Flowercrash Read Online Free

that the desk was the source of the fragrance. It was made of hardpetal.
    Hardpetal. The substance that created interfaces with the electronic flower-networks of Zaïdmouth. And this fragrant effect had happened before. There was a connection here between her visions, hardpetal, the insects and the networks. But what?
    Still drowsy, she washed herself, then chose a flowing green dress, cotton leggings and a loose jacket. Downstairs she met Vishilkaïr. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.
    “I never do. Insomnia.”
    “That’s terrible. I can get drugs from the dens of Blissis to help you sleep. They’re quite safe.”
    “I’ll consider it. What about breakfast?”
    Vishilkaïr tapped a metal cat on the bar, which resonated like temple cymbals. In walked a young man who immediately caught Manserphine’s eye; tall, spare of frame, with the gait of an athlete and features that combined to produce a handsome face. His eyes were black and his hair was brown, cut short except for a pigtail wound with copper wire. He offered her a wafer of hardpetal upon which an illuminated menu flickered.
    “This is Kirifaïfra,” Vishilkaïr explained, “my charming nephew. He will be looking after you today.”
    “Pleased to meet you, reverend sister,” Kirifaïfra said with a bow. His voice had the depth and clarity of a singer.
    Manserphine grimaced. “Don’t call me that, young man. I have a name. Use it.”
    “With pleasure.”
    Manserphine selected a breakfast at random then sat in the bay window seat, where several vellum scrolls had been laid, each carrying the text of speeches given by the clerics of Zaïdmouth’s seven shrines. Manserphine scanned them until her breakfast was served. “Could you send your uncle over, please?” she asked.
    Kirifaïfra smiled in the unctuous way of waiters then departed silent as a cat. Manserphine watched him go. The muscles of his thighs and shoulders moved smoothly under his flimsy inn clothes. Manserphine recalled the vow of celibacy that she had sworn upon becoming Interpreter.
    Later, Vishilkaïr appeared, to sit at her side.
    “We need to discuss payments,” Manserphine said. She sipped her green tea then continued, “It seems possible that I’ll be here for at least a week.”
    “There’s no need to fret,” Vishilkaïr said. “You can either settle in spring, when the public networks come online, or pay me in cowries.”
    “I don’t have much by way of actual coins,” Manserphine said, thinking of the tiny purse of brass cowries that she kept upstairs. “Electronic might be best.”
    “Then there is no problem. My study is full of bulbs. Come spring we can deal directly, without the coarseness of cash.”
    Manserphine stood. “And now I must go on an errand.” She gestured at the empty bowls and mug. “Shall I wash-”
    “That is Kirifaïfra’s job.”
    Manserphine nodded. “Is he a youth still?”
    “He has left his family and come to work for me, with Jezelva his guardian.”
    “Quite a convenient situation,” Manserphine remarked.
    “We think so.”
    Manserphine returned to her room, pulled on her coat, then put the paintbrush in its inner pocket. Leaving the inn, she began the walk to Novais. Through frosted streets she strode, her boots cracking thin ice on the puddles, glancing down on occasion if a particularly large or bright flowerhead caught her attention. The blooms in this part of Veneris were silver, their cables matted, and all had a glaze of frost that twinkled when the sunlight caught them. There were no insects; data moved sluggishly, if at all, through the backup root systems.
    Leaving Veneris she made south and then east to avoid the danger of the Woods, which here stretched out in a series of linked copses. She jogged along old tracks, through deep lanes that never saw the sun in winter, past ruined buildings and the abandoned settlements of old men, until she neared the elegant needles and irregular domes of Novais. The urb lay sprawled