After the plaza they made their way along to the markets. There were three of them just a couple of streets away from the Great Major Canal that bordered Silvarum’s northern side. They were open areas not quite as big as the plaza, packed full with stalls. The still air was heavy with scents. Edeard stared at the piles of fruits and vegetables with mild envy as the stall holders called out their prices and promises of taste and quality. It had been a long time since he’d sat down to a truly decent meal like the kind he used to eat at the guild compound back in Ashwell. Everything at the station hall came wrapped in pastry, and none of the ge-chimps in the kitchen had been instructed in the art of making salad.
“Those are melancholy thoughts,” Kanseen said quietly.
“Sorry,” he said, and made an effort to be alert. Chae had said that markets were always rife with sneak thieves and pickpockets. He was probably right. Here, as always, the stall holders greeted them warmly with smiles and the odd gift: apples, pears, a bottle or two, pledges of a good deal if they came back off duty. They liked the constables to be visible; it discouraged pilfering.
Edeard had been dismayed by the reception they had received in some districts and streets as Chae led them across the city: sullen expressions and intimidating silences, unshielded emotions of enmity, people turning their backs on them, third hands jostling when they were close to canal banks. Chae, of course, had walked on undaunted, but Edeard had been unnerved. He did not understand why whole communities would be repelled by law and order.
They moved on to the second market, the one specializing in cloth and clothes. A dismaying number of young women strolled along, examining colorful fabrics and chattering happily among themselves. He kept a small shield up and did his best not to make eye contact, though there were some truly pretty girls that just begged for a second look. Macsen had no such inhibitions. He chatted happily to any girl who even glanced in his direction.
“You never said which district you come from,” Edeard said.
“I didn’t, did I?” Kanseen agreed.
“Sorry.”
“You need to stop saying that, as well,” she said, and smiled.
“Yes, I know. It’s just that all of you are used to this.” He gestured toward the crowd. “I’m not. There are more people here in this market than ever lived in Ashwell.” For a moment he was struck by real guilt. He thought about his home less and less these days. Some of the faces had faded from memory. Not Akeem’s; his never would. But Gonat, now; did he have red hair or was it dark brown? He frowned from the effort of remembering, but no clear image came.
“Bellis,” Kanseen said. “My family lives in Bellis.”
“Right,” he said. Bellis was on the eastern side of the city, close to the port and directly over the Great Major Canal from Sampalok. They had not patrolled there yet. “You’ve never been back to see them?”
“No. Mother didn’t approve of my becoming a constable.”
“Oh. I’m sor—Shame.”
“I think she would have preferred me to take the Lady’s vows.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“You really are from the countryside, aren’t you?”
“Is that bad?” he said stiffly.
“No. I guess that’s where the values this city used to have are kept alive, out there beyond the Donsori Mountains. It just gives me a shock to hear someone with convictions, that’s all. You’re rare in Makkathran, Edeard, especially in the constables. That’s why you make people uncomfortable.”
“I do?” he asked, genuinely surprised.
“Yeah.”
“But … You must believe in values. Why else did you join?”
“Same as half of us. In a few years I’ll shift over to bodyguard work for a District Master family. They’re always desperate for people with a constable’s training and experience, particularly one like me; female constables are very thin on the ground. And the noble ladies need protection as much as their husbands and sons. I can just about name my own price.”
“Oh.” The notion surprised him; he’d never considered the constables as a route to anything else, let alone something better.
“Who do I make uncomfortable?”
“Well, Dinlay for a start. He believes in truth and beauty just like you, and he’s a lot noisier about it. But you’re stronger and smarter. Chae’s going to nominate you as squad leader.”
“You don’t know that.”
She smiled. It made him realize how attractive she actually was, something the uniform normally made him overlook. But that smile was a match for any of the silly family girls swanning around the market.
“Put money on it?” she challenged.
“Of course not,” he said with mock indignation. “That’s bound to be illegal.”
They both laughed.
