The Temporal Void

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Apart from the elections. And the Guild quarrels. And the merchants manoeuvring and bribing for gain. And the Grand Families struggling for advantage.

  He grinned at the thought of it all. That crazy, wondrous life lived by Makkathran’s citizens. It’s all Finitan’s problem now.

  The warm afternoon light lit up the white pillars that lined Golden Park. Even the last bloom on the bushes and vines glowed with an exotic splendour in celebration of what had been an exceptionally pleasant summer. Edeard walked for some way across its elegant paths, drawing his thoughts together. Resolving to do what he must.

  It was hard for his farsight to search out the frail souls of his parents. He stood beside one of the pillars along the Champ Canal side of Golden Park, bathed in the rich light reflected off the metal, extending his ability to its utmost.

  They were there. A few feet away, watching him as always. ‘Thank you,’ he told them.

  ‘You can see us?’ his mother asked in surprise.

  ‘Yes, Mother. I can see you now.’

  ‘My son.’

  ‘Father. You’ve taken such care of me, more than I ever deserved.’

  ‘What were we supposed to do? You are all that remains of us.’

  ‘Not any more. I have a wife now. We will have children. They will have more. Everything you are will go on through them.’

  ‘We should watch for them,’ his mother said, she sounded uncertain.

  ‘No,’ Edeard said. ‘It is time for you to let go. I can take care of myself now, more than you know. The price you have paid for watching me is too high. You cannot do this any more. You must go to the Heart. There is still time. There is always time.’

  ‘Oh Edeard.’

  ‘Here.’ He held out a hand. His mother reached out, touching his fingertips. He fought against wincing as the debilitating cold burned him. Instead, he smiled in reverence as she took substance before him. ‘Goodbye, Mother,’ he said, and brushed his lips to hers. ‘We will be together in the Heart one day, I promise.’

  Her sorrow and regret were dreadfully poignant. But she smiled as she withdrew from his touch. His father held her closely.

  ‘Journey well,’ Edeard told them. He watched them fade up into the warm clear blue sky, refusing to acknowledge any remorse.

  A lot of people were using Golden Park that afternoon, taking advantage of the lingering summer. Children raced over the grassy areas, playing elaborate games of catch. Apprentices bunking off duties gathered in the shade of the park’s huge martoz trees, sharing bottles of beer and gossip about their Masters.

  Salrana walked along one of the crushed slate paths, enjoying the activity. Lads eyed her wishfully, although her crisp blue and white Novice robes proved too great a barrier for any casual attempt to attract her attention. She crossed the ginger sandstone bridge into Ysidro. Right ahead of her was the Blue Fox tavern, a circular three-storey building with a strange hexagonal rustication pattern embossed on the coppery wall. Its slim lancet windows made it seem taller than it actually was. She hesitated for a moment before slipping in through one of the smaller side doors, something swirled on the periphery of her farsight, as if a pillar of fog had gusted down the alleyway. She frowned, but it didn’t resolve in her senses, so she scurried up the stairs to the third floor.

  The Blue Fox was favoured by Grand Family members as a place to conduct their liaisons; the exceptionally thick walls of the rooms eliminated the need to maintain a seclusion haze. Privacy was guaranteed against all but the most exceptional psychics. Salrana used the key she’d been given to unlock the door of a reserved room.

  Sunlight was diffused by the tinted gauze covering the windows. More fabrics were draped over the walls. Candles flickered on the dresser, giving off a thick musky scent. The big bed was strewn with silk sheets and fur blankets.

  Salrana’s lover was waiting for her beside the bed. Flushed with anticipation, Salrana removed her Novice robe to show off the delicate lace camisole she wore underneath, a recent gift from her lover. That same lover drew her close and kissed her. Gentle hands undid the topmost bow on the camisole. Another kiss was given. The next bow was undone. More kisses, each one more intimate. The camisole fell open at the front. A whimper of excitement sounded deep in Salrana’s throat, she couldn’t contain herself any further, and clung to her lover, returning the kisses fiercely.

  Edeard discarded his concealment. Salrana jumped in shock. Her mind radiated guilt.

  ‘You,’ Edeard said sourly. ‘I should have guessed. I really should.’

  ‘But you didn’t, did you?’ Ranalee said disdainfully; she pulled her own satin negligee up, and combed some of her dishevelled hair back into place. ‘I thought you had left the city.’

  ‘Yes. A lot of people made that mistake. Your friends. Your family. Your fellow conspirators.’

  Ranalee’s eyes widened. Surprise shone there at first, then she became alarmed as her directed longtalk questions went unanswered. ‘What have you done?’ she hissed.

  ‘They won’t answer you. Not now. Not ever.’

  ‘Father?’ she gasped.

  ‘The Lady will bless his soul, I’m sure. I doubt anyone else will.’

  ‘Bastard!’ Ranalee was trembling, on the verge of tears.

