Dangerous Gifts (31 page)

“When you say ‘problem,’” he said, “what sort of problem?”

“Any sort. Especially if they have funny ideas about the Itnunnacklish.”

Tantris sighed. “You’ve got to understand something,” he said. “They’re
bonded.
A family guard... This lot may not be much, but they’re in a contract. The guard is loyal to the family, and the family to the guard.”

“And they no longer see the Itnunnacklish as family?”

“If there hadn’t been this talk of her having them... us... turned out, then, well, I’m not saying all of them would be happy about it, but there wouldn’t be so much bad feeling.”

“Who started this talk?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Just started hearing it, and then it was everywhere before you could blink.”

“Have any of you actually
asked
the Itnunnacklish?”

“Speak direct to a member of the Family?” His face went slack with horror. “That’s not
done.
”

Oh for... “All right. So which of them can I rely on?” I said.

Relieved to have the subject changed, Tantris looked at the ones I’d picked. “That Stikinisk, she’s no trouble. And she’s fast. The other scaly, Vasik, yes, well, I don’t know him so well, but he’s all right. Vorenay, yes. Bassin...” He hesitated, and his gaze shifted away from mine.

“One of Dentor’s crew?”

He shrugged.

“Not him, then,” I said. “The chunky lad, with the broad shoulders. Him.”

“Koverey.”

“He’ll do.”

“What are you planning?”

“You’ll see. You,” I said, pointing to Stikinisk. “Over here.”

She stepped out.

“And you” – I pointed to the chunky lad – “Koverey. And you” – the Ikinchli male, slight but whip-quick – “Vasik?”

“Yes.”

“Right. We’re making you the core. You come with me.”

I ran them through a series of scenarios, using each in turn as a stand-in for Enthemmerlee. I worked them hard, and praised them loudly, while Tantris carried on with the rest.

I worked them hard enough to feel it but not so hard they’d be useless this afternoon, then dismissed them. With extra praise and a nip out of my flask for the core.

Then I went over the forthcoming occasions with Tantris. Of course he didn’t know the layout of the Ancestor Caves, but we could work out basic strategy. It’s always the same, in any case; get and stay between the target and any trouble, and if the trouble gets more than you can deal with, get the target away, whatever else is going on behind you.

In some ways, the Enkantishak ceremony was the most worrying in security terms. A huge cave, with only one entrance or exit. A good thing for stopping the dodgy getting in. A decidedly bad thing if the dodgy were already there and you wanted to get your client out safe.

The ceremony sounded simple enough: prayers to the ancestors, then something called the
Ipash Dok,
which was a ceremonial gift, a sort of box, which Enthemmerlee would lay on an altar, and open. It was supposed to contain the hopes of the supplicant, or something.

A box with hope in it sounded like a good thing, but for some silly reason it gave me a little chill, as though it reminded me of something I’d rather forget.

O
N MY WAY
back, I saw Dentor slouching among the outbuildings. There was something about the way he was walking that gave me pause. His usual thug’s stride had a furtive slither about it. Besides, he was supposed to be in lockup.

I decided it wouldn’t hurt any to see where he was going. I had an itchy feeling about Dentor. First I’d knocked him off his perch, then Tantris had started taking back some authority, and Dentor struck me as the sort who might get spiteful.

A barn, still relatively sturdy, stood by itself, being slowly strangled by those same hairy grey vines that grew all over the captain’s garden. These, perhaps getting more sun, had broken out in unwholesome-looking fleshy pink and yellow flowers, as big as my hand and none the prettier for it. They put me in mind of wounds that were going bad.

I saw a flicker of pale blue inside the barn: someone there, waiting. Dentor took a last look around, and stepped inside.

I edged around until I was under the nearest trees; I couldn’t get any closer without giving myself away. All I could hear was a faint murmur of voices. Dammit. The place might have been specifically chosen with an eye to its lack of cover.

Dentor hadn’t struck me as that sharp. Maybe I’d misjudged him. Or maybe he wasn’t the one who’d chosen it.

Then I heard a laugh... a female laugh, in that low register that, done right, is like a well-placed touch. It’s a talent, a laugh like that; I’ve never quite managed it.

