Dangerous Gifts

by Gaie Sebold

  “Was that Tovanay?” Selinecree reappeared, with a little parcel in her hands, wrapped in white satin and tied with bright yellow ribbon, and a much larger basket borne by a young Ikinchli behind her. “Is he not staying?”

  “No, Aunt. He’s not staying,” Enthemmerlee said.

  “Oh, a pity, he could have joined us for dinner. Or perhaps... No, well, just as well. Oh, dear. Shall we? Oh, Mr Fain, did you find what you were looking for?”

  “It seems,” Fain said, “that I am unable to continue my journey at the moment. There’s not a berth to be had. A number of ships have developed leaks, or been delayed for one reason or another... or the captains all become strangely deaf as I approach them. So if I may still take you up on your very kind offer?”

  He wasn’t actually looking at me, but I could feel his fury scorching my skin. “Where’s Scholar Bergast?” he said.

  “Here!” Bergast darted through the guards. “Just wanted to...” He waved, vaguely. “A long journey.” He gave me a high-nosed look when I glared at him. There had been a perfectly good place for that on the ship; they even had a kind of wall around them, for privacy. If he was too fussy to hang his bum over the water like everyone else, he’d not last long in the field.

  We headed for the coaches, and their odd beasts. I stared at one, as it murmured and rubbed its flat snaky head against its side, and realised they had no forelegs. The elongated body was smoothly uninterrupted between the head and the great muscular legs.

  I stuck to Enthemmerlee as though glued. Fain chatted with Enboryay; I could see him creating a persona, a little sleek, a little self-satisfied, but with a businesslike edge. I had to admire him. The man could put on a role like a new robe, as expertly as any whore I’ve known.

  The coach bore a symbol at each side of its roof, done in silvery metal. A little lizard, caught in the act of reaching out with one front foot for something to cling to, nicely carved, with a jaunty vitality. Selinecree got into the coach with me, Enthemmerlee and Lobik. She smiled brightly. “Mr Kraneel, we have had only the briefest of meetings, but I’m sure we shall be great friends.” The falseness of the statement rang in the air, but at least the woman was making an effort.

  Lobik smiled. “Thank you, madam, for your kindness.”

  “Well, Enthemmerlee.” Selinecree looked her over. “You look better, dear.”

  “Yes, Aunt, I feel better.”

  WE LEFT THE stench of Calanesk port behind us and rolled out across the country. It was a reasonably smooth road, at least; well-paved and well-maintained. Well, it would be, being one of the Perindi Empire trade routes. But going at the pace of the foot soldiers, it would still take us until the following morning to reach the Incandress border.

  Hills jagged the horizon, and the sun, smoking red, dropped below heavy purple cloud to paint their sides bloody. Mist pooled in the fields either side of the road. The air was moist, almost warm.

  I dropped into a waking doze, one ear open for anything untoward. The sound of the booted feet of the guard, the rumble of our own wheels and those of the coach behind, the dap-dap-dap of the beasts’ feet, the creaks and shifts of the coach, the occasional murmured remark or low laugh from one of the guard.

  Selinecree slept. Enthemmerlee stared out of the window, her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap, until Lobik reached over and clasped them.

  Damn, I missed the Chief.

  EVEN BEFORE THE coach halted, I could feel it. A change in the air. I strained my ears, and caught something that might have been only the wind, rising with the dawn, whispering across the empty land.

  Then the coach came to a stop. The Ikinchli driver leant down and said, “Ma’am, we have reached the border. I think maybe you should look.”

  I glanced at Enthemmerlee, who nodded.

  I leaned out.

  It was a grey dawn, with a thin penetrating rain; I could smell something half-sweet, half-alchemical. The border was marked by a stone archway across the road, a guardhouse either side. There were two guards, in dull grey uniforms that made them hardly more than sketches against the stone of the archway.

  Behind them, lining the road four and five deep on either side, were hundreds of Ikinchli.

  They were almost completely silent, patient as rocks. I wondered how they’d known when Enthemmerlee would be arriving. Perhaps they hadn’t, perhaps they had been waiting all night, or longer.

