Dangerous Gifts

by Gaie Sebold

  She giggled. “I’ve never met a man so happy to talk about décor.” She leaned out and blew him a kiss. “And really quite surprising in bed, once you got him to relax. I can see why you like Ikinchli so much.” She sat back, with a sigh.

  I leaned out of the window as we drew away. At the top of the steps stood Enthemmerlee, with Malleay on one side and Rikkinnet on the other. They raised their hands, and I did likewise.

  The guard thumped the butts of their spears against the ground, and we pulled away.

  Fain glanced at the other carriage. “You think putting Mokraine in with Bergast and Filchis was wise?”

  “I think it will mean both Filchis and Bergast will mind their manners, and it will keep Mokraine amused.”

  I leaned back, and stroked the sling.

  “That’s pretty,” Laney said.

  “Yes, it is. Lethal, too, if you know how to use it.”

  “Do you?”

  “I haven’t used one in years. I did, briefly.” I ran my fingers over the figures on the leather. “Looks like I’m taking the ancestors with me after all.” And what else? Well, that remained to be seen. I’d heard nothing, felt nothing since the gaol, but that didn’t mean Babaska was done with me. I didn’t want to think about it too much, in case it gave her a way in, but it was hard not to.

  I still didn’t know what I was going to tell the crew. And, oh, sweet All, what was I going to tell Hargur?

  He was honest. It was as much a part of him as his spine. I couldn’t go on concealing things from him. But if I told him...

  “Do you think it will work?” Laney said. “All of this?”

  “I don’t know. They’ve a long way to go.”

  “So have we. I hope it’s a fast ship.”

  “I’m still not sure...”

  “Sweetie,” Laney said. “You’ve done what you can.”

  “She roused the crowd. But there’s tomorrow.”

  “And the day after that, and the month after that, and the year after that. Were you going to stay here forever?”

  “No. By the All, no. I want to go home.”

  “Besides, I doubt Selinecree will prove a problem,” Fain said.

  “You think she’ll go happily into exile?” I said.

  “Not at all. Which is why I was glad you advised Enthemmerlee which guards should accompany her. The one called Dentor and two of his friends, I believe. A shame they never shaped up very well, as guards. I hear there are terrible bandit problems in the area she will be travelling through.”

  “Really. You heard that.”

  “Oh, yes, I listened very carefully to her route.”

  I wondered whether a message was already on its way, a bag of coin passing hands in some anonymous inn.

  A carriage on a distant road. A handful of incompetent guards, and the swift silent approach of masked figures over the rocks.

  A black snake, marked with red, slipping away in the bloody dust, to find a warm place to hide until the sun came up again.

  SOON LANEY DOZED off in her corner of the coach, no doubt worn out from her discussions of décor with the seneschal.

  “An interesting speech,” Fain said, softly.

  “Enthemmerlee’s? Did the job, didn’t it? I just hope the effect lasts more than five minutes.”

  “Yes. You weren’t insulted?” Fain said.

  “Insulted? Why?”

  “Your part in things was not mentioned. You did, after all, prevent a disaster.”

  “Hah. Remind me never to go to another ceremony involving altars in any way, would you?”

  He looked bemused. So he didn’t know all the details about Tiresana. That was a relief. “Anyway, you think I was up there expecting the grateful thanks of the populace?” I grinned. “I was deglamoured, if you remember. And for good reason. If anyone had noticed I was there, they’d have slammed me back in gaol.”

  “Despite you deserving the... ah... grateful thanks of the populace?”

  “Well, maybe not. Hardly worth the risk, though, was it?”

  “I think that Enthemmerlee omitted your name quite deliberately, Babylon. I knew she was clever, but she is rather more of a politician than even I realised. And she was more than happy to wave farewell to two obvious foreigners” – he glanced at Laney – “your pardon, three obvious foreigners as soon as possible.”

  “You’re getting at something, Mr Fain. What are you getting at?”