Seduction. And Dentor, of all people.

Well, so much for that. The rain had gone from misty to damn near solid so I trudged off before I could drown where I stood, feeling somewhat foolish.

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

L
ATER THAT AFTERNOON
I changed, again – Bergast wasn’t the only one who needed some laundry done – and lined up with the others by the main doors, all in our finery; well, everyone else was, and I’d given my gear as much of a shine as I could. Fain had managed to get his clothes cleaned and had obtained, from somewhere, a very fancy embroidered cloak with a high ruff collar; unlike the rest of Gudain clothing, it suited him. I had no idea where Mokraine had wandered off to.

I could hear the tramp of feet outside; the guard. I bit my lip, wondering what state they’d be in.

The seneschal opened the doors.

For a wonder, it had stopped raining. Low light flooded the courtyard, and the guard, and dazzled back from button, boot and helm.

On closer inspection, the spit-and-polish job was pretty hasty, but all things considered, it wasn’t bad. The captain himself was in what I assumed was his seldom-used kept-for-best uniform; around the middle the buttons were straining so hard that if the thread gave way they’d be making holes in passers-by, but at least they were shiny.

“Why, how splendid you all look!” Enthemmerlee said. “I am very fortunate to have such fine soldiers to accompany me.”

“Present arms!” Tantris shouted, and with only a little fumbling, they did.

I
WATCHED THE
two great heavy coaches with the lizard symbol on the roof leave, past the Ikinchli waiting outside the gate, drawn back either side of the roadway: a crush of dun and green and brilliantly embroidered waistcoats sewn with fragments of shell and bone and glass, some in the livery of the great houses. I even saw some of the Palace purple. They held little ones up on their shoulders, straining for a glimpse.

Itnunnacklish, Itnunnacklish.

Guard uniforms around the coaches.

“Right,” I said. “Everyone ready?”

An old trick. The fancy coaches sent off empty, escorted by a few of the guard, and some house servants in guard uniforms. The actual party going out the back way, in plain old coaches.

Mokraine opened the door of the coach and settled himself next to Enthemmerlee. “Mokraine? You’re joining us?” I said.

He gave a weary smile. “The young lady was kind enough to invite me.” Someone had lent him a clean robe. It was Gudain design, though perhaps an old-fashioned one, since the ruff beneath the cloth was only a few inches wide. Oddly, it gave Mokraine an impressive look, like an ancient king.

Selinecree opened the door of the coach. “Oh, you’re here. Good,” she said, and hurried off to one of the others.

Bergast, a moment later, opened the door, took one look, and said, “Ah, well, since you’re here, Madam Steel, I’d better be in the other coach.”

“What?” I said. But he had scuttled away. Mokraine opened one eye, sniffed, and closed it again.

“I do not like this,” Enthemmerlee said, as we rolled away. “I hate to deceive them.”

“I know they want to see you. I know you want to show them that you’re here, that you exist. But they’re not all your friends. You know this.” I turned my shield so she could see the dent, where the stone had hit. “Remember him?”

She sighed. “Kankish. Yes.”

“And we still have to get there, so please, stay inside the coach. It can protect you from an arrow better than I can.”

A
S WE HEADED
up the hill to the Palace, the air thickened. That strange alchemical tang became stronger, tainted with rotten eggs. In the grounds themselves was a thing I’d never seen before: a lake of mud, steaming and bubbling like a giant stew, the bubbles as big around as plates. They struggled up slowly, expanded, and broke with
pops
and
gloops
. I could feel the heat coming off it.

The Palace’s garish patchwork of marble jarred even more in the sunlight, but quickly became background. I was watching for shapes, for movement, out of place. The swarms of people were only that: swarms, vague undifferentiated shapes, unless one of them moved contrary to the flow.

Ikinchli waited patiently in the courtyard; the Palace guard lined up by the inner gates. They looked impressive, certainly. Their uniforms were so black they seemed to cut a hole in the colours that surrounded them. Enthemmerlee stepped out of the carriage, and a whisper shifted across the crowd. Her father stepped down, an order was shouted, and the Palace guard snapped their spears to the salute, slamming the butts as one against the marble floor.

