Debris (18 page)

  But it didn't respect them as much, did it? I said, "Perhaps I should have explained the past few days in greater detail."

  "Other!" Devich nearly bit into his own knuckles. "Other's balls, you can be frustrating!"

  I grinned, and again held out my hand.

  "But you're still my lady."

  Devich dropped the gloves, heavy with the warmth of his skin, onto my palm. I tucked them into my jacket pocket and opened the door. The smells of home, and its cool darkness, invited me.

  "Well?" Devich, no longer lounging against the door frame confident and cheeky, stood tall, tense, and hesitating.

  "The door's right there. You know the way in."

  I let Devich into my home and shut the door behind us. In the cool dark his warmth radiated like light. I turned, my back to the door, and he leaned in against me. I pressed my mouth to the hollow of his neck. He breathed into my hair.

  "Welcome home, my lady," he whispered.

  I tipped my head and sought his lips. They were hotter than the rest of him and his tongue, as it slipped out to touch the inside of my lip like a tentative finger, was cat-rough and quivering. Then his hands slid down my shoulders and pulled me forward, away from the door's supporting solidity. I tasted his teeth and wrapped both arms around his waist. He was thin beneath his coat, not an unhealthy thinness, more something lithe and sensuous.

  Then he cupped my head with two hands, pressed our lips together so forcefully they ached, and caught the corner of a bandage with his little finger.

  "Other!" I gasped, and pulled away.

  He resisted for a moment, tried to pull me closer to him, and rocked his hips against mine. The overall effect was nearly enough to overwhelm the simple pain of a stitch tugged out of place.

  "Wait." Cold air rushed between us as I stepped away. "The bandage."

  He let go immediately, almost took half of my neck with his left hand, and ended up torn between an awkward distance and tempting closeness.

  "Your bandage is stuck to my sleeve," he croaked.

  "I noticed. Here, shuffle with me." Somehow, we came to the lamp in the entranceway's far corner. I turned a small valve and let the invisible particles rush in to create light enough to see by.

  "Can you see it?" I asked, unable to work out how, exactly, my neck connected to his shirt.

  "Let me." Devich stuck the tip of his tongue out as he concentrated, and I found myself wanting to nibble it. "Here we go."

  I smoothed the bandage down as Devich frowned at the cuff of his pale sleeve.

  "It's sticky and... yellow." He sniffed the stain. "Why is your bandage yellow?"

  That was far too long a story to tell. "Never mind."

  Another two delicate sniffs and Devich seemed to remember what we had been doing. He smiled, ruefully. "It's a shirt." He leaned forward, warming me again. "Just a shirt."

  Bandages couldn't be dismissed so easily. I didn't let him close the gap, but headed down the entranceway and hung up my coat. "Good. Tell me, were you going to eat anything in that ballroom of yours?"

  Devich checked himself, but had the good grace not to look too disappointed. "I believe that was part of the plan, yes."

  "Pity, because I doubt we'll be able to eat here."

  "Oh?"

  "Let's look, shall we?"

  I brushed past Devich and headed for the kitchen. He hung up his coat beside mine and followed.

  The pantry was more deserted than I had feared. Tea leaves rattled in a large glass jar. Crumbs, and a few remaining nuts, occupied another. Very empty and very clean. I had to remember to speak to the cleaner.

  "How much time do you spend here, anyway?" Devich asked, an eyebrow raised. I couldn't bring myself to tell him the only proper meal I'd had in a long while was in another man's house.

  "Not a lot." I closed the doors. "Would you like to make us tea again?"

  Devich laughed. "Tea won't quite fill my stomach, I'm afraid. But I know what will." He held out his arm, crooked at the elbow. "Care to join me for supper, my lady?"

  I shook my head. "Not really."

  His face and elbow fell. "Oh."

  I tried a tender expression. "Listen, Devich, I wanted a night at home and that's what I intend to have. Food or no food."

  "You need to eat."

  "Not as much as I need to bathe." I could smell worse things than sewage in my clothes, now I had taken off my coat. I could smell Eugeny's homemade soap, clothes-drying smoke, and golden roots of the waxseal plant.

