Laurus is getting way out of his depth. His own biotechnology degree is ninety years out of date. And an affinity bond with a plant is outside anything he's ever heard of before. «You can put anything you want into these candy buds?» he asks hoarsely.
«Yes.»
«And all you do is sell them down at the harbour?»
«Yes. If I sell enough I want to buy Jante new eyes and legs. I don't know how many that will take, though. Lots, I suppose.»
Laurus is virtually trembling, thinking what would have happened if he hadn't found the children and their machine first. It must incorporate some kind of neurophysin synthesis mechanism, one that was programmable. Again, like nothing he's heard of.
The market potential is utterly staggering.
He meets Torreya's large green eyes again. She's curiously passive, almost subdued, waiting for him to say what is going to happen next. Children, he realizes, can intuitively cut to the heart of any situation.
He rests his hand on her shoulder, hoping he's doing it in a reassuringly paternal fashion. «This is very unpleasant, this room. Do you enjoy living here?»
Torreya's lips are pursed as she considers the question. «No. But nobody bothers us here.»
«How would you like to come and live with me? No one will bother you there, either. I promise that.»
• • •
Laurus's mansion sits astride a headland in the mountains behind Kariwak, its broad stone faзade looking down on the city and the ocean beyond. He bought it for the view, all of his domain a living picture.
Torreya presses her face to the Rolls-Royce's window as they ride up the hill. She is captivated by the formal splendour of the grounds. Jante is sitting beside her, clapping his hands delightedly as she gives him a visual tour of the lawns and statues and winding gravel paths and ponds and fountains.
The gates of the estate's inner defence zone close behind the bronze car, and it trundles into the courtyard. Peacocks spread their majestic tails in welcome. Servants hurry down the wide stone steps from the front door. Jante is eased gently from the car and carried inside. Torreya stands on the granite cobblestones, turning around and around, her mouth open in astonishment.
«Did you really mean it?» she gasps. «Can we really live here?»
«Yes.» Laurus grins broadly. «I meant it. This is your home now.»
Camassia and Abelia emerge from the mansion to welcome him back. Camassia is twenty years old, a tall Oriental beauty with long black hair and an air of aristocratic refinement. She used to be with Kochia, a merchant in Palmetto, who has the lucrative franchise from Laurus to sell affinity bonded dogs to offworlders who want them for police-style work on stage one colony planets. Then Laurus decided he would like to see her stretched naked across his bed, her cool poise broken by the animal heat of rutting. Kochia immediately made a gift of her, sweating and smiling as she was presented.
Such whims help to keep Laurus's reputation intact. By acquiescing, Kochia sets an example of obedience to others. Had he refused, Laurus would have made an example of him.
Abelia is younger, sixteen or seventeen, shoulder-length blonde hair arranged in tiny curls, her body trim and compact, excitingly dainty. Laurus took her from her parents a couple of years ago as payment for protection and gambling debts.
The two girls exchange an uncertain glance as they see Torreya, obviously wondering which of them she is going to replace. They more than anyone are aware of Laurus's tastes.
«This is Torreya,» Laurus says. «She will be staying with us from now on. Make her welcome.»
Torreya tilts her head up, looking from Camassia to Abelia, seemingly awestruck. Then Abelia smiles, breaking the ice, and Torreya is led into the mansion, her bag dragging along the cobbles behind her. Camassia and Abelia begin to twitter over her like a pair of elder sisters, arguing how to style her hair once it's been washed.
Laurus issues a stream of instructions to his major-domo concerning new clothes and books and toys and softer furniture, a nurse for Jante. He feels almost virtuous. Few prisoners have ever had it so good.
• • •
Torreya bounds into Laurus's bedroom the next morning, her little frame filled with such boisterous energy that she instantly makes him feel lethargic. She has intercepted the maid, bringing his breakfast tray in herself.
«I've been up for hours,» she exclaims joyfully. «I watched the sunrise over the sea. I've never seen it before. Did you know you can see the first islands in the archipelago from the balcony?»
She seems oblivious to the naked bodies of Camassia and Abelia lying beside him on the bed. Such easy acceptance gives him pause for thought; in a year or two she'll have breasts of her own.
Laurus considers he has worn well in his hundred and twenty years, treating entropy's frosty encroachment with all the disdain only his kind of money can afford. But the biochemical treatments that keep his skin thick and his hair growing, the gene therapy to sustain his organs, cannot work miracles. The accumulating years have seen his sex life dwindle to practically nothing. Now he simply contents himself with watching the girls. To see Torreya's innocence lost to the skilful hands of Camassia and Abelia will be a magnificent spectacle to anticipate. It won't take that long for his technicians to solve the mystery of the candy buds machine.
«I know about the islands,» he tells her expansively as Camassia takes the tray from her. «My company supplies the coral kernels for most of them.»
«Really?» Torreya flashes him a solar-bright smile.
Laurus is struck by how lovely she looks now she's been tidied up; she's wearing a lace-trimmed white dress, and her hair's been given a French pleat. Her delicate face is aglow with enthusiasm. He marvels at that, a spirit which can find happiness in something as elementary as sunrise. How many dawns have there been in his life?
Camassia carefully measures out the milk in Laurus's cup, and pours his tea from a silver pot. If his morning tea isn't exactly right everyone suffers from his tetchiness until well after lunch.
Torreya rescues a porcelain side plate as Abelia starts to butter the toast. There's a candy bud resting on the plate. «Jante and I made this one up specially for you,» she says, sucking her lower lip apprehensively as she proffers it to Laurus. «It's a thank you for taking us away from Longthorpe. Jante's daddy said you should always say thank you to people who're nice to you.»
«You keep calling him Jante's father,» Laurus says. «Wasn't he yours?»
She shakes her head slowly. «No, I don't know who my daddy was. Mummy would never say.»
«You have the same mother, then?»
«That's right. But Jante's daddy was nice, though. I liked him lots.»
Laurus holds the candy bud up, her words suddenly registering. «You composed this last night?»
«Uh huh.» She nods brightly. «We know how much you like them, and it's the only gift we have.»
Under Torreya's eager gaze, Laurus puts the candy bud in his mouth and starts to chew. It tastes of blackcurrant.
• • •
Laurus used to be a small boy on a tropical island, left alone to wander the coast and jungle to his heart's content. His bare feet pounded along powdery white sand. The palm-shaded beach stretched on for eternity, its waves perfect for surfing. He ran and did cartwheels for the sheer joy of it, his lithe limbs responding effortlessly. Whenever he got too warm he would dive into the cool clear water of the bay, swimming through the fantastic coral reef to sport with the dolphin shoal who greeted him like one of their own.
• • •
