Dangerous Gifts (23 page)

Lobik glanced at me. “Madam Steel? Is something wrong?”

I looked at him, desperate for that tingling jab of attraction. And there was, still, something. But it was cerebral, detached; I liked him, even more now for his concern, but my body was quiet as an empty house.

Enthemmerlee, overhearing, turned around. “Babylon?”

“The smoke,” I said. “It...”

Selinecree had emerged from the chapel and overheard. “It affected you?” she said, her eyes widening. “But you’re not – I mean, really?”

They knew what it did. Of course they knew. But it wasn’t supposed to have an effect on Ikinchli, or on other barbarian races, like me.

“What about the smoke?” Bergast said.

“Is it permanent?” I said.

“Oh, no. At least, not for us – I mean, for Gudain,” Enthemmerlee said. “Me, it seems, it no longer affects. I didn’t think it would affect you either. I am dreadfully sorry, but it should wear off.”

“Thank the All for that.”

“Lunch!” Selinecree said. “Please, everyone, shall we?” Flushed bright green, she hastened away, and we all hurried after her.

“What does the smoke do?” Bergast hissed at me.

“By the All, Bergast, you’re a healthy young lad, didn’t you
notice?
”

“Notice what?”

“That you felt no desire. Unless it’s just that no one here has any effect on you anyway. Fussy, eh?” I was babbling, mainly with relief that the effect wasn’t, apparently, permanent.

He flushed. “Oh. Well. It was a chapel. I mean, one doesn’t think of such things during an act of worship.”

“One bloody does where I come from,” I muttered.

Bergast blinked at me. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“The ceremonies involve, ah...”

“Sex. Having of. Yes. Well, some of ’em.”

“Fascinating. Could I ask...” He scrabbled in his pocket, and produced his notebook, a little bottle of ink, and a battered quill. “What language did you use? What plane was this?”

“No.”

“But...”

“It is not something I care to discuss.”

“But...”

“The fact that I am a whore by trade does not give you the right to interrogate me, Scholar.”

“Oh.” He looked down at his notebook, and closed it. “It’s just I’m interested in language, particularly religious language. One finds the oddest things. Similarities. Links. It... Anyway.”

“Well, go talk to the priest, then,” I said.

He looked back at the chapel, and said, “I can talk to him. Whether I can
hear
him...” Then he looked at me. “Should I?”

“What?”

“Well, Enthemmerlee. Should I remain with her?”

At least he’d asked, this time, before rushing off.

“So far as I am aware no new threat has appeared. I’m sure we can manage without you for a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” He scurried back to the chapel, apparently unaware that he’d just treated me like his superior officer. He still had all the graceful tact of a muddy dog, but he was learning.

I
HANDED OVER
to Rikkinnet and walked across towards the guard quarters, only to see Mokraine wandering through the apparently eternal rain.

“Mokraine!”

“Ah, Babylon.” Water dripped off the ends of his hair and ran down the deep creases of his face.

“How long have you been out here?”

“Some time. I am endeavouring not to put myself in temptation’s way. There is a great deal of temptation here.”

“You’re trying... You’re trying not to feed?”

“Yes. That little creature, the both-at-once, she requires harmony, does she not? Feeding near her might disturb that. A fascinating mind,” he sighed. “Fascinating.”

“Mokraine...” I was thrown enough by him turning up, and now this? “What’s going on, Mokraine? Seriously.”

“You are very troubled,” he said.

“Damn right I am. And confused. And short of sleep. Please, Mokraine, tell me what you’re doing here, and why you’re having this sudden bout of conscience.”

I immediately regretted my choice of words, but still... He set very few limits on his addiction. He didn’t feed off children – but something he once mentioned suggested that it was only because their emotions were too simple, and he preferred something more complex. Other than that, he’d feed off anyone who was in an extreme emotional state who let him get close enough.

“Conscience?” he said. “Perhaps. But I think... I think that something has changed.”

“What?”

“I do not know. But recently, after feeding... You know,
feeding
is really the wrong word, Babylon. It’s a much more...
immersive
experience than simple chewing and swallowing. In any case, I spent several hours looking for a home that I never lived in, and a family that I do not have. I suppose I must have had a family, once; one does not drop fully formed out of the ether, after all. But not this family.”

