“Finitan, dearest friend, you are fulfilled. Look at the life you have lived, look at what you have accomplished. I’m asking you, I’m begging; go to a tower in Eyrie. Accept its guidance to Odin’s Sea. Show Makkathran, show the world, that we have become worthy again. Let people have that ultimate hope once more. Show them your way is the right way.”
“A Skylord will never take my sorry soul anywhere other than Honious.”
“Stop that; it will. Trust me one last time. You read my emotions, but I can see your soul, and it is glorious.”
“Edeard …”
“If you go, if you are worthy of guidance, other Skylords will know; they will come to Querencia again. Our lives will be complete. Everything you and I have achieved together, all that it cost, all that pain we endured to wrest the city from the grip of darkness and decay, will have been worthwhile.”
For a long while Finitan said nothing. Finally, he sighed. “Honious take me, I’m dying anyway. Why not?”
“Thank you.” Edeard leaned over the bed and kissed the old man’s brow.
The decision seemed to have cheered Finitan up. He pulled his pale lips into a rueful pout. “Well, at least the election’s over. What does it feel like to be Chief Constable?”
“How do you see that? Have you got a timesense you’ve been hiding all these years?”
“You’re going to be the Waterwalker again. You’re going to be the one who calls the Skylord to Querencia. Then in front of the whole city you’ll hoist me up to the top of the tower so I can be guided to the Heart. You, Edeard. Just you. Who’s not going to vote for a savior like that?”
———
Edeard announced the Skylord’s arrival that afternoon as he was making a campaign speech to Eggshaper Guild apprentices in Ysidro. There was silence in the hall at first, as if his words hadn’t quite made sense. Then came a swell of surprise and incredulity. Longtalk calls shot out to friends and family. Dozens of hands were raised, and questions shouted.
“It’s very simple,” the Waterwalker said. “The Skylords are flying to Querencia again. The first will be here in just over a week. It will guide Finitan through Odin’s Sea to the Heart.”
“How do you know?” several apprentices barked out simultaneously.
“Because I’ve been talking to it for the last few nights.”
“Why is Finitan going to be guided?”
“Because of all of us, he is the one who has reached fulfillment. The way he has lived his life is the example we must all follow. When the Skylord sees him, it will know the time has come for humans to be guided to the Heart once more.”
Makkathran’s true currency had always been gossip and rumor, a currency inflated during election time, when candidates sought to defame their rivals. So news of the Skylord traveled as such momentous news always did in Makkathran, as fast as sunlight. Within an hour everyone knew of the Waterwalker’s amazing claim.
The Astronomers Association promised they would find any Skylord approaching Querencia and immediately started quarreling among themselves about false observations. Mayor Trahaval carefully avoided direct comment or criticism. Chief Constable Yrance dismissed it as a ridiculous vote-grabbing stunt; however, his campaign team quickly spilled their ridicule around the city. A sign of the Waterwalker’s desperation, they claimed, a stunt, a lie. He’s past his prime. He’s delusional. A has-been. You need someone stable and practical, someone who produces actual results, a man like the existing Chief Constable.
Under Dinlay’s direction a flurry of counterclaims were passed from district to district. The Skylord is real. It is coming as the Lady prophesied. Finitan will be guided to the Heart because he has lived a life of fulfillment just as the Lady said we should. Who else but the Waterwalker could summon our final salvation? He is the one we need to lead us. Edeard will lead us to the future we have spent so long trying to achieve.
“You’d better be right about this,” Dinlay said as he and Edeard arrived at the Eggshaper Guild retirement house five days later.
“Have a little faith,” Edeard told his old friend in a wounded tone. Out of all of them, Dinlay had always been the most loyal. He was also the one Edeard considered had changed the least over the years. Dinlay had been captain of the Lillylight constable station for eight years now. That affluent district particularly welcomed his promotion; it was quite a catch having one of the Waterwalker’s original squad appointed to supervise the policing of their streets. Influence and status, to those residents in particular, meant everything.
