Babylon Steel (29 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

F
AIN HAVING PAID
me, I dumped another fat purse in my room. I really had to take the blasted money to the Exchange.

I checked on Ireq, who was recovering but wouldn’t be working for at least another day. “Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be daft, Ireq. Just get better.”

There were shrieks next door and I found Jivrais and Essie engaged in a tussle for lip-paint in Essie’s room, breathless and giggling, and with water all over the floor from a jug they’d knocked over. “Oi, you two! Look at this place! And the pair of you, talk about dragged through a hedge backwards. Jivrais, get a cloth, get that water up. Essie, come here, let me do your hair. Honestly.”

“Yes, Babylon.”

I combed and oiled Essie’ dark curls into some sort of order. I spend more time on the crew’s hair than I do on my own – mine’s curlier than Essie’s, practically ringlets, long, and black. Most of the time I just wash it, run my fingers through it with a bit of scented oil and leave it. Too much else to do. But Essie’ hair pays for having a fuss made.

“Ooh, not that oil, Babylon, I think it’s gone over.”

I sniffed at the bottle. “Gah, you’re right. Which one?”

“The Ghost of Jasmine, please.”

“Niiice.” I rubbed a few drops of the richly scented stuff through her hair. “A present?”

“My little princeling. Antheranis. He’s
such
a sweetie.”

“He’s been back already? You have made a conquest. What do you think of him?”

“Oh, well, he’s such a boy, you know. But I’m teaching him a few things.” She smiled at me through her reflection.

“His next one will thank you.” I kept an eye on her in the mirror, but there was none of that wistful look when she talked about him that meant trouble in store.

We can all fall for clients, but most of the time, you’ll break your heart for nothing. I suspected Antheran’s ambitions for his son didn’t include him taking on a girl from a whorehouse.

“So,” I said, wrapping her curls around my fingers. “What do you make of Frithlit?”

She shrugged. “He seems all right. He was wandering around the top floor, looking lost, so I chatted to him a bit.”

“Oh? Where was Previous?”

“Not sure. Anyway I told him about what happened with Mirril the butcher – I’m not going
there
again; I mean, who does she think she is, the sour-faced old bat? Jealousy, that’s what it is, bet she’s never had a good...”

“Essie? We were talking about Frithlit?”

“Oh, yes. He’s not been in Scalentine long, you know. He said that was why he’d got into a bad card game. I told him I was local, and he asked me what places he should stay away from.”

“In so many words?”

“Well, he said, ‘Where is places of bad peoples, villains, card sharpeners?’ Something like that. I thought it was rather sweet.”

“And you told him?”

“Of course, I didn’t want him getting into trouble. I told him to stay away from King of Stone, and the Break of Dawn of course. He’s awfully young,” said Essie, all twenty or so years of her.

I smoothed a last curl into place. “There. Now you’re gorgeous again. Try not to spill anything expensive on anyone who’s going to mind.”

“You don’t think Previous would be bothered, do you? That he was talking to me? I mean she knows I wouldn’t...”

“Of
course.
Don’t be daft, Essie.”

Something about Previous’s little friend bothered me. Not that he hung around – we always kept open house for friends – but he did seem to be forever
hovering,
somehow. It wasn’t that Previous had a lover; after all, it was about damn time, I could barely remember the last one. But something about the way he was with her felt slightly tinny, off, like a charisma glamour.

But maybe I was overanxious. Though Previous was tough as a soldier’s boot in most respects, I wasn’t entirely sure her heart was as hard as the rest of her. And maybe I was a tiny bit jealous. Casual companionship and a pleasant time in bed I could get. But someone to be close and tight with, someone who knew my heart? That had been a
very
long time.

I was just capping the oil when I heard a yell from downstairs. “Laney! Babylon! Get down here!” That was Previous.
Now
what?

I took the stairs fast, and saw Ireq standing in the doorway, holding someone up.

It was Cruel, the hood of my cloak sliding off to show her short white hair matted red, her eyes rolling up. Blood rolled down her neck and into her cleavage.

I caught her as she slid off Ireq’s shoulder. She hung from my hands like an empty gown.

“What the hells?” I said.

Ireq said, “There was a bang, and then I saw her stagger out of Twodice Row, dripping everywhere, grabbed her, brought her here.”

