The Temporal Void

by Peter F. Hamilton

  ‘Oh, dear Lady.’ Edeard gave Dinlay a desperate look.

  ‘People have asked me, too,’ Dinlay said apologetically. ‘But I know you’re not going to declare yourself emperor. That’s stupid. They’d never say that if they knew you properly.’

  Edeard felt incredibly weary. After everything he’d done, all he’d endured, to find he had created a huge source of mistrust and suspicion was a hideous revelation. ‘I just want people to be safe,’ he cried. ‘I want the killing to stop. I want the fear to end. I want people to know their leaders and constables will protect them.’

  Kanseen put her arm around his shoulder. ‘I think that’s what disturbs the families most of all; they can’t believe someone with your strength can be honest. But you are, and I will stand by you to the end because of that.’

  ‘Me too,’ Dinlay said.

  ‘I trust you, Edeard,’ Boyd said.

  They all turned to Macsen.

  ‘Hey! Goes without saying.’

  ‘Say it anyway,’ Kanseen said.

  ‘I’m with you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘But you’ve got to admit, everything you can do, it’s way beyond anything Querencia has seen before, and I include Rah in that. Blasphemy or not.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Edeard admitted sheepishly.

  ‘So . . .’ Dinlay queried. ‘Are you Rah?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘So why you?’ Macsen asked. ‘You must be something special.’

  ‘Really, I’m not.’

  ‘You were chosen,’ Kanseen said. ‘We know everything the Lady says in her Scriptures is true. You showed us Chae’s soul – and haven’t you got to love the irony in that? Him of all people. So if we have souls, and Odin’s Sea is the path to the Heart, there’s a lot more to this universe that we know.’

  ‘Chosen?’ Edeard repeated dumbly.

  ‘I don’t know by who, or by what, but there’s no way you with all your abilities came forth at a time like this purely by chance. The Heart, or our ancestors, are speaking to us through you.’

  ‘Maybe not them,’ Edeard said, thinking of his dreams. ‘But I can hardly deny what I can do, whoever gave me the gift. And I promise you, I’ll do what I think is right with it. And if any of you disagree, then for the Lady’s sake tell me.’ He looked down at their unconscious captive. ‘Which brings us back to him. Who is he?’

  ‘The families have their own methods of maintaining order in the city,’ Macsen said. ‘After all, they could hardly rely on the constables, now could they? Not before the Waterwalker came along.’

  Dinlay bridled. ‘The constables have always brought law and order to Makkathran. We were established by Rah himself.’

  ‘Rah allowed District Masters to police their districts,’ Macsen replied equitably. ‘Independent citywide constables weren’t introduced until a lot later.’

  Edeard held a hand up to silence a glowering Dinlay. ‘You’re saying there’s another police force in Makkathran?’

  Macsen shook his head. ‘That’s too strong a word. The true Grand Families are as old as the city; as soon as they established themselves they sought methods of consolidating their interests. Families have their own guards, for instance, they also have clerks, lawyers, doctors; a long list of employees to cover every requirement. Well there are also people who look after political interests, too, which is a very broad-ranging term. You’ve seen the grandest families are not subject to intimidation by the gangs. Their estates are immune. Why is that?’

  ‘Because they work with them?’ Edeard asked.

  ‘No, no, you’re thinking too literally. There is an understanding, nothing formal, nobody ever sat round a table and thrashed out boundaries. But the families take care of themselves at every level. If a gang was ever stupid or arrogant enough to overstep the mark, then certain members of the family would put a stop to the violation straight away, and in a fashion the gangs would comprehend.’

  ‘But . . . Mirnatha,’ Edeard said.

  ‘Yeah. The biggest shock to hit this city since our day at Birmingham Pool. I hate to say it, but: cause and effect.’

  ‘Are you one of them?’ Dinlay asked. ‘One of these family agents?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You seem to know a lot about them.’

  ‘Actually, I don’t. One of my father’s cousins hinted a couple of times that there was a group of relatives that might be interested in welcoming me as an associate. That was as far as it ever got. Father died, and well, you all know how my family treated mother and myself after that.’

