by Gaie Sebold
“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.
WE 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?”
There were some thoughtful looks, but no one seemed too bothered.
“Too long since the last Migration, that’s what it is,” Flower said. “You get funny ideas building up when the place starts to get crowded, and too many people too close together... well, they get itchy.”
Migration’s another of Scalentine’s odd little attributes. About every seven years, a whole lot of people get restles
s. You can feel it in the air for months; a heady, unnerving sense of change. People mostly find good reasons to leave; they reconnect with family members on their home plane, they spot a business opportunity, they need a bigger place and property is cheaper elsewhere... but some just up and go, leaving behind whatever won’t fit in a knapsack.
And Scalentine empties out. Not completely, never completely; just enough to make the place feel a little thin and quiet for a few months. And gradually it fills up again.
But it had been a while. Maybe Flower was right.
“What do you think, Chief?”
A faint snore was all the answer I got.
“Hargur?” I nudged him.
“Mmm.”
“Bed.”
“Huh? Oh, right.” He got to his feet. “’Night, all.”
I ushered him upstairs to a chorus of ‘’Night, Chief’s.
“Long day?” I said.
“They all are.” He fumbled at his buttons, and I helped him out of his shirt.
“Sorry,” he said on a yawn. “I...”
“Shh. I can tell you’re exhausted. No demands tonight.”
He gave me a tired grin. “Wish everyone was as straightforward as you, beautiful.”
“Oh?”
“That party... I was being sounded out.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “It’s not the first time. But it always leaves me feeling as though... I dunno. Smeary.”
“If everyone doesn’t know you’re as honest as the day is long by now, Chief, it’s their own fault. Hope you smacked him down.”
“It wasn’t obvious enough for that,” he said.
“If it’s any comfort, someone was doing the same to me.”
Hargur mumbled something. I slid in next to him, and he wrapped around me.
“Don’t let m’oversleep,” he muttered. “M’on duty tomorr’.”
Next minute, he was asleep. Well, he was nice to snuggle even when he was unconscious. And I most certainly was not letting him oversleep. We had unfinished business from before supper.
IN FACT, HARGUR was the one who woke me, sliding a hand around my breast and another between my legs, while I was still struggling my way out of a dream.
“You’re feeling better,” I said, reaching around behind me. “I have evidence.”
He laughed and gave a little gasp of pleasure as I grasped the evidence.
I slid around to face him, took hold of his cock again and ran the other hand over his chest. It wasn’t close enough to full moon for him to be completely furry, and when it got that close, we wouldn’t be bedding. But he was pleasantly hairy. I liked him whatever state he was in; I was rather afraid I loved him. A little scary, after all this time. I nibbled his shoulder and pinched one of his nipples lightly; his cock, warm and solid in my hand, jumped.
He started to stroke my neck, his gentle, nearly reverent touches somehow making it feel longer, more graceful; he touched my breasts and nipples as though they were something precious he’d just discovered. The best gift of a pleasing lover is to make one feel desirable. My first teacher in the sensual arts had said that, long ago. All the way down, he stroked, sliding his fingers over me, into me.
I loved his body, broad-shouldered and lean and long in the limb; I loved the way we seemed to interlock so neatly; I loved the way he felt so warm.
We paused, briefly, while he reached for a preventive. I drew a breath; should I tell him it wasn’t needed? But it wasn’t the time. Somehow, it never seemed to be. I rolled it on, bit by tiny bit, until he laughed with impatience and pushed me down.
I lay back and guided him inside me, loving the feel and fit of him, his hair brushing my shoulders, his hand on my breast, the deep delicious rub of him, the way he watched my face, serious, until pleasure started to take him and he threw his head back and growled deep in his throat. The way he wouldn’t let me up until he’d stroked me to a liquid quiver, warm lapping pleasure spreading out from his fingers.
The only things I didn’t love were that he was on duty, I had a job to do, and we couldn’t lie there all morning.
“Hargur?”
“Mmm, what time is it?”
“You’ve got time” – I poked him gently in the side – “if you don’t go back to sleep.”
“By the way, when are you going to Incandress?”
“Oh. I’m not.”
He propped himself on one elbow, looking at me. “You decided against it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why? What, you wanted me to go?” It came out sounding more hurt than I intended.
“Of course not, woman, don’t be idiotic,” he said, tugging on a lock of my hair gently. “It’s just that you said you were. What changed your mind?”
I shrugged. “Combination of things, I suppose. It wasn’t just bodyguarding; Enthemmerlee’s guard need training up, too. I couldn’t see how to do both. Not in time. And... well. Things here... I just wasn’t happy about leaving.”
