Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [60]
She coughed out the strengthening taste of smoke from her throat. Daylight was fading and the nightwinds would soon come, bringing the fire back. Now was the time for thinking, not for fearing. With tentative steps she retraced her path until she found the man’s body lying in the gate of the villa, one hand outstretched. Nothing had changed, but the young ‘esques had gone.
Mira glanced around. In the growing dark Loisa had become a frighteningly unfamiliar city. In her years of living here she had never been out at night on foot, never spent time in the nightwinds.
She walked to the closest intersection and turned in a different direction. Another turn and she saw the TerV-way lit and only a short distance away. Good fortune had left one of its solar panels undamaged.
As she entered the shelter a different kind of apprehension took hold of her. Where are they?
‘Baronessa?’ Djeserit’s voice came out of the gloom. ‘Where did you go?’
Mira unsealed her velum. The memory of Trin Pellegrini’s belligerence flooded back. She was not ready to share what she had seen with him. ‘I have spoken to someone on the viuzza. He said the Carabinere have deserted.’
‘No. That is not possible. What else did he say?’ Trin stepped forward from the shadows.
Mira kept her distance from him. ‘He did not know.’
‘Where is he now? Why did he not come with you?’
‘He . . . went off on foot. He said it was the only way. The TerVs have stopped running.’ She wetted her lips, forcing them to form the words that she needed to say. ‘We should stay together, as Djeserit said.’
Trin’s shoulders lifted slightly in satisfaction. ‘A change of heart, Mira Fedor? What did you see outside that took the wind from your bravado?”
Mira shrank from his perceptivity. ‘If you contact your familia they will help us.’
To her surprise Trin gave a mocking laugh. ‘I am here because I was being punished. The Principe was teaching me a life lesson.’
‘But you are the young Principe. Your safety is paramount,’ she protested. ‘Should anything happen to your papa . . .’
‘Then where do you propose we go, clever Mira?’
‘To Pell,’ said Mira, suddenly longing for the safety of the enclave.
Trin gave a derisive snort. ‘That is thousands of mesurs away. We have no transport, no food and little water. And what will we find there, anyway?’
‘The Fleet is there,’ she said.
‘The mighty Cipriano fleet: five vie-ships and a dozen assailants. And what good is a fleet with no pilots or crew?’
The ‘bino woke and gave a pitiable mewl as though it was too weak to really bawl.
Mira felt a stab of guilt. While she and Trin argued, the ‘bino was starving. ‘Pass him to me,’ she said to Djeserit.
She took the ‘bino closer to the fading solar light that hung above the TerV-way timetable. An orange-stained pannolino was stuck to the infant’s skin. Mira recognised the acrid colour as a sign of dehydration. She laid the ‘bino on its back and gently peeled the absorbent film away Though its genitals were partially internal, she guessed it to be a ragazzo. He had long, thin limbs like all Pagoins and a solemn expression. Too solemn. He could barely cry now because of exhaustion. His thighs were raw from urine scalds; another day and they would be weeping with infection. His skin was already loose from hunger and the soft crown of his head was slightly shrunken.
Mira glimpsed her own fragility mirrored in his. How long would she survive without food and with little water? She had never been hungry or thirsty before.
‘We should go to the Carabinere. Their emergency shortcast will be working,’ said Trin.
‘D’accordo,’ Mira agreed cautiously. That made sense. ‘It will it take us some time to walk there.’ She thought of the youths with their guns, and the strange globe. ‘We should leave soon.’
‘Yes. Djeserit cannot travel in the daylight without a fellala.’
‘Nor can the ‘bino. And the wind has changed. The fires will come back.’
Trin nodded.