Chaos Space - Marianne de Pierres [89]
‘Jess,’ whispered Bethany brokenly when Mira had finished. ‘Oh, my Jess. How could I have left you alone?’
Mira thought of Vito and the korm. ‘Choice does not always provide right and wrong.’
‘You couldn’t have known the shit that was gonna happen on Araldis, Beth,’ said Rasterovich. ‘And if she’s anything like you she’ll be surviving just fine.’
But Bethany was too submerged in her guilt to heed them. ‘So she is with the young Principe?’
Mira forced herself to find some comforting words. ‘Si. The young Principe is ... clever. He will outwit the Saqr.’
She would never tell Bethany the rest of it—how Trinder Pellegrini was a treacherous, selfish man who had seduced her Jess.
But Josef Rasterovich was watching Mira intently, as if he guessed there was more.
‘Has your discovery of the Entity given you unpleasant choices, Mr Rasterovich?’ she asked him by way of distraction.
The quick change in focus caused the man to swallow most of his drink in one gulp. He coughed to clear his throat. ‘Yeah. Well, uh, I guess so.’
Josef’s laconic reply puzzled Mira. One moment he appeared perceptive, the next almost dim-witted.
‘When Araldis is—when my world is restored to my clan, I would like to visit Belle-Monde. Is that possible?’ she asked.
‘That depends, Baronessa.’ His voice was husky from the alcohol and the coughing. ‘You can’t go sightseeing, if that’s what you mean. Nor would you want to. Place is overrun with arrogant pricks—smarts and scientists.’
Mira ignored his bald description in the same way that she ignored Rast’s rough talk. ‘I wish to be tested by the Entity.’
‘To become a ... a tyro?’ Josef stammered. His eyes widened, and surprise dropped some of the lines from his face.
She saw then that he could be perceived as handsome by some. Not in the pure, aesthetic way of Thales the scholar, but his face displayed a damaged kind of strength, an unkempt confidence. ‘Si.’
‘For what damn reason would you want that?’
And Mira knew then, before she spoke, what it was that Marchella had wanted of her. ‘I must unbind our women, Mr Rasterovich.’
‘You don’t need the Entity for that—you just need a revolution.’
‘There are things about us—our culture—that you don’t understand.’ She heard the formality slipping from her voice and no longer cared. ‘I need to be greater ... better than I am... to bring them that change. Impotence is cruel. I will not let it hold me.’
‘You’re telling me that you want to save your culture, and then you want to change it?’ Josef slapped his thighs and laughed. ‘Well, there’s a god complex if I’ve ever heard one.’
Mira felt the twist of bitter anger; a man such as this could never comprehend oppression. She wanted to walk away from him and never see his face again.
‘Baronessa?’ It was Thales Berniere, pale and shaking, standing beside her.
‘Msr Berniere? Please . . .’ She indicated the spare seat.
He sank into it automatically, rubbing his arm in a distracted manner.
Mira leaned towards him. ‘You are distressed,’ she said softly.
The scholar looked then as if he might weep, and her heart constricted. Concern for him vanquished her anger at the God-Discoverer.
‘I-I am tired and somewhat dislocated, that is all,’ Thales said. But his young face had a grim set to it which stole the soft curve from his lips and the glow from his skin. Something had shaken him badly.
Mira wanted to press him further but the Lamin was back with three soldiers. ‘Excuse me, Baronessa, but Commander Farr requires you all to return to his marquee.’
Thales reddened and stood. ‘I am not interested in meetings. I will return to the ship.’
The Lamin made no attempt to stop him and Mira watched him disappear into the crowd. What had happened between him and Lasper Farr?
Inside the marquee Farr was pouring amber wine into long bulb-ended glasses. ‘Sit, please,’ he instructed.
Mira perched on the edge of one of the armchairs while Josef Rasterovich