Bad Gods Read online

  It was a stable household and servants were rarely dismissed; the master and mistress liked familiar people about, who knew their ways. For the rest of the servants, I was mainly extra work on the whim of a silly girl, who came to the kitchens to play with me when I was tiny, but lost interest quickly as I grew.

  I remember the stone-flagged floor; a bone spoon for a toy. I remember Philla, a little – mainly as long clean hair and a scent of jasmine. When she left the house on her marriage, she left the bag I’d been found in to be given to me when I was old enough not to lose it. I was ten or so when someone remembered, and it was the only thing I’d ever owned apart from the clothes I stood in. It was nothing much, a stained linen bag and a few chips of white stone, but I kept it by me. As though there were another life somewhere, and that bag was the key.

  Chapter Two

  Darask Fain. He’s never been a client, but I’ve heard of him; everyone has, somehow. He moves between the different levels of society smooth as a dancer, but he always seems to skate the surface; runs a gambling den called the Singing Bird, and has a reputation for being a very dangerous man with his fingers in a lot of pies. That sort of client can be an asset, or a major liability.

  He’s also the most devastating thing on two legs in Scalentine.

  Flower had shown him into the red room (the one we call ‘Punters’ Parlour’ among ourselves). It has red divans with masses of cushions in all the shades of a rose garden, (including pink and yellow – Laney’s choice – you wouldn’t think it would work, but it does), and some pictures. Sexy pictures, but subtle; I don’t like paintings that look like an instruction manual, and they can have the opposite effect to what’s intended.

  The red room’s the biggest room we have, but it was verging on packed. There were two other punters: one was a new face, young and nervous-looking, the other was an elderly and delightful clockmaker who turned up mainly to reminisce about his wild younger days with whoever was prepared to sit around with very few clothes on and listen, though he could still be pretty sprightly when the mood took him.

  The rest of the crowd was made up of the crew. Laney, in three wisps of green silk that matched her eyes, was perching on the arm of the clockmaker’s chair, gesturing extravagantly as she pretended to believe some outrageous story, and everyone else was either offering Fain a drink, plying him with food, or just gawping. Essie, a curvy, pretty creature with dark curls and cinnamon freckles, was holding out a plate of pastries, Jivrais was pouring a large glass of the really good wine, and Ireq was leaning against the wall, watching. Flower was in the kitchen, but the Twins were hovering, and they didn’t usually pay much attention to what they called the ‘prose punters.’ No-one was paying any mind to the new lad. Not good. I was going to have to do some dressing down.

  Hard to blame them, though, when you saw Fain.

  He was seated on one of the sofas, with a glass in his hand and a plate of pastries at his elbow. I have rosy-shaded lamps in there; they give a rich, flattering light. Fain didn’t need it: with those dark eyes, high cheekbones and glossy black hair, he would look good under a noonday sun. Unlike some new clients, he looked utterly at ease.

  This all went through my head in less than a moment. Fain had spotted me as soon as I walked in, and stood up. Everyone else did too, even the clockmaker.

  It made me nervous. It’s been a long time since people did that when I entered a room.

  “Madam Steel.”

  “Mr Fain. I hope you’re being looked after?”

  “Quite charmingly. But I wonder if I might beg the privilege of a private word with you?” He had a voice like velvet-clad fingers running down one’s naked back.

  “Certainly. I’ll be with you in just a moment.” I held out my hand to the young lad, who bent over it and stammered something about it being an honour. “I just came to... I mean I thought... I’m terribly sorry...”

  I managed to get out of him what it was he was after, and sent him off with Ireq, an ex-soldier. Ireq had sleek grey fur and rich brown eyes, and the fact that he had one arm missing below the elbow didn’t seem to hamper his popularity and might actually have enhanced his inventiveness. He was taciturn to the point of near muteness, but lots of people seemed to like that. He’d know how to deal with the boy’s nerves. I ordered everyone else back to their duties, sharply enough to let them know I was peeved, and took Fain into the blue parlour, aware of more than a few envious looks directed at me as I went.