Dinlay, of course, had fitted in perfectly (as Edeard had suspected he would). There were a lot of formal social events, which suited him. The station was organized efficiently. He was actively involved in the training of the new generation of constables, producing polite and effective squads. Prosecution lawyers achieved high success rates in court. Lillylight streets were safe to walk along at any time of the day or night. And Captain Dinlay was newly engaged to one of their own. Again.
Edeard led the way upstairs to Finitan’s room. The house’s chief doctor was waiting outside the door, flanked by two Novices.
“I’m not sure this is in the patient’s best interest,” the doctor said firmly.
“I think that’s for him to decide, isn’t it?” Edeard replied calmly. “That is his right at such a time as this.”
“This journey may finish him. Would you have that on your conscience, Waterwalker?”
“I will hold him steady, I promise. He will reach the tower in comfort.”
“And then what? Even if a Skylord were to come, he is still alive.”
“The Waterwalker has said a Skylord is coming,” Dinlay said heatedly. “Are you going to deny your own patient the chance to reach the Heart?”
“I can offer him certainty,” the doctor said. “Not promises based on myth.”
“This is not some election stunt,” Dinlay said, his anger growing now. “Not a politician’s promise. The Skylord will guide Master Finitan’s soul to the Heart.”
He really does believe in me, Edeard realized, feeling almost humbled by a trust that had lasted forty years. He wasn’t quite sure what to do about the stubborn doctor, who was only doing her job and securing what she believed was best for her patient.
“Doctor,” Finitan’s longtalk urged. “Please let my friends in.”
The doctor stepped aside with a great show of disapproval. Finitan was sitting up in bed, dressed in the robes of the Eggshaper Guild’s Grand Master.
“You look splendid,” Edeard said.
“Wish I felt it.” The old man coughed. He gave a frail, brave smile. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
“Of course.” Edeard folded his third hand gently around Finitan, ready to lift him off the bed.
“Master?” the doctor queried.
“It’s all right. This is what I want. I thank you and the Novices for a splendid job. You have made my life bearable again, but your obligation ends now. I would hope you respect that.” There was just a touch of the old master’s authority in the tone.
The doctor bowed uncomfortably. “I will accompany you to the tower myself.”
“Thank you,” Finitan said.
Edeard lifted Finitan carefully and maneuvered him through the door. The small procession made its way down the stairs to the courtyard.
Quite a crowd had gathered outside, eager and curious. They jostled for position on the narrow street, sweeping their farsight across the ailing master. Finitan raised a weak smile and waved.
“Where’s the Skylord?” someone shouted.
“Show us, then, Waterwalker. Where is it?”
“There’s nothing in the sky except clouds.”
Dinlay scowled. “Yrance’s people,” he muttered. “Have they no sense of decency?”
“It is an election,” an amused Finitan observed.
“After today they won’t matter,” Edeard replied.
There was a gondola waiting for them on Hidden Canal. Ed
eard eased Finitan down onto the long bench in the middle, and the doctor made him as comfortable as possible with cushions and blankets. The old man smiled contentedly as the gondolier pushed them off down the canal. Folfal trees lined both sides of the canal, their long branches curving high above the water. With the warm spring air gusting across the city, bright orange blossom buds were bursting out of the trees’ indigo-shaded bark, producing a beautiful show of vibrant color.
They were watched every inch of the way; some kids even ran along the side of the canal, dodging the trunks and pedestrians to keep up with the gondola. Several ge-eagles flapped lazily overhead.
The gondolier steered them down Hidden Canal and then over to Market Canal until they were level with the Lady’s church. Hundreds of people were waiting for them around the mooring platform, keen for either spectacle or failure.
