‘Not at all eager, are you?’
‘I … I have other affections, Randy.’
‘Don’t we all know it. Your affections are the talk of the House and most unworthy of you. Speaking of danger then, stupid child, what’s the news about the Mad Gap?’ And they had talked shop as she detailed her attempts to find a Password through the Gap before moving on to other things. Why had he mentioned going to bed together? Everyone knew Randy preferred men, though he would possess a woman if he thought it useful. Had he thought she might be useful? But not quite useful enough? Had he slipped when he spoke of people killing other people? Was he interested in her reaction? Or was it merely a very effective way to change the subject?
It had been an odd, a very odd conversation. With her well-schooled memory for exact words and phrases, exact tones and progressions of tones, she could play it over in her head, again and again, but it made no more sense now than it had then.
Her ruminations were interrupted by tapping at the door. Blanchet came in, dressed to the toenails in a one-piece glitter-suit with a plumed hat and multiple chains of Jubal coral around his neck. She made an appreciative sound. ‘Don’t you look marvelous.’
‘My poor best will be hardly good enough, Ma’am.’ He gave her an admiring look. ‘The outfit becomes you.’
‘So long as I don’t become the outfit.’ She laughed. ‘Having got into it, there may be some difficulty getting out. The outfit and I may be inextricable. You’d better not call me “Don” this evening. That might give our truancy away. Call me Tella. My brother always called me that.’
‘Very well, Tella. My name is Fyne Iron Blanchet, and my close friends call me Fibe. Or Fibey.’
‘Fyne Iron?’
‘Family names both. I don’t think my mother ever thought what it would sound like.’
‘Well, it sounds very … metallurgical.’
‘So I’ve always felt.’ He offered her his arm and they went down the lift to ground level where a city car awaited them. The gawkers were still staring up at her window. None of them seemed to notice her. ‘Shall I drive?’
‘Please. You know Splash One far better than I. It keeps growing! Every time I’ve been here before I’ve gotten myself hopelessly lost.’
He suited himself to her mood, not talking merely to make conversation but concentrating on his driving. Splash One had grown explosively in recent months, so much so that concentration was a necessity. She stared out at a city raw and gawky in its burgeoning adolescence.
Half the streets were torn up, more were barricaded, though no one paid any attention to the barricades. Stiff, square-cornered new buildings of reinforced brick thrust up beside curvilinear older ones of rammed earth, the hard burnt brown making harsh edges against soft gray. The older buildings were covered with signs offering bargains in entertainment, in used equipment, in new and used clothing, new and used furniture, apartments, rooms. Most of the staff at the military base just outside of the city had dependents housed here in Splash One, and domiciliary space was at a premium.
The newer buildings were labeled with small directories at the entrances; government offices, BDL division offices, purchasing agents, suppliers’ representatives, research labs. Every sidewalk was jammed with people; every window had one or two persons leaning out of it, waving, talking to those in the street. Some of those in the streets were engaged in trade of an unmistakable kind, and Don stared.
‘Prostitutes?’ she asked, breaking her preoccupied silence. There had never been prostitutes on Jubal. At least, none that were visible.
Blanchet nodded. ‘Recent imports. They say that somebody high up got paid off.’ He didn’t need to specify which somebody. The word among BDL employees was that the Governor had both hands out for himself, which was unnerving. PEC appointed governors were supposed to be unimpeachable, and it made one wonder how high the rot had spread.
At the end of a short side street a building loomed, gleaming like gold and culminating in a high, ornately curved dome. Crowds of people passed in and out through the monstrous doors.
‘What in Jubal is that?’ she asked, turning to peer over her shoulder.
‘Crystallite Temple.’
‘It’s huge!’
‘It’s huge and there are about four more like it up and down the ’Soilcoast. You don’t have one in Northwest City yet?’
‘No. And I don’t look forward to having one. Where do they get the money?’
‘Pilgrims. Contributions. If you haven’t seen some of the evangelical cubes the Crystallite hierarchy sends out, you’ve missed something. Very slick, Tella. The money pours in as though it were piped. The people at the top aren’t like the ones you see running around on the streets. The assassins, fanatics, and insurgents are a scruffy lot, but those in charge of the temples are something else again. Very smooth. You ought to see them.’ His mouth compressed into a grim line.
‘Well, let’s. We’re not in any hurry, are we?’
He gave her a surprised look, but obediently brought the car to a halt and walked with her back toward the Temple yard. The paved area was scattered with small groups of pilgrims, each wearing a knot of orange ribbon to identify his status, each group led by a soberly robed guide. Blanchet inconspicuously attached himself and Donatella to the rear of one straggling group as they followed the orange ribboned ones into the enormous structure.
Donatella only with difficulty kept herself from exclaiming. Around them were towering pillars, vaulted ceilings high above, dazzling fountains of light and smoke. ‘Where do they get this kind of equipment when we’re still short of medical supplies and simple things like computers or lift machinery?’
Blanchet kissed his palm in a derisory gesture and she subsided. Obviously someone had been paid off. And why did it surprise her? She turned as Blanchet nudged her, pointing unobtrusively at three figures that had just
