Dominions

16

16

- 16 -

The event was held in Cavendish Hall, a short walk from Sertio’s rooms‌—‌short enough that the artist himself even agreed to forgo a car. They were accompanied by Daventree, dressed in a black suit that oozed quality, although Rodin wasn’t sure about the wide red tie against his black shirt.

Sertio wore a loose-fitting jacket with tails that reached almost to the ground, covering tight trousers and a pleated shirt, all in blue. Somehow, he pulled it off, and the blue shadow he’d applied to his eyes complemented the outfit rather than looking too feminine. At least, that was how Rodin read it.

For his own attire, Rodin had selected loose black trousers, tight white top, and black waistcoat over the top. He felt constricted, and missed having weapons and tools concealed in his clothing, but when he’d arranged his hair and examined himself in the mirror, he’d considered Terrell ready for venturing into society.

Cavendish Hall itself was a fine example of the Dome’s love of image. Walls rose at an angle, so that the upper floors were larger than the lower ones, and Rodin noticed other guests teetering as they leaned back to appreciate the lights that flitted constantly over the walls. Near the ground, wide glass doors slid effortlessly open to allow entrance to the vestibule, where glowing orbs bathed the whole space in a soft glow. They were clearly designed to look like they were floating, but Rodin’s sharp eyes spotted the filaments holding them in place.

They took the lift that ran up the side of the building, and Rodin had to endure the squeals from some of the twenty or so guests as they looked down through the transparent floor. It was disconcerting to watch the ground disappear beneath ones feet, but Rodin kept his head up. If the view was disturbing, there was always the option of looking away.

“Have you viewed any of the pre-videos?” Sertio asked Daventree, his voice bubbling with excitement.

“You suggested I refrain,” Daventree replied, “and I always bow to your artistic expertise.”

“Quite, quite. Then when those doors open, I believe you are in for an exquisite treat. You too, Terrell.” He beamed. “Federick allowed me to view some of the pre-production, and if the final creation is only a fraction as awe-inspiring as that teaser promised‌…‌my friends, this night will be indelibly etched in our memories as the moment we witnessed the birth of a genius talent.”

Others in the lift looked to Sertio, most of them with smiles plastered on their faces. They didn’t make any attempt to comment directly, but they were all listening to the artist.

The lift slid to a halt, and for a moment there was silence. Then the doors flew aside.

There were gasps, and a few people broke into applause. “I must be dreaming,” someone muttered.

Even Rodin had to agree that it was impressive.

Before them was a carpet of green grass, immaculately manicured, inlaid with smooth stone slabs. This spread away from the lift, descending into the main body of the room. And there, in that vast space, was the true beauty of the work.

The room was a world in microcosm. To the right, trees rose, thick of trunk and full of foliage, branches laden with fruit hanging low, leaves stretching up to the heavens. Flecks of light darted beneath the canopy of leaves like fireflies, turning the darkness into a fairy-land beckoning carefree explorers. Across the room, the grass gave way to fine sand, then to water, waves gently lapping the beach. Partway up the wall, water tumbled down, appearing as if from nowhere, and soft lights illuminated the rock behind the waterfall, sending twinkling shards of light to dance on the surface of the tiny sea. Some guests ran barefoot, splashing and laughing, while others reclined on brightly-coloured deckchairs, sipping lazily from drinks in tall glasses. And to the back of the room was a rocky outcrop with ledges wide enough to relax on, and a dimly lit cave that, even now, Rodin saw a couple disappear into, hand in hand.

And above it all, the ceiling swam with light against blackness. A shooting star flew from left to right, bringing a wave of applause from the guests beneath its path.

“Truly, this is incredible,” Sertio said, stepping onto the grass. “Little did I imagine how the work would come together. It feels so complete, does it not? Ah, Federick has outdone himself once more. The man is a genius. Do you not agree, Terrell?”

“It is most impressive. I can hardly find the words…” And Rodin let Terrell stare in wonder, because that was the reaction Sertio expected to see.

But it left Rodin cold. It might look like nature, but it was fake. The trees were gnarly, but where were the creatures that hid in the forests? And the fine sand‌—‌he would wager that there were no spine-fish, and the water had none of the dark violence Rodin associated with the real sea. Then there was the rock, with its easy routes up‌—‌no way they could be considered climbs‌—‌and the lack of loose rocks. No danger of injury anywhere. This was nature neutered, and Rodin hated it.