  "For you, my lady, I will compromise." The smile returned. "You clean yourself and I will bring you food."

  I hesitated. The tea leaves rattling in the bottom of the glass jar was really about all I could afford.

  "My treat."

  When I was a real lady I wouldn't have agreed. But I was right about that, and Devich, poor boy, simply wrong. I wasn't that kind of lady, not any more. "That sounds like it could work."

  "Fantastic." Devich clapped his hands together. "I'll, well, get going then."

  Drilled into the wall beside my door was a smaller crystalline screen, a miniature of the pion lock at the front. Reprogramming it without access to pions would have been impossible, but together, Devich and I managed to alter its systems so it would accept his touch as well as mine. He had to tell me what the pions were doing, and move them around while I kept what I hoped was a calming hand on the screen. Pions are not easy to fool, and they rejected him three times before gradually coming to accept that he could be trusted. The whole process left me feeling shaken and exposed. It was like Devich had just helped me walk, or see, or talk: any of those faculties I'd always taken for granted.

  When we were done I kissed his warm lips. "Don't be too long." He didn't quite run out of the apartment, but it was close.

  Alone in the quiet and dim light I had craved all afternoon, I felt strangely at a loss. Rather than dwell on it, I unfolded the piece of paper that had been left on my doorstep.

  I recognised the letterhead before I had read any of the words, scrawled on thick paper in heavy ink. My heart dropped. Walrus tusk and bear claw clashed in vibrant orange and yellow against a pale violet image of the Keeper at daybreak. Proud Sunlight was one of the top universities, accepting only those with the strongest skill.

 

  
It is with regret we hear of your misfortune. Please accept our
condolences. We trust you will understand our position...

 

  I scrunched the Other-damned thing in my hand. I knew what it would say. Sunlight had a reputation to look after, couldn't have the name of a lowly debris collector sullying its spotless honour roll. For a long and heavy moment I cradled the ball of paper against my stomach like a wound. But there was no point standing like that forever. So I did as I'd told Devich I would. I bathed.

  The bandages came off grudgingly; Eugeny's paste had stuck to the fabric and to my skin with equal vigour. But, when they did come off, they left me surprised and pleased. The horrible red puckering from the night before was gone, the wounds were smooth and pink. Nothing itched, nothing ached. My stitches, my scars, they felt normal.

  Normal.

  A knot, at the arch of my hip, was loose. I gave it a little scratch, and the thread broke, slipping from my skin clean and quickly. A few tugs and the whole thing unwound, leaving only a line of pink skin and the promise of a scar. I stared at my reflection for longer than I should have. The scars from Grandeur's fall were part of me now. They weren't some ghastly second layer of skin that did not belong. Sure, the rest of the stitches would slip away, the raised scarring would retreat, and the whole thing fade to white. But I would never be free of them.

  They were my scars.

  Shivering, despite the room's steady temperature, I ran my bath. A light pat of the switches above two bear's head taps and water gushed from their roaring brass mouths. And it smelled. Eugeny's water, heated by flame and carted up stairs by a volatile young man, hadn't smelled like this. Like metal, like rust, like something else I couldn't identify. The scent of the sky before a lightning storm, heady, and tickling the back of my throat.

  I dropped capsules of aloe and oil into the running water, then a small shovel of earthy Dead Salts, and finally crystalline petals that dissolved and released a smell like roses. Yet, as I eased myself in, wincing as the golden paste washed away and a few of the wounds stung, I could still smell that lightning-sky tang.

  Devich returned as I was dragging myself from the still-warm water. I wrapped myself in a towel as he strode down the hallway, a large box in his arms, and called me.

  "I have a treat for you, my–" he stopped short as he spotted me "–lady."

  I watched his eyes trace over my short hair, darkened by water and slicked out of any shape. As they took in the unbandaged scars on my face, the openings in my neck, the cuts along my shoulder and my arm, and down beneath my towel. I waited for the grimace, for the excuses, the reasons that weren't truly reasons to leave.

  He gave me none.

  "You're beautiful, Tanyana."

