Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [61]
Mira diluted some latte for the ‘bino in the TerV-way’s washroom. The mixture seemed more palatable this time and the infant settled into sleep. She unfolded the outer layer of her fellala and wound him into it. That freed her hands so that she could move quickly if she had to. Just so long as she didn’t trip and fall on him.
Djeserit watched. ‘What if we lose each other in the dark? The nightwinds can make you loco.’
‘If we are separated then wait where you are and I will find you. Do not wander.’ Mira sounded more confident than she felt. How would she find anyone when she herself had been lost already?
Djeserit repeated the instructions to the korm.
‘Has it no ‘esque language?’ asked Mira.
‘It understands Latino but it can’t form the words. It’s beak is too . . .’ Djeserit searched for the word. ‘Wrong.’
‘Teach it what you can. Without you, it won’t be able to communicate.’
‘But that won’t happen. We won’t get separated,’ Djeserit said quickly.
Mira gave Djeserit’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘Just in case. You understand?’
* * * *
As every night, Tiesha rose before Semantic, casting its aloof light across Loisa. Tonight, though, the glow from the fires distorted the view of the city and several times they had to double back when the viuzzas were blocked with bomb debris. The blistering nightwind blasted into them until they were bent double against its drying force. Eddies of hot ash swirled past, choking them, and ‘esques ran past them in the dark. A group of youths knocked Djeserit down but Trin pulled her from under their feet before she could get hurt.
No one would stop and speak with them. Mira called to the shadowy figures as they vanished among the churning ash-phantoms. The city had lost itself in the spin of a day.
Trin instructed them to stay close but in a single line: himself first, them Djeserit, then the korm, with Mira and the ‘bino last. When AiVs with their night lights on flew overhead, he stopped. ‘Cavaliere,’ he rasped.
But Mira suspected his words to be more hope than anything else.
Without the protective filter of a fellala or suit Djeserit coughed constantly.
‘We should rest a while,’ said Mira.
Trin led them off the viuzza to a wall opposite a bomb-damaged bistro. They rested with their backs against it and watched the figures moving around inside.
The ‘bino woke and cried with hunger. Mira unwrapped him and laid him on the ground, gently peeling back the absorbent film. She removed her gloves to gauge the level of saturation. His urine felt grainy and she smelled the blood in it. ‘I need a clean pannolino.’
‘Our people use cloth, not film.’ Djeserit’s voice in her ear was thick with the effort of breathing. ‘I mean…my mother’s people do.’
Of course, why hadn’t she thought of that? Turning away from them, Mira unwound her fellala enough so that she could wriggle out of her undershirt. She wrapped it as best she could around the ‘bino. He whimpered at her touch. The smell of his excretions clung to her fingers but she had nowhere to wash them. ‘The bistro might have more latte. I will look.’
‘No,’ said Trin with determination. ‘We should keep going.’
She could see his hooded profile in the moonlight, not his expression. ‘The ‘bino might be dead by then. He is dehydrated.’
Trin clicked his tongue with impatience. ‘Hurry, then.’
A baying started up behind them. Trin climbed onto the wall. ‘Cane,’ he said. ‘We are safe while it is yarded.’
Mira passed the ‘bino to Djeserit, missing the comfort of his small body the moment she did. ‘I will go.’
Trin climbed down and stooped to pick up an object. He pressed a chunk of catoplasma into Mira’s hand. ‘Don’t be afraid to use it, Baronessa.’
Thoughtful advice or a taunt, she wondered, as she gripped the rough edges and walked slowly towards the bistro.
A circle of ragazzi with torches sat to one side, drinking wine from demijohns and talking loudly about killing ginkos.
Mira skirted them and found her way around the back of the bistro. The outer coldlock door had been torn away.