The Pythia headed up the semiofficial reception group at the top of the wooden steps, with her entourage of six Mothers waiting passively behind. She was new to the position, anointed barely three years ago. She didn’t have quite the vivacity of the previous incumbent, nor did she immerse herself in Makkathran’s social events, but her devotion to the Lady was never in doubt. She had a zeal for the teachings that always made Edeard slightly uncomfortable around her.
“Waterwalker,” she said courteously. Her handsome face was impassive, as was her mind. Edeard walked up the steps while his third hand elevated Finitan behind him.
“Any sign of it?” Finitan asked.
Kanseen, who was standing just behind the Pythia, took his hand and squeezed gently. “Not yet,” she said sweetly.
“It won’t be long,” Edeard promised. But even he gave a nervous glance toward the Lyot Sea in the east. He’d longtalked to the Skylord the previous evening before the planet’s rotation had carried it out of sight. Several astronomers had claimed they’d seen it. That was countered by Yrance’s campaign staff as cronies trying to curry short-term favor with the Waterwalker.
Kristabel gave him an encouraging smile, but there was no way she could hide her concern from him. Macsen just rolled his eyes, his thoughts brimming with bravado and confidence that he hoped might infuse Edeard.
With Kanseen holding Finitan’s hand, the whole group walked over to the nearest tower. It was a drab gray in color, its crinkled surface beset with slim fissures whose sides were a dark red. Two angled gaps at the base led into the central cavelike chamber. A single thick pillar rose up from the center of the floor, with an opening to the narrow spiral stair that snaked up to the platform high above.
Even inside the thick walls, Edeard could feel a lot of farsight pressing against them as more and more city residents started to observe what was happening.
“I’ll take you up by myself,” Edeard said. He wasn’t entirely sure what happened around the top of a tower when the Skylord came to claim a human soul. The Lady’s book spoke of cold fire engulfing the bodies of those who’d been chosen for guidance. It didn’t sound good for the living.
Everyone looked to Kristabel, who simply shrugged. “If that’s what must be done,” she said reluctantly.
“May the Lady herself welcome you, Finitan,” the Pythia said. The other Mothers clasped their hands in prayer.
Edeard started to move Finitan toward the cramped entrance to the stairs. Macsen’s hand caught his elbow. “Don’t linger,” the master of Sampalok said quietly. “It was bad enough the last time you went up one of these towers alone.”
Edeard grinned at him and started up the stairs.
“Do you ever wonder what’s there?” Finitan asked. He was ahead of Edeard, his body tipped to almost forty-five degrees as Edeard’s telekinesis maneuvered him upward around the not-quite-symmetrical curves of the stair.
“In the Heart?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know. It can’t be a physical existence, not some kind of a fresh start, a grand house by the sea with servants and fine wine and food.” We can do that here.
“Yes, I was thinking along those lines. So what exactly is it?”
“Well, you’ll know before me.”
Finitan laughed. “That’s my Edeard, ever the practical one.”
They were about a third of the way up. Edeard grimaced and concentrated on not dropping the old master. The stairs were badly claustrophobic.
“Philosophy was never my strong point,” Finitan went on. “I was more an organizer.”
“You were a visionary. That’s why we achieved so much.”
“Very kind of you, I’m sure. But what does the Heart need with a human visionary?”
“Lady, but you’re getting morose for someone about to embark on the ultimate journey.”
“What if it isn’t?” Finitan whispered. “Edeard, I’m afraid.”
“I know. But consider this: Even if the Heart isn’t for you, it’s where an awful lot of your questions will be answered. Think who’s there waiting for you. Rah and the Lady for a start. The people who built Makkathran, whoever and whatever they are. The Captain on the ship which brought us all here, and he’ll be able to explain what made him come into the Void. Maybe even the Firstlifes; imagine what they can tell you. You might get to discover why the Void exists.”
“Ah, now there’s a thought. Or perhaps we’ve misunderstood, and the Heart is simply the gateway out.”
“Out?”
“To the universe outside. If we’re fulfilled, if we’ve proved we’re worthy enough, we get to go home.”