“You see anyone?”

“No.”

“Cruel? Talk to me.”

She groaned. Laney was beside me in a blink, running her hands over Cruel’s head. “Somebody fetch some water,” she said, “and the blue bottle from my dressing table. And the green wooden box. Bring her into the Little Parlour.”

I scooped her into my arms as gently as possible and took her through. Her blood soaked through my sleeves. “Someone tell Unusual, get him up here,” Laney snapped.

I laid Cruel on the sofa. Her eyes were closed. She always seemed so self-contained, even dangerous; now she looked vulnerable and strangely young. Her nose was obviously broken; some of the blood was from there, but most of it was from her head.

Jivrais appeared with an armful of bottles and boxes, it looked as though he’d just swept everything off Laney’s dressing table. She sighed with exasperation, plucked out what she needed, and told him to put the rest on the table.

“You need me?” Ireq said.

“Yes, on the door, ” I said. “Go.”

The All bless ex-soldiers, he did, without a word. Frithlit stood in the doorway, silver eyes wide, his mouse-like ears shivering. Unusual, normally so graceful, shot past him into the room, banging his hip on a table, and dropped to his knees by the sofa. His arms were full of bandages and bottles; he looked around wildly as though he didn’t know what to do with them, then shoved them onto the overcrowded table, sending one of Laney’s potions off the edge. There was a crash and a green smell of herbs. Unusual rested a shaking hand on Cruel’s cheek. Against her midnight skin, his pale fingers seemed to glow. He whispered to her, stroking her face.

“Laney?” I said.

Laney parted Cruel’s hair carefully with her fingers. “Scalp wounds always bleed a lot. She’s going to have a nasty bump and a worse headache, but nothing’s moving that shouldn’t be.” She cleaned Cruel’s face and scalp with a wet cloth, took one of the bottles from Jivrais, rubbed a few drops of ointment into her scalp, then more around her nose. “Hold her shoulders, Babylon.” She pinched the bridge of Cruel’s nose between finger and thumb. There was a cracking sound and Cruel yelped awake.

“There, there,” Laney said. “That’s the worst of it.”

Cruel said something in her own tongue, and Unusual answered her; he had tears in his eyes. Cruel looked at him, rolled her eyes and said something else, and Unusual gave a gasping laugh. “She called me a soft idiot,” he said. “I think she’ll be all right.” He wiped his eyes, and started wrapping one of the bandages around her head.

“Cruel? You remember what happened?” I said.

She frowned, and winced as it pulled at the wound. “I was in Twodice Row, coming back from the saddler’s. We had some harnesses needed mending. I had both hands full. Someone put their hands on my shoulders. Then I hit the wall and everything went white.”

“Ouch. Good thing you’ve a hard head.” I tried to keep my voice light. “Thought I told you lot to keep in training?”

“I thought I
was
. But it was just...” She shrugged. “So sudden. Whoever it was, they were strong. Really strong. And fast.”

“You didn’t hear anything?”

“I think they said something, maybe. I thought I heard a sort of whisper. After that, nothing.” She shut her eyes again.

“You see anyone else in the alley?”

“No.”

“Anyone else see anything? Frithlit?”

“I am sorry, I was upstairs, not see. Heard loud bang, yes?”

“All right. Laney, any more you can do for her?”

She shook her head. “I’ve given you a little bit to help the pain,” she said to Cruel, “and your nose will be fine if you
don’t touch it.
In fact, I’m going to make you a plaster.”

“I am not wearing a plaster on my nose,” Cruel said. “Really, Laney. What would I look like?”

“Then don’t blame me if it mends crooked,” Laney said, glaring.

“You’ve done what you can, sweetie,” I said. She’s a Fey, not a healer, and a Fey on Scalentine at that; she can only do so much. “Cruel, have you any clients booked?”

“Only one.”

“Unusual, you send a message, put them off. We’ll give ’em a discount next visit. Previous, Bliss, come with me.”

Twodice Row was empty. It’s only a short street, nothing but a cut-through between Goldencat Street and The Panney, the road that runs down to the river. It smelled of soap and steam from the laundry on the corner.

Bliss stared thoughtfully at the smear of blood on the wall; a little of it had spattered one of my favourite stonework faces: a laughing faun no bigger than my hand. There was more on the ground, splashed over cobbles and mud, looking dark as ink.

