Dangerous Gifts (12 page)

Bealach, the largest, and the one I’d be going through to reach Incandress, painted the low cloud with gold and lapis, imperial colours.

Have you been playing with the powerful, Babylon?

I had a sudden urge to head for the Barracks. I knew Hargur would be on duty, but I wanted to see him, even if there was no time to talk.

A
S SOON AS
I got there I knew Hargur wouldn’t have time for me today. Under all the usual racket of note-taking and accusations and disclaimers and weeping, there was a silence like a stretched fiddlestring. The only person I recognised was a young officer called Roflet. His handsome face was set grim, and he was deep in conversation with a tall, pale young woman in a plain dark green cloak, her face shocked to stillness. Seated next to her, with the girl’s hand on her shoulder, was a middle-aged woman with her handkerchief pressed to her mouth, her whole body rocking with stifled, wretched sobs.

Roflet nodded to the girl, bent down and said something to the woman. She hardly seemed to register his presence. He moved away, stopping near me to collar a young Ikinchli officer. “I told that lump Venchlen to get them tea. Of all the useless – get them some, will you? Strong. And tell Venchlen I want to see him.” He caught sight of me and said, “Madam Steel. Is there something...?”

“No, sorry, I was just passing, thought I’d see if the Chief was around, but this looks like a bad time.”

“It is a bad time, I’m afraid.” He sighed. “The Chief’s not about, he’s off checking the scene...” He shrugged.

“Anything I can do?”

“Not unless you’re inclined to sign up.”

“I already have a job. Two, actually, at the moment.”

“Have your crew had any trouble from these human primacist... idiots?”

“These who?”

“They’re the ones who prove the superiority of the human race by behaving like thugs.”

“What did they do?”

“Pounded that poor woman’s son to splinters. He may not make it.”

“What? Why? She isn’t human?”

“Her son’s a were. He and the girl – she’s not – were seeing each other, and some of the so-called Builders objected.”

“You know, sometimes I loathe humans. And I am one.”

“I know the feeling.” Roflet shook his head. “If he dies, that’ll be the third in a moon.”

“The third...”

The noise level in another part of the room suddenly escalated; a very tall, beaked creature draped with greyish folds of skin was yelping like a trodden-on dog. It was also waving a disturbing number of limbs around. I hoped they all belonged to it.

“I’m sorry, Madam Steel, but...”

“Of course. Let the Chief know I called in, would you, if you get the chance? Tell him... tell him I’m going after all.”

“‘You’re going after all.’ Will do.”

A
ND THEN IT
was the day. I went over the list of stuff I was taking: mostly armour and weapons (with some slightly smarter versions for special occasions). One or two useful items, like my blue jug.

Little as there was, I couldn’t seem to finish packing; I kept going over it, feeling as though I’d forgotten something vital.

I realised I was listening for the door; for Hargur. Waiting for him to come and tell me I was doing the right thing; waiting for him to come and tell me not to go.

Or just waiting for a chance to sort out whatever was on his mind, about us. But he didn’t turn up, and soon I was out of time.

Jivrais, Ireq and Flower were the only ones about. It was sort of a relief Laney wasn’t there, since I didn’t need any of my luggage turned into something inappropriate. “Watch out for those Builders idiots,” I said. “If you get any trouble, deal as needed, but try not to break any bits of them that won’t heal. Keep up your training...”

“Eat your greens and wash behind your ears...” Jivrais said, hanging over the bannister. “Baby
lon.
”

“It’s a crime to worry about you?”

“We can survive without you, Babylon,” Flower said. “It’s barely more than a week. I’ll keep ’em in line.”

There was an audible snort from Jivrais.

“If anyone causes trouble I’ll just ban them from the supper table,” Flower said.

“Ooh, you wouldn’t!” Jivrais leaned further over and tried to untie Flower’s apron.

Flower picked him off the banisters as though he were a kitten and held him squeaking and wriggling in mid-air, and looked at me with monumental patience. “Just don’t be gone too long,” he said. “Please.”

“Ten days, no more, I promise. And if it looks like real trouble, get in touch with the Chief.”

“We will,” Flower said. “Go, go. You’ll miss the tide.”

