Dangerous Gifts (35 page)

When his sobs finally tailed off, he let go as though I’d suddenly got hot enough to burn him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He scrambled out a scrap of ink-stained cotton, and blew his nose.

“Malleay. Would you like to know how to please Enthemmerlee? How to make her happy?”

“Of course I would!”

“I mean, between the sheets. When the time is right, to take it beyond comfort, to something else. Because I can show you. If you would like.”

A deep green blush flooded up his neck, as though he were sinking into water. “Do you think... But surely...”

“You love her, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then just be aware, and you’ll know, when she’s ready to ask more than comfort from you. It might be sooner than you think.” Sex, done right and with the right person (and hells, even, occasionally, with the absolutely wrong person, so long as you
know
that) is a great healer. I wasn’t just here for Enthemmerlee, or for Malleay. I was here for me, too.

I couldn’t bring Lobik back, I couldn’t unhappen what had happened. But maybe I could make Enthemmerlee’s future a little less bleak. And maybe I could, at least for a couple of hours, shut my damned mind up about everything that was wrong.

“But you’re not... I mean... How would you know?”

I wasn’t going to confess my little chat with Enthemmerlee. People can be funny about that sort of thing. “I’m not that different, Malleay. And neither are you.” Considering some of the beings with whom I’ve spent sheet-time, he was so close to human any differences were barely noticeable. “It’s your choice, of course.”

“Why would you do this?” he said. His voice shook a little.

“Because I like Enthemmerlee, and I want her to be happy. And because you’re cute, and I’ve never had a Gudain.” He looked up, startled, eyes wide. I wasn’t lying, either. He was cute.

“Lock the door?” he said.

O
NCE OUT OF
the dreadful clothes, his body was pleasing; his pale green skin luminous in the warm gloom, like a pearl found far under water. I slid under the sheets, not wanting to loom over the poor boy; the sight of the knife I kept strapped to my thigh had made him widen his eyes enough, even though I took it off. He was shivering, his cock curled against his own thigh as though it was trying to hide.

He began to babble. “Do you... do you do this? Often? Teach... this?”

“It’s been known. I was taught, myself, so...”

“Really? How does one teach...”

“Sometimes, by telling the pupil to shut up and listen.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

I took his head in my hands. “Shh. Now, look at me,” I said. “Do you find me pleasing?”

He looked. After a few moments, he nodded. I was pleased to see that his cock agreed with him; it began to unfurl, shyly, like a fern.

“Then say it.”

He swallowed. “Say what?”

“Tell me something you like about what you’re looking at. A lady likes to hear these things.”

He looked at me pleadingly. “I can’t...”

“Yes, you can. No one else has to hear; only the person you’re with. Shall I start?” I ran a finger down his cheek. “You have lovely skin.” Then I ran my finger down his stiffening penis. “And a very nice cock.” He jolted at the use of the word, but it didn’t do his erection any harm. “Your turn.”

“You... ah... your hair is pretty.”

“Thank you,” I said, and smiled, and waited.

“And your b... breasts... are... very nice.”

“I would like it if you touched them.”

“Would you?”

“Yes.”

He reached out, and hesitated. I took his hand, and ran it over my breast, showed him how to tease the nipple with his fingers.

He was extremely gentle; he kept glancing at me, as though afraid I would suddenly faint or scream. Compared to Enthemmerlee I must have seemed hulking, but he treated me like the fragile flower I am very much not.

But I was happy to let him. Too raucous an approach probably wouldn’t do for Enthemmerlee. And, knowing something about her encounters with Lobik, I didn’t want Malleay to end up a poor imitation of him. Lobik’s ghost would already haunt their bed; there was no sense making things worse.

He must have been holding himself back for a long time; and, of course, he was young. A few minutes of breast-play and getting his cock caught in the sheets, and he clutched my arms, his breathing steepened, and he came, convulsive and silent.

“I’m sorry,” he said, as soon as he got his breath back. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? I’m flattered.”

“Flattered?”

“You found being with me so exciting that you came before I’d barely touched you. Don’t you think I should be flattered?”

He looked shocked, then thoughtful. “Well... But that can’t have been very, you know. For you.”

“Seeing that happen to you
is
exciting for me. And besides, it’s not as though we’ve finished.”