“You two need a room?” Macsen called over his shoulder. “I know one that’ll give you cheap rates.”
Kanseen gave him a forceful hand gesture.
He pulled a face. “Wow, it’s true; you can take the girl out of Sampalok, but you can’t take Sampalok out of the girl.”
“Asshole,” she growled.
“We’re on patrol,” Chae snapped. “What does that mean?”
“Professionalism at all times,” the squad muttered dutifully.
“Then kindly remember that and apply it.”
Macsen, Kanseen, and Edeard grinned at one another as they moved on to the third market, which featured crafts. Stalls displayed small items of furniture, ornaments, cheap jewelry, and alchemic potions. There was even a section selling rare animals as pets. The awnings were a uniform orange-and-white-striped canvas arranged in hexagonal cones with center poles swamped by eaglevine. It was warm underneath, but the full power of the sun was held back.
Edeard stretched his farsight out across the Great Major Canal that ran the length of the city from the port district to the circle canals where the Orchard Palace was situated. Ysidro district was on the other side from Silvarum, wedged between the back of Golden Park and the Low Moat. It was where the Lady’s novistery was sited.
“This a good time?” his mind inquired.
“Hello,” Salrana replied with a burst of good cheer. “Yes, I’m fine. We’re in the garden, planting summer herbs. It’s so lovely in here.” A gentle image-gift came with her happiness. He saw a walled garden with conical yews marking out gravel paths. Vines and climbing roses painted the walls in bright colors. There was a broad lawn in the middle, which was unusual in Makkathran; it was trimmed so neatly, Edeard wondered what kind of genistar they used to chew it down. A snow-white statue of the Lady stood at one end, almost as high as the walls. She was smiling down on the novices in their white-and-blue robes as they skittered about with wicker baskets full of plants.
“Nice. Why don’t you use ge-chimps to plant the herbs?”
“Oh, Edeard, you have got to start reading more of the Lady’s teachings. The purpose of life is to achieve harmony with your environment. If you use genistars for everything, you establish a barrier between yourself and the world.”
“Okay.” He thought that was stupid but clamped down tight on the emotion for fear that Salrana would sense it. She was developing quite an acute empathy these days.
“Where are you?” she asked.
I’m patrolling Silvarum’s markets.” He let her see the bustle surrounding him, showing her the rich stall displays.
“Arrested anybody bad?”
“No. They all run in terror from us.”
“Oh, Edeard, you feel sad.”
“Sorry.” He caught himself and winced. “I’m not. It’s just boring, that’s all. You know, I’m actually looking forward to my exams. This’ll all be over after I take them. I can be a proper constable then.”
“I can’t wait to see your graduation ceremony.”
“I don’t think it’s that grand. The Mayor hands us a pair of dark epaulets, that’s all.”
“Yes, but it’s at the Orchard
Palace, and all the probationary constables from the city are there, and their families are watching. It’s a big event, Edeard. Don’t knock it.”
“I wasn’t really. Do you think you’ll manage to get to it?”
“Of course I will. Mother Gallian approves of formal functions like that. I’ve already told her you’re graduating.”
“Hey, those exams aren’t easy, you know.”
“You’ll pass, Edeard. I asked the Lady to give you simple questions.”
“Thanks! Can you get out this weekend?”
“I’m not sure. It’s difficult with the main service on—”
Angry shouts up ahead made Edeard look around. His farsight could sense several minds inflamed with fury. Around them were minds blazing with sour determination; they began to move faster and faster.
Shouts reverberated under the awnings.
“Stop them!”
“Thieves. Thieves.”
“Kavine is hurt.”
“Thieves in the market!”
Identical longtalk cries flooded into the ether. Jerky image-gifts of faces clashed in Edeard’s mind: too many and too poor to make any sense.
His farsight swirled around the shifting commotion, contracting on the center. Men were running, their arms flailing as people swarmed. Hands gripped long metal blades, swiping wide, keeping everyone away. Overtones of fear bubbled into the clamor of longtalk.