“You worried about the Builders?”
“Some.”
“We’re watching them. Is that all?”
“No. But nothing I could put my finger on. It feels hinky, that’s all.”
He frowned at the lock of hair, twisting it around his finger.
“Sometimes you have to trust your gut,” I said, not liking the note of pleading I could hear in my voice, but not able to stop it. “Don’t you?”
“Of course,” he said.
“But?”
“But nothing. It’s your decision, Babylon.”
“Yes,” I said.
He thought I was wrong. He thought I was breaking a promise. The fact that I agreed with him, and so did that hollow place in the back of my thighs, didn’t make me feel any better.
“So. Never mind Enthemmerlee, Babylon.” He leaned back, and put his arm round me, so that I rested against his shoulder. He was tall enough that I could do that; it was one of the things I liked so much. Just one. Of course, it also meant he wasn’t looking me in the eye when he said, “What about me?”
“What about you?” I said.
“Is there something I’m doing, that you don’t like?”
“I don’t... what? No!”
“You sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.” I pushed myself upright so I could look at him properly. “Hargur, why would you think that? You think I wouldn’t tell you?”
He glanced at me, and looked away. “No, ’course not.”
He’s good at hiding his thoughts. That’s part of his job. But he can’t hide all of them, not from me.
Of course he thought I wouldn’t tell him. Because convincing a man he’s pleased you is part of my job.
“Hargur...”
There was a flurry of knocks on the door. “Chief? Chief?”
Jivrais.
“What?” Hargur growled.
“There’s a guard at the door, he says there’s been another one.”
“I’ll be right there.” He pushed himself out of bed and was halfway into his uniform before I could catch my breath. Just for a minute, I hated both our jobs.
I threw on a robe and followed him down the stairs, where a guard, a middle-aged man with a face like a chewed boot, was flirting with Essie. The grin fell off his face as soon as he saw Hargur. “Chief, there’s...”
“Tell me on the way,” Hargur said.
“Chief.”
“Be careful,” I said.
He kissed me on the nose. “I’m always careful.”
I watched them walk off, deep in conversation. Whatever had been bothering him had already been put aside.
I wished I could put it aside as easily. It wasn’t like Hargur to worry that way; he’d not seemed like someone who needs constant reassurance that his performance is up to scratch. I went upstairs and dressed, half glad I had no client for a couple of hours, half wishing I did, in order to take my mind off things. I decided to go to Bressler’s instead, and train. With Previous gone, there
wasn’t anyone at the Lantern, other than Flower, who could push me; and Flower didn’t fight for practice. I’d asked him. Once.
I GOT BACK bruised and sweating, walked into the kitchen for water, and found the whole crew gathered around the table, looking dishevelled and shocked as though they’d been blown there by a storm. The minute I walked in, everyone started talking at once, and it took me several minutes to work out what was going on.
Once I had... “You did what?” I stared at Laney in utter disbelief.
“But I thought you’d be pleased!” she wailed.
“Laney...” I turned to Ireq.
“How bad is it?” I said.
“Everything we had in the kitty. You hadn’t been to the bank for two weeks.”
“I was going to take it in this week.”
“I’m not,” Ireq said, “going to say I told you the takings should be banked daily. This is me, not saying I told you. That’s not the worst of it, though.”
“No, I know.”
“She mortgaged the Lantern. She mortgaged our home.”
“I know. Flower?” I said. He sighed, and foldedhis arms with massive patience. The chopper he’d been using for the meat spilled slow drops of blood onto the floor. “Oh, don’t ask me; all I know is I can extend our lines of credit with the butcher and the grocers only so far. After that...” He shrugged. “Basically, we can feed ourselves and the punters well for about a week. Or” – he closed his eyes and shuddered – “I can feed the punters well for two weeks while we eat whatever I can scrape in the last half hour of the markets. Then we stop feeding the punters, because I will not ruin my reputation, even for you.”
“I wouldn’t ask it.”
“Don’t forget the laundry bill,” Ireq said. “And the bill for coal. And the bill for...”
“All right,” I said. “I need to get the accountant over here. In the meantime, Laney, you need to sit down with Ireq and make a list of everyone you borrowed from, and at what rates of interest.”
Her perfect, pearly brow furrowed. “Interest? Oh... yes, a few of them mentioned interest. I thought that meant they were, you know, interested.”
I let my head drop until it hit the table. I lay there for a moment, with my eyes closed. It was nice like that. Peaceful.
