Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [19]
In fact, he found it impossible to subdue his erection for most of the following Mintaka-day. What structures can I build that would emulate such sensual flow?
So taken was his free-mind with the images that afterwards even his logic-mind could barely recall the bone of contention between the two, a point of argument over the medical and legal efficacy of fungi in the treatment of cross-species disease. (Were not, indeed, most fungi bordering on legally sentient anyway? Lawmon Jise argued.)
The point of discussion mattered not to Tekton but the event sparked an idea and he immediately set about sourcing the raw materials to realise his revelation.
* * * *
TRIN
Jilda Pellegrini’s chauffeured luxury AiV delivered Trin to a smooth low-slung building midway down Franco’s Mountain.
Seated in his vast office, Carabinere Director Malocchi didn’t bother to move his feet from his desk when Trin entered. Instead, he continued to inhale on his Cusano and gaze at the picturesque windo-view of the auburn landscape.
‘Good morning, Signor Malocchi.’ Trin chose deference in favour of arrogance. Let the loco director think he was compliant.
The Malocchis had been handling the Cipriano Clan’s security since before settlement. They served the Pellegrinis dogmatically but without, Trin believed, the correct heartfelt respect. Trin had always thought that their belief was in what they did, not in who they did it for. If he were in Franco’s position, he would denude the Malocchis of their rank and bring in new blood. But Franco was too dependent—or, perhaps, too indebted.
‘Your title here will be Lesser Adviser.’
‘A Lesser Adviser to what?’
‘What you have been brought up to do, of course—nothing. You will be given an office and in it you will stay.’
Trin became hot with embarrassment and anger. ‘Why would I do that?’
This time Malocchi turned his head. ‘Because I have told you to.’
‘You cannot tell me to do anything. The Principe may be punishing me for a foolish error but I am still his son. Treat me poorly and, in the end, it will be you who will be castigated!’
Malocchi gave him a keen stare. ‘You do not know, do you?’
Trin’s skin prickled. ‘Know what?’
‘Why you have been sent here.’
‘I killed an uuli: accidental and unfortunate. The Principe thinks to teach me about responsibility.’
‘The uuli. Aaaah . . . yes. But it is not the uuli for whom you have been cast down.’
Cast down. Trin’s mouth felt dry, as if he’d taken too much bravura. The hot prickling of his skin turned to shivers of alarm. ‘You speak nonsense, signor.’
‘In Riso’s Bar you did the courting dance with a woman—is that not so?’
Trin shrugged, unsurprised that Malocchi had such information but unable to see its importance. ‘So . . .’
‘Did you not think it odd that the woman whom you so inappropriately and publicly pledged to bed was minded by Palazzo Cavaliere?’
‘There are many Cavaliere in the Palazzo. I hardly notice them.’
Malocchi leaned back in his chair. ‘Perhaps, then, you should sharpen your observation skills.’
‘What point are you dancing around, Signor Malocchi?’
Malocchi let silence fill the space between them, savouring whatever revelation he was about to spring, taking flagrant pleasure in the matter. ‘You performed a mating dance with your father’s newest concubine.’ He laughed then. Belly-deep and cruel.
Luna. Trin trembled through every part of his body.
Malocchi wiped the laughter from his eyes. ‘Now you see ... I think it best that you keep out of the way.’
Trin clung to his bravado. ‘I-I will not do as you bid.’
Malocchi inhaled and blew out a long stream of acrid yellow smoke. ‘Franco has made it clear that he wants to hear nothing about you. If there should be the slightest whisper that you are not doing as you are instructed then I believe you may find your gratuity affected. And worse. But of course,’ he smiled openly now, enjoying himself, ‘that is none of