Laurus holds Torreya's hand as they ascend the mansion's staircase some time after midnight. The guests have departed, some of them stumbling down the portico's stairs, dazed by the chimerical past unfolding behind their eyes.
Torreya is tired and very sleepy, but still smiling. «So many people, and they all wanted to be friends with me. Thank you, Daddy,» she says as she climbs into bed.
St Peter folds his arms round the girl, and Laurus tucks the duvet up to her chin. «You don't have to thank me.» The words kindle a secret delight; she has been calling him Daddy all day now, a subconscious acceptance. He has been terribly worried in case she rejected the whole notion.
«But I do,» she yawns. «For finding me. For bringing me here. For making me happy.»
«All part of being a father,» he says softly. But she is already asleep. Laurus gazes down at her for a long time before he goes to his own bed.
After lunch Laurus took Torreya down the hill to the zoo. It was a lovely afternoon as they all were on Tropicana, and they held hands as they walked down the leafy lanes between the compounds.
Torreya pressed herself to the railings, smiling and pointing at the exhibits. «I always love it when I come to the zoo,» she said. «We've been so many times I think I must know most of the animals by name now.»
Together they looked down at the lions, who were lazing on flat shelves of rocks.
«Aren't they fearsome?» she said. «Legend says they're the king of all Earth's beasts. That's why the zoo has them. But they never show them when they're old and toothless and lame, do they? You only ever see kings when they're in their prime. That way the legend stays alive. But it's only ever a legend.»
Laurus blinks awake, finding himself alone on his bed, gazing up at a mirror on the ceiling, seeing himself: a sickly white stick insect figure with a bloated belly. The bed's imperial-purple silk sheets have been soiled with urine and faeces. A half-eaten candy bud is wedged between his teeth, its mushy tissue smeared over his face, acidic brown juice dripping down his chin. He is starting to gag on this obscene violation.
A black ferret is poised on his chest, tiny eyes staring at him. Its wet nose twitches, and suddenly it scurries away with a sinuous wriggle.
Laurus hears a soft click from the door.
«Erigeron?»
Erigeron's boots make no sound on the thick navy-blue carpet. From Laurus's prone position the enforcer's lanky frame appears preternaturally tall as he walks towards the bed. He smiles, fangs parting wide. Laurus has never seen a smile on that face before. It frightens him. Fear, real fear for the first time in decades.
«Why?» Laurus cries. «Why? You have everything here. Girls, money, prestige. Why?»
«Kochia promised me more, Mr Laurus. I'm going to be his partner when he starts selling candy buds.»
«He can't have promised you that. You killed him for me!»
«I . . . Iremember what he said.»
«He said nothing! He couldn't have!»
A flicker of confusion creases Erigeron's face. It fades into determination. «He did. I remember it all very clearly. I agreed. I did, Mr Laurus. I really did.»
»No !»
Erigeron lowers his head with its open mouth towards Laurus's neck. «Yes,» and his voice is full of confidence now. «I remember.»
Laurus whimpers as the fang tips break his skin. Poison shoots into his bloodstream, and blackness falls.
A tightly whorled flower opens in greeting. Each petal is a different colour, expanding, rising up towards him. Their tips begin to rotate, creating a rainbow swirl. Slowly but surely the blurred streaks begin to resolve.
Laurus and Torreya stand in the middle of the deserted zoo. The sky is grey, and the leaves on the trees are turning brown, falling to the ground in an autumn that can never be. Laurus shivers in the cold air.
«You said you'd been here before,» he says.
«Yes. My daddy used to bring me all the time.»
«Your daddy?»
«Rubus.»
Ryker coasts above the estate in the cool early morning air. Far below, the eagle can see someone moving slowly along one of the meandering gravel paths. A young girl pushing a wheelchair.
He banks abruptly, dropping five metres before he can regain his stability. He lets out a squawk of outrage. His new mistress has yet to learn how to exploit his natural instincts to fly with grace; her commands are too jerky, mechanical.
A quieter wish flows through him, the need to spiral down for a closer examination of the people below. Ryker dips a wing lazily, and begins his fluid descent.
He alights in a substantial magnolia tree, watching intently as she stops beside a small lake. There are water lilies mottling its black-mirror surface, swans drift amongst the fluffy purple blooms, idle and arrogant.
Torreya is indulgent with Jante, halting every few minutes so he can look around with his new eyes. His legs have been wrapped in folds of translucent membrane, their integral plasma veins pulsing slowly. The medical team she has assembled have told her the muscle implants are going to take another week to stabilize; a month should see him walking.
«It's ever so pretty here,» he says, and smiles up worshipfully at her.
Torreya walks over to the shore of the lake, a gentle breeze ruffing her hair. She turns to gaze down on the city. Its rooftops are lost in a nebulous heat shimmer. Behind it she can make out the first islands of the archipelago, green dots which skip along the wavering horizon.
«Yes,» she decides solemnly. «You get a marvellous view from the estate. Laurus was always one for views.»
They leave the lake behind, and make their way down to the dew-splashed meadow to watch the butterflies emerge from their chrysalises.
2395 - Tyrathca colony world discovered.
2402 - Tyrathca join Confederation.
Today Miran would kill the xenoc. His confidence had soared to a dizzying height, driven by some subconscious premonition. He knew it was today.
Even though he was awake he could hear the ethereal wind-howl of the ghosts, spewing out their lament, their hatred of him. It seemed the whole world shared in the knowledge of impending death.
He had been hunting the xenoc for two months now. An intricate, deadly game of pursuit, flight, and camouflage, played out all over the valley. He had come to learn the xenoc's movements, how it reacted to situations, the paths it would take, its various hiding places in rocky crevices, its aversion to the steep shingle falls. He was its soul-twin now. It belonged to him.
What Miran would have liked to do was get close enough so he might embrace its neck with his own hands; to feel the life slipping from his tormentor's grotesque body. But above all he was a practical man, he told himself he wasn't going to be asinine-sentimental about it, if he could pick it off with the laser rifle he would do so. No hesitation, no remorse.
He checked the laser rifle's power charge and stepped out of the homestead. Home—the word mocked him. It wasn't a home, not any more. A simple three-room prefab shipped in by the Jubarra Development Corporation, designed for two-person assembly. Candice and himself. Her laugh, her smile, the rooms had echoed with them; filling even the glummest day with life and joy. Now it was a convenient shelter, a dry place from which to plot his campaign and strategies.
Physically, the day was no different from any other on Jubarra. Gloomy leaden-grey clouds hung low in the sky, marching east to west. Cold mist swirled about his ankles, coating grass and rocks alike in glistening dewdrops. There would be rain later, there always was.