Dominions

31-2

“Tell me,” he said when he’d placed his glass back down, “what would you say is the main difference between those who initially chose to remain outside, and those who live outside now?”

Rodin thought, while Leopold remained silent. “I suppose, those initial outsiders made the choice for themselves,” he said carefully.

“Precisely! Those who initially rejected the Dome did so through choice, but those born outside now have no say in the matter. But are they happy with this state of affairs? Some‌—‌possibly many‌—‌appear to be, but what of those who don’t fit in? What of those whose temperament and character lean toward law and structure? Is it not logical that there will be some‌—‌maybe only a handful, but some nonetheless‌—‌who are better suited to life inside the Dome?”

Leopold sat back, taking long breaths. But Rodin read his eyes, saw how he studied Rodin, waiting for a reaction. Rodin did his best to look both surprised and confused.

“And from this arises a more important issue,” Leopold continued. “If the character of these individuals makes them suited for the Dome, then they are unsuited to life outside, and are therefore more likely to meet an untimely end. If we call ourselves civilised, surely we cannot sit back and allow these people to suffer? Surely, if it is in our power to do so, we should offer them what aid we can. If they are suited to life in our society, isn’t it our duty to bring them in?”

dutyIt was impossible to ignore the logic of Leopold’s argument, and Rodin saw, more clearly than before, why those in charge wanted this man silenced.

“May I ask you a question, Councillor?” Rodin said, weighing his words with care. “Many would consider such notions unacceptable, even dangerous. You have an important position in the Council‌—‌and in the Dome itself‌—‌so isn’t it a risk to speak of these things? What if I’m not an artist’s assistant, but an agent of Authority? Surely your incendiary notions would lead to Correction.”

Leopold raised his eyebrows. “True, but I feel secure, and for three reasons. First, I’m careful who I invite to my personal rooms. One advantage of my position at work is access to secure records, and I’m confident that you are who you say you are.”

Rodin nodded, and felt his heart-rate increase. He took a sip of his tea, made a show of it being hot‌—‌that would excuse any colour that came to his face.

“Second, all I have uttered are thoughts and reasons. My position within the Council requires that I listen to others, regardless of their thoughts. This gives me a certain amount of leeway, and any accusations brought against me will be viewed by Authority with this in mind.

“And third, my position is not set in stone. If there is an argument that shows the error in my current thinking, then I am willing to be corrected.”

Rodin translated this in his mind. Leopold was careful, was protected by his job, and would admit to any guilt. The last made him a good member of Society, the middle was a result of the trust the Dome had placed on him, and was therefore not his responsibility, and the first was simply good sense. A true resident of the Dome, Leopold used words as both a weapon and a shield.

And he was a master at this kind of combat. Rodin had to admire the way he danced with his words, selecting just the right ones with precision and skill.

“But I have a specific reason for inviting you to join me today,” Leopold said, cutting through Rodin’s thoughts. “What I ask is not something I would ask of just anyone, but I believe you have the strength of character to face this challenge.” He leaned forward, resting one hand on Rodin’s knee. “Mister Terrell, would you be prepared to undergo the Gantiz-Schoeler test?”

Rodin opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“I believe your results would be incredibly enlightening‌—‌one who shows such strength of character, but who has undergone so many hardships. One who is intelligent and kind, who is not afraid to ponder dark thoughts, who is willing to learn new things. You, my dear Terrell, are an ideal candidate for this testing.” The hand on Rodin’s knee squeezed.

“I‌…‌I don’t know what to say.”

“Of course, this is a huge request, and you must have time to think the matter over. The process can take many hours, and I quite understand if you decline.”

Rodin thought the sudden buzzing was in his head, but Leopold’s brow furrowed in a frown, and he reached into his jacket, pulling out a screen. He tutted in irritation as he swiped.

“Please excuse me,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “I apologise for the untimely interruption. But think about what I’ve said. For my part, I don’t believe you have anything to fear from the test.”

He disappeared round the corner, toward the door. Rodin heard Leopold’s voice, quiet and muffled, and assumed he was speaking into his screen.

There was no way Rodin could undergo the test, was there? He couldn’t submit as Terrell, because that man had no past. Neither could Rodin open up about his real life. And he had no past either.

But everyone had a past. Somewhere, his childhood existed. Would the necessary research that was part of this test show Rodin his own history?

Voices came from round the corner, and Rodin listened. One was Leopold’s, the other was female. They were disagreeing, and odd phrases reached Rodin‌—‌in danger, can’t talk now, urgent, with a guest. Rodin had heard that second voice before. The insistence in her tone was very familiar.

n dangercan’t talk nowurgentwith a guestRodin wasn’t surprised when Shae walked round the corner. She halted, her mouth open, and she spun to face Leopold.

He appeared, waving an arm. “You see, my dear, I have a guest. Now isn’t a good time.”

Shae turned back to Rodin, and pointed. “You let this man into your rooms? Do you know who he is?”

“Of course! Mister Terrell is Sertio’s assistant, and the artist’s agent himself vouches for the man. And of course, I researched him thoroughly myself.”

“Your research found nothing!” She turned, her face so close to Leopold’s that he backed away. “He’s not who he says he is. You can’t trust him.”

Leopold laughed. “My dear Shae, your concerns border on paranoia. And I’m not so poorly that I can’t make my own judgement calls. Mister Terrell might not be the most accomplished sailor, but our conversations have been some of the most stimulating I’ve had for many a month. Please, you need to step back. I appreciate your help since‌…‌since our little mishap at the lake, but you’re starting to stifle me.”

Before Shae could respond, Rodin rose. When she looked at him, her eyes hardened, but there was fear there too.

He could remove her. The thought came suddenly. He could end her life, then complete his contract on Leopold.

But that would add further complications.

“You’ve given me much to think about, Councillor,” he said, “so perhaps now would be an ideal time for me to leave.” He turned to the woman. “A pleasure to see you again, Miss Shae.”

She didn’t return his smile, but she stepped closer. She wore a floral scent, too sweet for her character, and she’d smudged the colour under her right eye.

“Oh, please, won’t you stay?” Leopold said. The man’s face was pale, and his brow was damp. He reached out, a hand brushing the wall. He took a step, stumbled.

Rodin moved instinctively, grabbing the Councillor as he fell. But Shae was there too, reaching an arm round his shoulders and pushing Rodin away.

“Leave him!” she said, and Rodin saw Leopold flinch. She softened her voice. “He needs rest. Leave.”

Rodin stepped back, and Shae supported Leopold over to a sofa, helping him collapse onto the cushions.

“Can I help?”

Shae turned to him, staring daggers. She spoke through gritted teeth. “Just go.”

“There’s no need…” Leopold said, but Rodin was already walking to the door, and he didn’t catch the rest of the man’s quiet words. He didn’t want to hear them.

He’d made another mistake‌—‌he hadn’t acted in time.

Rodin heard movement, turned to see Shae stand. “One thing,” she said, striding toward him. Rodin stopped, and she came close.

“Don’t think I won’t tell him,” she said, her voice a raspy whisper.

“Tell him whatever you want.” He fixed her with his eyes, knew she saw him as a threat.

She raised a finger, held it like it was a weapon. “We will thwart your plan.”

He leaned in close, her finger almost touching his chin. “I’m good at my job. I’ve never failed a contract yet.” He smiled, saw her tremble, saw the sweat glisten on her brow. “And I don’t intend to start now.”

He turned and left, letting the threat hang in the air.