Dangerous Gifts Page 30

  I felt my back hairs start to creep. “What do you know about the ceremony, Filchis? What’s supposed to happen?”

  “He told me Scalentine will be just what I always wanted. A place that can no longer be corrupted by outside influences. But you know what? You know what? I think he favours her. And I don’t think he’s telling me everything.”

  “Favours who?”

  “The blonde. That silly woman. All very well if you need someone to stir up a crowd, but I don’t think he should be telling her important things that he’s concealing from me.”

  My head hurt, and I fervently wished for Mokraine. I couldn’t make head or tail of what this fool was babbling about.

  “‘After the Enkantishak, Scalentine will be free of outside influences?’ What does that mean?” I said.

  “You’re claiming you don’t know.”

  “I don’t.”

  How could a religious ceremony to acknowledge the Itnunnacklish possibly affect Scalentine?

  But whoever had sent Filchis here believed it. And Filchis believed something was being hidden from him. He believed it enough that he’d sought me out, he’d come down to this stinking hole to try and get it out of me.

  I stared at him. He stared back, his full-fleshed, smooth, politician’s face flushed with drink and suspicion.

  “Commander,” he said, still looking at me. “I believe this woman is concealing important information. Information that may be of importance to Incandress. I think perhaps she should be questioned. Closely.”

  “She’s here for violation of the Moral Statutes,” the commander said.

  “Which is enough to tell you that she is a person of questionable integrity,” Filchis said, every sign of drink smoothed away. Sounding reasonable. Sounding plausible. “Now, we both know the situation here is dangerous. You have been dealing with it with great effectiveness, so far. But should something happen, and it turns out that she is responsible, and that if she had been carefully questioned, that something could have been prevented...”

  Sweat began to prickle in my hair.

  The Fenac commander looked us both over, rubbing his thumb over the hilt of his mace.

  He’d heard Fain’s warning about anything happening to me. But Fain was a foreigner, he wasn’t here, and he’d been very careful that his reputation should not precede him.

  I tried, anyway. “The Scalentine government will not be happy if one of its citizens is subject to...”

  “Shut up,” the commander said. He looked at Filchis. “You really think she knows something.”

  “I think it’s more than likely. And as for being a citizen of Scalentine; things are changing there. The time when anyone and everyone can be considered a citizen is coming to an end.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “She’s up to something,” the commander said. “She was trying to get a message taken, just before you arrived.”

  “Aha. Something intended for her co-conspirators, no doubt,” Filchis said. “There are others involved, then. Perhaps names can be... extracted. Imagine if you could uncover an entire nest of conspirators, commander.”

  “Don’t let him fool you,” I said, trying, desperately, to sound calm. “He’s not on your side, commander. He’s not on anyone’s side but his own.”

  “If that’s true, if you’re innocent of conspiracy,” Filchis said, “why are you sweating?”

  I’m sweating because you’re talking about torture. You know it, I know it, the Fenac commander knows it. Everyone in this room knows it.

  Fear was pulsing through me with every rapid heartbeat, throwing me off, making it hard to think. In a fight, I’m brave enough, because I’m good at what I do, and because there’s something I can do.

  Torture isn’t a fight; there’s nothing to reach for, no mates at your side, no enemy to defeat except the pain, which can’t be defeated, except by dying.

  This time, at least I’d be able to escape into death. That hadn’t been true before.

  No. I will not think that way. I will not.

  I gripped those too-solid bars, and bowed my head.

  “Considering your options?” Filchis said. “I do hope you will come to a sensible conclusion.”

  Oh, I was considering my options, all right. And I was pretty certain I only had the one. My mind raced like an animal in a cage, seeking exits where there were none.

  The darkness in my head. I thought, for some reason, of the painful light of the device, shadows crawling on the wall.

  Lady, if you’re out there... I need you now. Babaska...

