Babylon Steel (11 page)

He folded his hands and permitted himself half a smile, as though he’d be taxed on the rest.

“They are standing in the street. Such action is not illegal. Assault, however, is illegal.”

“Your lot should know.”

“I do not understand what you are implying.”

“The whore down in Ropemaker’s Row. The whore who got beaten up by someone wearing a Purity mask. That, Mr Denarven, was assault.”

“No member of the Order would
ever
behave in such a way,” he said, his jaw so rigid with distaste he could hardly get the words out.

“Really.”

“You have no comprehension of the Order.” His voice had gone very quiet, the way people’s voices do when it’s that, or shout. “However distasteful a Vessel might find the existence of this creature, they could never attack her in that way. Her attacker had to get close to her, to
touch
her. Impossible. A member of the Order could never again attain purity after touching such a woman.”

Well now I
really
wanted to go up to a Vessel and give him a big hug.

He remembered he was talking to ‘such a woman,’ I saw it on his face, and I wondered if he’d make some kind of half-arsed attempt at an apology, but no. He looked me right in the eye as though daring me to make something of it.

I realised I wasn’t going to get anywhere, and my temper was boiling up like a kettle.

“In any case,” I said, shoving back my chair, “get them out of there. I can do things legally and make your lives difficult if I choose...”

“I do hope that isn’t a threat,” said Denarven.

“That? No, that’s not a threat. But if I, or any other whore in Scalentine, get any more trouble from your lot, or connected with your lot in any way whatsoever, you will wish,
fervently,
that I’d gone to the militia with this.
That’s
a threat. Smooth?”

“I think we understand each other.”

“I do hope so.”

He bowed. We left.

Previous had even more trouble keeping up with me on the way back; it wasn’t until she put a hand on my arm that I realised I was damn near running. Not to mention gritting my teeth and using words, albeit under my breath, that even I don’t normally use. Like ‘priest,’ for example.

“Babylon!”

“Huh? Oh. Sorry.”

“So,” she said, “you want to tell me what that was about?”

“We do not
need
any more trouble. And I don’t care what that administrator said, I’ll eat my sword if the Vessels didn’t have something to do with that girl who got beaten up. What if they try it on one of the crew?”

“What, like Laney?” Previous said.

“They’re not all Fey.”

“They all know how to look after themselves, Babylon. Anyway, s’not what I meant.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“You seemed... upset. I mean, you know, the Vessels haven’t done anything, really.”

“Apart from destroy an evening’s business,” I said, “and who knows how many more, if we can’t get rid of ’em.” She was still giving me a quizzical look. I sighed. “Look, I just don’t like priests. Or gods. Or temples. I spent a lot of time in them.”

“You?”

“Me.”

TIRESANA

W
E GIRLS, SPRAWLED
on cushions in a silk-hung room. Shakanti seated in the corner, impatient. And our new trainer, a graceful and soft-voiced woman in linen the clean blue of a spring sky. She had assistants with her, two young men, two young women, in loose white robes.

“My name is Livaia,” she told us. “I am here to teach you how to give pleasure, and how to receive it. It is something that almost anyone can learn to do with some degree of craft, and that is well enough. However, it is the subtleties which transform craft into art. Subtlety, the capacity to take that extra care, is the mark of the true artist.”

She beckoned forward one of the young men. He was very handsome, with the sculpted body of an athlete and a gentle smile.

“First,” Livaia said, “is anyone here still virgin? Come, there’s no need to be ashamed.”

I happened to glance at Shakanti, who was glaring, and looked away fast.

Renavir’s hand went up, spearing the air. She, too, glanced at Shakanti – seeking approval, poor child. Then, after a moment, Velance’s hand went up, too. Neither of them surprised me.

“Then we shall start with the basics.” She gestured to the young man to take off his robe. There were gasps and giggles – most of us had, of course, at least seen a cock before, but not in such circumstances. “Now,” she said, “I will show you how things work, and then, we shall move on to making them work
better.
Jalis here is in no need of encouragement, as you can see. I think being in the presence of so many pretty young ladies has had an effect on him. But sometimes encouragement is required.
”

She took him in hand, so to speak, and so our first lesson in the heart of the seductive arts began.