“We haven’t? Oh, no, I don’t suppose we have.”

“We’re not here for
you
to have a good time,” I said, grinning.

“Sorry,” he said, with the beginnings of a smile, “I’m afraid I already have.” The smile dropped away. “It seems wrong,” he said. “I mean, with what’s happened.”

“You think we’re being disrespectful?”

“Not that, exactly. I don’t really know, it just seems we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“We should be grieving.”

“Yes.”

“We are. And we’re doing this, too. Do you think he wouldn’t want this, for both of you? That he would want you to both to be miserable?”

“No.”

“I know you grieve for him. I know you will miss him.” My guilt tried to surge up again, and I forced it away. “But this” – I ran my hand down his thigh – “this is what people do. We are alive. We feel sorrow, and we celebrate life, both at once. Yes?”

“Yes,” he said, tears glimmering again. “Yes.”

“Now, where were we? Ah yes. Breasts. One’s tongue is not just for talking with, you know.”

“Oh. Oh!” he said. And set to.

Tongues and hands. Fingers and legs and lips and hair and skin, the sweet and complex multiplicity of textures. Oh, how I’d missed this, needed this. How wonderful it was to be a body, with a body; a communication more straightforward yet more subtle than I could ever manage with words.

Of course, some words were needed.

I put his fingers to my cunny and said, “Is it the same?” (A tricky moment – I didn’t actually want to mention Enthemmerlee, although she was the one all this was in aid of, in case it put him off.)

I had to bite my lip at his look of studious concentration, as though he were studying a difficult text.

“Not quite,” he said. “But here...”

“Oh, yes,” I said.

“Like that?”

“Oh, yes. Gently now... Oh, hells, yes.”

Of course, one night’s lessons wasn’t going to change everything; I wasn’t
that
good a whore, now I was only human again. But it would do to begin with. The rest was up to him, and Enthemmerlee.

Afterwards, he fell asleep smiling, and looking so young he put me painfully in mind of my first love.

That made me think of the Chief, and I felt a sudden loneliness so deep it hurt. I couldn’t bear to stay there; he was cute, yes, but it was Hargur I wanted.

I managed to leave without waking him, and shut the door behind me. The place was so utterly quiet it seemed as though everyone had simply vanished away, but I felt eyes on me all the same.

I turned, but if anyone had been watching, they were gone. Somewhere, a door closed softly.

S
ELINECREE CAME TO
Enthemmerlee’s room as I was taking over from Rikkinnet; she had something in her hands. A small box, oval, set with so many bits of glimmering shell and polished stones one could barely see the wood. “Is she awake?” Selinecree said. “Only... Well. One of the maids found this, clearing out the room that the... that her... that Mr Kraneel was staying in, and I thought perhaps she would like to have it.” A bright yellow thread had caught in the ornamentation of the box, wavering like seaweed in the air of the corridor. Nervously, Selinecree tugged it free and let it float away.

“What is it?”

“It is an
Ipash Dok,
” Rikkinnet said. “At any ancestor ceremony the suppliant places this on the altar.” Her face stiffened as she looked at it. “It must have been meant for the Enkantishak.”

Enthemmerlee opened the door. “Is something wrong?” She looked like the ghost of a dryad, a wisp of green pallor. Then she saw the box.

“This was in Mr Kraneel’s room, dear,” Selinecree said. “I thought I should bring it to you. Perhaps I shouldn’t have, but...”

“No, Aunt. Thank you.” Enthemmerlee took it, and turned it over in her hands. Selinecree twisted her own together. “It’s... it’s all right, is it? It won’t open, or anything.”

“No, it won’t. They only open when they’re placed on the altar,” Enthemmerlee said, in a flat, distant voice. “It’s probably the heat. I shall take it. I shall take it and put it on the altar with mine, where it should be. Thank you, Aunt.”

“Well, since I’m not coming myself... You will be all right, will you? I mean, your father’s going...”

“I’ll be fine, Aunt Selinecree. Thank you.”

She shut the door again, quietly but firmly. Selinecree let out a shaky sigh, shook her head, and walked away.

Rikkinnet made an odd huffing noise.

“What is it?” I said.