  Long ago, ceremonies had been performed before me as Babaska’s avatar. If I tried, I could remember many of them word for word. I had a good memory. Having a good memory isn’t always a pleasant thing.

  Think.

  Lots of words, but words of summoning hadn’t been among them. They hadn’t wanted the real gods back...

  Babaska, goddess of whores and soldiers. Babaska, goddess of helping your mates out in a tight spot, of seduction and death, of help to calm an angry client and help to... dammit, think, Babylon...

  Something? Perhaps.

  I called out into the void, and there was... something. That little shiver at the nape of the neck, that sense of being watched.

  There was something there, but it felt different. It felt... cold.

  Babaska?

  The cold intensified, and suddenly, I felt stripped bone-naked, as though some brute, dreadful light had been turned on me, and then it was gone.

  Babaska?

  Silence. Darkness.

  And up from my past there came a simple soldier’s prayer.

  Be the shield at my back, be the sword at my side, be the dust in my enemy’s eyes.

  A prayer to remember in the lines, under the unforgiving sun, waiting for the shock of onset and the meatcleaver punch of metal into flesh.

  Be the shield at my back, be the sword at my side, be the dust in my enemy’s eyes.

  Be the shield at my back...

  Hello, child.

  Yes. I knew the feel of her instantly. A tingle like heat. Whatever else I’d felt was gone; the aftermath of the device, or of fear. Not that I wasn’t afraid now.

  Have you changed your mind, little avatar?

  I have no choice. Help me.

  Silence. Not empty, but considering.

  I know there’s a price, I thought. Gods don’t give away anything for nothing.

  You do not trust me, then.

  I didn’t answer that. I reckoned she already knew.

  For a moment, nothing.

  And then, something.

  Heat. Light. Lust. Power. Joy. It clenched my hands on the bars and braced my feet and set my face in a grin.

  Was it the power I’d had as an Avatar? No. No roaring orgasmic flame, no sense I could eat suns and spit worlds. But it was there.

  “Now, Mr Filchis,” I said. “There’s no need to be unreasonable. I’m sure we can come to some... arrangement.”

  I raised my head and looked him in the eyes and smiled.

  Filchis moved closer to the bars.

  I reached through them and ran one finger over his forehead. “You have the face for command,” I said. “You haven’t had your dues, have you?” My voice, not quite my own. Dressed in silk and drenched in syrup. “Treated like a footsoldier in the great struggle, when you’re obviously the one who should be general. Talk to me, Angrifon. Tell me what you desire.”

  He started to pant. “I desire... I desire... They’ll kneel before me. They will. All of them.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes.”

  “Here,” the commander said. “What are you doing?”

  “Commander!” I shook my head at him. “What are you doing? Here are you and your men, stuck underground, when there are enemies to be fought!”

  A murmur from the men. The Ikinchli were utterly silent; nothing but a glitter of eyes. The Gudain prisoners clutched their bars and watched.

  “What enemie
s?” the commander said.

  Careful, Babylon. Careful. Don’t want the slaughter of civilians on your conscience.

  “I can show you. But not here.”

  The man was a gaoler to his bones. He looked at the keys in his hand and frowned.

  “Come on, commander!” one of the Fenac said. “Let’s get out there!”

  Eager. The ugly eagerness of someone who wants an excuse. But it was what I needed.

  “I can show you,” I said, looking at the commander, loading it with promise. I can show you. It can mean many things, that. I can show you where the enemy is. I can show you the blazing heart of desire. I can show you a good time, honeysweet, just let me out of this... fucking... cage...

  “Move aside,” the commander said.

  Reluctantly, still watching me, Filchis did so. His face was flushed and shining and his prick was pressing out the front of his breeches.

  The commander opened the cell door, and beckoned me forwards; he was still frowning, as though he wasn’t sure whether he was dreaming.

  I stepped forward, chained hands in front of me.

  Hurry. The link is weak, and there is something here... something that fights me.