  I raised my eyebrows at him.

  "And you wear your suit so well."

  The suit. I lifted a naked arm. The cleaned bracelet shone bright ciphers against my shoulder, on Devich's face, on the wall and the ceiling around us.

  "It's beautiful, on you." Was it me he stared at so hungrily, or the shining metallic creature he had created?

  "I have to clean these." I swept a hand over the scars on my shoulder. He spared them barely a glance. "I won't be long."

  And his silent adoration vanished with a grin. "Don't be. I told you it's a treat." He hurried to the kitchen like an excited schoolboy.

  I washed my scars with fresh water, but couldn't quite remove all of the golden paste. The new bandages were rough. My collector's uniform was so uninviting I almost felt physically ill at the prospect of dragging it on. But I couldn't ignore Kichlan's warning, however much I wanted to forget about both brothers. As I pulled it over my head I noticed that the thick, boned, strangely stretching material that held no bodily smells, no dirt, and no stains, somehow smelled like Eugeny's fireplace and a goosedown bed.

  I didn't bother fussing with my hair. Devich had said to hurry.

  He didn't seem to notice the uniform as I entered the kitchen, wearing satin bedclothes over the top and hoping their design of dark water and red carp would keep it hidden. He stood, chest wide and thrust forward, arms open over a feast laid out on the clean kitchen bench.

  And it was a feast. Good enough reason, I supposed, to feel insufferably proud of himself.

  "My lady." He mock-bowed, arms sweeping forward, brushing against a decanter of wine and grabbing it before it could fall.

  "How did you do this?" I gaped at the food, and my stomach rumbled loud appreciation.

  Devich laughed. "Don't question how the food is come by, care only for how it tastes."

  "Devich's own words of wisdom?" I arched an eyebrow.

  "Hardly. Something my father used to say, when his rublie was particularly empty. Now–" he rubbed his hands together "–can I help you to your table?"

  I mused over this small slip as Devich held out a chair and sat me at my small pale lacquered table. Not from a family of debris technicians then? Not the kind of family who had always worked for the veche, always created arcane and complicated suits, and had rublies full enough to prove it. There was more, perhaps, to Devich's easily cultured civility.

  "What can I offer you first?"

  I found it difficult to keep my attention from his shoulders, as they strained a shirt that simply couldn't be wide enough to fit them, or his narrow, belt-tightened waist. Scrounging through the drawers he found cutlery enough to serve his feast, and rolled his sleeves up to do so. His forearms were muscled, well defined, their hair fair.

  I swallowed against a lump in my throat. "Give me a bit of everything." My stomach gurgled at the idea of a measly
bit
.

  Devich had brought fish. Fish. Raw salmon in slivers with lime and pepper dressing. Two large tuna steaks, grilled, and topped with thickened sour cream. Trout in a gelatinous sauce with root vegetables so fresh they were still topped with leaves. A salad of crab and green beans. Even prawns, darkened to red by a chilli crust.

  More food than the two of us could eat together, even though we focused on the eating in near silence.

  Finally, he heaped sugar-sprinkled strawberries on a plate, and we picked at them.

  Devich leaned in his chair as he dusted pale sugar onto his knees, smugly. I supposed he wanted compliments for the food he didn't prepare, or perhaps, for the kopacks that bought it.

  "Delicious," was all I could get out.

  "Wasn't it?" He stood, graceful and smooth, swept plates from the table and piled them on the bench. For the cleaner. I stared at them. There were boxes in a heap on the floor beside the bench. Had he carried them all himself, or simply directed a young chef's apprentice to do it for him? Had he walked, or hailed a landau for the trip?

  "Now, my lady, if you're still interested in tea." He held out a hand, and helped me to my feet. My stomach felt strange, not what I would call pleasantly full, just heavy. The result of such rich meat and thick sauces, I supposed.

  "Yes. Tea would be lovely." As long as I didn't have to watch him drink it.

  "You look tired." Devich traced his finger beneath my left eye. I glanced away. "Sit in your chair, and I will bring you tea. Can't have you too exhausted, can we?"