“I always thought Lobik had better taste,” she said, blinking hard. “That is like the ones they sell to travellers. The primitive art of savage Ikinchli. Hah.” I realised her eyes were glittering with tears, and that she didn’t want me to see. I looked away.

R
IKKINNET HAD JUST
reappeared, not looking as though the shift break had brought her much rest, when we heard shouting from outside. We looked at each other. “I will go,” she said.

I could hear Enthemmerlee moving about in her room; I wondered if she’d slept. I moved over to the window; I could make out the gate-guard, and beyond the gate, the baggy brown uniforms of the Fenac. Five of them.

Whatever this was, it looked like trouble, but (assuming the uniform wearers actually were Fenac, and there weren’t five Fenac bodies naked in a ditch somewhere) it looked like
official
trouble.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t of the killing sort.

I went back to Enthemmerlee’s door, loosened my sword in its scabbard and waited.

I didn’t have to wait long.

Rikkinnet came belting along the corridor. “They’ve come to arrest you.”

“Me? What for?”

She hissed. “Moral Statutes.”

“What?”

“What is it?” Enthemmerlee said, opening the door. She was freshly dressed, but by the look of her, no, she hadn’t slept. The shadows around her eyes hurt my heart.

“The Fenac are here to arrest Babylon for violation of the Moral Statutes.”

Enthemmerlee rubbed her hands over her face. “I don’t understand.”

“Nor do I,” I said. Of course, there’d been the previous night... but how the hells would anyone have found out? I didn’t think Malleay would have blabbed.

The seneschal came up the corridor; his face was expressionless as ever, but he radiated worry with every rigid step. “Madam Steel? Your presence is requested in the main hall.”

“Thranishalak, do you know what’s happening?” Enthemmerlee said.

“The Fenac have a warrant for the arrest of Madam Steel,” he said.

“They’re in the house? I’ll skin those fucking guards,” I said.

“Lady Selinecree came to the gate, and told the guards ‘not to be silly,’ Madam,” Thranishalak said.

Ah.

“I will come with you,” Enthemmerlee said. “There must be a mistake.”

Malleay, Enboryay and the Fenac were already gathered in the main hall. Malleay looked up as we arrived and his face flooded with colour; if anyone had been looking for a guilty party, he shone out like a hilltop beacon. Fortunately none of the Fenac were looking at him.

The only Ikinchli stared fixedly at some point in mid-air, while two of the Gudain were looking round with an air of intense discomfort, as though afraid they would dirty the furniture just by getting close to it, and another was practising his sneer. The commander, in a tall helmet, with a chunk of silver attached to it in the shape of a hook, was talking to a flushed and distinctly unimpressed Enboryay.

“Behaviour likely to corrupt the public morals?” he sputtered. “Nonsense. What are you talking about?”

“Will somebody explain, please?” Enthemmerlee said.

The Fenac commander glanced at her with barely hidden contempt.

“What are your grounds for this accusation?” Malleay said. “And who is the accuser? You are required to inform us of these things.”

The Fenac smiled, unpleasantly, and said, in the tones of one who had been coached: “This accusation has been brought under the Moral Statutes and the identity of the accuser is therefore protected.”

“And the grounds?”

The Fenac commander looked him up and down, and his unpleasant smile widened in a way that made me want to put my fist through it. “You’re Malleay Devinclane Solit en Scona Mariess? Well,” he said, “I’ve
got
the papers with me. I
can
read them out. You know. Here. Or the foreigner can come with me, nice and quiet.”

Malleay glanced at me, and colour raced up his neck and face again, but he stood his ground. “You are required...”

“Firstly,” the Fenac said. “That the accused did appear in public dressed in such a manner as to corrupt the morals of those present...”

“Now hang on,” I said. “Who?”

“Members of the household of Enboryay DeLanso Lathrit en Scona Entaire, presently Advisor to the Crown of the House of Entaire.”

“I have never seen this person other than, ah, respectably covered,” Enboryay said.

“Well, sir, seems someone did.
Several
people.”

I knew damn well that Malleay wasn’t the one who’d brought the accusation. I was pretty sure I hadn’t been sleepwalking. And I hadn’t been up to anything with anyone else – there’d been little time and less temptation... Speaking of which, where was Fain?