  “Turning the Incandrese against outsiders, all outsiders, while a valid strategy in the circumstances, may have unfortunate consequences. Nationalism is a dangerous beast that can quickly turn ugly, as we have seen.”

  “The Builders.”

  “Yes.”

  “It would be a pity,” I said. “But the Gudain were like that already.”

  “So, surely, were the Ikinchli.”

  “Well, yes, a bit, but they had better reason. And the ones who come to Scalentine seem to settle in all right.”

  “Scalentine is good at that,” Fain said.

  “It’s a shame, though,” I said.

  “A shame?”

  “If you’re right...” I sighed. “Enthemmerlee’s lost her innocence. Maybe it was losing Lobik. But there was something about her that was, I don’t know. A kind of fire.”

  “Idealism. Yes. It is a tender plant, Babylon, and seldom survives long in the harsh soil of politics.”

  “I hate politics.”

  “I know.”

  I glanced at him and he was smiling. I smiled back, and he looked away, out at the passing landscape and the rain.

  I looked out of my own window, listening to the dap-dap-dap of the disti’s feet, the rumble of the wheels. It was getting dark; the low clouds hid any sign of moons or stars. I leant my head back, and tried to doze.

  Eventually we reached Calanesk Port. Like ports everywhere, it was as lively by night as it was by day. Torches hissed and crackled, lanterns glowed, stevedores sweated and swore, roped cargo creaked and swung, on board or off.

  Laney woke chilled and grumbling and fussed about getting her gear on board the ship; we had already booked passage, under false names. Fain walked off to speak to the owner of the shop where Selinecree had picked up the lethal Ipash Dok, but it was empty, the owner long gone, presumably with a handsome profit in hand.

  I fidgeted on the quay, then once we boarded, I fidgeted on the deck. The closer we were to home, the faster I wanted to get there. I didn’t know what was happening. And we still had some clues, but no name.

  Fain strolled back along the quay, and walked up the gangway, exchanged a few words with the captain, and joined me at the rail.

  “At least I didn’t have to run up a rope this time,” he said.

  “Hmm?” I stared at the deep blue sky; there was a band of chilly pale green along the horizon, marking where the sun had disappeared.

  “Babylon. Really. You missed an opportunity to remember my moment of extreme humiliation?”

  “What? Sorry?”

  “Never mind, I was being foolish. What’s bothering you?”

  “Everything. Now all that’s behind us, I can’t help wishing we had more. I mean, what are we going to do?”

  “I am going to follow up what information we do have as best we can.”

  “I wish we had a name.”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ve nothing, Fain.”

  “Not so. We know he has offices on Little Copper Lane.”

  “Unless he knew Filchis was following him and deceived him on purpose.”

  “We know he is, or is connected with, a grain merchant, and that among his followers is a man with dyed red hair and a blonde woman he seems to favour.”

  “A blonde woman whose name bloody useless Filchis didn’t know. How many blondes are there in Scalentine, anyway? At least we know she’s human, or he wouldn’t...” I stopped as something yanked at me. I stared at the fading remnants of the sunset. Deep blue, pale green.

  The blonde woman had worn a
dark blue cloak, with pale green lining.

  I’d seen her. I’d seen her in the crowd around Filchis, when someone had thrown a piece of fruit at him.

  I’d seen her at the Red Lantern. Asking if we had any weres on the staff.

  And I’d seen her trying to pawn a piece of jewellery, and walking off on the arm of one Thasado Heimarl, merchant. Who’d asked her about the stain on her cloak. A fruit stain. “What if she was a plant in that crowd, throwing the fruit to rile up Filchis’s supporters?”

  “Who, Babylon?” Fain was leaning forward, fixing me with those dark eyes, but I hardly noticed.

  “The blonde woman. I’ve seen her. And I think I know who our grain merchant is,” I said. “His name’s Thasado Heimarl.”

  “What?” Fain said.

