Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [33]
‘There are no Palazzo privileges here, Maestro Pellegrini.’
Trin stiffened. Jus Malocchi stood at his shoulder. ‘Are you too busy to attend proper meals? I wonder what keeps you so occupied?’
Carefully Trin waved away the soup. The ragazza met his gaze briefly. He saw sympathy in her eyes, and a warning. Malocchi did not usually come to this side of the refectory; he ate in his own private dining room.
Trin gave a polite bow and mumbled an apology. Once out in the corridor, he ran to his office. With trembling fingers he began killing off his newly grown programme. While it destroyed itself he left a short-cast message for Joe Scali. ‘The cave is closed due to a rockfall.’ He then encapsulated his data sponge and slipped it into the courier’s chute.
By the time Malocchi and his elite guard arrived Trin was playing lupa on his deskfilm. They ransacked the office and found nothing, but Malocchi didn’t look convinced. He swept the deskfilm onto the floor where it flickered and died. ‘It seems I made a mistake about you. You should have something challenging to do.’ His words were mild, innocuous, but his voice held an edge of threat.
Trin lounged back in his chair, feigning surprise. ‘I hesitate to accept, signor. I am so unpractised at working.’
‘Accept?’ Malocchi frowned. ‘That is an intriguing word.’
Trin cocked his head. ‘How so, signor?’
‘Are you mocking me, Pellegrini?’
‘Most definitely not, signor.’ You bastard cazzone!
Malocchi walked the three steps to the door. ‘You will be sent to Capitano Christian Montforte at the Loisa Carabinere branch. Take nothing from here. You will be body-searched before you go.’
* * * *
‘Your father wishes you to attend dinner this evening,’ said Tina Galiotto as she packed Trin’s clothes. The tears running down her plump cheeks fell unchecked onto his bed.
Trin had no words of comfort for her as he dressed in the formal attire that she had laid out for him. Her show of emotion embarrassed him.
As soon as he could, he escaped his room and walked down the helicoidal staircase to Franco’s private bar. The smoking chairs loomed large under the flickering light of Lig candles. The wax-scent of the three-legged Ligs pervaded most of the residences on Mount Pell, their odour a welcome deodoriser against the rising fumes of Dockside.
Franco waited for him, cupping an empty balloon glass. He wore a gold-thread semi-formal fellalo and casual silk slippers.
‘I had no knowledge that she was your consort, father.’ The words burst from Trin without forethought.
Franco froze in the act of pouring. His face tightened into something unreadable. ‘I do not wish to speak of this.’
‘And I do not wish to go to Loisa. The border towns are primitive.’ Please don’t send me there.
‘Capitano Montforte will teach you about respect.’
Trin quivered. ‘So I am being punished.’
Franco almost drained his drink in one swallow and turned to his son. ‘Malocchi tells me you were abusing your position by seeking out sensitive information. What were you looking for, Trinder?’
‘He gave me no office and no reason to be there. I had to find ways to amuse myself. Besides, what could be too sensitive for a future Principe to know, papa?’ Trin countered.
‘Despite what you think, Trinder, Principes earn their position. I have no intention of denying you your birthright, if you see reason. You have too many of your mama’s weaknesses in you. You must outgrow them.’
Mama. Always that. ‘So am I not worthy because you wed a weak female, or because I danced a fucking song with your woman?’ Dangerous to goad Franco but he couldn’t stop himself now. The righteousness, the anger, welled in an uncontrollable spurt. ‘What of the special talent you would rip from Mira Fedor’s flesh? Am I still worthy to receive that?’
Franco’s hand trembled, spilling the last few drops of the cognac. He stared at his son. ‘Mira Fedor has eluded the Carabinere.’
‘Eluded?’ Trin gasped and then laughed. ‘A familia woman has eluded you?’
‘When she is located you will be recalled and we shall proceed with the gene transference.