Dangerous Gifts (7 page)

“Unpleasant things getting through the portals is not the point,” Fain said. “The point is that we, like any other country, must be aware of what happens near our borders. And I believe that if Enthemmerlee survives to become Patinate she is the best hope for stability that Incandress has. Symbols are powerful; she understands this, and so do those who want to destroy her. But if your mind is made up...”

“It is.” I looked at him with some apprehension, but he only sighed, which I found rather worrying.

“You need not be anxious, Madam Steel. I do not intend to try and force you into this.” He gave a slightly twisted smile. “A willing participant is almost always more effective than one under duress. I ask only for your discretion regarding any suspicions you might have about what is going on in the Section.”

“You have it.”

“Thank you.” He stood up and gestured me towards the door. We walked in silence down the corridors, and he whisked me out of yet another small, discreet door. “Babylon?” he said.

“Yes.”

“You don’t think one person could make a difference. But one did, on Tiresana.”

I turned, but the door had closed behind me.

Damn the man. Again. Tiresana was
different
. I hadn’t had a choice, I was the only person who could do what needed to be done.

As I walked away, there was no denying my gut was suddenly easier. The backs of my thighs, on the other hand, were not. For some reason, that’s where guilt makes itself felt for me; a kind of stabbing ache that’s not so much in the flesh as in some hollow place inside it. I wandered around for a while, trying to shake off the memory of Enthemmerlee’s weary eyes, and ended up on the outskirts, watching Carnival open. A line of purple-red light showed against the swirling, dark not-quite-nothing of Scalentine’s borders, broadening, pulsing, then spreading open, emerald and vermillion coruscating along its edges, and beyond the opening, a strange, heavy, grey-yellow light, like the look of clouds before snow.

My gut turned over again.

I realised it wasn’t just Incandress that had my insides all of a roil; it was the thought of leaving Scalentine. It made me feel like a turtle about to be stripped of its shell.

CHAPTER

FOUR

I
T WAS GETTING
on for evening. There were a scattering of Ikinchli in the streets, heavily bundled against the chill, as I headed home; fewer than usual, even for the cold weather. I remembered what the touchy fella in Kittack’s had said about humans beating them up. Was it the Builders? Filchis had made a big thing about not starting trouble, but maybe some of his followers weren’t so careful.

There weren’t many freelancers about, either, human or otherwise. Not many people at all. I whipped around at a scratchy sound behind me, only to see a piece of paper tumbling along the paving stones, before it was trapped by a murky puddle, where it stained brown and turned limp.

When I got home, I went round back, to the garden.

There was a small grey headstone there.
Previous. Brave warrior; best of friends.

A couple of weeds had pushed their way up through the gravel. I tugged them out. “Hey, Previous,” I said. “Getting cold.” I crouched down next to the grave, sitting back on my heels. “I’ve turned into a right homebody. Funny, isn’t it? All those years we spent wandering about, and now, I don’t want to leave.

“Some of it’s you, probably; but, I mean, I wasn’t planning on taking anyone with me on this job and still... I don’t know. The gut’s a funny thing. What would you do, Previous?”

I knew the answer, of course. That’s how she’d got her name, and quite a few scars; belting in ahead of the line, taking the fight to the enemy.

But now I wasn’t even sure who the enemy was. All I knew was, I didn’t want to be in this fight, and I felt bad about
not
being in it. I sighed and pushed myself to my feet. “Well, this won’t pay the rent.”

“Stay where you are, in the name of the law,” a voice growled behind me.

I spun around. “Whatever the charge, I’m innocent.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Chief Bitternut shook his head at me. “I really doubt it, Babylon.”

“I’m hurt,” I said. “You’re so suspicious.”

“That’s my job,” he said, putting an arm around my waist and kissing me. “So. What have you been up to?”

He looked desperately tired. I wanted to feed him, and get him into a hot bath, and into bed. Not necessarily in that order.

I wrapped my fingers in his long hair, and tugged, gently. “Oh, the usual. Trying to stay out of trouble. You?”

“Much the same,” he said. “What’s that nice smell?”

“Stew, I think.”

“Good. Am I invited to supper?”

“You’re
ordered
to supper.”

“You can’t order me, I’m the Chief of the Militia. I do the ordering about. It’s written down somewhere.”

