The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “Thanks.” He lifted himself up gingerly as she pushed some pillows behind his back to support him.

  “You’re the talk of Makkathran. Again,” she told him with a sly grin.

  Edeard gave a feeble shrug.

  “I thought you were going to die when you called me.” Her eyes began to fill with tears.

  “I’m sorry.” He reached for her, holding her close for a long time. When she’d calmed, she said, “And now you can fly, too.”

  “I can’t, actually. That’s something else altogether. The city, Kristabel; it helps me.”

  “The city. You mean Makkathran?”

  “Yes.” He could sense the puzzlement in her mind. “I’ll try and explain; it’s quite complicated. Perhaps I should explain to everyone. I don’t know.”

  She rested her hand on his chest. “You just wait. There’s an awful lot you need to say to a great many people. But you need to be very careful exactly what you tell them, and you’re not in any condition to make those decisions right now.”

  “Okay.” He knew she was right about that.

  “You also saw poor Sergeant Chae’s soul. If you thought you were famous before, you won’t believe what you are now.”

  “I thought I hallucinated that part.”

  “Thanks to your gifting, the Pythia herself spoke with his soul as it departed. You don’t get a more believable witness than that. She’s been waiting to talk to you about what she’s calling your ‘Lady-blessed connection to the spirit world.’ We’re to inform her immediately you’ve recovered,” Kristabel said significantly.

  Edeard instinctively gripped the sheet tighter, drawing it up a couple of inches. He was wearing only a baggy nightshirt underneath. So who undressed me?

  Kristabel gave him a lofty glance. “I sent my maids in to prepare you for your rest.”

  “What!”

  She burst into giggles. “The doctor and the novices attended you.”

  “Oh.” Not that it made the idea much more tolerable. Novices!

  Kristabel hugged him. “Thank the Lady, you’re still my silly Edeard.”

  “What about my friends?”

  “Waiting outside—very impatiently. Causing a lot of trouble for the staff. And they’re all fine. Before you ask: The gang members are under arrest and awaiting trial in the cells under Parliament House. Their ‘constable-killer’ guns were recovered, and you’ll never guess where they came from.”

  “Where?” he asked eagerly.

  “The Weapons Guild.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. Apparently they’re a secret type the guild holds safe in case the city is ever attacked. The design dates back centuries. Owain is furious. He’s ordered a full inquiry into how they were taken out of storage. Nobody was supposed to know about them apart from the guild’s most senior Masters.”

  “That’s got to be damaging to Owain in Council.”

  “I expect so. Daddy was really cheerful when he told me.”

  “Thank you,” he said softly.

  She gave him a breezy smile. “What for?”

  “Being here.”

  “You’re welcome, Waterwalker.” She kissed him again. It was a more sultry embrace this time, containing a great deal of promise. “I’ll call them in. I know you want to see them. Don’t worry; the doctor already instructed them to be quick and not to stress you.”

  They came in as one group. Kanseen was anxious until she actually saw him awake and sitting up in bed, then got quite emotional. Boyd was nervous, almost shy. Dinlay was boyishly eager, holding a big basket of sugared fruits. Macsen, however, had a huge grin on his face. “Nanitte,” he whooped gleefully, finger jabbing at Edeard for emphasis. “I told you so!”

  Despite its size, there were few people in the Malfit Hall as the junior cleric escorted Marius across the jet-black floor. Those who were there gave the Higher mistrustful glances as he glided along effortlessly. It was nothing personal; they simply didn’t welcome non-believers in that hallowed place.

  He passed into Liliala Hall, whose ceaseless storm played out across the ceiling. As he walked beneath the apex, lightning bolts arched between billowing clouds, searing narrow gaps in the vapor to reveal the bland Mars Twins. At the far end an arching door let them into the Mayor’s suite of chambers. Ethan was waiting in the oval sanctum. It had been restored to its original state, the way the Waterwalker had arranged it while he was Mayor. Chairs and the desk were carved from muroak and polished with natural wax, giving off a faint lavender scent. The three high Diocletian windows on the wall behind the desk provided its occupant with a splendid view out across Outer Circle Canal and the western corner of Golden Park, with the lazy green undulations of Low Moat filling the gulf to the crystal wall beyond.

