Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [49]
Mira gasped. ‘I have seen that before—on a Galiotto woman at the Studium. She gave me her biometric stripe. That was how I escaped.’
‘It is the sign of the Pensare.’
‘I thought they were only an invention of the Nobile.’
‘No invention, cara.’
Mira cupped her fingers around the rim of her cup, absorbing what she had just learned. ‘Why did you keep this from me?’
‘So that you could find your own path, mia Mira. I did not wish my bitterness to be yours.’
‘You are not bitter.’
Faja’s serious expression softened. ‘When you look at me you see only a mama, because our own did not survive. But I am not just that—I am many things and not all of them admirable or biddable. It is time that you knew this and made your own choices. The Pensare can help you.’
Mira’s skin prickled with alarm and a measure of anger. ‘How can they help me? Can they deny the Carabinere? Can they stand before the Principe and command him not to take my Talent? And if they could help me—why would they? Who am I to such insurgents?’
‘Their opposition is subtle but that does not make it less. And they would help you, Mira—they have already—because you are a woman.’
‘What if I am a dishonest woman who deserves no help? Do they not discriminate?’
‘You have not learned enough yet to understand that we are only pushed to corruption by circumstance. It is not our natural inclination. If the Pensare can improve the circumstances of our women then one soul will be no different from another. All will be matched. And remember, we are of the Castiglioni! The Pensare have learned to revere our beliefs. Who better than us to steer the transformation?’
Her sorella’s rapt expression stirred Mira. Yet she found it impossible to relinquish the stone of mistrust lodged deep inside. ‘The familia women I know would not care for your help. They hated me for my thin body and truthfulness.’
‘Your slenderness is a different beauty, Mira. Have I not told you that many times?’
‘My difference is not here.’ Mira slapped her sides. ‘It is in here.’ She touched her forehead. ‘Even from you, Fa. I have no care for home and place. I long to be free of it all.’
Faja nodded. ‘It is the Inborn Talent. Pilot are wanderers.’
‘Then perhaps I should give myself to the Principe. Perhaps without my Talent I would fit better.’
Faja stood, frowning, and began throwing bluish-purple legumes into a bowl. ‘If you are inclined to indulge in such self-pity then perhaps you should.’
Mira bowed her head.
Her sorella went to the cooker and lifted an enormous tray of fritters from the oven. ‘We will talk more later. Take your meal in here and sleep in the lodge. Only a few of the bambini know of your presence. I shall instruct them not to speak of it to anyone.’
She dropped several fat fritters on a plate in front of Mira and carried the rest from the room.
* * * *
Mira sipped more wine and greedily fingered the fritters into her mouth, uncaring that her chin became slick with fat.
‘Have you unlearned all your manners on Mount Pell, Baronessa?’
Mira dabbed her mouth guiltily.
Istelle stood at the door, smiling. The Pagoin humanesque’s spider-thin limbs seemed frail compared with the solid Latino shape, but the warmth of her smile made her face into something beautiful.
Mira ran to embrace her.
‘Poor darling,’ Istelle murmured, stroking her hair the way Faja had. ‘Faja has told me of your ordeal. Why did you not come sooner?’
Mira thought of Jancz. She could not speak of him, even to Istelle. ‘I have been m-moving to avoid the Carabinere.’
‘How have you survived?’
‘Friends have helped me.’
‘Well, you are safe for the moment. Come with me to see the new bambini.’
Mira followed Istelle along the familiar corridor to a room decorated with rich brocade wall-trim and furnished with several lace-covered cradles and an armchair. Istelle lifted a bambino from one of the cradles and settled it in her arms. It suckled on a latte bladder, its fist curled around Istelle’s thin finger. The others began to cry, hearing