  Smoke, I thought back. With the Gudain’s bodies rendered nearly incapable of passion, half Babaska’s armoury was crippled.

  Of course, the Ikinchli were feeling the effects of the goddess, too. Noticeably. Some of them had already lost interest in what was going on and were far more concerned with each other.

  “Muscles,” I said, not taking my eyes off the commander, hoping that Muscles wasn’t already sinking himself into some eager companion.

  “Who are you?” He was breathing fast, but he could answer. Good.

  “I am the opening,” I said, and a number of meanings swooped and hummed around the word. “You want to pass?”

  “Yes.” I hoped that meant he’d got it.

  “Straighten up, commander,” I said. I looked at the rest of the Fenac. I felt Babaska’s smile on my face; hard, bright, loving, deadly. “Form up. Show some mettle. What, will you have them say you crouched here underground, when there was glory to be won?”

  “No!” they shouted, as one. Great, if that doesn’t bring the bloody guards down from upstairs nothing will.

  “Then face about, gentlemen, and let’s see how you’re looking. Back up, and straighten up... that’s right...”

  The commander looked from his men, backing eagerly towards the cages, chins high, to me, standing in front of him with my wrists chained. “What –” he said, and reached for the chain.

  I looped it around his hand, bent my knees and yanked my wrists down hard. His arm came with them, hauling him down, and I drove up, the top of my head cracking against his chin. I heard his jaw go, and felt the warm spatter of blood as he bit his tongue. His body arced backwards; I let myself go with it, both of us falling against another Fenac, slamming him back against the bars of the Ikinchli cell.

  The commander and I fell to the floor, the commander under me, gargling and choking.

  I looked up.

  The Fenac were looking bemused. Suddenly they didn’t know whose side they were on.

  The Ikinchli did. Battle-lust and vengeance worked in my favour. They grabbed the Fenac through the bars by arms, clothes and hair and swiftly relieved them of weapons, keys and, in two cases, consciousness.

  “Don’t kill ’em!” I yelled.

  I could hardly blame them for wanting to, but... Well. Like I said. Not a frigging murderer, even by proxy. If I can help it. Though the sight of Filchis, foggy as he was with lust and confusion, tempted me a lot.

  Babylon. Hurry.

  I’m trying, lady.

  Aweird, slipping sensation, a sudden flutter of images. A crack in stone; a huge wall holding back a river, with a tiny hole through which water was trickling; a strange room, as though someone had built inside a tunnel, brighter than daylight, things and people flying through the air, screaming... I blinked, and it was gone.

  And so was she.

  Shit.

  She could have hung around another minute, dammit.

  Muscles was gaping at me. He wasn’t the only one. “Here,” I said, holding my chained wrists out to him. “Be useful.”

  He unwrapped them, still staring. I tucked the chains into my belt. Now, they were a weapon; that felt a lot better.

  “What are you?” Filchis said, somewhere behind me. “What are you?”

  “Busy,” I muttered. “All of you, not you, Filchis” – I grabbed him by the collar – “get the weapons. You’ll need ’em.” There was enough aftereffect that most of them listened to me. I was amazed that we hadn’t already had half the building’s guard and any stray Fenac down here wondering what the commotion was, but perhaps the big thick door had muffled any noise.

  I took a handful of Filchis’ coat. “You, chum, are coming with me.”

  “You can’t...”

  “Don’t try my patience, there’s none left.” I looked at the remaining Fenac, either unconscious or backed into corners. “Right,” I said. “Let’s get ’em in there.” They all fitted in the cage with plenty more room than their prisoners had enjoyed; I thought they’d been done pretty well by. The commander was awake, rubbing his head and still spitting bloody saliva, but he’d live.

  None of them seemed at all sure what had happened. The few Gudain prisoners looked almost equally bemused.

  “Let us out?” one of them said.

  “What are you in for?” I said.

  “Does it matter? You’re letting the bloody scalys out!”