A man approached, arms held as wide as his beaming smile. His jacket flowed behind him, and Rodin couldn’t tell where it ended and where his shirt‌—‌and indeed his trousers‌—‌began. His plaited goatee was dark black, but the hair on his head was streaked with white.

“Ah, Sertio!” the man said, and some of the drink in his hand sloshed from the glass. “Sertio, Sertio. My good friend. My rival in the best possible way. How are you, my fellow artiste? How are you?”

The words slurred, and when he reached round Sertio‌—‌or tried to, his hands barely coming round the back of the big man’s shoulders‌—‌more of his drink splashed from the glass. But Sertio didn’t appear to notice.

“Federick! Always such a pleasure. But this work‌—‌it leaves me speechless. How is it possible that you have surpassed all your previous pieces? To bring nature in like this, to make it our plaything while calling on us to admire its beauty‌—‌oh, it is sublime, my dear fellow. Sublime, I say!”

So much for it rendering him speechless, Rodin thought.

So much for it rendering him speechless“And Daventree is here too!” Federick said, spinning to the thin man. “Counting the credits in the stars above, I’m sure.”

Rodin wasn’t sure if that was a jibe, but Daventree smiled and nodded. “Oh, Federick, you would have me think such crass thoughts? I only value art in monetary terms because those I serve must live. And to be honest, I am floundering to understand how this,” and he waved his arms, “could be reduced to credits, when the experience is as important as the piece itself.”

Federick stood back, eyebrows raised in surprise. “So you have a heart after all? And all this time, I suspected you to be an automaton. Sertio, you must be having an effect on our bloodsucker.” He grinned, and his head rocked as he turned to Sertio. Then it carried on, and his eyes met Rodin’s. “And who do we have here?”

“My assistant, Mister Terrell.”

“Assistant, eh? Thought you didn’t want another, after the last one. Did you ever discover what happened to him?”

Federick’s tone was playful, but Rodin saw how both Sertio and Daventree tensed. Daventree’s smile faded, and it was clear that Sertio retained his only with some effort.

“He had to depart suddenly,” Sertio said slowly. “Family matters, I believe.” And he shot Daventree a look.

“Yes,” the agent said. “Most unfortunate. Regrettably, we had to seek a replacement.”

“And a fine one we secured!” Sertio’s hand slapped Rodin’s back, as hard as his voice was loud. “Only with us a few days, and he has already rekindled the muses for me.”

Federick looked Rodin up and down. “Yes. Yes, I can see why.” His eyes sparkled as he turned to Daventree. “Where do you find them, sir?”

“I have my means.”

Sertio and Federick both smiled, but Rodin noted the hesitation in Daventree’s voice, and the way his gaze shifted around the room. And he thought about his own situation, how his ‘job’ had been arranged. Nothing to do with Daventree, and everything to do with Cat.

“But please, enter!” Federick swung his arms again, and a little more drink spilt. “Eat, drink, talk, dance‌…‌and do anything else that takes your fancy.”

And he swirled off, welcoming others, calling names exuberantly.

Sertio leaned in. “If you will excuse me, Terrell, there is a colleague I really must talk to over there. But it is a business matter, and I have no desire to bore you so soon in the evening. I’ll leave you to explore, but I’m sure Daventree will…”

But Daventree was already walking off, calling to a short man wearing a flouncy outfit of sparkling green.

“I’ll be fine on my own,” Rodin said. After a few more pleasantries Sertio wandered off, and Rodin descended the grass carpet into the room itself.

He allowed Terrell to smile and respond to the many greetings he received, and he sipped from the drink that somehow found its way into his hand. Fruity, but with a sharp aftertaste, and Rodin knew he couldn’t afford to have too many. Not if he wanted to keep his wits about him. Not if he wanted to finally spy his target.

He met architects and salesmen, chefs and those leading ‘a life of leisure’. He saw faces he recognised from his research, and heard talk of others he’d learnt about. And, finally, on the edge of the forest area, he saw Leopold.