  “Yes, listen! She came to the Lantern, she was asking about weres, pretending that was her thing. She was in the crowd around Filchis, and buggered off sharpish when things got nasty. And I saw her with Thasado Heimarl. He said something about getting justice. ‘We’ll get our justice.’ And he was talking to me at the Roundhouse Tower, trying to get me to give away confidential information from my clients.”

  “That may be less than proper, but it is hardly proof, Babylon. Even if it is the same woman, there’s no evidence he knows what she is involved in, is there? But certainly, we can question him.”

  Mokraine had wandered up on deck and now propped his arms on the railing and stared out over the water. The familiar gleamed at his heel like a lump of wet clay half-formed into some child’s nightmare.

  “Well it’s suggestive, isn’t it?” I said. “And at least I know her name, now. First name, anyway. He called her Suli.”

  “Suli. Suli. Now that name I have heard,” Fain said.

  “You know, I thought that...” I said.

  “There’s a woman,” Fain said, slowly. “A blonde woman who works as a clerk in the Section. Her name is Suli.”

  And it came crashing through me. Mokraine lifted his head and looked at me, his hair drifting about his face.

  “Oh, fuck,” I said.

  “What?” said Fain.

  “I... Shit.”

  “Profanity is not information, Babylon.”

  “I used the device, Fain. I used the device to send a message, and the woman on the other end said she’d send it with Suli.”

  Fain looked at me. “What message?”

  “That there was going to be a robbery at the silk warehouses. I heard it at the inn, on Incandress.”

  “And why did you feel this was urgent enough that you would use the device, which you are unauthorised to do and which you clearly disliked?”

  “Because it’s our silk,” Laney said, coming up behind him. “I bought it, you see, as an investment, only I shouldn’t have, and if it gets stolen everyone’s going to be fearfully angry and lose all their money. Or the other way around, I suppose.”

  “That’s not all,” I said. “They’re targeting weres. The Builders are targeting weres. Look. Maybe Heimarl thinks the Chief suspects something. Heimarl was at the party at the Roundhouse Tower. Hargur said, later, that someone had been sounding him out. Heimarl sounded me out at the same party. Maybe he was seeing if he could get the Chief on side, and then when he realised he couldn’t, he decided that he’d be better off with him out of the way. And people know how the Builders feel about weres, suspicion’s going to fall on them if the Chief...” – I could hardly get the words out – “if the Chief’s murdered. That’s why Heimarl was so determined to get Filchis out of the way, too. Because Filchis can identify him. He might not know his name but he knows what he looks like.

  “And this woman, Suli. She knows about me and the Chief, she knows he’ll trust information if he thinks it comes from me. And she’s in the Section.

  “She’ll find some way to make sure he checks it out himself. And that means the Builders will know he’s going there. They’ll know where he’ll be. Fain, we’ve got to use the device, we’ve got to warn him!”

  “I’d advise against it,” Mokraine said.

  “What? Why?”

  “Firstly, because it has been used too frequently of late, when things are already unstable.”

  “What things?” Fain said sharply.

  “Everything,” Mokraine said. “The matter of being, the All. Such devices as yours create cracks. They weaken the structure.”

  “It... What?” Fain looked as though someone had jerked the ground from under his feet. “But we’ve had it for years...”

  “Does anyone know who made it?”

  “No.”

  “Are there many such items of power in the Section’s archives?”

  “I am not at liberty to tell you that.”

  Mokraine looked at him. “No, you are not, are you?” he said. “I would advise you that any such things should be treated with extreme caution.”

  “Excuse me,” I said, “if the All that Is isn’t in danger of coming to an end right this minute, can we please get back to the matter in hand?”

  “The matter in hand... ah, yes,” Mokraine said. “Even if Mr Fain should be foolish enough to use the device again so soon, and so close to the place it was last used, you should not be anywhere near it, Babylon. And when I say nowhere near it, I mean that another plane would be preferable. Certainly not within the confined space of this boat.”

  “But...”

  “At the moment, your mind is your own,” Mokraine said. “I assume you would like it to remain that way?”

  I stared at him. “Laney?” I said, when I found my voice. “Can you do anything? Get us there any faster?”

