Mirror Space - Marianne de Pierres [27]
‘Are you telling me that you do not mind my appearance?’ he asked lamely.
A smile lit her face and lent it some youth again. ‘Actually, I prefer it. You were much too pretty before.’
He stared at her, letting his thoughts and emotions well and subside within him. Beth was right. He was free now. No Gutnee Paraburd or Lasper Farr or Sophos Mianos. He could change. And the change could begin right now.
But to what?
‘Where is Godhead Tekton?’
‘Here still. Lasper and he are meeting.’
‘What do they plan, do you think?’
She shrugged. ‘Lasper will tell me when he is ready.’
‘When he is ready, Beth? What about you?’
‘I have to find Djes and I have no bargaining position.’
Thales touched his fingers to his damaged chin. It was wet with spittle. Though the muscle weakness had gone from his body, the necrosis had left his face numb in parts. He could not feel one corner of his mouth.
Beth reached to the small side table and picked up an absorbent cloth. She offered it to him.
He pressed it to his mouth. ‘And how long before I stop drooling like an animal?’
‘I don’t know, but it’s temporary, I’m sure.’ She gave him a steady look that urged him to stay buoyant.
He took a deep, calming breath. ‘Have you spoken with your brother? How does he plan to send help to the planet?’
‘He has not said.’
Thales held out his hand to her. He was grateful to her in so many ways. ‘Then I should help convince him to do so.’
‘Thales?’
Thales got to his feet. The change he so desperately wanted would begin now.
Tekton’s apartment was close to theirs but appeared to be more lavish, with its carved wood entrance and door moud that informed him Tekton was not available. As Thales waited for Tekton to return, he sat on the catoplasma bench outside the door and used the time to prepare himself.
Bethany had warned him not to be beguiled by the Godhead’s manner and refined ways. She believed that Tekton was as calculating as Lasper beneath his civilised exterior. Though Thales thought Bethany to be somewhat dramatic in her assessment, he was desperate to leave naivety behind, and therefore adopted suspicion as his keeper.
Tekton returned soon after. He did not seem surprised to see Thales and welcomed him inside like an old friend, without apparent interest in the bandage across Thales’s cheek.
The Godhead’s apartment was indeed more spacious and opulent than theirs, plastered white and decorated with unusual artefacts, including a large and remarkable fluid sculpture of a naked male in a state of arousal.
Thales recognised it from the display at the Trade Fest and remembered how Mira Fedor had been so discomfited by it.
Tekton stood, arms folded, as if waiting for his reaction.
Thales settled for a neutral comment. ‘What manner of material is used in this sculpture?’ he enquired.
‘It is called quixite. Rare and beautiful. And a tolerable likeness, don’t you think?’
Thales dragged his gaze from the ever-changing state of the statue’s arousal, up to its face. ‘Crux, Godhead. It is you!’
‘Indeed.’ Tekton lifted his chin and tilted his head. Clearly he was gratified. ‘Fenralia, the sculptor, and I had a brief acquaintance.’
‘How . . .’ - Thales struggled for a word - ‘flattering.’
Tekton sank gracefully into an armchair and crossed his legs. Lostolians weren’t the most attractive of humanesques, with their tight, colourless skin, but Tekton managed to convey confidence and elegance despite that. His soft pastel robe seemed to ripple around his body in the same way the quixite sculpture rippled through its crude body functions.
Bethany’s warning resurged in Thales’s mind. Don’t be fooled by his glamour.
‘I was hoping you would be disposed to have a discussion with me.’
Tekton’s eyes narrowed a fraction, though his expression remained pleasant. ‘We’ve been through much in our short acquaintance, young Thales. I would be happy to learn more about you. Please sit.’
‘And I about you, sir.’
‘I shall order some wine