  True believers, come to worship the Itnunnacklish, the one who would free them from servitude? True believers who thought Enthemmerlee was a heretic? Assassins? The merely curious? A mix of the lot?

  I could really have done with more sleep before dealing with this.

  “You have an audience,” I said. “All Ikinchli, by the look of it, and a lot of ’em.”

  Enthemmerlee took a deep breath. “Ah. I should perhaps have expected this.”

  “What is it?” Selinecree said, blinking. “What’s happening?”

  “We have reached the border, aunt. There are people who want to see me.”

  “People?”

  “Yes. I think... Kotenik?”

  The driver leaned in again. “Ma’am?”

  “I think I should come up there. Will you have room?”

  “Plenty enough room, ma’am, but... is raining.”

  Enthemmerlee smiled. “Thank you, Kotenik, a little water won’t hurt me.”

  Unlike an arrow, or a stone. Unhappily, the driver glanced at the rest of us.

  “You must do what you think is best,” Lobik said. “Kotenik, there is room for another, yes?” He looked at me.

  “There will be, if I have to stand on the driver,” I said.

  “Is room without that,” the driver said.

  “Enthemmerlee, wait,” Selinecree said. “You shouldn’t do this!”

  “I have a bodyguard, Aunt.”

  “That’s all very well, but you can’t make your first public appearance this way! After such a journey, and in that... garment! Besides, I am sure they wouldn’t expect it. They’ll be happy to wait and see you in a more proper...”

  “Selinecree. ‘They’ have waited centuries for someone to take their side. Whatever ‘They’ may think of me, ‘They’ should not have to wait one moment more to see whether I actually exist.” She put her hand on the door of the carriage.

  “If I may,” I said, “I’d like to have a quick word with the household guard, first. Would you permit?”

  “Why?”

  “Because this is a potentially difficult situation, and it would be better if it wasn’t allowed to become more so.”

  “If you think it wise,” she said. “But I do intend to let them see me.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Absolutely.”

  I scrambled out – somewhat gracelessly, having been cramped up for several hours – and swung myself up the steps at the rear of the carriage. The guard were looking extremely twitchy; I could see this all going very wrong. It didn’t even need someone to try something. All it would take was a guard to see, or think they saw, or decide they saw, a raised hand. Someone would send an arrow into the crowd, and one way or another things would get nasty fast.

  The other coach had stopped behind us, and I could see Rikkinnet on the roof with the driver, Fain and Enboryay craning out of the windows. “What’s the delay?” Enboryay said.

  “Lot of people waiting to see your daughter, sir,” I said.

  “What? Who are they?”

  “Just people,” I said. I caught the eye of the guard captain. His crested helmet, worn low, couldn’t conceal his disgruntlement. “If I could have your attention for a moment,” I said. “You don’t know me, but I’ve been hired as personal bodyguard to Madam Defarlane Lathrit en Scona Entaire the Itnunnacklish. We’re about to drive through a big crowd of people. They look inclined to be peaceable; I think they’re just here to have a bit of a gawp. Now I’m only responsible for Madam Defarlane, and you, I know, need to watch over the whole family. I’m sure you realise that w
ith these kind of numbers, if anything kicks off, everyone is at risk. You look a professional bunch,” I lied. “And I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you to stay alert, but I’d take it kindly, and I’m sure the family would too, if you weren’t overly quick to see an assassin where there’s maybe someone just scratching their arse. Right?”

  The captain looked me in the eye, then very deliberately turned his head and looked at Enboryay, who opened and closed his mouth, and then said, “Oh, really, can we just get on?” Which wasn’t what you might call helpful.

  I was going to have to deal with the captain at some point, if I wanted the guard on my – or rather Enthemmerlee’s – side, but all I needed right now was for him and his troops not to start a riot.

  At that point Selinecree leaned out of the window. “Captain Tantris,” she said, her voice as silky as one of Laney’s scarves. “I’m sure you can keep order, as you always do, without anything getting out of hand.”

  “Ma’am,” he said. “Right, you lot. Keep your eyes open, no jumping at shadows.”