  “This is an unexpected pleasure,” I said.

  He settled himself into a chair like a cat into a sunbeam. “You run a very pleasant house, Babylon. I’m already regretting that I haven’t been here before.”

  “Now you are, what can I do for you, Mr Fain?” I had several ideas in mind, and they were getting more extravagant by the moment.

  “I am prepared to offer you a large sum of money in return for a certain service I believe you may be able to perform for me.”

  That put me on edge. I didn’t know enough about Fain to guess what his personal tastes might be, but if he was prepared to offer much over the going rate, it had to be something a bit out of the ordinary. And though the motto of the House is ‘All tastes, all species, all forms of currency,’ there are tastes we don’t cater for. Anyone who prefers an unwilling partner, or one too young, had better not step through my door. Anything resulting in permanent injury and such, we don’t do; and we insist on taking measures to protect ourselves. Disease is not a problem on Scalentine the way it is elsewhere, because of the peculiar nature of the place; but pregnancy is. At least, for some of us. Fain was not a man I wanted to antagonise, but I have principles. That may be why I’m often broke.

  I sat down, arranged myself in an encouraging posture, and waited. Not for long.

  “Someone has gone missing. I’d like you to look for her.”

  I managed to shut my mouth, eventually. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “A young woman – a stranger to the city – has disappeared. I am extremely concerned for her welfare.”

  I was thoroughly bemused, not to mention pretty disappointed. “Why me?” I said. “This isn’t the kind of request I usually get.” I wasn’t entirely able to keep the regret out of my voice.

  “Because I think you have the qualities I am looking for. I’d know better if you came to the club, of course...”

  “Gambling’s not really my game.”

  “But I suspect you’d be rather good, if you decided to take it up.”

  “I’m not sure about that. I think it requires a level of concentration that’s beyond me. Besides, I’m not good at numbers.”

  “But judging by what I’ve heard, you’re good at people. Often, that’s all that is required.”

  “You must be pretty good at people yourself.” Somehow that had come out sounding a lot more inviting than I intended. Ye gods and little fishes, I was practically purring.

  It had to be the voice. No-one should be allowed to look that good and have a voice like that. It eased past the brain and curled itself right around the privates.

  I dragged my concentration back into my head. “Anyway, this girl. What qualities have I got? Why not go to the militia?”

  “I believe you can talk to people who won’t talk to the militia. The last Chief left a long shadow.”

  The Chief before Bitternut had been a nasty little pusbag; corrupt as a dead dog in high summer. It made the new Chief’s job harder than it needed to be. I still heard stories from some of the other whores. A lot of them come to me when they fancy a bit of advice or a gossip. Them and ex-soldiery.

  “But still,” I said, “why me?”

  “You need the money.”

  That acted on me like a dash of cold water. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “I do run a gambling house, Madam Steel. I know when someone’s overstretched.”

  The fact that he was right didn’t make me any happier about him knowing, and I wasn’t sure I believed his explanation, ei
ther. We kept the place in good order. Maybe someone had been gossiping with a client, and word had got out. Discretion, or lack of it, works both ways.

  Still, he was right. “So who is this girl and why are you looking for her?”

  Fain leaned forward, and I could smell his scent; a mix of clean male, and something dark and woodsy. I was increasingly aware that I really didn’t trust him and that I was having a damn hard time keeping my hands off him anyway. I tried to concentrate on listening to his words, rather than watching his mouth.

  “She’s the daughter of people I want to keep happy. If I can find her for them they will be extremely, not to say lucratively, grateful. I’m prepared to invest against the possible returns.”

  “How much?”

  He told me. I swallowed hard.

  It was a lot of money. It would certainly keep the tax office quiet; it might even pay Laney’s clothier’s bill as well. We had a good reputation and generous clients, but we were picky and planned to remain so. Unfortunately that can thin the coffers no end.

  “What sort of business are her people in?” I said.

  “Does it matter?”

  “It might.”