  “Thank you for coming,” the Cleric Conservator said genially. He was sitting behind the desk, the hood of his white robe pulled forward. Even with the loose folds of fabric concealing the side of his head, the semiorganic nodules were visible adhering to his skin.

  Marius bowed respectfully. “Thank you for seeing me, Conservator.”

  Ethan’s hand fluttered in dismissal to the junior cleric.

  “I trust you are almost recovered,” Marius said as he stood in front of the desk. The air in his wake was tainted by wispy shadows from his shimmering black toga suit.

  “Almost.” Ethan smiled thinly. His hand rose to indicate the nodules. “Only three remain, and my doctors tell me they will be removed before the end of the week. It is amazing how the human body’s powers of recuperation can be bolstered by good news.”

  “Good news?”

  Ethan hesitated, wondering if the representative was trying to taunt him. “A human has passed into the Void with the help of the Second Dreamer.”

  “In an attempt to negotiate a rejection of your Pilgrimage.”

  “I doubt any ANA representative will comprehend the most basic tenet of the Void. It exists to embrace life, to elevate us to the highest pinnacle our poor spirits can aspire to.”

  “Indeed,” Marius said with a deliberate irony.

  Ethan caught the implication and smiled gracefully. “With respect, I hardly consider you comparable to Justine Burnelli. From what I’ve seen, you remain firmly rooted in the physical aspects of the universe.”

  “I will accept that in the spirit I believe it was intended.”

  “Thank you.” Ethan sank back in his chair, eyeing the representative curiously. At the start of his campaign to become Conservator he had been cautious about accepting the man’s help. Like every aspirant for high office in history, he had used his aide to make the first exploratory contacts. Phelim had returned animated by the possibilities. Ethan had agreed to listen. Politically, the assistance Marius provided was subtle and invaluable, allowing Ethan to build alliances within the Council and among the clerics of the Orchard Palace, propelling him to a position where he could put himself forward for election with a great deal of confidence. Included with that was the offer of ultradrives for the Pilgrimage ships, a gift that would generate nearly certain success. All of this had been given freely because their objectives were complementary. And in all that time, Marius had never hinted what his faction’s objective actually was. Ethan knew it wouldn’t be long now; it would be interesting to see what the price could possibly be.

  “However, hasn’t the Void itself demonstrated Justine’s essential humanity by its response to her thoughts?” Marius asked the question as if it were some easily dismissed oddity.

  “One small dream,” Ethan said. “A fast glimpse of her predicament. She certainly hasn’t found the Heart or even a Skylord. As her eagerness to reach that star shows, she is concerned only with the physical.”

  “Yet she demonstrated the mental abilities available to the Waterwalker.”

  “She hardly has his strength.”

  “She was only awake for a few days of the Void’s time scale, and she appeared to be acclimatizing comfortably.”

  “This, too, se
rves to reinforce our doctrine. The Void will become our salvation. The Second Dreamer will lead us to our destiny as the Dreamer Inigo always intended.”

  “I think we both know it wasn’t the Second Dreamer who provided this latest glimpse from within the Void.”

  “Yes,” Ethan conceded.

  “Does Living Dream know who received Justine’s thoughts and vision?”

  “No.”

  Marius smiled; on his round face with its thin nose, the gesture was unpleasant. “Yet another Dreamer, Conservator? They seem to be becoming quite commonplace.”

  “Three Dreamers in two hundred and seventy years is hardly ‘commonplace.’ But I do consider it significant that two have appeared so close together at this particular time. Events are coming to a climax, in accordance with the Dreamer Inigo’s vision.”