Other carriages drew up. That slamming salute was repeated as each of the members of the Ten Families appeared. The disti didn’t like the salutes, tossing their heads and whipping their great muscular tails every time those spearbutts hit the floor.

Every window looking down on the court was crammed with faces, both Ikinchli and Gudain, though seldom at the same window.

Enthemmerlee took her father’s arm. His face was held in a kind of frozen haughtiness; hers was calm, though pale.

More whispering. I caught a few words of spiteful nastiness from some pudding-faced Gudain. I thought Enthemmerlee heard; I know one of the guard did, I saw him smirk.

I watched for the quick or unforeseen move, the flicker of metal, a hand raised.

Into the main doorway. Heavy perfumes and lamp-oil, and the pounding of booted feet in the low flat rooms. And warm; steamy-warm. The citrus tang of Ikinchli sweat, the heavier, more metallic smell of Gudain. Scented braziers and crisply-dressed servants, a high archway carved with lilies.

Plenty of space, for all that it was a major social occasion. These rooms, too, were built for more people than now filled them. People chattering in little groups. As we entered the conversation faltered; then it rose again, mixed with a deal of whispering and sidelong glances.

A servant walked up with a tray of savouries, made to look like tiny birds and frogs and flowers. Enthemmerlee smiled and took one. A flicker of blue at her cuff. Good girl, she remembered the jug.

A cluster of foreign dignitaries; most of the crowd Gudain. Lobik stood alone, until Malleay went up to him and started talking, ignoring the cupped hands, the looks and whispers. I clung to Enthemmerlee’s side, as did the core. Bergast stayed close. Good.

“I heard it was some sickness that deformed her.” A voice, not low enough. Enthemmerlee must have heard, but she didn’t show any sign. “Terribly sad, really. But why such a charade?”

“A charade? You don’t think there’s any truth in the idea, then?” A new voice.

“Oh, don’t be absurd. It’s a disgusting idea.”

“Not everyone thinks so.”

“Oh, well, if you will side with these
revolutionaries.
You know half of them don’t even attend
privaiya
?”

“It’s a big world out there, my dear. We’re in danger of looking like throwbacks.”

“And since when did you care about the opinions of the outside world?”

“As an outsider, I would say, it is always worth being careful of the opinions of others. One never knows when they may be of use.” Fain. Playing the charming merchant for all he’s worth.

“Well I think it’s
unnatural.
”

I let the words flow around me.

A few of the curious strolled up, watching Enthemmerlee with bright, avid eyes. Others did their best to pretend she didn’t exist, that there was a sort of smudge in the air where she was standing.

The crowd made me uneasy. The Gudain carried themselves so rigidly, it was like being surrounded by crudely animated chess-pieces. And I kept seeing the same sets of features repeated, with slight variations, on different faces, male and female. As though someone had made four or five woodcuts, and used them hurriedly, over and over, but the wood was soft, and with each stamp grew blurrier. Odd projections, a lump where an ear should be, slurred speech. A grown man who giggled then suddenly flung a cake away from him and bawled like a furious child, a watchful Ikinchli male always at his side, occasionally wiping his chin. There were no actual children at all.

“Babylon?” Fain said. “Over there. And yes, I will stay with Enthemmerlee, I can hardly do otherwise, remember?”

I could see the little cluster of foreigners. I motioned to Rikkinnet. She nodded.

I slipped away, found a room where I could take off the helmet and attempt to smooth my hair. I slipped on a plain tabard of blue silk, which I’d brought with me, over my armour. I frowned at the colour, something tickling my memory, but it wouldn’t come. I went back out, to mingle and listen, still keeping one eye on Enthemmerlee.

I moved around, edging my way towards the foreigners. Picking up fragments like a magpie.

“...hear she had to hire a
foreign
bodyguard because her own guard wouldn’t take the job.”

“They’re here, aren’t they?”

“I wonder what they bribed them with...”

“...that the foreigner? Funny, if it wasn’t for the colour, she could almost be one of us...”

Presumably they thought I should be flattered. Or was deaf.

“...my own daughter. It’s impossible to talk to her. She’s fallen under the influence of these agitators. She won’t come to
privaiya...
”