“Edeard, you can still be disappointingly childish at times. We are both citizens of Makkathran now, today you especially. Try and act in an appropriate fashion.”
Edeard’s mouth dropped open.
“Now we are going over to thank Grand Master Finitan for sponsoring you, as is the right expression of gratitude, which you do feel, and see if we can be introduced to others in the Upper Council as well. If you’re to become Chief Constable, you need to start paying attention to the city’s political dynamics.”
“Uh. Yes,” Edeard admitted. “Chief Constable?”
“That’s your route onto the Upper Council now that you’ve chosen the constables over a guild.”
“I’ve been graduated eight minutes.”
“Those that hesitate, lose. The Lady’s book, fifth chapter.”
His lips twitched. “I knew that.”
“Did you now?” Salrana raised an eyebrow. “I might have to test you later.”
“I’ve had quite enough of exams these last few weeks, thank you.”
“Poor Edeard. Come on.” She pulled at his hand, all girlish again.
Grand Master Finitan was talking to a pair of fellow Upper Council members as Edeard and Salrana approached him. He smiled and turned to them. “Congratulations, my boy. A proud day for you.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you again for sponsoring me.”
“Well, it seems to have put me in credit with the Chief Constable. You graduated third in your class. That’s an astonishing result for someone unfamiliar with our city.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Allow me to introduce Masters Graley of the Geography Guild and Imilan of the Chemistry Guild. This is Constable Edeard from the Rulan province, a friend of my old Master.”
“Masters.” Edeard bowed formally. Then he saw Salrana pluck at her skirt and hold the fabric up daintily on one side as she performed a peculiar little bow that involved bending her knees and keeping her back straight.
“And Novice Salrana,” Finitan said smoothly. “Also from Rulan.”
“A pleasure,” Imilan said.
Edeard did not care for the way the Master’s eyes lingered on Salrana.
“You’re a long way from home, Novice,” the Master said.
“No, sir,” she said in a polite tone. “Makkathran is my home now.”
“Well said, Novice,” Finitan said. “I wish all our citizens were as appreciative of their city as you are.”
“Now, Finitan,” Graley chided. “This is not the day.”
“Apologies.” Finitan inclined his head at the youngsters. “So Edeard, have you had a run-in with our criminal element yet?”
“A few, sir, yes.”
“He’s being very modest, sir,” Salrana said. “He led his squad after some thieves in the Silvarum market. He recovered the stolen items as well.”
Edeard shifted awkwardly under the scrutiny of all three Masters.
“And are these miscreants now laboring away at the Trampello mine to pay for their crime?” Imilan asked.
“No, sir,” Edeard admitted. “They got away. That time. They won’t again.”
“I imagine they won’t,” Finitan said with an edge of amusement.
“Come along, Edeard; let me introduce you to the Mayor. It’s about time he saw an honorable man again.”
“Sir?”
“Old joke. We often clash in the Council.” He signaled them to follow him. “Not over anything important to the lives of real people, of course.”
The Mayor of Makkathran was talking to the Pythia just beside the little platform where he had handed out the epaulets. If he was bored or annoyed to be introduced to a new constable, he did not show it. Edeard had never encountered a mind so perfectly shielded, not that he paid much attention. He was entranced by the Pythia. He had been expecting some ancient woman, full of grandmotherly warmth. Instead, he was disconcerted to find that the Pythia retained the beauty of a woman still awaiting her half century, a beauty only emphasized by her gold-trimmed white robe with its flowing hood that she wore forward, casting her face in a slight shadow.
Salrana did her strange bow again to the Pythia.
“The Lady’s blessing upon you my child,” the Pythia said. She sounded bored in that way Makkathran’s aristocrats always did when they had to deal with those they considered to be of a lower order. That wasn’t what Edeard had expected from a Pythia. Then she turned her attention to him. Startlingly light blue eyes fixed on him, surrounded by a mass of thick bronze hair twined with gold and silver leaves. The eyes narrowed in judgment, which Edeard found heartbreaking. He felt like he had disappointed her, which was a terrible thing. Then she smiled, banishing his worry. “Now, you are interesting, Constable,” she said.