I gave him a quick hug, poked the still-dangling Jivrais in the ribs, and left.

I
MADE MY
way to the docks through more of that dim, penetrating drizzle. I was scratchy-eyed from lack of sleep, with a kitbag over my shoulder (the amount of food Flower had insisted on packing for me almost weighed more than the weapons), and wearing a heavy, dark red coat of oiled wool with the hood pulled up.

The
Delaney’s Promise,
when I finally found her,was a trim little rig; she had polished sides and neat blue sails, and looked, to my untrained eye, seaworthy and fast. Sailors were dotted about, doing whatever it is they do, or at least, looking as if they were waiting to be told to do it.

Rikkinnet was on deck, and raised a hand as I approached. “You hurry, eh?” She called down to me. “I think, the captain, he wants to go now.”

“Damn right. You the last?” The captain, presumably, glared over the side at me. He was a lean brown muscular fella with dark hair in a hundred tiny plaits and thick gold bracelets on his arms and his long brush-tipped tail, which was whipping with irritation. “Get aboard before we miss the tide!”

I ran for the gangplank.

I’d barely got my feet on deck before someone was dragging the plank out of the way, and the captain started yelling at people to haul things and splice things and for all I knew fillet them.

“Hold up!” someone shouted. “Ship! Lower the plank!”

Rikkinnet and I both whipped around; she had her sling to hand, a stone already in the cup.

Darask Fain was belting along the dock, dodging around bales and crates, leaping what he couldn’t dodge.

The captain said, “Another one? He’s too late.” The water, thick and brown and bobbing with rubbish, widened between the ship and the dock.

“What is he doing?” Rikkinnet said. “He was not supposed to be joining us.”

“I have
no
idea.” The man could run, I’d give him that; but there was no way in the planes he was going to make it.

“What’s wrong?” I yelled. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer, just put on a burst of speed I wouldn’t have thought possible.

There was a small boat edging under our nose, between us and the dockside. Some fisher, desperate to get their catch in before the market turned, caution thrown aside for commerce. They threw their rope, and snagged a bollard just in front of Fain. They pulled it taut.

Fain ran along it. Right up the damn rope, neat as a dancer, the fisher-folk yelling in surprise, then, using someone’s shoulder as a step, he flung himself with a superhuman surge at the side of the ship. Acting on impulse, as with so many things I’ve later regretted, I flung myself flat and
just
managed to catch his hand.

This left him hanging by my hand from the side of the ship, my other arm clutched around one of the guardrails to try and stop myself sliding into the water under Fain’s weight. “Could I have a little
help
here?”

The captain yelled an order and a length of rope with a loop in it was thrown over the rail and dropped down to Fain. He got his head and arm through the loop, and let go of my hand, which was some relief. He was no lightweight.

I rolled over and stood, nursing my shoulder, and glared at Fain as he was hauled up to the rail. He managed to swing himself onto the deck as elegantly as though he were climbing a stile on a country walk.

Before I could speak, the captain planted himself in front of Fain, looked him up and down, and said, “Money. For inconvenience, suspicious behaviour and general pratting about, you pay extra, you understand?”

“Yes, of course, that will be arranged,” Fain said. His eyes were not on the captain, however, but on me. And he didn’t look happy, for all that I’d saved him from a dunking.

“Arranged? Arranged? I don’t like arranged. Things happening now, on the nail, that’s what I like,” the captain said.

“As soon as you can get me back to shore...”

“Not going back to shore. We’re on the tide, my chummy, and we stop at Calanesk Port. Then, you can find a ship to take you home.”

Fain dragged his gaze back to the captain. “Calanesk Port? How far...”

“Eight hours. You’re lucky. Our last trip, we were crossing the Bresillian Sea, no port for thirty days. So. Payment, please.”

“How much?”

“Forty silver.”

It was an outrageous price. Fain sighed, and said, “You will have to accept scrip, I don’t carry that kind of coin on me.”

“For payment in scrip, forty-five.”

