Chapter Eight #2
Brice rubbed his temple. “It seems to me the only way one could ever know everything about everyone on the ship would be to talk to them directly, and that would take a lifetime. There are stories happening all around us and we’re ignorant.”
“We all have priorities, Brice.”
“You know everyone in the Capitol, though. You know their names and something about them. I don’t even know who lives in that green house through the trees, there.” He pointed.
“That’s the old Grey house,” Luciana said. “Danni Allison lives there at the moment. I spoke to him when I was walking through the trees a while ago.”
Brice’s eyes narrowed. “Planning on starting a market here, Luciana?”
She laughed and moved over to his sofa and sat beside him. She took the pad away from him. “You’re stressed and you’re cranky because of it.”
He sighed. “You have no idea. The board is screaming at me to come up with explanations, plans, ways to save tankball…and their incomes.”
“Do you think tankball can be saved?” Luciana asked softly.
“I don’t know.” His voice was flat. “We’ve already cancelled the finals and refunded all the tickets.
If we can’t explain what happened to the ship, the taint will spread into next season.
If there will even be a next season. To have a next season, we need an arena.
And to build an arena in time, we should have started last year at least. If we even breathe a word in public about starting to build an arena now…
well, I don’t much like my chances of surviving if I tried to walk the Artery, after that. ”
She cupped his face. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
He pulled her into his lap, and brushed her hair off her face and over her shoulder. “Just having you here is keeping me sane.”
Luciana rested her hands on his pleasingly wide shoulders. “I wondered if you minded tripping over me so much. My house…echoes, these days.”
Brice’s gaze roamed over her face. It seemed to her that he was measuring her in some way. Then he said, his tone casual, “Taking a vacation, Luciana?”
“From work?” She laughed. “I can’t even imagine walking away and letting it take care of itself. It would fall apart in a week.”
He smiled. “It’s as well there are taxiboats to get you back to the Capitol each day.” And he kissed her.
Luciana let herself enjoy the kiss. She shrugged aside the tiny worry that had set up in her mind at the odd note in his voice. He was tired, that was all.
She forgot about the conversation in the crush of daily life, and the aftermath of the arena tragedy.
Gradually, though, the ship settled back into a more normal life.
The accouchement institute announced that more children had been quickened, so that many more people would be assigned babies in the near future.
That caused a rush of guilty anticipation on the ship.
Everyone liked the idea of more children, only no one liked why the institute had increased the pace of births.
Then Brice’s institute announced that it would begin a search for a site for a new arena.
That created another flurry of conversations and hot debate on the Forum. Everyone wanted the arena sited in their district, but no one wanted to campaign for popular votes to swing the Tankball Association’s decision.
Guilt mixed with hope caused a rash of strange reactions in people, Luciana thought, after reading aggressive posts on the Forum about the site of the new arena.
The Tankball Association responded to the anxiety and mixed feelings by announcing they would inspect all the districts, in a series of walk-and-talk outings. If someone felt strongly about the site of the new arena, the President of the Tankball Association would listen.
“It was Bronson’s idea,” Brice told Luciana that night. “He’s a great proponent of talking things out.”
“You’re not in favor of it?” she teased, for Brice was one of the most private men she knew.
He rolled his eyes and pulled her closer.
The next day the first of the walk-and-talk tours took place in the Palatine. The event was broadcast through the Forum, which surprised Luciana, because the broadcast had not been announced. She had tripped over it. She kept the feed on a side screen while she tackled tiresome accounting tasks.
A large group of Institute people, including Bronson and Brice, were walking across the meadows of the Palatine, listening to locals point out the virtues of possible sites.
One of the Institute people—at least, she presumed the woman was with the Institute, for she stood close to Bronson and the people Luciana did recognize from Brice’s office—was a lovely woman with red hair and a great many curves, wrapped in a classic Liya Cassel-designed dress that made the most of those curves.
Luciana wondered who she was. She’d never seen her at the Association offices before.
The large group stood and turned to take in the area. Construction engineers walked out possible dimensions, and the potential orientation of the arena was discussed.
Brice had a headache. Luciana recognized the tiny furrow that settled between his brows.
He was holding in his temper with manful effort, and she was proud of him.
He listened patiently to everyone who spoke…
and there were many of them. Some Palatinians didn’t want the arena at all, and he was just as polite with them.
The lens was focused upon a man from the Palatine that Luciana vaguely recognized, who was talking about how wonderful it would be if the arena was built there, while behind him, the entourage headed for the taxiboats, to head to the other side of the Palatine, where the old forests were a dark patch overhead.
Luciana tried to listen to the man who was speaking, while keeping her gaze upon Brice, behind him. Brice was leaning heavily on his cane as he approached the boat. The uneven sods of grass and furrows of the natural earth in the Palatine had challenged the muscles in his weak leg.
At the taxi boat, he hung back, waiting for everyone else to climb in.
The boat was nearly full. He waved the red-headed woman ahead of him, and as she stepped in, someone bumped her.
She waved her arms, for her knees were up against the low sides of the boat and she had nowhere to thrust her feet to maintain balance.
Brice caught her as his cane dropped to the ground.
He righted her, while other people in the boat grinned and chuckled, and the red head blushed.
Then he kissed her cheek, and she leaned into it, her hands on his shoulders. She smiled her thanks at him. Their heads were close together.
Luciana sat up, the accounts forgotten. The lens had already shifted to the first of the taxis taking off, and a streamer was announcing that the broadcast would continue in fifteen minutes, when the boats all reached the other side of the Palatine and the second location.
“No, dammit, stop! Halt!” Luciana shouted at the screen. “Play back the last three minutes.”
The screen froze, then reformed with the Palatine man speaking once more. Luciana leaned forward, watching closely.
Her stomach cramped as she watched Brice kiss the red head again.
And again.
And again.
Then she shut the screen down, moved over to the railing and watched the markets go about their business. It was the mid-afternoon lull.
It wasn’t that he’d kissed her, Luciana thought. It was the way she had leaned into him. How close their heads came together.
They were intimate. There could be no other reason.
Brion, the coffee stall manager, came up to the railings and held out a cappuccino. “I’ve been watching you for the last three minutes. The expression on your face says you need this,” he said.
Luciana straightened and tried to smile at him. “Brion, I…thank you.” Her voice was strained. She took the cup. Her hand trembled and she gripped the handle of the cup to make it stop. She wondered if Brion had noticed.
He touched his forehead with the back of his finger. It was half a salute and half a wave goodbye. “Maybe sip that and relax a moment, huh?”
“Thank you. I will,” Luciana told him. Nothing on the computer behind her could possibly draw her back to work matters today, so she was speaking truthfully.
She moved around the business tower to the area beyond it. She had laid out a carpet and three armchairs here. She hosted meetings there, and invited people who lingered at the rail to sit a while and talk instead.
Had she been wrong about Brice? Had she miscalculated? Had she misunderstood the shift in the relationship…and yes, it was a relationship, although she was now even less certain what the relationship was. She had thought, after the arena tragedy, that things had changed.
Why had she left the matter alone? Why hadn’t she insisted they speak about it, so that she knew where she stood?
You’re gutless, Luciana. You’re still just a meek little mother under the business clothes.
Luciana put the cup on the flat arm of the chair, and gripped her hands together. She was chilled and shivering, even though the sunlights were at summer strength.
What was she supposed to do now?