Sweet merciful All.

“You thought you were this person.”

“I had their mind, for a little. Once free of its immediate troubles, it was a very mundane mind.”

“You lost yourself.”

“Yes. My mind is not what it was, I am aware. But I would prefer to keep what remains of it.”

“But... How?”

“I intend to practise restraint.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’ve known more than a few addicts in my time; and whether it was drink, cloud, sex or any of the other myriad means the planes provide of running away inside your own head, I’ve never known one of them who found it easy to stop.

“You said last night,” I said, carefully, “that you could feel the emotion in the air. But you hadn’t fed.”

“No. It appears to be another new aspect; I do not need to touch someone to be aware of their emotions. It is not the same as feeding. It is more like... the scent of a dish, instead of eating it. You, for example, are troubled. And... frightened? That, Babylon, is not like you. And there is something else, or has been...” He looked at me, his eyes in their deep wrinkled beds sharp as obsidian. “Or someone else.”

“Please stay out of my head, Mokraine.”

“I am not in it, Babylon. You are leaking.”

“Thanks for that.”

“My pleasure.”

“I wasn’t... Never mind.” I’d just had a thought. “Mokraine?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to ask you a favour, but I don’t know if it would be something you’d want to do. It might not help. Might not help you, I mean.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m heading to the guardhouse. It could be very useful if you would come with me and see what anyone might be... leaking. Not to feed, just to get whatever it is you’re already getting. Only I don’t know – would that be difficult for you? I mean would it...”

“Would it drive me mad with a desire to feed?” He turned that arrogant stare on me. “Babylon, I have been surrounded by a great many people in a state of high emotion for the past several hours and have not yet succumbed. I think I can manage to control myself.”

“Well, er,” I said. “Good. Marvellous.”

“Will there be food? Actual food, I mean.”

“Yes, there should be. I hope. I want some myself.” At least I still had
that
appetite.

“Then let us go.” If he was feeling mundane hunger, things had definitely changed; but I still didn’t think that he was going to get rid of his addiction that easily.

The familiar lurched after us. The man on the door gave it a
what is that thing that is making my skin try to crawl off my bones
stare I knew well.

“It will stay outside,” Mokraine said. He gestured at it and it crouched by the door. I wondered if its skin, if you could call it that, was actually paler and slimier-looking than usual, or if it was just the grey wet light.

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

I
’D TIMED IT
right – the guard were at lunch. The shine coming off the Ikinchli almost blinded me. Though they weren’t allowed swords, they had polished up every button and bit of braid until it gleamed; the leather thongs and cradles of their slings were oiled and their uniforms, be they never so worn, were mended and spotless. At the other end, spiky-haired Dentor and Brodenay, his hanger-on. Unshaven, unbuttoned, and crumpled. Their messiness looked too excessive to be anything but deliberate.

The captain was absent. Perhaps on purpose. After all, if he didn’t
see
his men looking a mess, then he couldn’t do anything about it. I wondered if he planned to remain absent until they were already on the way to the Palace, when it would be too late to tell them to smarten up.

I made a great show of fetching Mokraine’s breakfast for him, seating him by himself a long way from the others, and waiting until he had started before beginning my own meal. Mokraine ate with his usual absent-minded haste. In my distraction, I took some of the Gudain food, a stew so outrageously peppery I almost spat it out.

I began to understand a bit about Gudain cooking. Everyone has to get their jollies somehow.

The guard watched; the Gudain males’ snakes, dopey with food, curled about their arms or necks. I saw Dentor stroking the snake encircling his chunky upper arm. He gave me the kind of sneering glare intended to prove that he was only sitting there because he couldn’t be bothered to come and give me the kicking I deserved.

I took our dishes back to the server and turned around, to see Mokraine wandering among the tables.

Crap.
But he wasn’t touching anyone, just meandering, smiling vaguely at the air. I saw a few of them looking at each other. Brodenay watched Dentor, not Mokraine; Dentor cleaned his nails with the tip of his knife, waited until Mokraine was close, then belched loudly.

