina,” he said, then lowered his voice and added, “And it isn’t as though we can’t afford a carriage.” “This has nothing to do with money, as you well know,” she retorted, keeping her voice low, too, though Bryte easily heard every word. “You can take a carriage if you want. I prefer to walk. And I can go faster on my own.” The young man slowed so quickly that Bryte nearly bumped into him. He turned toward the girl enough that Bryte could see his profile—dark eye, straight nose, square chin. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said, his voice suddenly hard and angry. “In a strange city? It wouldn’t be safe.” The girl he’d called Lina tossed her head and laughed. “Safe for whom?” And then, more appeasingly, “Don’t worry. I won’t.” Bryte had to know what they were talking about. And the money—she wanted to know more about that, also. She drifted closer until she was directly behind the young man. The outline of his wallet was clear in his back pocket; it would be simple to ease it out and melt back into the crowd. Except that there was no crowd. Bryte had been so intent on the couple and their fascinating conversation that she had not realized how far from the bus station they’d come. All the others who’d arrived on the bus had apparently taken their carriages or cabs and gone on their way. They were still on the wide street that led to the ramp to the first tier, but now there was little traffic and the few pedestrians were widely scattered. Although she was walking very softly, her own footsteps sounded like drumbeats to her ears. She should slow to let them get farther from her, but this main street was still the flats and not a safe place to be alone after dark. And that fat wallet was so tempting. She reached toward it. The young man whirled round and clamped his hand around her wrist. She tried to twist loose but his grip was powerful. “Who are you and why have you been following us?” he demanded. She could see his eyes now, dark and piercing and full of menace. “I meant no harm, sir, ma’am.” The last she added hastily, for the young woman had also turned and was glaring at her with a look even fiercer than his. “I thought you might need a guide. I can lead you to a fine hotel or show you other sights.” “At this hour?” The young woman’s scornful laugh sent chills crawling up Bryte’s spine. How could she have been so careless as to be caught in this way? “You were after my wallet,” the young man accused. “I ... No, I was only reaching out to touch your arm, to get your attention. I only wanted to offer my services. It’s night, and this isn’t a safe part of town.” She was talking too fast, and their expressions said plainly that her lie was not believed. But she had considered offering them her services as a guide, so it was not a lie, not truly. “How old are you?” Lina asked sharply. “Thirteen.” That wasn’t a lie, either—at least, not much of one. She would be thirteen in another month. “I’m a good guide. I have lots of experience, and my service is reasonable,” she went on, a bit too recklessly. “I’ll even give you a special rate.” “Indeed,” Lina said, her voice a dangerous purr. “I should think you would. In fact, I think you might pay us not to hurt you. We can, you know.” Her companion frowned, but Bryte did not for a moment doubt that she spoke the truth. The two looked at each other. “What shall we do with her, Oryon?” Lina asked. “I don’t feel inclined to just let her go.” “We could use a guide. I think we should accept her services,” he said. “Her pay will be that we will release her unharmed when she’s taken us safely to our destination.” With a wicked smile Lina nodded and said to Bryte, “You shall find us a hotel. A good one, mind. Not too expensive, but decent, not a dump. One that’s clean, offers good service—” “And has a restaurant that stays open late,” Oryon broke in. “I’m hungry.” Bryte looked up the street. “I can find one, but not here in the flats, and not even on the first tier if you want a restaurant that will be open late. We’ll have to go at least to the second tier for that. It’s too far to walk, and it’ll be hard now to find a carriage.” “Ah, but you’re an excellent guide, isn’t that what you said?” Lina’s lips quirked into a smile. They’re enjoying this. The girl, especially. She’s like a cat toying with a mouse. Bryte was angry. After all, she hadn’t actually done anything. “I’ll take you where you want to go. But by the time we reach a hotel that meets your requirements, it’ll be too late and too dangerous for me to come back here alone, and I have no money for a cab. If you expect me to take you, you’ll have to hire a carriage to bring me back.” Oryon was regarding her speculatively. “Maybe we’ll do that,” he said. “Or maybe we’ll just keep you awhile. And now, guide, I think you’d better start guiding.” “My name is Bryte,” she said with all the pride she could muster. “Bryte, eh? Well, you’d better be that,” Oryon said. “It’s getting quite dark, and we need some brightness. Or at least I do. Lina can see in the dark.” That information dashed Bryte’s hopes of slipping away into the shadows. They continued walking to and up the ramp to the first tier. Bryte declared their chances of finding a carriage better here, nor was she wrong. They had gone only a short distance into the first tier when a carriage passed and stopped at Oryon’s hail. As Lina and Oryon climbed in, Bryte explained to the driver their requirements for a hotel and suggested possibilities on the second tier. He knew of others, better ones. After a short discussion they came to a decision, and Bryte expected to be dismissed as no longer needed. Instead, her clients motioned for her to join them in the carriage. Feeling that she was at last embarking on a real adventure, she climbed in after them. Lina gazed out the window as they traveled, but to Bryte’s discomfort Oryon kept his attention fixed on her. “Have you always lived here in Tirbat?” he asked. She did not care to tell him her history, so she said, “Yes,” and imitated Lina in looking out the window, despite the fact that she could see little; the first tier was only slightly better lighted than the flats. “And do you really know the city well enough to guide people through all of it—all the tiers?” “I’ve been on all the tiers but the seventh. You need a special pass to get on it.” “Having been on the other six tiers isn’t the same as knowing them well, which is what I asked you,” he said, refusing to let her get away with the evasion. “Well, I