  That was probably as good as it was going to get. I opened the door for Enthemmerlee, went up the ladder ahead of her and held out a hand which she didn’t need. She climbed with swift grace, despite the cumbersome gown, and settled herself in the seat.

  Then she was able, as was I, to get a proper look at the size of the crowd. I’d underestimated by at least a couple of hundred. I heard Enthemmerlee draw in a hard breath.

  The driver pulled the steps up.

  At a slow walk, the long scaly beasts swaying in front of us, we passed through the gate. The gate-guards gripped their weapons and bowed.

  So many eyes. It seemed as though hardly anyone was breathing.

  Then, like the wind passing through the trees, it started; Itnunnacklish, Itnunnacklish, Itnunnacklish.

  Old men, bent over canes. Babies, pointing fat webbed fingers, wide-eyed.

  Itnunnacklish, Itnunnacklish, Itnunnacklish.

  Tails moving restlessly, the males’ cranial crests flicking up and down. All ages; mostly in plain loose clothing, not new, carefully mended. Here and there the gleam of jewellery or a brightly coloured waistcoat. Enthemmerlee sat beside me, very upright, looking straight ahead.

  They were five and ten deep, spread out along at least a mile of road, up to the point where it entered a rocky defile and there was nowhere for anyone to stand. Something, either rain or sweat, was trickling down my neck.

  We were getting past them, at a slow, steady pace.

  Itnunnacklish, Itnunnacklish, Itnunnacklish.

  Someone cried out, a phrase I didn’t know.

  “What does that mean?” I muttered.

  “They are asking, ‘Is it true?’” the driver said.

  Silence spread out from the words. Enthemmerlee turned to look for the speaker, but in the sea of faces, it was impossible to tell.

  “You ask if it is true? I am what you see,” Enthemmerlee said. “What that means, we must decide together.”

  A murmur, neither pleased nor angry. Considering.

  And a movement.

  I knew before I knew, my body acting alone, my shield leaping up. There was a loud ponk as whatever it was hit the shield, thenoneof the beasts jumped and gave a loud, hissing yawp. The carriage rocked and I heard Selinecree cry out in shock. “Get down!” I said.

  “What...” Enthemmerlee’s shoulder felt terribly fragile under my hand as I shoved her down against the swaying roof. She gasped, flinching, and I wondered if I’d hurt her.

  The driver wrestled the reins, swearing under his breath, and I planted my feet. Shrieks from the crowd; a deep rising roar. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the guard, shuffling, looking at their captain, who, belatedly, snapped an order. They clustered around the carriage, facing every which way, weapons bristling and eyes wide.

  In the crowd, a converging motion. A hand flung up, a cry of pain.

  “What’s happening?” Enthemmerlee cried.

  “It was a stone. They’ve got hold of someone.”

  “Wait!” she said. “Let me up!”

  “Lady...”

  “Let me up. Now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I kept the shield over as much of her as possible. She stared at the crowd, which surged and swayed. “Wait!” Enthemmerlee cried. “Stop!”

  She had a remarkable voice, when she chose to use it. It flashed out over the crowd, bright and clear as an arrow.

  Someone shouted out. “The Itnunnacklish speaks!”

  Like ripples in reverse, silence narrowed in until it reached the scuffle. At its centre, a couple of young males, gripped in a dozen hands. One had his arms wrapped around his head; the other was staring straight at Enthemmerlee, a trickle of blood running down his forehead, dark against the pale creamy gloss of his scales.

  “Please,” Enthemmerlee said. “Why did you do that?”

  The young man with his arms around his head lowered them just enough to let one eye be seen, fixed warily on the household guards. “I don’t do nothing!” he said. “Just standing here and suddenly everyone is crazy!” He glanced up at Enthemmerlee. “I am not throwing no stones!” His crest flicked up and down.

  “No. I was,” the other male said. His crest was up, rigid as a blade, and he never took his green eyes off Enthemmerlee, only blinking the blood out of them.

  Those around him swore, gripping harder.

  “Why?” Enthemmerlee said.

  “You are a lie,” he said. “You are a trick.” He hissed as someone yanked his arm up behind his back, those around him roaring disapproval.

