Bad Gods, page 14
“Of course she matters.” Quietly as he spoke, I’d never heard the Chief sound quite so angry. “Do you think I don’t care, just because no-one knew who she was? What I mean, Babylon, if you’ve quite finished making assumptions, is that at least with this girl we won’t have some idiot from the Diplomatic Section turning up and demanding we hand over the body right now before there’s an Incident, and we might actually be able to conduct a proper investigation and find the murdering bastard.”
“I...”
“If even you think like that, I’m not surprised none of the bloody freelancers will talk to me. I thought you had better sense, Babylon Steel, I really did. Get out of here. Go home.” Before I could answer, he turned away.
The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the sky where it had been was streaked with bloody stains.
My whole body felt coated in lead. I went looking for Glinchen but without luck. I could have slapped the stupid creature, even though ze’d thought ze was doing the right thing. Why’d ze have to put me at odds with the Chief? And what else was going on with him, was it the coming Change? He wasn’t usually so damn touchy.
My mind swung from the Chief to that poor girl, that miserable little room. That’s what too many people think whoring is. Sex as something to use, instead of something to worship – an ugly life and an ugly ending.
Murder happens, of course. Whores get killed. But it’s unusual in Scalentine. We look out for each other, and the militia treat us like citizens, too. Well, most of them. The last Chief was an exception, from what I understand – but then, he was bad news for everyone, not just for whores.
Scalentine’s different, thanks be to the All, but there’s a lot of people on a lot of planes who think sex is evil in and of itself, and so is anyone associated with it.
Which is simply crazed. We all come from it; human or Fey, god or genie – it’s how we started. It’s how life begins. People like the Vessels hate that, and you ask me, they end up just plain hating life.
Talk of a demon... I was halfway up Buckler Row when I spotted two Vessels. They were moving slowly, and as I got closer I realised why. I could see the front man’s eyes glittering in the holes of his Purity mask, as they skittered nervously from side to side, glancing into the shadowed mouths of alleyways.
The man behind him had a hand on his shoulder, and his Purity mask was smoothly white from brow to chin. There were no eye-holes.
Why would a blind man insist on being led into the worst part of the city with night coming on?
“Hey,” I said. “Hey, you.”
The front man jumped like a rabbit, causing the blind one to lose his grip on his shoulder. Both masks swung towards me. Sighted or blind, I wasn’t sure which was creepier; but even with their faces covered I could tell this pair were nervous.
“I want to know what you’re doing here. I know you don’t talk to females, but you’d damn well better talk to this one.”
The blind one recovered his grip on the front man’s shoulder and I saw his fingers tighten hard.
The front man stared past me.
“There’s been a murder, ” I said. “Do you understand? Someone is dead.”
The blind one turned to his fellow. “Terrible things happen among the unfortunates of this city. There is lust, and hatred; there is fury and despair. Thus we walk among them, to shine the light of the Purest into the dark places.”
“Thus do we shine the light,” his companion responded, his voice quavering.
“So you’ve been down here spreading the light of the Purest. Tell me, how does the Purest feel about people getting murdered?”
Still addressing his companion, the blind one said, “We upon whom the Purest has chosen to shed enlightenment know that the Purest does not experience feelings. The Purest is beyond them. Emotions weight the spirit and corrupt the mind. It is time we returned to the Temple, brother.”
His grip tightened again. The sighted one glanced at me. Buckler Row is well lit, in comparison with some places; I could see his eyes behind the mask. They didn’t look like those of a murderer. They looked frightened. He shook his head, a tiny fraction. A denial? A warning? I couldn’t tell.
I put out my hand, and let it drop. I could hardly knock them over and haul them in front of the Chief because they happened to be within a mile or so of the murder; I was in enough trouble already.
But something was going on with the Vessels. I watched them make their slow way back towards the temple and respectability, vowing that one way or another, I was going to find out what that something was.
Tiresana
They decided we should be tested in a real battle; a little local difficulty, you might say. Not that local, though – we travelled for days to get there. I think it was so there was less risk anyone might recognise one of us, later.
It still was a risk. One can test aptitude for the bedroom arts fairly discreetly. But war, even a local raiding party, is messy. The unexpected is inclined to happen. People die who shouldn’t and people survive who weren’t in your plans.
Aka-Tete, the Avatar of Death, accompanied us in his warrior aspect. The skulls at his waist clicked together as he walked, as though they were chattering about us in some secret language; the dark-must smell of death trailed him like smoke.
“Maybe the Avatar Babaska will be there!” I said to Jonat. The Avatar Aka-Tete was getting careless about keeping us apart. We weren’t exactly friends, but I was excited, and wanted to share it with someone.
She was too busy looking at Aka-Tete to answer for a moment. When she did turn to me, she looked stormy. Her hawkish nose was even sharper than usual, and I realised she was getting thinner. “Why would she, Ebi? She hasn’t bothered with us so far. It’s not even a war. It’s some little scuffle up in the hills; probably someone lost a goat.”
I wondered what had upset her, not that it took much.
“Who are we fighting?” I said, when we caught up to Aka-Tete.
“The enemy,” he said.