“Very well.” He pulled out several lengths of highly-coloured paper, handed them to the captain, turned to me, and took me forcefully by the arm, the grip of those slender fingers startlingly strong. “Babylon?” He said. His voice was so low I could only just hear it under the growing roar of the portal. “A word, if you please.
Now.
”

“Mr Fain, please remove your hand
.
” He was obviously upset; normally he was pretty aware of my feelings about who was allowed to touch me, and under what circumstances.

“My apologies, Madam Steel.” You could have chilled wine with his voice. He let go, and we moved along the deck to a space where we could have some privacy. The shouts and swearing, the plash of oars and the whipshot cracks of the sails filling surrounded us.

“What’s going on?” I said. “Why are you here?”

“I strongly suspect I am herebecause of you
,
” he said. “I found myself suffering an irresistible compulsion, when I should have been doing other things, to come to the port. And then to get on this ship. An
irresistible
compulsion, you understand? I was in acute discomfort until I set foot on the deck, and now I am not.”

“Mr Fain, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I assure you I had nothing to do with any odd impulses you may have had.”

“Oh, really? I suppose you
do
remember that you made me take an oath? A
Fey
oath? To protect Enthemmerlee?”

I had, at that. My only trump card where Fain was concerned, and I’d already played it. “But what... oh.”

“‘Oh’ is inadequate to describe the situation, Madam Steel. I have been dragged from my post at a time of great delicacy. I am now, at the very least, going to be away for several hours until I can get a ship home.”

“Oh. I am sorry. Really. I had no idea it would do that. I thought it would just work while Enthemmerlee was on Scalentine.”

“In the clutches of the Diplomatic Section. You really don’t trust me at all, do you?”

“Look, I
am
sorry.”

“Perhaps next time you will hesitate before using a magic with which you are obviously completely unfamiliar.”

“Well, quite,” I said. “You’re right.”

“Now would you get on with removing it?”

“Ah. Well, the thing is...”

“The thing is what?”

“I don’t know how to take it off. To undo the oath. Laney never showed me.”

“You don’t...” I could see a muscle twitching in Fain’s jaw, and his long fingers clenched.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t.”

“You have no idea what you may have done, Madam Steel.” If I’d thought his voice was cold before, it was arctic now.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the situation on Incandress is not the only one that is extremely volatile.”

I glanced back at the rapidly disappearing shoreline. We were getting close to Portal Bealach, and its voice was filling the air.

“Portal ho!” The captain yelled, and I grabbed the handrail.

The ship juddered, the roar of the portal turned to thunder, and before I closed my eyes I saw halos of blue and gold shuddering around every surface. My insides did their usual trick of jolting to the left, bouncing off my outsides and returning unhappily to their usual position. Something hissed in my ears. I opened my eyes, leaned over the handrail and threw up.

I could hear a few other people doing the same.

Fain, who – apart from the obvious irritation – looked completely fine, damn him, was waiting for me with his arms folded.

I rinsed my mouth with water from the barrel and spat over the side. “You don’t get portal sick, then.”

“Apparently not.”

“Apparently? This can’t be your first time through a portal...” I hesitated, and turned away, not sure whether I was about to throw up again, but the nausea had backed off for the moment. “Is it?”

He didn’t answer, just stood there giving me the cold eye.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “But I don’t know what else you want from me.”

“A solution, preferably. Failing that, at least an acknowledgement of the damned awkward position you’ve put me in!”

“I’ve never had a chance to put you in any position,” I muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, what about the magician fella you’ve hired, he should be here, maybe he can help?”

“Let us hope so,” he said, and turned away.

Dammit. Dammit, dammit,
dammit.
I kicked at a coil of rope lying on the deck, and hurt my foot.

CHAPTER

SEVEN

“B
ABYLON, HOW ARE
you?” Enthemmerlee said, coming forward beside me.

“Better, thank you. And you?” As I watched her move around the deck, even in that stiff, ugly robe, the new ease of her motion was obvious. I wondered how the other Gudain would react to it.

“I like the sea,” Enthemmerlee said, tilting her face up into the breeze. “Although the portal was not comfortable. But it is good to travel, and good to go home, too. Oh, dear.” She glanced to where poor Malleay was still clutching the handrail like his last hope and making the desperate yacking yawns of someone who has emptied himself out but whose stomach doesn’t believe it yet. “He does feel it so badly. I wish I could help.”