“My Lady?” he stammered. He somehow could feel the Pythia’s farsight on him, as if she were picking through his mind. There was something disconcertingly intimate about the contact. And she was very beautiful, merely a yard away, her half smile open and inviting.
Salrana made a groaning sound in her throat.
“I’m not quite that exalted,” the Pythia said lightly. “There is only one true Lady. My usual form of address is ‘Dear Mother.’ ”
“I apologize, Dear Mother.”
“Think nothing of it. You’ve come a long way to get here, and you still have a long way to travel.”
“I do?”
But the Pythia had turned to face Finitan. “What a fascinating young friend you have, Grand Master.”
“I’m pleased you think so, Pythia.”
“So young, yet so strong.”
The way she said it sent a shudder of felonious delight down Edeard’s spine. He didn’t dare glance in her direction; instead he fixed his gaze on the Mayor, who was frowning.
“Do you foresee great things for him?” Finitan asked jovially.
The Pythia turned to stare directly at Edeard, an act he could not ignore, not in a group like this, not without appearing extraordinarily rude. He tried to return the look but found it incredibly difficult.
“Your potential is very strong,” she said. There was an almost teasing quality to her voice. “Do you follow the Lady’s teachings, Constable Edeard?”
“I try my best, Dear Mother.”
“I’m sure you do. May She bless your endeavors in your new duties.”
Edeard almost did not hear her. A movement behind Finitan had caught his eye. In horror, he watched Mistress Florell heading toward them, all black chiffon and wide veils hanging from a tall hat. His dismay must have leaked out. As one, Finitan, the Mayor, and the Pythia turned to acknowledge the approaching grande dame.
“Aunt!” the Mayor exclaimed happily. “How lovely of you to come.”
“He’s the one,” Mistress Florell declared in her scratchy voice. “The young hooligan who nearly knocked me to the ground.”
“Now, Aunt.”
“Take his epaulets away,” she snapped imperiously. “He’s not fit to serve this city. Time was we used to have men of good character in the constables, the sons of noblemen.”
The Mayor gave Edeard a half-apologetic look. “What happened, Constable?”
“I was pursuing some thieves, sir. Mistress Florell came out of a building. I went around—”
“Ha! Tried to run over me, more like.”
“Come, come, Aunt. The lad was obviously just doing his job. A conscientious chap like this is just what we need. Suppose the thieves had snatched your bag; wouldn’t you want him to give chase?”
“Nobody would steal my bag,” she snapped.
“I am sorry for any distress,” Edeard said desperately. The horrible old woman just wouldn’t listen.
The Mayor shuffled around to stand between Mistress Florell and Edeard, flicking his fingers in a “go away” motion. Edeard did a kind of half bow and backed away fast, accompanied by Salrana and Finitan.
“Aunt, you know it’s bad for you to dwell on such trivia. Now some of these Mindalla Estate fort
ified wines are really quite lovely. You must try—” There was a note of tired desperation in his voice.
Finitan smiled broadly as they hurried off. “Thank you, Edeard. These reception parties are normally quite tedious.”
“Er … yes, sir.”
“Oh, come now. This is your graduation day. Don’t let that daft old bat spoil it for you. She’s embarrassingly well connected, as you would be if you clung to life for so long. Wouldn’t surprise me if she did drink the blood of virgins, after all. Your pardon, Novice.”
“I’ve heard of Mistress Florell, sir,” Salrana said.
“Everyone in the city has,” Finitan said. “That’s why she thinks she’s so important instead of just old and obnoxious.” He put his hand on Edeard’s shoulder. “And I say that as her great-great-nephew, myself. Twice removed, thankfully.”
“Thank you, sir,” Edeard said.
“Now, off you go and enjoy yourselves. And Edeard, when the time comes for you to apply for promotion to officer rank, come and see me again. I’ll be happy to sign the letter.”
“Sir?” Edeard asked incredulously.
“You heard. Now be off with the pair of you. It’s a bold bad city out there. Have fun!”