Even then, I didn’t consider that a sufficient explanation, but what could I do? We were lined up and sent in and there wasn’t time to ask more questions, even if anyone would have answered them.
It could have gone worse, all things considered, though I had some bad moments. Looking at the soldier I was fighting and seeing, instead of an enemy, a terrified boy even younger than me, holding a rust-pitted sword in a shaking grip. I didn’t want to kill him. But he took a swing at me, I blocked it and kicked his legs out from under him, then someone else took a swing too, and I was too busy trying to stay alive to worry about the scared boy. When the fight was over he was there, dead, lying with his cheek cupped in his hand like a sleeping child, and I didn’t even know if it was me who’d killed him.
One of the girls had an arm off at the elbow. I had a shallow cut across the back of one hand – I’d been lucky – and once everything was quiet I went to have it dressed.
We had our own priest with us for that, of course. I went into the tent, which smelled of blood and tart medicinal herbs.
The injured girl, Calife, was lying on a mattress. I could hear her muttering and crying. The Avatar Aka-Tete and the priest stood over her; the priest kneeling in his stained white robes, head bowed. Aka-Tete was a great gleaming shadow in the tent’s pale gloom, blood smeared across his armour and dappling the skulls. I wondered whose it was, as I hadn’t seen him fight.
“The bleeding is stopped, O lord. I’ve given her poppy; she should quiet soon.”
The Avatar Aka-Tete nodded, then bent down, and laid his hand on the girl. Her crying stopped. The priest said, “My lord? What...”
“She is quiet now.” The Avatar’s aspect changed from Warrior to Vulture. I backed out of the tent, and cleaned my wound myself.
Back at the temple, I stewed on it for two days, before working up the courage to mention it, when I was lying at Hap-Canae’s side, cupped in the crook of his arm, smelling his scent of myrrh and cardamom.
“Something happened,” I said, “While we were away. I saw something. And it... seemed wrong.”
“Oh?” he said.
“There was something the Avatar Aka-Tete did...”
“To you?”
“No. One of the girls was injured. Calife. She was one of the winds’ Chosen, I can’t remember which one. But I think he... I think she might have got better. Only he did something. And she died.”
“Aka-Tete is the God of Death. Do you think his Avatar does not know where the boundary lies? I have told you before. We do not interfere in the actions of another Avatar.”
“Wasn’t it interfering, though? He didn’t Choose her...”
“Trust Aka-Tete to know that she was not going to recover. Now, enough. We have a responsibility, as representatives of the gods, to present a united face to the world.” He looked into my eyes. “We have responsibilities to the people, too. How do you think they would feel if they thought we were squabbling among ourselves? Hmm? Come, I know the girl’s death upset you, but you must put it aside. These things happen in war, as Babaska’s priestess should know better than any.”
I apologised, and he pulled me back to him, and the next day he presented me with a gown so heavily embroidered it was like armour, which he’d had made while I was away. He would always rather bask in people’s adoration than burn them with his anger, although he was capable of both, as I would learn.
Chapter Fourteen
I gathered everyone who wasn’t with a client as soon as I got in, and told them about the dead girl.
I watched their faces. Sorrow, and anger... but very little fear. I didn’t know whether to be pleased or worried. “We all know this happens,” I said. “And it may be a one-off. But I want everyone being extra careful, all right? No new clients unless I look them over first. Any of the regulars been acting strange? Off? No? Well, keep an eye out and let me know immediately. And I want everyone to have some training with me or Previous or Ireq, as soon as it can be arranged. You should all know the basics, but if there is a madman out there, you need to brush up. Actually... Previous. Session? After this?”
“’Course. But I thought you had a client.”
“Cancelled.”
“Because of the Vessels?”
“What? Not that he said, no. Why?”
She squinted out of the window, tightening the strap of her breastplate. “Thought I saw one hanging about, earlier.”
“Out front? Like before?
“No. Sneaking. Corner of Lassiter and Brass Fish Street. Just caught a glimpse of the mask.”
“Probably hoping Laney’ll sit on the windowsill painting her toenails again.”
“Hah,” Laney said, bouncing up from her chair. She was wrapped in black and crimson silks, and looked like an exotic bird. “That was totally wasted on them.” She held out her leg and looked at her toes, scowling. “And I don’t even like the colour much.”
“We can’t do anything unless they cause trouble. The Vessels, I mean, not Laney’s feet.” It was a thin joke, but they made the effort to smile. That’s my crew. “All right, everyone. If anyone’s worried about a client or just doesn’t fancy the work tonight, let me know, and we’ll sort something. Smooth?”
They seemed as happy as could be expected. I went upstairs, and changed into my training gear.
Previous may be a sight shorter than me, but she’s damned fast on her feet. Made me sweat for every stroke.
I was grateful. There’s something about training that focuses you, and training with someone who really knows what they’re doing, even more so. You’re concentrating so hard on getting it right, on avoiding ending up on the floor with someone sitting on your head, that everything in your mind stops whirling around for a while.
It was night, but the moons were up and fattening fast, and we hung out lanterns.
We called a halt two hours later, both of us panting. Previous grabbed one of the tankards of water we’d brought out, drained it and wiped her mouth. “Your lower right defence is weak.”