The man was as Rodin expected‌—‌average height, short spiked hair, muscular build. He wore tight trousers and shirt, all black, offset with a thin white tie. His face was animated as he talked, and the hand that was not holding a drink waved often, illustrating whatever point he was making.

His companion was female‌—‌tall, wearing a sleeveless outfit that was tight around her ankles but puffed out elsewhere, making it impossible to judge her body. On her feet she wore thin-strapped sandals studded with gemstones. Her hair was tied back, and must have had some kind of gems braided within, as it shimmered in the light.

Her head shook violently in disagreement with whatever Leopold said, and he raised a hand to placate her. But she was having none of it, and warded that off with a raised palm of her own. Leopold smiled as he spoke, but the joke fell flat, her mouth open in surprise before she talked, fast and sharp. He backed off, shaking his head, before countering with some argument that momentarily quietened her.

But her shoulders sagged, and she raised both arms in a ‘what can I do?’ gesture. She spoke a few words before turning and walking away. Leopold took half a step after her, then thought better of it and, looking deflated, shuffled off in the opposite direction.

Interesting. He might have use of someone who was clearly respected by the Councillor while also having the strength to stand up to him, and Rodin considered following her. But for now his focus had to be Leopold.

InterestingHe wove through the crowds, keeping the Councillor in sight. The man walked to the beach, up to the bar, and the bartender poured him another drink.

“Ah, Terrell.” Sertio appeared at Rodin’s side. “Still on your own? I would have imagined there are no shortage of fine women who would enjoy the company one such as yourself could provide, no?” There was a leer in his expression, and as he leaned in Rodin could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Where to start, when there are so many to choose from?” he said. The words were clumsy, but he could put that down to Terrell’s nerves. It wasn’t as if Sertio would notice anyway‌—‌already the man’s eyes were lazily scanning the room behind Rodin. “But sometimes, I favour intelligent conversation above physical attraction. There are many here who intrigue me, I must admit.” He’d have to play this carefully, but this was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.

“Then you must talk to them, my friend! You are Terrell, the great Sertio’s assistant and muse. You are somebody! They would not dream of turning you down.”

Rodin licked his lips. “Unfortunately, I have difficulties in this area. I know what I would like to say‌—‌I can develop fascinating opening gambits‌—‌but by the time the words are ready to be released, the one I wish to speak with has moved on.”

“You’re overthinking, my friend!” Sertio spread his arms wide, almost slapping an older female guest, although neither the woman or the artist noticed. “And you’re fortunate that I am here, and willing to assist. Just indicate your choice, and I will pull the two of you into a deep, satisfying conversation before you know about it!” He waved an arm again. “Please, make your selection.”

Rodin let his eyes wander over the guests, catching some faces he could put names too. “Oh, there are a few. Ceelo for one…”

“Then I shall introduce you!” Sertio spun, almost losing his balance, and Rodin had to reach out to support him.

“No, I don’t want to disturb her. She appears put out, wouldn’t you say?”

Sertio peered across the room, to where the woman in the flowing blue gown stood, surrounded by about five men and women, all talking and laughing. She smiled, but her teeth were clenched, and she glanced away too often.

“I see what you mean. Yes, she tires of company quickly, that one. If you wish to have a worthwhile conversation with one of our Dome’s first-class body sculptors, it’s best to catch her at the start of the evening.”

“I can see that. So maybe‌…‌maybe,” and Rodin looked round again, then raised a hand. “That’s Councillor Leopold, isn’t it? I recognise his likeness, but I’m not sure where from.” He held up a hand, scrunched up his face to show deep thought. “There was footage of some speech, I’m sure. Yes, a talk he gave before the Council on freedom of movement. If I recall correctly, it was met with a wide range of reactions.”

“Surprised you heard about that in Kern. Big news out there?”

“Not really. But I knew I was coming here, so I started finding out whatever I could.” And that wasn’t too far from the truth. “Do you know him?”

“Do I know him? Does Sertio know one of the strongest patrons of the arts this age has seen? You might as well ask does the sea know the beach, or do the treetops know the sky. Of course I know him! Come!”

And Sertio steamed away, cutting a path through the guests as he headed to the beach, with Rodin close behind.

Ready to finally meet the target.