  “For that, you get to stay where you are.”

  “How we going to get out?” one of the Ikinchli said.

  Another held up a long, heavy key.

  “Wait,” I said. “Anyone know which way the doors open? I can’t remember. Inwards or out?”

  “In,” someone said.

  A chorus of agreement, and I realised I did remember, I’d just been so upset by the chains I hadn’t been able to think. “Right. Damn. Okay, we’re going to have to do this carefully.”

  I looked at the Fenac in the cage.

  I looked down at myself.

  Sometimes being this tall is a huge pain. If I put on one of these uniforms I’d look like an adolescent outgrowing their clothes. It might just be enough to trigger the guards’ instincts.

  Filchis, on the other hand...

  I undid my trousers, removed my thigh knife, and did them back up. Muscles looked disappointed.

  FILCHIS SHUFFLED UP the stairs. The uniform, baggy as it was, a little snug over his paunch. With my knife in his back. “One wrong move, one funny look, one word out of place, and I’ll drive this into your spine. Even if they kill us all, you’ll never walk another step. Smooth?”

  “Smooth.”

  “Tilt your head down so they can’t see your face.”

  “When we get back...”

  “Shut up.”

  He did.

  We got the doors open.

  The guards saw only a Fenac officer’s uniform coming out of the darkness. It was the depth of the night; a good time for an unexpected attack, especially when all their attention was focused outwards, on the watch for another riot.

  We rolled right over them, through the hallway, slamming back the bolts and out of the heavy doors.

  A couple of the guard tried to halt things, but they, too, were confused. For a few moments the courtyard was a seething mass of bodies. There were screams, the horribly familiar sound of blades meeting flesh. Muscles swung his stolen mace at a guard’s head, connected with a wet crunch.

  I wondered, briefly, what he’d been in for. But at this point I couldn’t afford to care. He was big and he was strong and I needed him.

  “Ram the gate!” I gestured to one of the benches.

  He grabbed one side of it. Others saw what we were doing, and hands reached and lifted. Run.

  The shock of impact. The gates clanged and bowed.
>
  Back, heave, run. The hinges snapped, unevenly, the gates sagged outwards. People poured through the gap in a scramble; the guards roared and swung, and then everyone was in the street, scattering, hauling wounded comrades with them, disappearing down unlit alleyways among the crumbling, silent buildings.

  I glanced behind me, saw the guard rounding up stragglers. An Ikinchli who’d fallen badly with his foot caught in the gate. I hesitated.

  But then I heard it, above the cries and running feet.

  Poom.

  Boom beetle. Dawn and dusk, they call out. Dawn was coming.

  I had to get to the house, and warn them.

  I started to run, dragging Filchis, who flailed and swore. Damn, what was I going to do with him? He would attract attention and slow me down, but he knew things, and I needed to find them out. I didn’t dare let him go.

  Several Ikinchli followed me, Muscles included.

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  “The Itnnunnacklish must not be harmed. We will come with you. We will help.”

  “You really want to help? Draw off the bloody Fenac, so I can get there and warn her without being arrested again!”

  They looked at each other, hesitated. Then most of them were running in different directions, away from me, shouting and yelling and drawing attention like good ’uns.

  They may have been criminals – if they were criminals – but they still loved their Itnunnacklish.

  A couple more simply faded away down sidestreets, still watching me. I could hardly blame them; they had no real reason to trust me.

  “I might have known,” said a familiar voice, wearily.

  “Fain! What the hells are you doing here?”

  “I was coming to negotiate your release. You appear to have rendered that unnecessary. Did you have to make quite such a mess?”

  “Never mind that. Where’s Enthemmerlee?”

  “She is on her way to the Enkantishak.”

  “Already? Shit.” I started on again, as fast as I could, hauling a protesting Filchis.

  “This woman’s insane! And a witch!” Filchis croaked. “Do something! I’m a citizen of Scalentine!”