Growing up as I had, crammed in among the other servants, and later out with the caravans, I’d had neither the time nor the inclination to be especially modest, though with Sesh and Kyrl watching over me like a pair of mother hawks, I’d remained virgin until Hap-Canae. I enjoyed the lessons. When it moved from demonstration by Livaia to the point when we had to take part, I was more than ready. Watching people seduce each other did nothing to damp my own fires, and when it was my turn to sink into the cushions with Jalis, Livaia had to coach me not to take things too quickly.

Jalis. My second lover. Gentle, adept – not, perhaps, overburdened with brains, but exquisitely good at what he did. My own responses surprised me: I had thought things with Hap-Canae were marvellous, and was surprised to discover that they could be much more so.

I began to realise that Hap-Canae’s bedroom techniques lacked a certain something. I tried not to think about it. Of course, I wouldn’t dream of
telling
him, or suggesting that he pay a little attention to my own pleasure as well as his. After all I was, still, so
grateful.

It wasn’t just that he had taken me away from a life of hard work – I didn’t mind work. He treated me like something of value. He loved to give me things: robes, jewellery. I’d never before worn anything that someone else hadn’t owned before me – the master’s gift of scarlet cloth was still, presumably, back in the servants’ quarters, or more probably adorning someone else by now. Just to have things of my own was a treat, and such things! Even the mistress had never had robes like this; lusciously dyed, richly embroidered, they were works of art. Necklaces the worth of which could have bought my old master and his entire business.

So yes, I was grateful, and wanted to make him proud of me. But this part of my lessons was hardly a chore.

I loved finding out how to make someone shudder and gasp, and cry out; to feel a cunny or a cock quiver at my touch, the sudden rush of wetness, the flushed skin and quick breath. Sweet tension, and its sweet release. I liked to give pleasure, and it gave me a sense, I suppose, of something I didn’t have anywhere else: power.

We were taught what foods to eat to enhance the senses, and which ones would sweeten one’s breath and one’s... other secretions. Every aspect of the art, from entering a room or pouring a drink, to undressing oneself or someone else with sensual grace.

I had to learn patience, and although grace was never my strongest point, I learned, at least in the bedroom, some subtlety. I became even more convinced that I had been lucky in being Chosen to be one of Babaska’s priestesses; I doubted those of the other deities had nearly as much fun.

Others didn’t take to it so well.

Brisein, Chosen by the Avatar Rohikanta, was the first to break. I could have told them she wasn’t right for it; anyone with half an eye could see she was embarrassed and miserable. She had no reason to be embarrassed, at least; given a choice and the chance to get to know her partner, she’d have been as good as anyone, but whatever her life had been beforehand, it hadn’t suited her to this.

One morning she was simply gone. “She’s been found a place,” the Avatar Rohikanta told us, running a hand through his watery beard; the water vaporised halfway to the floor, surrounding him in a constant chilly mist. He was frowning, but then, he always looked serious. The Messehwhy
reared, showing their pale bellies, and hissed.

Jonat scowled. I remember how black her hair was, in that cool-coloured room; she had the high-boned face of the desert tribes and her eyes were as dark as her hair. “Fat lot of good she’s going to be,” she muttered, once she was sure Rohikanta was out of earshot, though of course, with the Avatars, it was difficult to be certain. “She couldn’t cope with the lessons, what sort of priestess is she going to make?”

Renavir trembled and bit her thumb. “Hush.”

Shakanti appeared silently behind us, as she tended to do. One of her many disconcerting habits. She swept her hand briefly over Renavir’s hair, which was fine and light as a baby’s. “Concentrate on your own future, if you are to have one,” she said.

I could
feel
Jonat wanting to ask what
that
meant and held my breath. I’d seen already what Shakanti could do to an acolyte who displeased her; I didn’t even know what the boy had done, but he had been giggling and trying to pull his own fingers off when they led him away. I needn’t have worried – at least, not about that. The Avatars didn’t interfere in each other’s affairs, and that meant they didn’t interfere with each other’s Chosen. Shakanti merely swept Renavir off to her own rooms.