“That’s us!” Sergeant Chae shouted. “Come on. Constables! Clear the way! Constables coming through.” His longtalk was directed to warn people sauntering between the stalls at the same time he shouted. He began to run. Edeard immediately followed, as did Macsen and Kanseen.
“Move! Move aside!”
After a moment of shock, Boyd took off after them. Dinlay had frozen, his mind radiating dismay.
Edeard was running hard, keeping close to Chae. People were jumping out of the way, pressing themselves against the stalls to open a path. Women were screaming. Children shouted, excited and fearful. The theft ahead was still kicking up a hurly-burly.
“Remember, act together,” Chae told them with remarkably calm longtalk. “Minimum of two at all times; don’t get separated. Keep your shields up.”
Edeard sent his ge-eagle streaking through the sky, heading toward the edge of the market, where the thieves surely would emerge. Every street beyond the rippled roof of canopies had a covering of pleasant saffcherry trees, their pink and blue blossom clotting any view of the pavement and people below. His farsight still was concentrating on the criminals as they sped from the scene of the robbery. There were four of them, three wielding the blades while the fourth was lugging some kind of box. From what Edeard could sense it was full of metal, and plenty of the stalls around him were displaying jewelry.
Chae drew his truncheon as they burst through a group of people gathered around a couple of overturned stalls. A man lay on the floor, groaning and thrashing, blood pooling beside him.
“Lady!” Chae exclaimed. “All right, stay back, give him air.” He scrambled for his medical pack and knelt beside the fallen stall holder.
“A doctor?” Chae’s longtalk demanded, rising over the general clamor. “Is there a doctor in the Silvarum craft market? Wounded man.”
Edeard’s farsight still was following the criminals. “Come on,” he yelled at Macsen and Kanseen.
“Where?” Macsen demanded. “I’ve lost them.”
“They’ve just reached the edge of the market. Albaric Street. I can still sense them.” He plowed through the clutter of bystanders.
“Edeard, no!” Chae yelled after him.
Edeard almost stopped at the command, but he could not ignore the fleeing thieves. We can still catch them. It would be their first real arrest. So far all they had done in their four probationary months was clear drunks off the streets and break up fights, never any real constable duty. He charged along a narrow passage between rows of stalls. Macsen and Kanseen were racing after him.
“Come back,” Chae bellowed.
Ignoring the sergeant sent a flash of wicked glee along Edeard’s nerves.
Stall holders were cheering the three probationary constables as they sped through the market. Edeard and Macsen were using their longtalk to order people aside. By and large it was working. They were closing the gap on the fleeing thieves.
Edeard’s ge-eagle swooped low over the saffcherry trees of Albaric Street, its wings skimming inches above the waving blossoms. The four thieves were pounding along the pavement underneath the trees, heading straight for the Great Major Canal. Their blades had been sheathed so as not to draw attention. Even so, the minds of people around them pulsed with curiosity and alarm.
“Where are they going?” Kanseen demanded.
“Got to be the canal,” Macsen replied. There was a lot of exhilaration flooding along his longtalk voice.
Edeard finally saw the end of the market ahead; the striped canvas roof gave way to the hazy radiance of blossom-filtered sunlight. “Can you locate any other constables?” he demanded.
“Lady, it’s all I can do to watch where I’m going,” Macsen complained.
“What are you planning on doing?” Kanseen asked, all apprehension and doubts.
“Stopping them,” Edeard said. Isn’t that obvious? What is wrong with her?
“There’s more of them. And they’ve got blades.”
“I’ll take them down,” he growled. Her uncertainty flowed away from him as if it were another landmark he had left behind.
They were closing fast now. Albaric Street was almost deserted compared with the busy market, allowing the constables to race onward, weaving around the occasional recalcitrant pedestrian.