I saw Mokraine pause; and closed my eyes briefly. I didn’t have any time for Dentor, but there was still a chance that Mokraine, now he was outside Scalentine, might have both the inclination and the power to turn him into a pair of smoking boots. I didn’t feel that would help matters much.

But Mokraine moved on, and, relief hollowing out my stomach, I followed him through the door.

“Fascinating,” he muttered.

“Leakage?”

“What? Oh, yes. Leakage indeed. Fear and fury and hope and desire and hate. What a boiling pot of a place this is.”

Among the quiet dripping trees we could hear the calm domestic sounds of a large household starting its day: orders and chatter, doors opening, water pouring, cooking-pot clatter, the snorting of beasts and the jingle of harness. And under it all, a boiling pot.

“So can you tell me who was leaking what?”

“Individually? Not in most cases. There was too much in the air, too many sources.”

I felt myself slump. Damn. Too easy.

“I could go back, if you wish,” he said. “But to be sure, I would need to touch them.”

“I think that might cause trouble. Gudain have a strong taboo against touching in public.”

“However, that rude young man who belched is hiding a secret, to do with that snake he wears. He has a great deal of emotion connected to it.”

“Really? What sort of emotion?”

“Shame. A sense of... something like powerlessness.” A dark, unpleasant smile touched Mokraine’s mouth. “Perhaps I could feel it so clearly because the sensation is one I am accustomed to these days.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“It
is
just a snake, I suppose?” I said. “Not some sort of demon, or device, or something?”

“So far as I could tell, it is just a snake.”

“Anyone else that you got something specific from?”

“No. Oh, yes. That young Ikinchli female with the green eyes is lusting after you.”

“Ah. Right.”

“So are others, but any lust among the Gudain... They strangle it as best they can. As though it were some savage beast ready to devour them. My genitals do not trouble me greatly these days,” Mokraine said, “but I do not fear them. What strange people these Gudain are.”

“You’re telling me,” I said. “Thanks, Mokraine. I think that will help.”

“Not at all.” He started to wander off.

“Do you know where your rooms are?” I said.

“Oh, yes. Though I think I shall walk about a little first.” The rain had turned the hair around his face to rat’s tails; they shivered, shedding droplets.

“Mokraine, are you feeling all right?”

The lines either side of his mouth deepened. “No.”

“Can I help?”

He managed a smile that looked hard-won. “Your particular comforts are not for me, Babylon.”

“I didn’t mean that. Unless it
would
help.”

“I don’t think so, but thank you.” He raised a hand, then turned away, the familiar at his heels.

I went back to the rooms to check in with Rikkinnet. She was wearing a beautifully embroidered green and gold tunic and trousers, very smartly cut. She tugged at the high collar.

“Very smart,” I said.

“For the ball. Is too tight. I am strangulating.”

“You look magnificent. Very ambassadorial.”

She shrugged. “To the Gudain, I will just be a jumped-up Ikinchli in pretty clothes.”

“And what will you be to Rikkinnet?”

She gave a smile which was mostly teeth. “Sometimes also Rikkinnet feels like a jumped-up Ikinchli in pretty clothes.”

“If it’s any comfort, you’ll
look
better than any of the Gudain.”

“So? Is true anyway.”

I had to laugh. “How’s Enthemmerlee doing?”

“Okay. She is nervous, but hold up good. You?” She looked me up and down.

“As I can get.” I was in my usual kit: toughened leather breast and backplate, bracers, greaves. A little decoration, nothing that stuck out to catch a blade. Over leather trousers and a silk shirt. I’d left it hanging on the bedpost, hoping the creases would drop, only to discover someone had come in and pressed it. Which was helpful, but a little unnerving. I’m out of the habit of being served.

“No, is good,” she said. “Anyone want to make trouble, you make them think twice.”

There was a knock on the door. I opened it to see Scholar Bergast. “Yes?”

“I heard...” He swallowed and glanced up and down the corridor as though he expected something to leap out at him. “It can’t be true... Adept Mokraine arrived last night?”