  “Let him speak,” Enthemmerlee said, very clear over the noise. “Don’t hurt him.”

  “Oh, I will speak,” he said, his voice tight with pain. “Let these others stare and worship with their backs still bloody from Gudain whips; I know. We know.”

  “You think I am a trick,” Enthemmerlee said. “But will you give me a chance to prove I am not?”

  “Why should we? All these years of waiting and saying, maybe tomorrow, some justice, maybe tomorrow, you get to have what is yours. We will take what is ours. You cannot stop it.”

  Enthemmerlee leaned forward, gripping one of the metal ornaments with one hand, while I swore silently to myself and tried to keep her covered. “And if you take what is yours,” she said, “by shedding blood; if you extract vengeance for every wrong, even against those who never harmed you, is that justice? Does that make things right? Or does that make you exactly like what you hate?” She gestured to herself. “This that I am now,” she said, “is what we are. One people, united in hope. Do not give in to hate, to fear, to those things which would divide us. Only together can we mend our country, only together can we heal our wounds. You look at me and you see Gudain, but I am not Gudain.” She raised her head and looked across the crowd. “I am not Gudain, and I am not Ikinchli. I am Incandrese.”

  A murmur rolled across them like the wind across corn.

  “I am not here to create further division, further hatred. Of that, there has been enough.”

  There was another murmur. I kept my eye on the stone-flinger. I was pleased to see his captors showed no sign of letting him go. I tried to catch the captain’s eye, but he was staring rigid-faced at nothing.

  The beasts, disturbed, snorted and swayed their heads.

  Enthemmerlee was smiling, but the hand on the ornament was white-knuckled.

  “Captain! Captain...” I said, trying to remember the useless idiot’s name.

  “It’s Captain Tantris,” Enthemmerlee said, from the side of her mouth, still smiling at the crowd. “I don’t want that boy hurt.”

  Boy! He was older than her by some years, if I was any judge. “Yes, well, if we leave him to the crowd, I think he will be.” All right, I was more concerned with her safety than his, but I wasn’t exactly lying, either.

  “Very well.” She leaned forward again. “You, what’s your name?”

  “Kankish.”


  “Kankish. And you, holding him. Thank you, but please, let him go.”

  Reluctantly, they did. He shrugged his shoulders, easing them. I watched his hands. Someone had taken his sling, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t something else about him.

  “You have a choice, Kankish,” Enthemmerlee said. “You can be part of this. You can begin to build, with us, a new country. Or you can walk away.”

  Surrounded as he was, he didn’t have much choice, and knew it. He looked at her, his face unreadable. Then he stepped onto the road, and turned away, towards the border and Calanesk Port. He started to walk.

  Most of the crowd didn’t even turn to see him go. Of those that did, some hissed. A handful of mud splattered his shirt. He kept walking.

  I saw Rikkinnet leaning out of the other carriage. I caught her eye.

  She nodded, baring her teeth.

  A would-be assassin, walking away. But without undermining Enthemmerlee’s authority in front of this crowd, there was nothing either of us could do.

  If that captain had the worth of his shabby uniform, he’d do something about it, but I wasn’t making any bets.

  “Enthemmerlee?” Selinecree’s voice wavered up from the carriage. “What’s happening? Are you all right? Do come back in, dear; you’ll get dreadfully wet.”

  “In a moment, Aunt. I’m perfectly fine.” Though in fact she was beginning to shake, and her always-pale skin was the colour of a cold dawn sky.

  We moved on, slowly, Enthemmerlee holding herself upright, and smiling. The rain formed a thousand fine, tiny drops on her scales and skin, making her look jewelled.

  “Did I hurt you?” I said, keeping my voice down.

  “Hurt me?”

  “Your shoulder. You made a noise – I’m sorry if I grabbed too hard.”

  “Oh, no!” She flushed. “I was just startled. We don’t... I mean, Gudain don’t... touch. Not in public.”

  Damn. I’d forgotten. “Sorry.”

  “I think actually it is more important to survive than to be always proper.” She managed a smile, though it obviously cost her something. “And for me, it is already too late for being proper.”