Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [65]
Mira no longer cared what he thought. In a few days the whole of the city would be on the road to somewhere else. The thought of it made her tremble. She turned back to Loris. ‘Thank you for taking us in.’
Con spoke for his wife. ‘Heard you out there so I used my night ‘scope. Recognised that you was familia.’
‘How close are we to the Carabinere office?’ Trin asked.
‘Bout a few hours’ walk,’ said Con.
‘I must rest before I can go further.’ Mira ached to lie down; her tongue felt swollen in her mouth.
Outside the sound of weapon-fire started up again.
Trinder glanced at Con. ‘May we stay with you today, signor?’
‘Si, Don Pellegrini. Of course.’ The miner’s chest swelled with pride. He was seemingly pleased to be helping someone so important. ‘Come and rest in my room.’
The men left the room together.
Trin was adept at getting what he wanted. Mira felt simultaneously irritated and gratified: anything to sleep for a few hours.
‘Jessa has a bed you can lie on,’ said Loris. ‘I’ll watch the ‘bino. It’s at the end of the hall, on the right.’
Mira nodded her thanks.
‘What is his name?’ Loris asked.
Mira had not even thought to name the child. Doing that would make him closer, more hers. She was not sure she wanted that but the other woman was waiting expectantly for an answer.
‘Vito,’ she said at last, choosing her father’s name.
Loris seemed satisfied with that.
Mira dragged herself down the short corridor of the casa. In her exhaustion she opened the wrong door. Behind it was a storage cupboard—only it was filled with food: dried, canned and powdered, shelves of it, too much for a small familia’s pantry.
Too fatigued to fathom the reason, she shut the door quietly and stumbled to the next room.
* * * *
Mira awoke to a ‘bino’s cry. Outside it was getting dark, which meant that she had slept long. Faja, mi a sorella. Gone. She sat up shivering, tears rolling down her face. In the quiet of little Jessa’s room, she surrendered to them.
Loris appeared at the door unannounced, cradling Vito in her arms.
Embarrassed, Mira wiped her face with quick finger movements.
But Loris made no comment as she passed Vito over to her. He was clothed in a tiny envirosuit of the type that ‘esques favoured and which showed the tell-tale bulge of a fresh dryfilm. His solemn expression tugged at her heart. He gave a tiny cry of recognition and she slipped a finger in his mouth for comfort, the way Loris had done.
‘They are waiting for you to wake.’ The woman closed the door and sat stiffly near Mira on the bed. Her jaw was swollen with a fresh bruise. ‘I have left some things for you in the thorngrass outside the gatepost. Your ‘bino’s underliner is clean and there is some food, and more dryfilm. The proper kind,’ she whispered.
Mira was confused by the nervousness with which Loris had spoken of her kind gesture. She laid her hand on the woman’s arm. ‘What is wrong, Loris?’
The woman bit her bottom lip. ‘My husband knows more than he’s saying. He wants you to think that we’ve helped you but he hates the Pellegrinis. I’m not much for them myself. They’ve done nothing for us but this little one deserves no harm. There’s a pistol as well. Can you use one?’
Mira shook her head, dumbfounded. ‘At the Studium they instructed the men only.’
‘Not much charge left in it. Enough for maybe a few shots: it’s all I can do.’ Loris stood up, trembling, and cracked open the window shutter.
‘What does your husband know?’ Mira whispered.
‘A man came here, wanted to pay us to keep these ... things for him. Never seen the like of them before. Big, rough and ugly, round like an agate, but sticky.’
A suspicion began to grow in Mira’s mind. ‘What colour?’
The woman stared at her.
Mira gripped her arm. ‘What colour where they?’
‘They was—’
The door opened. Con stood there, his rifle hitched under his arm, mistrust clear in his stance.
Loris’s hands trembled but her face remained bland. Practised.
‘You ready?’ he asked Mira curtly.
Mira clasped Vito and stood up. ‘Yes. And thank you, signor—few are prepared to take in strangers