  ‘It makes a lot of sense,’ Edeard said. ‘Except I think it’s more than a vague accord as far as some families are concerned. I know from personal experience that the Gilmorns are heavily involved with Buate’s organization.’

  Macsen nodded down at the man Edeard’s third hand was still holding. ‘There have been two well-executed attempts to get rid of you. They won’t stop now, especially as your abilities still seem to be growing.’

  Edeard thought back to that last conversation with Ivarl. ‘You may be right. In which case we’re not leading events the way we thought we were.’

  ‘Welcome to Makkathran,’ Macsen said.

  ‘Where it’s always about politics.’

  ‘Good, you’re starting to understand.’

  Edeard inhaled through his nostrils. ‘So what do we do about our friend here?’

  ‘The ge-eagles have shown the family agents that you possess their lightning trick,’ Kanseen said. ‘And you can plainly see through concealment now. The next time they come after you, it’s going to be with everything they’ve got.’

  ‘That didn’t answer my question.’

  ‘Why, what were you planning on doing with him?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just disabled him because I had to.’

  ‘He won’t crack under interrogation,’ Macsen said. ‘He has too much faith in his own kind. That doesn’t leave us with a lot of options.’

  ‘There’s a place I can put him where there is no way out,’ Edeard said, wondering if Macsen was testing him. ‘That will serve until we can decide what to do.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  When Edeard rejected Finitan’s offer of an apprenticeship with the city’s Eggshaper’s Guild, he’d done so in the conviction that his skill was a match for any of the practitioners in the Blue Tower. Now, looking at the tiny ge-mouse nestling in his hand, he knew how conceited he’d been that day when he’d made his life-changing decision. The little creature was no bigger than the length of his fingers, its dark pelt as soft as any terrestrial kitten, and the three curving talons extended from each twig-like leg were sharp and hard, enabling it to scamper vertically up most of the walls in the city. But it’s head was the true marvel, sprouting long ears that could hear a pin drop within thirty yards, while the eyes were miniatures of those indigo-tinged orbs belonging to ge-eagles, allowing it to see clearly in the dead of night.

  Finitan had handed it over with a little smirk of satisfaction. ‘At least you’ll appreciate my efforts. Kindly look after my creation with care.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Edeard had said reverentially as he gingerly held the ge-mouse up, automatically soothing its agitated mind with balmy thoughts. Little eyes regarded him passively, and a sliver of trust manifested behind them. Edeard smiled back.

  ‘Ah, what an apprentice you would have made,’ Finitan said wistfully.

  ‘What’s its lifetime?’

  ‘Sadly, no more than a week.’

  Edeard felt a pang of sympathy, but he understood how that was so. He’d never seen a genistar this small before; and their lifespan was always proportional to size.

  His admiration for the Grand Master’s ability rose considerably. He had no idea how to go about sculpting such a thing. For a start, it was almost smaller than a two-week ge-dog embryo, which led to some interesting hatching questions. Akeem had always said that a standard ge-cat was the smallest possible genistar.

  When Ede
ard and the squad arrived underneath the house in Sampalok that Buate was holding court in, he’d taken the little thing from his pocket and held it aloft. The city lifted it up from the tunnel to the lower cellar. Edeard longtalked into its mind, carefully directing it under the cellar door, and up the stairs to the mid-cellar. Its claws had to scrape at the hard city substance, finding minute crinkles to grip as it hauled itself up every curving shelf. There were two guards standing in the short, gloomy corridor above the stairs, both of them with pistols tucked into their belts. Neither of them noticed the ge-mouse scurrying past. Nor the man who was wrapped in concealment that Edeard perceived standing just inside the door.

  Buate was already in the room with eight other gang lords. They sat around a big old table, with bottles of wine and beer opened before them. The ge-mouse squeezed behind a tall cupboard in the corner, and scaled the ancient wood silently, emerging on to the top where someone had left a set of aged china crockery. From there it gifted Edeard its sharp sight and accompanying sound of the angry voices.

  Edeard shared the perception with the squad as they leaned against the tunnel wall far below the cellar floor.