  He sighed. “They’re not precisely in business. They’re more... government. They are, however, highly influential and helping them out could be extremely advantageous for us both.”

  “Government where?”

  “Incandress.”

  “Oh.” It sounded vaguely familiar; it might have been one of the places I passed through on my way to Scalentine, but then, there had been a lot of those.

  “It’s a satrapy of the Perindi Empire. The Ikinchli come from there.”

  “They do?” There are quite a few Ikinchli in Scalentine, and I knew at least one of them pretty well. “This girl’s not Ikinchli, though?”

  “No.” Fain rummaged in a pocket and held something out to me. “They call themselves Gudain.”

  It was a gold locket. Not exactly the most delicate thing; it weighed so heavy in my hand I could probably have brained someone with it, and it was thick with scrollwork, curlicues and turquoise cabochons. I flipped the catch with my nail.

  Inside was a portrait. It looked to me like the sort of thing that gets done by a court painter, so only the All knows how accurate it was. But she was a pretty creature, humanlike, with thick, straight, greeny-gold hair, skin with a seawater sheen, and astonishing eyes, huge and brilliant yellow. I’d never seen eyes like that on a human, but they touched some memory in me. Not the colour, but the look.

  “She was visiting Scalentine with her family,” Fain said, “and the family of her betrothed. I believe they were here to buy... something or other. Some frivolity, jewellery perhaps, to do with the forthcoming wedding.”

  That actually made a certain amount of sense. Scalentine being the way it is, we do have things here from all over the place.

  “They were staying at the Riverside Palace.”

  I whistled. “Fairly well to do then.”

  “Fairly, yes.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Enthemmerlee Defarlane Lathrit en Scona Entaire.”

  “There’s a handle and a half,” I said. “So what happened?”

  “They were at the Hall of Mirrors when there was some kind of disturbance, and the next thing they knew she was gone.”

  “What sort of disturbance?”

  “Oh, a scuffle in the crowd, and some visiting grandee or other in a jewelled litter, creating fuss. Nothing to do with the Incandrese.”

  “Just gone?” I said.

  “So they said. Vanished.”

  “No ransom demand?”

  “No. Nothing.”

  I looked at the picture again. The girl had a calm, serious stare, and looked terrifyingly innocent. Though it’s hard to tell with different races, I’d say she was no more than sixteen.

  “They’re government, you say. Ruling families?”

  “Yes. Noble class.”

  Nobility has a habit of pimping out their children, though they don’t call it that and it’s done with a deal of ceremony. Maybe the girl didn’t want to be married, and had seen the chance to do a runner. I sympathised, but it meant she was on her own, in a city which, much as I love it, is not the safest place for a pretty innocent. And she was noble class, which almost certainly meant she had no more idea how to look after herself than a kitten.

  Not that poor girls are necessarily safe, either. I looked at the portrait. Something about that solemn stare sent a quiver down my back. Memory, or guilt.

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll ask around. But I need to borrow this. I’ll get some copies done, get it back to you.”

  “Keep it as long as you need. There is one thing, though...”

  “What?”

  “Timing. The wedding must take place before Twomoon. The family are somewhat insistent on that point.”

  “Doesn’t give me long to find her.”

  “I know.”

  He took a bag of coin out of his pouch and laid it on the table, then he took my hand and bowed over it, and though he just brushed it with his lips I felt the touch all the way down. “Thank you, Babylon.”

  “I’m not promising anything other than that I’ll look.”

  He smiled. “I know.”

  I saw him out, and watched him walk away, with a smooth elegant stride. The money weighed heavy against my hip.

  I went back into Punters’ Parlour. Laney had taken the clockmaker upstairs, the Twins had presumably retreated to the Basement; only Jivrais and Flower were still there. Flower was bending to refill the plates of snacks we always kept on the sideboard, the strings of his apron straining across his broad green back. Under the apron he wears plain linen trousers but nothing else – he gets hot in the kitchen.

  “I’m going out,” I said. “We haven’t anyone due for a couple of hours.”