“Then you’re invited to a good supper and a decent night’s sleep, and if you don’t accept, I’ll force you at sword point. How’s that?”

“I look that bad?”

I hooked my arm through his. “A little weary.”

He sighed. “We’ve had another murder, and it isn’t even full moon.”

“Ouch.”

I unlocked the door and waved him in. The Twins were on their way up from the basement. “Hey, Chief,” Cruel said.

“Hi, Cruel. Unusual.”

The Twins smiled and disappeared into the dining room. Hargur shook his head. “How can two people wear that much leather and metal and still look so... naked?”

“Talent?”

I got a jug of hot water from the kitchen and we went upstairs to wash up. Hargur cheered up enough to put his arms around me while I was splashing my face; a certain amount of wrestling ensued, and it was only because we were both very hungry that we actually made it to supper at all. Even then we were a bit damp and the last to arrive, and got a severe glowering from Flower as we slid into our seats.

“You have no idea of the trouble I’ve had getting this lot to leave you any,” he said. “I had to take it back out to the kitchen. Sit there, don’t move.”

“Yessir,” Hargur said. Flower went out, muttering.

“I’m surprised you’re here, Chief,” Jivrais said, bouncing up and down in his seat. “After that party at the Roundhouse, we must look
very
dull.”

“Trust me, I’d rather be here.”

“You can’t mean it,” Jivrais said. He sighed. “All those rich people, all that wonderful food.”

Flower came back in with a pot and ladled aromatic red-brown stew – dotted, I was happy to see, with fat fluffy little dumplings – onto our plates.

“Thanks, Flower,” I said.

“Hmph.”

“It looks gorgeous.”

“Three hours, that took me, so it had better be,” Flower growled. “And the food at the Roundhouse isn’t
that
good.”

“How would you know?” Jivrais said.

“I used to work there. Note the ‘used to.’”

“And they serve stingy portions,” I said.

Jivrais held out his plate for more stew. “But isn’t the main ballroom completely gilded? With mirrors everywhere? Come on, Chief. Babylon didn’t tell us
anything
.”

“It was glittery,” the Chief said. “Mainly I had to stand around and be talked at, when I had work to do. But they tell me it’s part of the job.”

“Who was there?”

“Lot of rich people.”

“There must have been someone important doing something they shouldn’t?
That’s
always fun.”

“How about letting the Chief have his supper in peace, before I drop you out of a window on your head?” I said. “Maybe those new horns of yours will stick in the ground, and we can hang things to dry on your legs.”

Jivrais pouted. “Only
asking
.”

“Tell you what,” Hargur said, “Next time, you can go. We’ll dress you in my uniform, I’m sure no one will know the difference.”

Jivrais, nearly two feet shorter than the Chief and about the width of a twig, yelped with laughter. “Ooh, yes, let’s! All right, then, have there been any good murders?”

The lines either side of Hargur’s mouth deepened.

“Jivrais,” I said. “Shut it.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“There have been murders, yes,” Hargur said. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard. You probably will, in a day or so; these things never stay quiet for long. A shopkeeper in King of Stone, a young man in Bethalia Street. You lot been keeping up your training?”

“I see to it,” I said.

“Good.” He lifted his fork, and paused. “Anyone new on the staff?”

“Not since you were here last,” I said. “You know all the crew, don’t you?”

“Yes.” He looked around the table, paused, then shook his head. “Well, so long as you’re careful.”

“After that last business?” I said. “We’re careful.” We’d had a madman who didn’t like whores break into the house and make a pretty serious attempt to kill me, not long ago. He’d attacked Cruel, too, and she still had a scar on her forehead. He was no longer a problem, having been taken care of in no uncertain terms by the religious order, the Vessels of Purity (the very ones who’d helped create the raving scrote). But it had made us all a little more wary.

“You need a door guard,” he said.

“I know.” I just hadn’t been able to face the idea of replacing Previous. Seeing someone else in her place at the door was something I couldn’t quite bear. Not yet. “Now eat,” I said. “Or Flower’s going to be very sad.”

“Can’t have that,” Hargur said. “I don’t like people being sad.” He put his hand on my leg and squeezed gently.

I laid a hand over his, and squeezed back.