  ‘That’s Gormat and Edsing,’ Dinlay said. ‘And that’s Joarwel; he’s shaved his beard off, look.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Kanseen asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He’s right,’ Boyd said. ‘No one has reported seeing him for a couple of weeks, that’s why. He’s a smart one, that.’

  ‘I know Hallwith and Coyce,’ Macsen said. ‘But I don’t recognize the others.’

  Two more men arrived, giving Buate and the others a curt greeting.

  ‘So why are we here?’ Joarwel asked.

  ‘Because we’re hurting,’ Buate said. ‘For all we tell our men how everything is all right, that bastard Waterwalker is shutting us down one street at a time.’

  ‘I don’t need to be told that,’ one of the unknowns said. ‘Thirty years I lived in my house, then some child constable comes along waving that Lady-fucking exclusion warrant in my face. It was all I could do not to shoot the smug little shit on sight. Thirty years!’

  ‘It’s going to get worse,’ Buate said. ‘He’s planning to arrest us all.’

  ‘There aren’t that many jails.’

  ‘Not the men, just us. He’s making a list; there’s going to be a hundred of us on it.’

  ‘Shit,’ Macsen grunted. ‘How did he find that out?’

  Edeard shrugged. He wasn’t surprised.

  ‘Arrest us for what?’ Coyce demanded. ‘I’ve barely made enough to feed myself this year. Three of my boys have gone and got themselves jobs in theatres for the Lady’s sake.’

  ‘For nothing,’ Buate said. ‘He’s not going to charge us, just hold us.’

  ‘What’s the fucking point?’

  ‘Because he can hold us for twenty-two days. That’s the law.’

  ‘Twenty-two days!’

  ‘Leading up to the election,’ Buate said significantly. ‘Without us, he thinks our men will fall apart.’

  ‘Scumfucking bastard, we should slit his throat.’

  ‘No. Slit his girl’s throat and make him watch, then burn him alive. That’s what we did to that grocer in Zelda. Didn’t have no trouble from the shopkeepers after that.’

  ‘Waterwalker’s right,’ Edsing said. ‘Without us to hold it together, we’ll be left with nothing.’

  ‘Less than that,’ Buate told them. ‘If Finitan wins, we’ll be thrown out of Makkathran.’

  ‘Then what are we going to do about it?’ Hallwith shouted. ‘He can’t win, this is Makkathran.’

  ‘There have been several attempts to kill and ruin him. Yet he still walks the streets unharmed. He has powers we don’t.’

  ‘Are you saying he is Rah?’ Edsing asked. ‘That’s the talk wherever I go.’

  ‘Stupid superstition. He is an orphan from Rulan province, nothing more. I know this is true. His strength, though, is formidable.’

  ‘They say the Pythia favours him.’

  ‘I don’t give a fuck what the Pythia favours. Our problem is not spiritual, it’s very real. We are going to jail, and then we are going to be exiled to some Lady-forsaken island for the rest of our lives.’

  Hallwith’s fist smashed down on the table. ‘We get it! Now tell us what we have to do?’

  ‘Fight him, every one of us. That’s all we have left. When they come to carry us off to the cells, we fight, because if we don’t our life is over. We shoot every constable, burn every warehouse, sink the gondolas and the ships in the port. We show Makkathran that we are just as strong as the Waterwalker, and far more deadly.’

  ‘But we cannot stand against him,’ Coyce said. ‘They threw him off the top of a tower, and he flew. Bullets are useless. I was there that night in the House of Blue Petals when your brother ambushed him. He’s immortal. Lady! Maybe he is Rah.’

  ‘The next one of you who says that, I will slit your throat,’ Buate said. ‘This is part of his strength, to cast doubt among us. Yes, he is strong, but he is one. One! While he comes for me, a thousand of us will rampage across the city. He cannot stop us all. That is our strength. And when they see what their precious Waterwalker has kindled, the people of this city will howl for his blood. It is he who will suffer banishment, and we will party in the Culverit mansion that night. Now you will go home, and you will arm yourselves, and you will select targets, and when him and that squad of his knocks on our door, you will open the gates of Honious to them.’

  The squad took their usual table in Olovan’s Eagle. They sat staring at their beer glasses, saying nothing; morose thoughts leaking through impoverished shields.