Edeard did not need telling again. He and Salrana made for the hall’s big archway, which led out to the antechambers.
“Hey, Edeard,” Macsen called, hurrying to intercept him. “Where are you off to?”
“Just out,” Edeard said. He didn’t even want to glance over his shoulder in case Mistress Florell was looking his way.
Macsen reached them and skidded to a halt. “Mother and Dybal are taking me to the Rakas restaurant to celebrate. It’s an open invitation to my squadmates as well.” Macsen stopped, and smiled at Salrana. “Novice, I had no idea Edeard kept such pleasant company.” He gave Edeard an expectant look, ever the injured party.
“This is Novice Salrana from my home village,” Edeard said sulkily.
“That is one village I am definitely going to have to visit.” Macsen bowed deeply.
“Why is that, Constable?” she asked.
“To see if all the girls there are as beautiful as yourself.”
She laughed. Edeard groaned, glaring in warning at Macsen.
“The invitation to Rakas is of course extended to the friends of my squadmates, Novice.”
“The friends accept with thanks,” she said primly. “But only if you stop calling me ‘Novice.’ ”
“It will be my delight, Salrana. And I will also beg you to tell of Edeard’s early life. It would seem he’s been keeping secrets from us. Those who entrust our lives to him, no less.”
“Shocking,” she agreed. “I will entertain such a request if correctly made.”
“Salrana!” a horrified Edeard exclaimed.
“Excellent,” Macsen said. “I’ll arrange another gondola for our party. Now, Edeard, where is Kanseen?”
Edeard glowered at his so-called friend.
“Edeard?” Salrana prompted with a jab to his ribs.
“Over there.” Edeard said it without having to concentrate; through his farsight he was automatically aware of all his squadmates, a trait Chae always tried to emphasize. He pointed to where Kanseen was chatting with a heavily pregnant woman and a man in a smart tunic with the crest of the Shipwright’s Guild. “Her sister came to the ceremony. They’re catching up.”
“No sign of her mother, then, poor thing,” Macsen said sadly. “Ah, well, I’ll go and ask her.”
“Boyd’s family are all here,” Edeard said.
“And we’ll yet sink under the weight of Dinlay’s relatives,” Macsen concluded. “So it’s just us precious few left. See you at the Outer Circle Canal mooring in ten minutes.”
“What did you say that for?” Edeard asked as Macsen walked over to Kanseen.
Salrana cocked her head to one side and gave him a very haughty look. “It was a gesture of honest friendship. Why should I not accept?”
“He was flirting with you.”
She grinned. “Wasn’t he just.”
“You’re a novice!”
“We are not professional virgins, Edeard. I seem to remember us kissing. And more, wasn’t there a discussion about my age and when you would be ready to bed me?”
Edeard turned bright red. His farsight tried to sense sparks of interest in those standing closest; either they could shield too well or they had not overheard. One thing was sure: She wouldn’t back down. She never has. Her voice would only grow louder if he persisted. “I don’t wish to recall that day too closely if you don’t mind. However, if I’ve offended you, I apologize. I still think of you as my charge, especially after all we have been through. Which is why I overreacted with Macsen. Truly, Salrana, he’s had more girls than I have socks.”
Her smile was forgiving. “I’ve seen your wardrobe. You only have two pairs of socks.”
“I do not!”
“And they have holes in them. So you just concentrate on worrying about yourself, Edeard. I know and understand all about Macsen and boys like him. That’s why he’s perfectly harmless.”
“He’s perfectly charming.”
“It’s not a crime, you know. Perhaps if you showed a little more charm, then you could boast of more conquests.”
“Charm, eh?” He bent his arm, and extended it toward her. “May I escort you to the mooring, Novice Salrana?”
“Why, thank you, Constable Edeard; you may indeed.” She linked her arm through his and allowed him to lead her out of the hall.
The Rakas restaurant was in the Abad district, which meant a gondola ride down the Great Major Canal. It was the first time Edeard had been in one of the elegant black boats. He didn’t have the coinage to travel in them ordinarily. Money clearly was not an issue with Dybal.
