Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [70]
By the time they turned along the viuzza to the Carabinere compound the sky was brightening to purple. A crowd awaited them: mamas with strained, desperate looks on their faces clutching their ‘bini, and angry men with weapons.
Vito fretted at the noise and Mira jiggled him against her shoulder. His weight made her arm ache but she did not dare to sit.
A scuffle broke out as they tried to move closer to the compound’s fence.
‘There have guards at the gate entry,’ said Trin.
‘How will we get near them?’ asked Mira. ‘Everyone is here for help.’
Trin stared into the crowd. ‘Use the ‘bino,’ he said.
Before she realised what he was doing, he snatched Vito from her arms and forced his way into the throng. Carrying both the ‘bino and Djeserit, he bellowed to be let through. People made way for him, affected by his commanding tone and the young ragazza in his arms with a royal ensign as her bandage.
The korm whistled and chirped and lurched after Djeserit, leaving Mira alone. Again, people parted automatically for the large, bloodied ginko. If she didn’t follow quickly…
She stopped. Trin had the ‘bino and Djeserit, and the korm would follow. He would take them somewhere safe. Would it be so unforgivable if she lost them in the crowds?
If she were alone then she could find her way to Insignia and leave Araldis forever. Without Faja here she need never come back.
The escape fantasy lifted the weight of Mira’s misery. She felt heady, a ludicrous sensation amid the heat and dust and panic—but an irresistible one. She began to edge her way out of the crowd but a woman grasped her arm, stopping her.
The woman had a ‘bino in her arms and an older one clinging to her legs. ‘I need food for my children. They’re starving. Please. I’ll do anything.’ She wore only light robes and her crimson face was coloured almost black by the sun. Her expression was exhausted but stubborn. Something about her reminded Mira of Loris.
Without realising what she was doing, Mira reached into her bag and brought out the last of the pane. The woman took it with shaking hands, nodding her thanks, and broke off bits—some for the ragazzo, tiny bits for the ‘bino.
‘Eat it slow, mind,’ she barked at the toddler.
The child ignored her, gobbling it, spilling precious crumbs on the ground. He fell on them, licking up dirt. His mother dragged him up by his arm, cuffing him lightly. The child wailed.
How unacquainted with hunger we are, thought Mira. A stab of pain that had nothing to do with starvation pierced her belly. There was no escape for her. She was trapped here with the rest, waiting. Faja had died here. Vito, the korm and Djeserit were her last connection with her sorella—she could not abandon them in the way that Trin Pellegrini had abandoned her. No.
She turned back and searched the crowd for the korm’s unmistakable shape but she was too late. There was no sight of them at all.
* * * *
TRIN
Trin forced his way through the crowd to press against the fence. The sun had only just risen but already the wire was too hot to touch. ‘Seb Malocchi!’
The guard saw him and stepped closer, gripping his rifle with gloved hands. ‘Pellegrini! You have a Principe’s timing. The last of us are leaving soon.’
‘Let me in the gate.’
He shook his head. ‘Too risky. Go to the office and call the Capitano.’ He nodded at the ‘bino and Djeserit in Trin’s arms. ‘There will be room for you, Don Trinder, but. . .’ He left the rest unsaid.
Trin’s heart contracted. He couldn’t leave Djeserit behind. He didn’t have time to examine his reasons for thinking so—but from the moment he had seen her alive after the bomb blast at Villa Fedor he had wanted to protect her. He knew that if he lived, then so she must. But would Montforte allow her to be evacuated with them? And Djeserit would want the korm to