The ge-eagle flashed over the last saffcherry tree. It showed Edeard the street ending abruptly at the edge of the Great Major Canal. The big waterway stretched away on both sides, cutting the city in half. Away to the west was the Birmingham Pool, intersecting the Outer Circle Canal; to the east the High Pool formed a junction with Flight Canal and Market Canal. There were only two bridges between Silvarum and the Padua district on the other side, one beside each pool. Like every bridge over the Grand Major Canal, they were narrow and steep; most people preferred to use a gondola to cross the hundred-fifty-yard width of water. Several were bobbing at a mooring platform where the street ended.
“Got them,” Edeard exclaimed. “They just ran out of street.” His jubilant mood suddenly dropped as the four criminals sped down the wooden steps to the platform and hopped onto a waiting gondola. It looked scruffy and badly maintained compared with the craft that normally slid along the city’s waterways, with dull scratched paint and a drab awning. There were two gondoliers standing at the back, each holding a pole. “Oh, Honious!”
“What?” Kanseen demanded. She was red-faced and breathing heavily but keeping up.
“Boat,” he gasped back at her. “Come on; we can still catch them.” Right in front of him a very grand-looking old lady in a billowing black and white dress and her entourage of younger handmaids were leaving one of Albaric Street’s high-class restaurants. His longtalk demands to move did not seem to be registering with any of them. He dodged around the old lady, cursing. A third hand swatted at him as one might strike at an annoying insect. He flashed her an exasperated look.
The ge-eagle spiraled up, watching the shabby gondola ease out from the mooring platform and into the multitude of craft flocking along the big canal. Downmarket the gondoliers might have been, but they knew their watercraft. With two punts available and working in harmony, they soon were moving a lot more quickly than anything else on the water. The four thieves flopped down on the benches and started laughing.
Edeard, Macsen, and Kanseen hurtled up to the canal bank, coming dangerously close to toppling down into the water as they stopped at the top of the mooring’s wooden steps.
“Bastards!” Macsen shouted at them.
One of the gondoliers raised his green and blue ribboned boater in a mocking salute
. They were already twenty yards downstream. Edeard knew with grim certainty that they would be going all the way down to Sampalok, and the wounded stall owner would be ruined. “Help us,” he called down to the gondolier who was moored below. “Take us after them.” This gondola was a fancy craft, its black paintwork shining in the afternoon sun, the awning embroidered with a scarlet bird crest. Somehow Edeard knew it belonged to the old woman behind them.
“Not a chance, pal,” the gondolier called back. “This is Mistress Florell’s private gondola.”
For a moment Edeard considered shoving him into the canal and commandeering the craft to set off in pursuit. Except he didn’t have the first idea of how to use a punt pole.
“Somebody help,” he called with his voice and longtalk. That drew a few interested looks from the gondoliers out on the canal, but no one even asked what he wanted.
A chorus of jeering carried over the water. Thirty yards away, the criminals were leaning over the gunwales to wave and gesture. Edeard stared at his tormentors with a rage that chilled his blood. He smiled back savagely. Some hint of his fury must have flashed out. Macsen and Kanseen swayed back. The jeering stopped.
Edeard reached out with his third hand and plucked the box from the man holding it. Hands grasped empty air in futility as he lifted it ten feet above the gondola. The thieves exerted their own third hands, trying to prize it back. “Is that the best you can do?” Edeard taunted. They never even managed to unsettle his grip.
People on nearby gondolas watched in silence as the box drifted sedately through the air. Edeard’s smile turned malicious as it landed softly at his feet. He crossed his arms and gloated. “Don’t come back to our district,” he longtalked to the departing gondola. “Not ever.”
“You’re fucking dead, you little shit,” came the answer.
Edeard pressed his third hand down against the bow of the gondola, causing it to rock alarmingly. But it was too far away for him to capsize, and the six of them hurriedly erected a strong enough shield to deflect him.
Macsen started laughing. His hand came down hard on Edeard’s shoulder. “Oh, Lady, you are the greatest, Edeard, the absolute greatest. Did you see their faces!”
The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle Page 47