  “Of course. I am gladdened that the Second Dreamer has proved it is physically possible to enter the Void; it must be inspirational to your movement.”

  “It is.”

  “And I don’t have to emphasize how important the Second Dreamer is to you. How close are you to acquiring him?”

  Ethan smiled back into that barely human face with its steady green eyes and humorless thoughts. “Her, actually.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. We believe we have identified a possible candidate. Given that the welcome team on Viotia now has her identity, it is impossible for her to elude us for any significant time.”

  “Congratulations, Conservator. It must be gratifying having your goal so close to realization.”

  “It is.”

  “How are you progressing with construction of the Pilgrimage ships?”

  “Again we are blessed by good fortune. The construction is on schedule. Would you like me to arrange a tour for you?”

  “Time, alas, is tight. In more ways than one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This isn’t yet common knowledge, but the Commonwealth Navy sent a River-class warship to intercept the Ocisen Empire fleet. They were supposed to disable the command ship and deliver a warning.”

  “Supposed to?”

  “The navy ship was destroyed. It would appear the Ocisens are stronger than Admiral Kazimir expected.”

  “Sweet Lady.”

  “Unless they are stopped, they will be here before your ships are completed. There will be no Pilgrimage.”

  “The principal justification behind ANA was to give the Commonwealth an unassailable defense against alien aggression following the Starflyer War. It was supposed to ensure complete technological superiority.”

  “Don’t be too upset. It was, after all, just one ship. A stronger navy force should be sufficient to deter the Ocisen fleet. Even we concur with that prognosis.”

  “But there are no guarantees.”

  “There never are in life.”

  “There are in the Void,” Ethan said reflectively. “Unfortunately, we can’t build the ships any faster.”

  “I know. We are all dependent on ANA.”

  “A wing and a prayer.”

  “Quite. On a happier note, now that we are so close to success, my sponsors have a request.”

  “Ah.” Ethan widened his smile. He almost relished this. Would it be a preposterous heretical demand or some simple requirement that would trigger a political avalanche in the wake of the Pilgrimage’s departure? Was he going to welcome the stipulation or fight it to his dying breath?

  “We would like to send some observers with you.”

  “Observers? That implies they will remain aloof, which I sincerely doubt is possible within the Void.”

  “Nonetheless, we would be grateful if you would take them with you.”

  “We welcome all those who would reach for the Void, whatever their initial reasons. How many?”

  “Two or three on each ship. We don’t wish to burden you.”

  “I see.” Though in truth Ethan didn’t. He knew this must be momentous to whatever faction Marius represented, yet even he was surprised by how eminently reasonable the request was. “I will make sure enough suspension chambers are reserved.”

  “They will not be traveling in suspension.”

  “Is there a reason for that?”

  “They don’t wish to.”

  Ethan considered that, wondering if this was where he should make his stand. Of course, there was no reasonable argument he could put forward against it, only instinct. “Will they be antagonistic to our Pilgrimage in any way?”

  “Your pardon, but they care nothing for your doctrine. They are merely scientists who wish to study the Void.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  Marius adopted an amused tone. “You are trying to determine how honorable I am, if I will be awkward.”

  “Will you?”

  “More than most I have facilitated your rise to your current position. The gift of the ultradrive engines is phenomenally generous even by Higher standards. And when you accepted this, you knew we would ask a small favor in return.”

  “I did. And you know I will allow your colleagues to travel with us. I’m just trying to understand the motivation behind this, how badly you want it.”

  “Very badly indeed. The Void is a magnificent scientific enigma. My sponsors believe it should be solved.”

  “Why would you want to ‘solve’ something you can become a part of at any time?”

  “It is greater than us.”

  “And it will share itself with you.”

  “On its terms. To accept that is not in our nature.”

  “It is in mine.”

  “Shall I move to the threat now?”

  “Please do,” Ethan said smoothly.