W
E WERE ALL
sitting in the Blue Parlour, having eaten ourselves to temporary immobility. No more clients, an evening to ourselves, for once. Laney strolled in last, unfastening her necklace and tossing it onto a table. “Oh, what a relief.”

“Why?” Jivrais said, picking up the silver chain. “It’s splendid.”

“Well, look at it, darling. You could anchor a boat with that thing. But you have to wear a client’s present when you see them, otherwise it’s just rude.”

“New client?” I said. “Is that where you’ve been?”

“Yes, in Little Copper Row. I did tell Ireq.”

“What’s he like?” Jivrais said.

Laney wrinkled her nose. “All right, I suppose. Not very interesting. Fairly generous, though I don’t think much of his taste. And he wants more than he’s saying, but I don’t think he’s going to tell me what it is. Still, he did give me some good advice.”

“Oh?” I said. “About what?”

She waved a hand, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ll see, darling. You’ll see. I promise you’ll like it.”

“So long as it isn’t going to cause trouble. Speaking of which... hey, Chief?” I said.

“Hmm.”

“I saw a speechifier the other day. One of those ‘Scalentine for the humans’ lot. There was a bit of a ruckus.” I looked at him, but he wasn’t giving me his growly look. Which meant I hadn’t been spotted getting involved, or he hadn’t heard about it yet.

“Oh, them – that was the Builders. I’m keeping an eye on them, but they haven’t got themselves in anything more than minor trouble yet. Too concerned for their own skins. Noisy and unpleasant, but generally harmless, we think.”

“Not that harmless,” I said. “One of them tried to stab somebody.”

“Yeah, we know. Brendrin Klate. We scraped him up and stuck him in the cells and waited for him to wake up. Somehow, he seems to have fallen and hit his head, or something like that.”

“Shame,” I said.

“Dreadful shame, yes. Could have damaged the pavement.” That was unusually sharp, for the Chief.

“Sounds like you don’t like him.”

“No, I don’t. He’s an irredeemable little shite who’s constantly looking for an excuse to pulp someone and feel self-righteous about it. Obviously the Builders make him feel right at home.”

“You’ve met him before, then?” I said.

“Yeah. So have you. Little barney at Gallock’s last year?”

“I
thought
I knew him from somewhere.” He and some friends had tried to cause trouble and I’d smacked his arse and taken his sword off him. Some people shouldn’t be allowed weapons. Some people shouldn’t be allowed out, frankly. “Brendrin Klate, eh? Did he ever turn up and collect his sword? I’m sure I left it at the barracks.”

“Surprisingly, no.”

“Is it me, or are there more of that sort around lately?”

“Hah. Wouldn’t surprise me, the Brendrin Klates always seem to breed faster’n the good ones.”

I patted his arm. “I mean, the ‘Scalentine for the Humans’ lot, specifically.”

“Maybe.”

“So what’s their thing, the Builders? Apart from humans being better than other people,” Unusual said.

“They think that humans built Scalentine,” Hargur said.

Laney perched on the arm of his chair, filing her nails and frowning. “But that’s silly. No one knows who built Scalentine.”

“No. But we’re not really dealing with knowing, here, as in, actually knowing something because it’s a proven fact. We’re dealing with people who really, really want to believe something.” Hargur sighed, stretching his legs out towards the fire. The flames threw a warm light over the blue velvet upholstered chairs, and the crew. Flower and Unusual were bent over the chess board. Chess and the tarot are two things that seem to turn up on every plane, in some form. Of course, so does stupidity.

“So they want everyone else to leave?” Laney said.

“Yes. Apparently this will make everything better.”

“And how exactly will it do that?”

“Because, it seems, all the problems that happen in Scalentine are caused by there being other races here. And if they all buggered off, the natural superiority of humans would assert itself, and there would be a golden age.” He shrugged. “Don’t look at me, I’m a were.”

“Natural superiority.” Laney gave a delicate snort. Fey, admittedly, tend to assume they’re superior to everyone else, as a matter of course – but the ones I’ve met generally still
like
other species, if only because they find them entertaining.

“Sounds like another bunch of idiots to me,” I said. “But nasty ones. If anyone’s worried, just find someone else to team up with when you go out, all right?”