  “No. Not if you mean mess with the weather, Babylon, and... No.”

  “Babylon.” Fain took me by the shoulders. “Babylon. We are going as fast as we can. And I have people watching him, remember?”

  But I could barely hear him. All I could do was clutch the railing and stare, begging the sky for the first light of Bealach portal on the horizon.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  WHEN MY HANDS cramped from clutching the rail, I practised with the sling, using whatever I could find for missiles, saving the stones in their leather bag for the real thing.

  Mokraine came up to me as I swung and loosed, swung and loosed, his eyes following a collection of trivial objects on their journey over the water. They didn’t usually get very far before they landed.

  “Mokraine,” I said.

  “Babylon. Try to calm down. I can feel your anxiety all the way to the lower deck. There are probably creatures in the far depths wondering why they are becoming unaccountably anxious.”

  “Sorry. Mokraine?” Load. “Why did you come to Incandress?” Loose.

  “I am a weathercock, Babylon.”

  Fain had used the same term. “How do you mean?” Load.

  “I mean that what I did, when I created a portal all those years ago, has tied me to them in some way. And if their state is threatened with change, it pulls me in. I am at the mercy of something other than myself. I object to this, Babylon, I object to it strongly.”

  “I know the feeling.” Loose.

  “Yes, I know you do.”

  “You... Oh.” Load.

  “Beware of making openings,” Mokraine said. “And beware of widening them. One does not know” – he glanced down at the familiar – “what may come through them.”

  I shuddered, hard, almost dropping the sling into the sea.

  “I’m sorry, Babylon,” Mokraine said.

  “I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry you couldn’t... Well.”

  Mokraine shrugged. “I have not yet given up. There may be other methods.”

  “Yeah.”

  I wondered if there were methods of shutting the door on a god, too, once one has let them in.

  But mostly, as I sent shot after shot over the empty ocean, apple cores and bits of wood and anything I could scrounge, I wondered about my crew, and about Hargur, and whether the watchdogs that Fain ha
d set on him were keeping him safe.

  I WAS STILL clinging to the rail and retching from the portal as we were pulling into the harbour. When I straightened up, Fain was standing beside me. He passed me a cup of water from the barrel.

  “Don’t you ever bloody get sick?” I said.

  “Seldom.”

  “Lucky.”

  “I suppose I am.”

  Looking along the quay, I saw a bright red uniform, and for a moment my heart leaped. But it wasn’t the Chief. Just a Militiaman, chatting to someone, dock patrol, checking things out.

  It meant nothing. If the Chief... if something had happened to Hargur, things would keep rolling, at least for a while. He had a firm hand and good lieutenants.

  “Oh come on, why do these things take so damn long to dock!”

  Finally, finally, we bumped the quay and I was down the gangplank almost before it hit the ground.

  “Where’s this bloody silk warehouse?” I knew there were at least two hundred warehouses of various sizes around the dock.

  “The harbourmaster will know,” Fain said.

  The harbourmaster was a big, red-faced, slightly pig-like sort who was gabbing in rapid pidgin to several flustered people about – surprise – grain. I didn’t care about grain. Or silk. I cared about Hargur.

  He flipped a dismissive hand at us. Fain went up and whispered into one of his large, pointed ears.

  Some of the red left his face. He and Fain had several more whispered exchanges, and he spat out a stream of instructions. I couldn’t follow them, but Fain strode off confidently.

  “What about him?” Laney sniffed, gesturing at Filchis.

  I looked around for the Militiaman I’d seen earlier, but he’d disappeared. “Bring him, bring him. There’s no time.”

  Bergast, grumbling, hauled Filchis along after him. Filchis moaned and fussed.

  “It’s daylight. Surely robbers aren’t likely to go about their business in broad day,” Laney said.

  “It’s not the robbers I’m worried about. It’s Heimarl and his Builder friends.”

  Filchis glared and panted as we hurried after Fain. “I have done nothing, nothing. Once this gets to the proper authorities...”