If I was ever squeamish I lost it in battle the first time someone’s guts spilled over my boots. The smell’s pretty bad, and the sound is... memorable, but I was more worried about slipping in the mess and giving someone the chance to rip open my own frontage than I was about going ‘yuck.’ One reason I’m still alive, I guess.

But this was different. On a battlefield, when people know why they’re there, it’s one thing. A random attack on a lone woman, and a friend, is another matter. That was
Cruel’s
blood. Looking at it made my eyes feel hot.

“Don’t get too close,” I said. “Whoever it was, they might have left something...”

Bits of leatherwork were still scattered over the paving. We started to pick them up.

“Not a robbery, then,” Previous said.

“Doesn’t look like it, does it?” I said. “Unless they meant to take the stuff and realised it wasn’t what they thought.” They’d have been fools, though. The gear Cruel and Unusual use costs a lot more than horse-harness.

“Looks to me,” Previous said, “like maybe whoever did it was drunk, or just plain clumsy. Saw her from behind, just meant to grab her, maybe, or grab what she was carrying, but tripped. Slammed her into the wall by accident, and bolted when they realised they’d knocked her out. Or when they heard the bang.”

“What was the bang?” I said.

“No idea.”

“Not drunk,” Bliss said. He was trying, but he was getting that drifty, bemused look again.

“No?”

“I don’t think so.”

“How can you tell?”

Bliss just shrugged. “Smells like a laundry, not an inn.”

“There is a laundry, Bliss. It’s just over there.” I pointed. Steam was rolling out of the open door. “You took the sheets there, last week.”

“Yes, I did. Was that right?” He gave me that worried look he gets when he’s trying to remember which bits of life are important.

“Yes, don’t worry about it.” I patted his shoulder and went into the laundry, leaned on the wooden counter, and yelled into the warm soapy fog.

A red face finally appeared, surmounted by a white kerchief that had probably been crisp this morning. Now it drooped damply over grey locks. The laundress pushed her hair out of her eyes with a forearm. “If it’s an order, we can’t take it. We just lost a boiler.”

“What?”

“Panel just blew off one of the boilers. We’re behind as it is.”

That must have been the bang everyone heard. I explained what had happened, and she half-listened to me, head cocked for sounds of more trouble from the cavernous room behind her. I could hear knockings and sloshings and shouts.

“I wondered if anyone might have seen anything?” I said.

“No-one’s been out front for at least three hours. I’m nearest the door, that’s how I heard you yelling. If anyone’d come out I’d know. No-one has. We’ve a big order on, gotta be done before Twomoon. And now the boiler...”

Her shoulders sagged. “Right, well, thanks anyway...” Her body was already angled towards the inner door, and she’d disappeared around it before I’d finished.

We went back to the house.

“Previous, a word. Unusual, stay with Cruel. The rest of you, back to what you were doing.
Now,
people.”

They scattered. I motioned Previous into the hall. She wasn’t saying anything, but she was giving me a look.

“What?”

She shrugged. “You sounded a lot like my old Sarge, for a minute there.”

“Sorry. Look, Previous... Someone may have it in for us.”

“You think?”

Her tone was neutral. I decided to take it at face value. “Maybe. Stay sharp. Keep an eye out.”

“For what?”

“Anything that looks like trouble.”

“Yes, of course. You all right, Babylon?”

“No,” I said. “This is getting to me. First the Vessels, and then the dead girl down in Ropemakers Row; I hate that I don’t know her name, Previous. No-one knew her name. And now this. If they’d had a knife instead of just their hands, Cruel could be dead.”

“You going to the millies?”

“Yes. Yes, I’d better.” I started for the door.

“You might want to change first,” Previous said.

“Oh, right.” I’d been about to stroll down the street spattered to the elbows with blood; well, it’s just not stylish, is it? Plus I had enough trouble without being suspected of Unspecified Slaughter.

“And Babylon?”

“Hmm?”

“What sort of trouble should I be looking out for?”

“Weird people.”

“
Weird
people? Babylon, it’s Twomoon.”

“You’ve got a nose for trouble, Previous. Use it. You get worried, shut the place up, keep everyone inside, and send someone for me.”

“And when are you going to...”