Aka-Tete came for Jonat, Hap-Canae for me. They never left us girls alone together. I didn’t care: Jonat made me uncomfortable, and I was anxious to show Hap-Canae what I’d learned. They never let us wander about the temple by ourselves, either; for all the rooms I’d seen, I hadn’t explored a fraction of it.

Unless he decided to keep me for the night, he always took me back to my room.

The first time, he said, “Sweet child, forgive me, but I must lock you in.”

“Why? I’m not going to run away! I’d never leave you!”

He put his arm around my shoulders. “There are those who might wish to harm you. Jealous of your position, of the power you might – you
will
one day wield.” He stroked my cheek. “I would be most distressed if anything were to happen to you.”

After that, of course, I took being locked in as a sign of his care for me.

Sixteen-year-old love. Worse for the brain than cloud, and twice as addictive.

CHAPTER NINE

W
HEN WE GOT
back to the Lantern the Vessels were still there, and so was little Frithlit – standing on the steps, in fact, looking as though he were about to make a speech. Flower was standing behind him, arms folded, his brow-ridges arched.

“I know law,” Frithlit said, his voice soft but quite clear enough to be heard across the street. “And law says,” he drew a breath, and with his hands clasped in front of him like a small boy reciting a lesson, continued, “‘the loitering, blocking, or acting in such a manner as to deliberately prevent or interfere with the lawful pursuance of trade’ is illegal. This trade here, she is legal. You loiter, is not legal, because is deliberate interfering with trade. Is big fine, is big scandal, is maybe prison.”

The Vessels looked at each other.

“You know what?” I said, “I think he’s right.” They take trade damn seriously here, it’s Scalentine’s lifeblood. That and diplomacy. “Prison, eh?” I said. “Now, that wouldn’t look so good. Wouldn’t be so pleasant, neither, especially since word about the girl in Ropemakers has got round. I know you say the Vessels had nothing to do with it, but you know, I’m not sure everyone believes that. There’s probably people who would be very excited to see you, down in the gaol in King of Stone. Of course, you haven’t heard me say that, so it’s going to be a nice surprise for you.”

“We fear no harm; we are armed in Purity,” the young man with asses’ ears addressed the air.

“Working so far, then,” I said.

The Vessels moved together and began to converse in low voices. I couldn’t hear the words, but the tone was clear enough. Whether it was the thought of all the nice new friends they’d make in prison, or the scandal, something was bothering them.

With an abruptness that had me putting hand to hilt, they swung about and strode off, their robes swishing behind them, Asses’ Ears holding his mask on with one hand.

I suffered a mean impulse.

“No, Laney, don’t!” I shouted.

He grabbed up his robes and ran, not bothering to look back and see that Laney had already left the window. As though he could have outrun a spell, anyway.

“Well, that went better than it could have,” I said. “Thank you, Frithlit.”

“That won’t be the last of it,” Flower said. “You wait. And now I have to find something else for supper.”

I patted his arm as we went past. “Never mind, it looks like we’ve no clients to feed anyway.”

“Oh yes, that makes me feel a lot better,” he said, and grumbled his way back to the kitchen.

He still managed to come up with a substantial supper, which we ate around the big scrubbed kitchen table. “So, how did you meet?” I said to Frithlit. He was very pretty, in a pastel sort of way. To be brutally honest, what with his pearly-blue skin and her copper hair and freckles, he and Previous clashed appallingly, but she was so obviously taken with him that no-one was going to be unkind enough to point it out.

Frithlit flushed lavender and looked down at his plate. “Is embarrassing. She is rescue me. I am maiden in distraint.”

“Distress, I
think
you mean,” Laney said, gesturing one of her laced sleeves into the pickle. “Drat.”

“Yes, thank you. Distress. I am in card game, and is going well, then all of a sudden peoples decide they don’t like me to take what I have won, and is go for throw me in river.” He shrugged. “Previous is come and kick their heads, and, well, I decide, is sort of woman for me, eh?” He took her hand.