  “Even with ultradrive, the Raiel present a problem. Clearly, this previously unknown warrior caste will not let you approach the Void boundary. Allowing a lone human in a small ship to slip past is one thing, but the Pilgrimage ships with their millions of hopeful dreamers? You will either turn back or die. The resources they have available are phenomenal; I suspect even a full Commonwealth Navy escort would struggle to protect you, and Governance has quite clearly stated it will do no such thing.”

  “It is the last obstacle,” Ethan admitted. The one downside to Justine’s triumph was shocking in its magnitude. He’d always known the Raiel opposed Pilgrimage, but no one had known they had such ships or the resolution to prevent entry into the Void. The unisphere commentators had been very keen to point this out over the last few hours. “Pilgrimage to Certain Death,” the less savory ones had named it.

  “In addition to the ultradrive, we can equip your ships with force fields the Raiel cannot penetrate,” Marius said.

  “I find that claim difficult to believe.”

  “Nonetheless, we have such systems available.”

  “Your passengers.”

  “Yes.”

  “The Lady moves in mysterious ways. But … She would want your scientists granted the opportunity to achieve their destiny along with the rest of us.”

  Marius cocked his head to one side. “I’m sure she would.”

  “I will have the cabins set aside for you.”

  “Thank you.” Marius bowed and rotated effortlessly. He moved toward the door. Just as he reached it, he stopped. “Oh, yes,” he said, still not facing Ethan. “And we’ll need a cargo hold in each ship for the equipment.”

  “Equipment?”

  “They will need instruments to study the Void, obviously. I will send details to your office.”

  The door opened, and Marius slipped through in a swirl of silent shadow.

  Balmy sea air gusted across Golden Park, stirring the long branches of the cherry trees planted along the giant plaza. A cloudless sky helped magnify the heat. In his cotton shirt and thick denim trousers, the Delivery Man was getting uncomfortably warm, and he didn’t want to use his biononic functions to cool down for fear of attracting attention to himself. Inigo supposedly had chosen this spot to build Makkathran2 because the climate was
almost identical to the original on Querencia. As a result of that quest for perfection, the Delivery Man had to make do with a ridiculous wide-brimmed leather ranger hat, because that was what the natives back in the real Makkathran apparently used to wear to keep the midsummer sun from frying their brains. At least it left him indistinguishable from the rest of the crowd occupying the plaza.

  Golden Park was full every day now. The usual crowd had swollen considerably when the Second Dreamer rejected the Skylord as the faithful had sought guidance from their new Cleric Conservator; from that day on they had flocked here to witness the monumental events elsewhere in the galaxy. The Delivery Man could appreciate that, feeling the kind of comfort that only ever came from being immersed in a multitude who shared beliefs and emotions. It was the most basic human need to belong, amplified by the gaiafield.

  On a very minor level he was experiencing that himself: the longing to be back home, playing with the girls as night fell across London. Bath time. Stories at bedtime. A leisurely meal with Lizzie.

  He didn’t want to be here. It was that simple. This was the kind of active operation the faction had assured him he’d never be involved with. All he had ever agreed to do for them was deliver essential items of equipment to the people who would use them. Inevitably, as the years progressed, he’d allowed himself to be cajoled into assignments that entailed a great deal more than mere delivery. But this …

  Once again he was keeping tabs on Marius. He’d done it before without protesting, though Marius always gave him the creeps. That wasn’t the kind of emotional nonsense a Higher should be infected with. It was just that his opposite number was a lot more professional at all this than he was. Nor did unfolding events help his equilibrium: Justine’s flight into the Void, the destruction of the Yenisey, the Viotia invasion. He couldn’t imagine what the end effect on Commonwealth society would be. He just knew his place was at home, caring for his family in the face of such uncertainty. Instead, here he was, wandering about with the crowds, making sure he was oozing the same emotional wonder and trepidation into the gaiafield as everyone else, wearing medieval clothes—generally blending in. Through the throng he could see several gondolas sailing the Outer Circle Canal, back-dropped by the Orchard Palace with its roof that resembled merging waves.