Steph Swainston - Dangerous Offspring

She turned the next card, and exclaimed, ‘What in the Empire is that?’

I peered at it. ‘It’s the dead goat. From the goat suit: dead goat, pastured goat, randy goat, mother goat, kid.’

‘You have got to be joking.’ She looked from the card to me. ‘It’s to do with mortality. These cards really do work, don’t they? I’m mortal and Daddy isn’t…Everyone knows that at some time in the future their parents will die. They wonder how it’ll happen. What will it be like to hear the news? How will they bury him? If they’re the eldest, they can’t help but think about the inheritance. I don’t have that. I can’t speculate. That’s one of the things I can’t stand-Daddy will always be there, exactly the same. In fact, I know that the day he buries me in a tomb on his stupid island, he’ll look just the same as he does now. The palace will be no different. I’ll never be rid of him! It makes me feel heavy…I think it’s dread.’

She opened another bottle of beer. She had not inherited Lightning’s connoisseurship but she had his ability to discourse at length. Beer begets beer, as you know, but she wasn’t as drunk as I was. I sipped the whisky appreciatively. ‘This was shit at the beginning but it’s all right now…All the nice whisky must sink to the bottom.’

Cyan turned the next card, the soaring eagle. ‘Well, that’s easy. That’s me escaping, trying to fly free of the flock and find some clear air, trying to do something different. It’s a wild animal, symbolic of freedom like my name. I’m glad I didn’t bring any belongings. I’ve stranded myself here deliberately with no past, nothing to prove I exist. I have myself, that’s all; I’m content with that…’

I waited, indulgently.

‘…I feel awkward in the city, big and clumsy. I pull at doors I’m supposed to push, push at doors that open by pulling. But I’ll get used to the city soon. I’m alone, scattered in the multitude-just as I want.’

‘To be scattered in the multitude, hey?’

She glowered at me and flicked over another card. ‘What’s this one?’

‘The nesting eagle.’

‘A nesting eagle…That must stand for domesticity, marriage. Marriage…oh, yuk, did I tell you about all the men Daddy introduced me to? They’re horrible.’

Rawney smirked. ‘Don’t the suitors suit you?’

‘They’re so superficial! They make all these unfounded assumptions!’ Cyan slipped into High Awian, which was good for talking of art, society and its insults, but not much else. ‘This is their repertoire: “You are Lightning’s daughter, really? When do you come of age?” “Oh, are you acquainted with Cyan Peregrine? Such a well-groomed blonde.” I grew up with all that small talk, it’s maddening. Their conversations revolve around themselves, they never talk about anything outside their own heads. I hated every last battalion warden of them. I didn’t bother to convey myself, I let them slip through my fingers-and I don’t care that they’ve gone.’

She looked at the window, now a mirror backed by darkness. ‘In the palace the days seemed to last forever. I went to bed an entirely different person from when I woke up. I rattled around inside that bloody great building like a piddock in a rock.’

‘Like a what?’

‘Sorry. Awndyn slang. I tried to continue from habit but I couldn’t attend to my tutor. An inertia came over me. I kept excusing myself from the dinners and going to my room. I lay on my bed and wondered why I felt such confused dislike. I goaded and rebuked myself. I turned my thoughts over until they were a thick, boiling mass. I needed someone to talk to or I would have cracked. Swallow puts a dampener on everything and she’s happy to be of no use whatsoever. So I ran.’

I folded my arms on the table and put my head down. I was at the point of drunkenness where any further drink tasted like puke. I felt my brain shrinking and my thoughts drying up.

Rawney put his big, hairy arm around Cyan’s shoulders and whispered in her ear. She nodded, preoccupied with the cards. ‘I keep toying with ideas of the future. What will happen to me? I keep imagining myself in future scenarios but I can’t see myself as Governor of Peregrine no matter how hard I try.’

‘I’m not shurprised you’re afraid of telling Saker,’ I slurred.

‘Saker? Who? Oh, you mean Daddy.’ She giggled. ‘Weird…I never think of his real name…Yes. He’s been alive forever. It’s scary to argue with him. Maybe I am conceited to disagree with him. He has an answer for everything, tried and tested, and he’s always right! He knows everything and he never gets angry, he’s so bloody patient. He just gives me more boring answers! It’s so infuriating! I want to try something new, even if it’s wrong!’

She turned the last card in the line.

‘That one…thatsh the jug of beer.’

Rawney said, ‘Well, that has to be a lucky card for Rhydanne.’

‘Mm.’

‘So everything will turn out well,’ Cyan exclaimed, getting carried away. ‘I’ll be successful in making my own way in the world. It’s beer not Micawater wine!’

‘There isn’t a card for wine,’ I murmured.

‘I’ll learn who I am. If it really did depend on blood, Lightning would know me better, wouldn’t he? I might have inherited one or two family traits, but I’ll rediscover them myself!’

So you should, I thought. My mind’s sky had thoroughly clouded over. I closed my eyes.

Cyan leant and whispered in my ear, ‘I’m living my own life from now on, where and how I choose to. Tell Daddy to forget about me. In a couple of hundred years, he will. It’s the only way.’

I woke up. The pub was unlit and deserted. An uneasy lamplight shining under the landlord’s door illuminated the shapes of chairs placed on the tables and textured lines drawn by the broom in the stickier patches on the floor. Towels hung over the pump handles.

Shit. I am absolutely pissed…and I’ve lost Cyan. She’s given me the slip. Oh, shit, I had her, and I…she…Rawney got me drunk! The bastard, and I fell for it!

I staggered over to the bar and stuck my head under a tap, pumped water into my face. The landlord must have left me sleeping there while he closed up the bar around me. Of course, he wouldn’t have dared to wake an Eszai.

I wrestled with the door bolts. Outside, the misty drizzle gave everything a slick sheen. I turned my coat collar up, but it soaked through the denim, wetting me as effectively as pouring rain.

Galt was very dark, none of the lamps were lit and the shops’ upper stories had closed their shutters. All I had to see by were occasional chinks of light between them.

Now I was back to playing hide and seek with the little cow across the entire city.

All the oil lamps stood disused, their glasses fly-spotted and filthy. Whale oil was scarce these days, reserved for lighting homes, not streets. It had soared in price since some enormous sea snakes had taken up residency in the ocean. Their main source of food seemed to be whales.

The paving of the plaza outside the bar was covered in a sheen of water, mixed with mud trekked in from the towpath. I looked down, at the palimpsest of footprints spreading out from the door. Could it be possible to track Cyan? I searched around and found the fine mud drawn into a distinctive print of a thick-soled boot, too small for a man. Those are Cyan’s expensive boots. I followed them slowly, careful not to miss any. They were few and far between, but if they were hers she seemed to have walked along the towpath.

I carried on, beside the dark canal, shunning the varicose hookers and their crisp pimps revealed by the night. The mud squashed under my boot soles. I was heading east towards Old Town, but I wasn’t out of Galt yet, and horrible sights loomed in alleys and alcoves. I passed quickly by a whore with bare breasts and ragged shorts, her razor ribs showing through the stretch marks on her sides.