“I know.” I did, since I was now wearing a couple of cracking bruises across my right shin.
“Sorry about that,” she said, not quite hiding a grin. “I heard the last one.”
“Necessary reminder. I’ve been getting slack.”
She put a hand to her shoulder, wincing. “Me too.”
“Better bruises than a missing limb, right?”
“Oh, yeah. Still, I think I’ll ask Laney for some of her ointment.”
“Drink?”
“Ah. No. Not right now. Actually, Babylon...”
“Yeah?” I said, yanking at a stubborn buckle, longing to get into a hot bath and wash the day off me. I looked up with a strap between my teeth.
Previous leant forward, peering, whatever she’d been about to say forgotten. “Babylon? Did I catch you across the face?”
“What? No.” I let go of the strap and my hand went to my jaw, before I could stop it; I could feel the thin raised line. “Old scar.” Stupid. Any scar I’d had that long, she’d have noticed. We’d known each other going on seven years.
When had it come back?
“Babylon? Are you all right? What’s going on?”
“I can’t...” The rush of shame and guilt and deep cold fear came over me like a wave. I leaned against the wall of the garden to steady myself. “There’re things I haven’t told you, Previous. About me. About what I was running from. I can’t, yet.” I was still hoping I’d never have to. I took a breath. “What were you going to say?”
Previous was fidgeting with the knot on one of her own bracers, not looking at me. She shook her head. “Later. It’ll wait.”
I spent half the night worrying, trying to sort things through in my head. I should find out whether the Avatars were here, for certain. But what I’d do then, I didn’t know, other than run again. Leave my life, my crew, my friends. The thought of it felt like something breaking, right down the centre of me.
And there was Enthemmerlee. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw her face on the dead girl’s body. I wouldn’t, couldn’t leave without trying to find her. Her, at least, I still had a chance to help. And, let’s face it, I could do with the rest of Fain’s money, even more so if I was going to have to go on the run; I’d have to leave the crew decently set, with the bills paid. But all I had was a dead girl who wasn’t her, and no idea where Enthemmerlee might be.
And I wanted to make things right with the Chief. If I really was going to have to run, somehow I couldn’t bear to have him remember me badly. But that, I didn’t know how to do.
I decided that the first thing was to talk to Fain. I needed to find out more about Enthemmerlee’s background. And the man had contacts. Maybe we could help each other.
Chapter Fifteen
Day 4
3 days to Twomoon
After a few hours of uneasy sleep, I went out while Flower was still the only other one up; I just caught a flicker of his apron as he whisked past the kitchen doorway. Pale lamps burned against a sky that was still slaty dark but for a brush of cold green above the horizon. Birdsong wove among the rattle of delivery-carts on the cobbles, and the smell of baking bread was everywhere.
The Singing Bird was, to my surprise, already open; or at least the ‘courtesy guards’ were on the door. “Up late, or up early?” I said. They didn’t answer, just gave smiles that looked as though they were worked by counterweights.
“Name, please?”
“Babylon Steel,” I said. “Here to see Mr Fain.”
After a minute and a muttered consultation with someone inside, they bowed me through.
Inside you wouldn’t know it was half past uncivilised, except that the only occupants were two people cleaning tables. The place was a velvet vault, with a little discreet gilding here and there, and booths lining the walls. The lighting was low and lush. It somehow managed to avoid the ugly, stained look places of night-time entertainment often have by day, but then, the curtains were tight shut and not a whisper of daylight was allowed in.
A door in the gilded wall I hadn’t even noticed opened and Fain appeared, looking unfairly crisp and laundered. “Madam Steel. Do you have news for me?”
“Some. Not much.”
“Coffee, then?”
“Please.”
He summoned a waiter with the flick of a finger, and eased us into one of the booths at the side of the room, where we sank into deeply padded seats.
The coffee arrived, in a heavy silver pot of expensive simplicity, accompanied by cups as colourful and delicate as a butterfly’s wing. After the waiter closed the elegantly carved door of the booth, I got down to business, trying not to look at the line of Fain’s jaw and the way his shoulders moved under the crisp cotton shirt.
“Did you hear there had been a murder in King of Stone?” I said.
His hand tightened hard on his cup.
“Not...”
“No. I thought, in case you’d heard, I’d better let you know first that it wasn’t Enthemmerlee.”
“I appreciate the courtesy,” he said, loosening his grip on the cup. I wondered what hold the Gudain rulers had over Fain that it mattered so much to him.
“I don’t have much else, though. It seems Enthemmerlee wasn’t snatched,” I said. “She went willingly. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t a con or a pimp, but no violence was involved. Not in getting her off the square, at least. She went with someone who may, possibly, have been the same race, that part I’m not sure of.”
“I see. That is, perhaps, comforting.”
“I need to know more, Mr Fain. Is there any reason why other Gudain might be here on Scalentine? I’ve been wondering if there is a rival clan, or some such, who wanted the girl.”
“It’s a possibility. How much do you know about Incandress?”
“Only that the girl came from there, and so do the Ikinchli.”
“It is a rich country, with much to offer, but in some ways very backward.”