know the lower tiers best, but I know where the major parks and monuments and most of the important buildings are.” She was angry with herself for sounding defensive. Visitors usually required only that she take them to the first tier’s bazaars and to the second tier’s shops and that she point out on the higher tiers the statues of past members of the Triumvirate and the temples to the major gods. “So you don’t really know the upper tiers all that well, do you?” he persisted. She almost told him that her father worked on the sixth tier and lived on the fifth, but that would invite embarrassing questions. “I know them well enough for most people,” she insisted. “We aren’t ‘most people,’” Lina said without turning away from the window. Bryte had already reached that conclusion. “I want to learn all I can about the governing agencies,” Oryon said. “I’d like to find work here.” “And you expect to start in one of the highest tiers?” Bryte blurted, incredulous. “I certainly don’t expect to start at the bottom.” Bryte was ready to declare that generally people, including her, had to start there, when Lina said, “It’s interesting that the city has seven tiers. Oryon, you think there’s a connection with the seven levels?” “Seven levels of what?” Bryte asked. Ignoring her, Oryon said, “Maybe somewhere back in history. Tirbat’s been here quite a long time.” “What are you talking about?” Bryte asked again. “Second tier,” their driver called out from his perch in the front, causing Oryon to peer out the window. The second tier had better lighting, many shops were still open, and more people thronged the streets. With so much to divert their attention, it was clear that Bryte was going to get no answer from her new employers. Only a short while later, the driver pulled up before the canopy of a large, brightly lighted hotel whose marquee proclaimed grandly The Shining Star of the Delta. Tirbat was in the northern part of Delta Province, far from the actual delta that gave the province its name, but many hotels bore pretentious names that belied their actual station and location. Oryon handed Lina the small leather case he carried and took out his wallet to pay the driver. “We’ll need you to take this young lady back home,” he told the driver. “I’ll pay you.” The driver frowned. “Where’s she going?” “The flats,” Bryte said. “The Sarun Bridge.” The driver shook his head. “Won’t go to the flats at night, no sir, no matter how much you mean to pay. You just give me what I’m owed for this here trip.” “But I can’t walk all the way back,” Bryte objected in near panic. “Sorry, little miss. Not my problem. I’ll go up tiers at night but not down.” He refused to be swayed. Oryon ended up paying him for the trip to the hotel and letting him go. “Looks like you’ll be staying here with us,” he told Bryte. Staying! She’d often guided visitors to hotels but never had she stayed in one. Her fears fell away. This was meant to be. This was why she’d been pushed toward the bus station and guided to these people. Her daily visits to the haunted mound had led Someone or Something to take an interest in her life. She followed Oryon and Lina into the hotel and stared at what seemed to her a very grand lobby. They went to the desk and she trailed behind. When they asked to register, the desk clerk wrinkled his nose as though they were giving off a bad odor and peered across the counter. “I see no luggage,” he said. “We do not accept guests who come without luggage.” Bryte’s excitement ebbed. They’d have to tramp all over the tier to find lodging in some third-rate rooming house that didn’t care whether the guests brought luggage as long as they could pay. And that kind of establishment most certainly would not have a restaurant. She could smell the savory aroma of roasting meat from somewhere nearby and suddenly felt weak. She hadn’t eaten since early morning, and after all her earlier walking she was starving. As if in response to her thought her belly rumbled loudly. Oryon grinned. Lina fixed the clerk with a haughty stare. “We have luggage,” she said. “Our carriage driver deposited it outside under your canopy. It’s heavy, and I had assumed that this hotel would have porters to carry it to our rooms. I hope I was not mistaken. We’ll need two rooms, one for the gentleman and one for me and my young, ah, cousin.” Surely Lina couldn’t think the desk clerk would be so easily taken in. They’d brought no luggage. But the clerk, flustered, beckoned to a uniformed man standing near what looked to Bryte like an open cage. The man came to the desk, and the clerk instructed him to fetch the guests’ belongings. “It’s a large trunk and a good-sized suitcase of brown leather,” Lina said. “I left it just outside the door.” Bryte watched the man go to the door and step outside, waited for his report that there was nothing there. Lina and Oryon could claim that the things had been stolen while they were inside. A clever scam, and it might work. They were bold enough to pull it off. The porter dragged in a sizable steamer trunk, called for another uniformed man to help him with it, and after carrying it to the metal cage, went back to the door and brought in the suitcase Lina had described. Neither Oryon nor Lina looked at all surprised. The clerk produced two room keys. “Numbers 305 and 307,” he said. “Adjoining rooms with a bath between.” The metal cage proved to be an elevator that rattled and shook alarmingly as it ascended to the third floor bearing them and the mysterious baggage. Only after the porter had deposited the cases in the rooms, received a generous tip, and departed, did Bryte dare ask, “Where did the trunk and suitcase come from? It can’t be yours. You didn’t have anything with you.” “Oh, yes, we did,” Lina said with a smug smile. “We were carrying it the whole time. In here.” She held out the leather case Oryon had handed her before paying the carriage driver. It was open and empty. Bryte didn’t understand and said so, but Lina laughed and said, “You will. Maybe. Right now we need to go eat. I need meat, and I’m hungry enough to eat it raw.” A look of alarm flickered across Oryon’s face, but then he laughed. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” he said. “Come on, Bryte. You wouldn’t want to see Lina when she’s really hungry.” Bryte didn’t understand any of this except the fact that they did mean to feed her. In a restaurant. In a fancy hotel. On the second tier. Her ascent had begun.
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