Dangerous Gifts by Gaie Sebold Page A

silence, then Lobik said, “I don’t think anyone is going to try and beat Madam Steel over a spilled drink. Though I think would be fun to watch them try, no?” He turned to Rikkinnet, and said something softly in Ikinchli.
    She hissed.
    He said something else.
    She turned to the rest of us, and said, her voice tight, “Lobik reminds me that those here are not responsible for the past, and that we look to the future.”
    “The past leaves scars,” I said, and didn’t realise until I saw Fain’s eyes following the move that I was rubbing my own scar, the one on my jaw, symbol of the Goddess Babaska.
    “Yes,” Lobik said. “And we will not deny the injuries that caused them. But if all we can see is scars, we will never see anything but the past, and the future will slip away while we lick over old wounds.”
    “True enough,” I said. However, they are supposed to fade with time. They’re not supposed to do what mine had, which was disappear and then come back.
    And sometimes, it itched. And sometimes, when it itched, I felt a buzz in the back of my head, as though an insect were trying to gnaw its way in.
    I had been the Goddess Babaska’s Avatar. It had been a stolen power, and I’d given it up willingly; but I wasn’t quite sure she’d given me up.
    I pushed it out of my mind, as I was in the habit of doing. “So, what else do I need to know?”
    “There are certain formalities to social occasions,” Enthemmerlee said. “But as a...” She broke off. “You will not be expected to know them all.”
    “Ah, well, I won’t be eating with you. Not at the same time. I shall be on guard.”
    “You’ll need to watch out for the Fenac,” Malleay said. “Though you look enough like Gudain that they might not haul you in just for the sake of it.”
    “They’re your Militia, yes?”
    “In a manner of speaking,” Enthemmerlee said. “They are in need of reform. Like so much else.” She sighed. “Almost all Fenac are Gudain. If there is trouble, they look at the Ikinchli first.”
    Which didn’t mean they wouldn’t look at a handy foreigner, such as me, if there was trouble. I hoped I could keep out of their way.
    “The few Ikinchli Fenac, most of them are tic dricancai ,” Rikkinnet muttered. Malleay looked slightly horrified; his mouth opened, but he shut it again.
    Before I had a chance to ask what tic dricancai meant, Lobik said, “The uniform is a dark brown tunic, brown leggings, and a low round helmet. You will hear them called guak, but this is not wise to say if they can hear.”
    “Not if it means what I think it means,” I said. “Gotcha.”
    “There is one other thing. The way we dress, normally, is quite covered,” Enthemmerlee said. She glanced down at my cleavage and away, quickly.
    “I will be more covered,” I assured her. Exposed flesh is strictly for non-lethal situations. I have worn chain-mail underwear and nothing else but boots, but only in the bedroom. What can I say? Some people have funny ideas about armour.
    “There is a reason the clothing is very covering,” Lobik said.
    Malleay stared at the table. Enthemmerlee had a faint pearly-green flush along her cheekbones. Lobik went on. “The Gudain... they do not touch, in public. And” – he glanced apologetically at Enthemmerlee – “Sex, this is not spoken of, you understand?”
    “Yes, I’ve been told,” I said.
    “I need to be clear,” Lobik said. “They do not mention, ever. Even to speak of marriage except in the most formalised way, this is disapproved, because it implies that the sex will be had. Pregnancy is not mentioned. Nothing with any connection whatever. There are many, many laws governing behaviour, and they are enforced by the Moral Statutes. They do not usually apply to Ikinchli, because in law, we are still largely considered animals, and therefore beyond moral reform, but for the purposes of your visit you would have many of the privileges of a Gudain, and it would be wise to be...