  “You should eat,” Flower waved at the plates.

  “I’ll eat when I get back.”

  “Never mind that!” Jivrais was positively wriggling with curiosity. He’s a young lad, part faun and all mischief, otherwise known as Trouble. “What happened? Mr Fain just left? You didn’t even take him upstairs!”

  “No,” I said.

  “Aw, Babylon... didn’t we have anything he wanted?” Jivrais pouted.

  “Yes, we did, but it wasn’t someone to bed. He’s asked me to look for a girl who’s gone missing.” I showed them the portrait.

  “Ooh, she’s lovely,” Jivrais said. “Those eyes.”

  “Yeah, I know. And she’s walking prey. She’s called Enthemmerlee – hang on – Enthemmerlee Defarlane Lathrit en Scona Entaire. Honestly, even Laney’s real name isn’t that long.”

  Flower looked at the portrait and sighed. “You can’t save them all, Babylon.”

  I knew what he was getting at. I have a certain soft spot, or maybe it’s a raw spot, for young girls in trouble. “Yeah, well, let’s hope this one’s just playing ‘let’s worry the parents’ and doesn’t need saving. And let the crew know what Chief Bitternut said, okay?”

  “The Vessels. Right.” He shook his head. “That is one weird bunch. Those masks give me the bihadash.”

  Vessels above a certain rank wear Purity masks: white, ugly things like a bird’s skull. If the higher priests have to leave their temples, they wear masks without eyeholes, and are led by sighted servants: the ‘truly pure’ (truly something, all right) blind themselves, to avoid accidentally spotting anything sinful.

  “Bihadash?” I said.

  “You know how you feel about beetles? Like that. The sight of them makes me want to squish something.”

  “Well, I sympathise, but I’m afraid you’re not allowed to squish Vessels, more’s the pity.”

  While I took my stroll I’d keep an eye out for some of the freelancers, ask them if they’d heard anything that might lead to Enthemmerlee. I’d mention the Vessels, too, but most of them would already know about the girl who’d been attacked
. News like that spreads faster than fever in a siege.

  Previous was on the door. She’s a stocky, freckled redhead who barely comes up to my chin, and a damn sight faster than she looks. You have to be careful picking bouncers; I don’t usually put Flower or anyone that big out front – a mountain of muscle between them and their fun can put some customers off, plus it can make them feel inadequate. Previous, in her dented armour, hits the right balance. We hooked up some years before I came to Scalentine; both of us acting as caravan guards to a manically nervous merchant whose cargo of spices, we discovered rather too late, hadn’t actually belonged to him. When I left she decided to come with me; I was glad to have her.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey.”

  “What was that with the gorgeous Mr Fain, then?” she said, grinning. “Talk about take your fun and run.”

  “No fun. Just talk.”

  “Shame.”

  I told her about the girl. She frowned at the portrait. “Looks pretty snappable, don’t she? All right, I’ll listen out.”

  “Getting chilly.”

  “It is.”

  I handed her my flask, and she took a swig and handed it back. We stood for a moment looking out towards the square, with its cool greenish-glowing lights and the great clock. It showed the cycles of the sun, the moons, and the planes – those that had cycles anyone could follow, at least – in a series of interlocking wheels; brass and silver, copper and gold, lapis and jade and chrysoprase.

  “Not as cold as the time we were on guard duty up in the Clarissen mountains,” she said.

  “Don’t remind me. If I had nadgers they’d have frozen off, I swear. Remember those poor boys trying to get a fire going, and the snow came down blue?”

  “Hah, blue snow. Made it even colder, somehow.” Previous shook her head.

  “What was that warlord’s name?”

  “You should know. Got to know him lots better’n I did,” she said, grinning.

  “Hey, I had to keep warm somehow. He was all right. What the hells was his name?”

  “Don’t think I ever learned it,” Previous said. “Too busy trying to keep that cousin of his from sneaking through the pass and cutting his nadgers off. Families, eh? Can’t remember the cousin’s name, neither.”