  ‘Do you think they’ll do it?’ Dinlay asked.

  ‘Most likely,’ Kanseen said. ‘We’ve pushed them back and back. Hurt them just like Buate said. What have they got to lose?’

  ‘We just have to snatch them quickly and quietly,’ Boyd said.

  ‘A hundred separate arrests?’ Kanseen said. ‘Remember our raid on the fisherman’s warehouse? Most of the city knew about it half a day early. Buate has been clever, he’s priming them ready. It’ll take one arrest to kick the whole thing off.’

  ‘Then we do it tomorrow at first light,’ Dinlay said. ‘They’re not organized yet. There were only ten of them there, Buate’s orders won’t have got any further tonight. We grab him first, then get the other district stations to pull in the rest of the list.’

  ‘We’re not ready either,’ Edeard said. Rushing into the arrests was the first thing he’d thought of. ‘It’ll take us at least a couple of days to organize things with the station captains.’

  ‘I think it’s safe to assume Buate’s riot and destruction scheme won’t have the support of the Grand Families,’ Boyd said. ‘Maybe their agents would like to help us?’

  ‘Not a chance,’ Macsen said in a disgusted tone. ‘To them, we remain the problem; without us Buate wouldn’t be planning this. We are the source.’

  Edeard took a deep drink of his beer. ‘They know what we’re planning, and we know what they’re planning. But they don’t know we know.’

  Dinlay growled in dismay, clasping his hands to his head. ‘Don’t start that again.’

  ‘It’s our only advantage,’ Edeard said. ‘We have to think how to use it.’

  ‘How?’ Kanseen asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Edeard said miserably.

  ‘Buate doesn’t have a plan,’ Macsen said. ‘Not really. This is instinct kicking in. And it’s a good instinct, I’ll admit that. If we don’t make the arrests, he’ll still try to wreck the city and kill the constables when the Council passes the banishment edict. He’s got nothing left. Mass confrontation is his last shot to stay in the city. It’s the only way he can make the Upper Council back off.’

  ‘How do we turn a riot to our advantage?’ Boyd asked. ‘I don’t see it, I really don’t.’

  Edeard wished he knew how to answer, to show his friends some leadership. He’d sett
le for a single strategy. Instead all he could do was stare into his beer and pray to the Lady for some kind of inspiration. And she was going to have to be quick about it.

  The room was a simple cube measuring ten yards to a side, with a single light circle on the ceiling. One corner had a high bed, with the same stiff spongy mattress found on every Makkathran bed. A second corner had a small washing pool, where water circulated constantly. The third had a simple pedestal that served as a toilet. The fourth was empty. There was no door. Slits near the ceiling let fresh air flow through.

  Farsight couldn’t penetrate through the walls or floor or ceiling, they were all too thick. No sound carried in. The light circle did not respond to any command to dim or brighten, it remained constant.

  The room’s single occupant had spent the first day walking about, examining every square inch with his farsight, sliding his fingertips over the walls, looking for cracks, some hint of the way in – and out. He found nothing. Nor could he longshout for help, the thickness of the walls prevented that.

  When he woke up to find himself in his not-too-unpleasant cell there were three plates on the floor in the centre of the room. They had bread and butter and two types of cheese, some slices of cold beef, fruit, and a rather nice apricot tart. He munched his way through the food during the day. On occasion he did a series of press-ups, then sit-ups. Several times he tried shouting to his captors. Pleas or insults it made no difference, there was no reply.

  Eventually, the light circle dimmed down to the faintest orange glow. He waited for a while, then gave in and lay on the bed. It took a long time for him to go to sleep.

  Eight hours later, the light strengthened. It revealed three new plates of food on the floor. Of the old ones there was no sign.

  So began his second uneventful day.

  At midday, Edeard slid up through the floor. The man was sitting on the bed at the time, eating some sweet green grapes. He stared in fascination at the way the floor around Edeard seemed to remain solid, his farsight examining it keenly.

  ‘Now that really is impressive, Waterwalker,’ he said with a rueful grin, and popped another grape in his mouth.

  ‘Thank you,’ Edeard said. ‘And you are?’