Chaos Space - Marianne de Pierres [6]
All that remained of Joe was his belief in Trin: that Trin would see them to safety and that he would find a way to restore order and exact retribution.
Djeserit—Trin’s half-breed woman—held the same belief.
Trin loved them both for it—and loathed them. Their foolishness in thinking that he was better or stronger in some way.
He strained his eyes in the semi-darkness to find Djeserit. She was serving rations to those closest. Three hundred or more people spread out behind them down the tunnels; all that was left of the true Araldis.
‘We are close to the end now?’
Trin dragged his attention back to Scali. ‘The scouts say only a few more hours of walking before we see the sky again.’
‘And then?’
‘A night—no more—to the islands. There will be food and water at the vacation palazzo. We can treat the injured in the medi-lab.’
‘What if the creatures are waiting for us when we leave the tunnels?’
Trin shuddered. That notion plagued his waking state as Mira Fedor plagued his sleep. The Saqr had followed them into the tunnels, he knew that. But they moved slowly and were still some mesurs behind. Yet Joe’s concerns were his. What if the Saqr had found a way to get ahead of them? They would be trapped underground and cannibalised for their fluids.
‘It is possible but unlikely.’ He spoke in a hoarse but confident voice—loud enough for those nearby to hear. His words would be passed along. Everyone hung on the Principe’s words. ‘Only a few govern the invasion. And I wager my birthright that they will be at Dockside.’
Wager his birthright. . . The murmur spread. The Principe was confident that their path to the Islands would be clear.
Djeserit returned and sank into the small space between Joe Scali and Trin. She leaned into Trin’s shoulder and he smelled her unwashed alien smell.
‘Do you mean it?’ she whispered. ‘Will our way be clear?’
He shrugged, unwilling to share his fears even with her.
‘The last of the dried quark is gone. We have a little kranse and some desert figs left.’ Djeserit fumbled in the sack strung around her waist and slipped some bread crumbs and a fig into Trin’s hand.
He hid his head behind his raised knees and chewed. Djeserit fed him more than the rest but was discreet about it. He valued that in her, her instinctive ability to read situations. It would be an asset to him when he re-established Pellegrini rule. He would claim his son from Mira and Djeserit would be in the background of his life, smoothing paths, supporting him.
His fantasy ran its course until it reached the same obstacle. Would Mira Fedor return? Would she bring OLOSS help? He had gambled everything on the fact that she would come back for the Pagoin infant that she had saved from Villa Fedor. Mira was as stubborn and determined as her sister Faja had been. It was not an attractive trait in a woman but it was one that he could manipulate.
For the first time since fleeing Lois, Trin thought of his friends and cousins, the Silvios and the Elenis. A tiny part of him mourned them, but the greater part felt liberated. He could begin again. Instil a new set of rules. He knew he would make a superior Principe. Smarter and less hampered by tradition and a tight association with the Malocchi dynasty. The Scalis would be his new Cavaliere.
A scuffling noise came from the darkness ahead of him—not from behind where the three hundred or more refugees huddled. A scout had returned. Juno Genarro, he guessed. What news would he have?
‘Principe?’
Trin raised his head from his knees, his breath catching tightly in his throat.
Genarro had knelt in front of him by custom, and from exhaustion. The light was so dim and the scout’s face was so lined with weariness that it was impossible to read his expression.
‘Well?’
‘There is a small rockfall, but around it the way is open, Principe. We must hurry now, though, to be there by night.’
Trin’s heart leapt and those around