“I don’t believe there’s a good behavior requirement to go and live in the universe outside,” Edeard said flatly.
“You’re probably right,” Finitan said. He shuddered, as if gripped by a sudden chill.
Edeard could see the sweat slick on his friend’s brow. “Did you take the painkiller potion before we left?”
“Of course not,” Finitan snapped irritably. “You think I want to be dozing when my very own Skylord comes looking for me?”
Edeard said nothing.
“And you can wipe that smirk off your face.”
“Yes, master.”
They finally emerged out onto the platform. As always, a strong wind whistled across the shallow curving floor. Seven giant spikes rose up from the edges, angled steeply back over the platform, their jagged tips almost touching high above the stairwell entrance.
Edeard placed Finitan gently on the floor and squatted down beside him. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“For someone who’s dying? Not bad. Actually, I feel quite relieved. It’s not many who are given such clear knowledge about the exact moment of their death. Such knowledge is refreshing. It means I have nothing to worry about.”
Edeard’s fingers carefully brushed the loose strands of pale hair from the man’s damp forehead. Finitan’s skin felt unpleasantly cold, giving Edeard a fair indication of what his deteriorating body was going through.
The number of people farsighting them now that they were out of the stairwell and in the open was almost oppressive. Edeard could sense that the city had virtually come to a halt to focus its full attention on him and the tower. Everyone was waiting expectantly. Even Yrance’s agitators were silent now that the promised moment was approaching.
Edeard felt the unknown watcher’s farsight sweep across him, even pervading the tower structure around him, probing and questing. It was coming from Cobara district, as usual.
“Today is hardly secret,” he shot back.
The farsight ended.
“Who was that?” Finitan asked.
“I don’t know. But I expect I’ll be finding out before too long. You know Makkathran: always trouble brewing somewhere.”
“That was more than the usual trouble. They had an ability equal to yours.”
“Greater, I suspect.”
“Have you sensed them before?”
“I’ve had indications that there are people of my stature emerging, yes. But that doesn’t affect today.”
“Edeard—”
Finitan’s head fell back onto the cushion of his cloak hood. “Stubborn to the very end—well, my end. You know, that day you arrived in my office, I was worried you might just decide to be an apprentice in the Blue Tower for seven years. What a waste that would have been. What a loss to the world.”
“I always thought you were overemphasizing the bad points.”
“One of my smaller crimes. I’m sure the Lady will want to discuss it at length if I ever catch up with her, along with all the others.”
“You will. What a meeting that’s going to be.”
“Ha! I don’t think she …” Finitan trailed off, an expression of outright surprise manifesting on his face. “Oh, my. Edeard?”
Edeard turned to face the Lyot Sea. Right on the horizon a peculiar haze patch was rising above the water to expand across the sky. “It comes,” he said with simple happiness.
Finitan’s hand grasped his tightly. “Thank you, Edeard, for everything.”
“I owe you so much.” He could sense the startled longtalk starting down on the streets and canals below as those with the most powerful farsight became aware of what was approaching Makkathran. The gifted visions were spreading wide. Surprise and delight blossomed among the startled citizens.
“And I you,” Finitan said. “Now it’s time for you to leave me here so that I might start that final journey. Soon I will have answers. So soon, Edeard. Imagine that.”
“Yes.” Edeard stood and looked at the thick pillar that was the start of the stairwell, then glanced across to the edge of the platform.
“Go on.” Finitan chuckled. “Be the Waterwalker, today of all days. Beat that little oaf Yrance. But don’t stop there, you are greater than all of them; never forget that. And at the end, I’ll be waiting. We will have such a reunion in the Heart, Edeard. Even down here they will know our joy.”
“Goodbye.” Edeard smiled. There was so much more he wanted to say, but as always, there was no time. He turned and ran across the platform. When he reached the edge, he leaped off with a jubilant cry.
The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle Page 167