The errant musician was everything Edeard had expected: wild black hair reaching halfway down his back, barely contained by red leather bands that gave it a peculiar ropy appearance, a long face had weather-beaten creases and sunken cheeks above a narrow jaw; but with brown-gold eyes that always seemed to be seeing the funny side of life as they peeped over narrow blue-lens glasses. His whole mental aura was agreeable, akin to that of a carefree adolescent rather than a man well over a hundred. Just being able to say hello and shake hands was enough to banish Edeard’s lingering dismay over Mistress Florell. As their little group assembled at the moorings, Dybal made them all feel welcome even though they’d never met him before. He instinctively knew the right note to take with each of them.
“Come on, then,” he said loudly once they were all present, and led them down the steps. His clothes were large, even though he was improbably slender for his age. Edeard imagined they needed to be that big to contain his ebullience; he certainly achieved the whole larger-than-life image effortlessly enough: strident voice, big arm gestures, fur-lined velvet jacket, paisley shirt, and leather trousers, their colors mimicking those of the Musician’s Guild or, more likely, a deliberate mockery of them. Edeard was only slightly disappointed that the musician wasn’t carrying his guitar; he wanted to hear the songs of rebellion that stoked up Makkathran’s youth.
Dybal took the first gondola along with Macsen and Bijulee, Macsen’s mother. Edeard watched him talk to the gondolier, holding the man’s hand between his two palms, squeezing intently. Both men laughed, the kind of low merriment that usually came from a dirty joke. Dybal took his seat beside Bijulee while the still-smiling gondolier pushed off.
“That is Macsen’s mother?” Kanseen asked as they settled on the middle bench in their own gondola.
“Yeah,” Edeard said. And to think, a few minutes earlier he had believed the Pythia was an attractive older woman. “Macsen introduced me just before you arrived.” That had gone a long way to making his world a better place.
“Can’t be,” Kanseen declared as their gondola slipped out onto the Great Major Canal. “That would mean she had him when she was what … ten? She looks like she’s my age, for the Lady�
�s sake.”
Edeard sat back on the bench, smiling. He was so content, he came this close to putting his arm around Salrana, who was sitting next to him. “Do I hear the little voice of envy there, Constable?”
“You hear the little voice of disbelief,” Kanseen muttered.
“Perhaps it’s his sister and I misheard.”
“How does she keep her skin so fresh? It’s got to be some ointment only available to the rich.”
“Maybe she imports it direct from Nikran.”
Kanseen pulled a face.
“You two.” Salrana laughed. “You’re like an old married couple.”
Edeard and Kanseen carefully avoided each other’s gaze. The gondola already had reached Birmingham Pool, the big junction at the top of the Grand Central Canal. From Edeard’s position, the entire circle of water seemed to be full of gondolas dodging one another as they slipped in and out of the various canals emptying into the pool. He did his best not to flinch. None of the gondoliers were slowing down; they seemed to know instinctively where to go. Craft slipped past them close enough to touch if he had been brave enough to stretch out an arm. Then they arrived at the head of the Grand Central Canal, and their gondolier gave a hard push on his punt.
The first thing Edeard looked at was the mooring on his right where the thieves had escaped. He caught Kanseen looking at it, too. She gave him a tiny shrug. Then he forgot all about it and enjoyed the view. At the top end of the city, along the Silvarum, Haxpen, and Padua districts, the canal was lined with some of the grandest buildings in Makkathran: palaces up to ten stories high with huge windows, their facades a swirl of color in weird patterns. Turrets, belvederes, and spires produced a serrated skyline. Ge-eagles bigger than any Edeard had ever sculpted flew in lazy circles around the pinnacles, keeping watch on the approaches to each magnificent family seat. Kanseen pointed out some of them: the palace that was home to the Mayor’s family and the ziggurat where Rah and the Lady were supposed to have lived, now home to the Culverit family, who claimed direct lineage. She whispered about one red-tinged facade where Macsen’s father had lived. When Edeard glanced at the gondola in front, both Macsen and Bijulee were looking in the opposite direction.
The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle Page 59