  ‘You were planning worse for me, far worse.’

  Ranalee recovered to glare at him defiantly. ‘So what do you plan for me?’

  ‘Nothing. Because you are nothing without Owain and your family. Owner of a bordello. What is that? Not anything.’

  Salrana took a hesitant step forwards. ‘Edeard—’

  ‘Not a word from you. I don’t blame you. Do you know what they did to your mind, what this vixen can do?’ Even as he spoke he could sense the difference in Salrana’s unshielded thoughts. The harshness that flowed where once there had only been contentment and geniality.

  ‘Of course she does,’ Ranalee gloated. Her arm went protectively round Salrana, who leant in closer, seeking reassurance. ‘I showed her a real life.’

  ‘They used your anger with me for abandoning you. This . . . this agent of Honious, came for you when you were vulnerable. It was no accident she met you. It was not chance. I know what she’s like, Salrana. She has a perverted skill that can twist your very thoughts, she warps what should be something beautiful into something diseased. It’s not love you feel for her, it is a wretched corruption of the affection your true self can experience.’

  ‘No,’ Salrana interrupted with soft insistence. ‘It was I who found Ranalee.’

  ‘They exploited you. Her. Owain. The rest. Their only interest is in your past, our background. Lady, you’re just another weapon to use against me. You’re supposed to lure me out of the city if the ambush failed, remember?’

  Salrana gave Ranalee a startled look, then faced Edeard again. ‘I wouldn’t have done it.’

  ‘Ha!’ Edeard closed his eyes to mute the pain seeing her like this brought him. ‘You would. Please, Salrana, I can help you. There are others who can show you how they abused your thoughts, how this evil whore bewitched you.’

  ‘So you can do what?’ Salrana snapped, suddenly angry. ‘Take Ranalee from me? Leave me with nothing? Again?’

  ‘That’s not—’

  ‘I am myself.’

  ‘They were going to breed you. In the Lady’s name, you know that’s not right.’

  ‘Your strength made you the Waterwalker,’ Ranalee said. ‘Your power attracted Kristabel to you, and now you are part of a Grand Family, you have their wealth and estate at your disposal. Your children will be born to a privilege no one in your pitiful Ashwell could ever comprehend. Why can’t Salrana have children that are strong? Why can’t Salrana have children who will enjoy that same cushion of money?’

  ‘But you’re not giving her that,’ Edeard said furiously. ‘You exploited how vulnerable she was; you turned her away from everything she was.’

  ‘I showed her what Makkathran society could offer her once you’d tired of her,�
�� Ranalee said triumphantly. ‘Marriage, children, family; those are our customs; customs started by Rah himself. Our arrangements are practical and beneficial, deceiving no one. Who in Honious are you to judge that?’

  Edeard nearly struck her. But to do that would be to grant her victory. ‘I will not give up on you,’ he told Salrana. ‘What she has done to you is wrong and evil, and whenever the day comes that you realize that, I will be there for you. I swear that upon the Lady.’

  Now it was Salrana who regarded him contemptuously. The expression was so similar to the one on Ranalee’s face it unnerved him. She took Ranalee’s hand and carefully placed it on her bare breast. ‘You have your life. I have mine. Even in your world of simplistic morality I can live how I choose. And I choose this. I choose Ranalee: my lover, my mistress.’

  Edeard glared at Ranalee, who returned a malicious smile.

  ‘This is not over,’ he said. It was quite feeble, he knew, but he simply couldn’t think what else to do.

  Why can’t she see what she’s become? Or perhaps she really can. Lady!

  ‘You won today,’ Ranalee told him in a mocking tone. ‘Show a little nobility. The Waterwalker would.’

  Edeard barged out of the door, not bothering to conceal himself.

  Edeard returned to the Culverit ziggurat and climbed the stairs without anyone noticing him. Even now he felt a shudder of trepidation that this would all turn out to be a fevered dream, that Kristabel . . . That seeing her would shatter the illusion. Good old Ashwelli optimism.

  Stupid. This is real now. I know that.

  When he reached the tenth floor he drew up his courage, and went to the room Kristabel had claimed as her study. It was bare apart from the desk and chair. Even the curtains had been taken down as it slowly changed shape to the one she and Edeard had decided on. Bigger windows. Brighter, white lighting rosettes. He knew the walls were shifting inwards so the lounge next door could be longer even though the process was so slow his eyes couldn’t see the change. Just before he’d left, Kristabel had remarked on how the tenth floor was already different from the home she’d lived her whole life in. He humoured her by agreeing, because she was so excited. And happy.

  Now she was bent over the desk, her quill pen scribbling furiously as always. Her beautiful face was wrinkled as she studied yet another thick ledger containing family accounts. Three high piles of similar ledgers were propped up on the side of the desk.

  My wife.

  ‘You look bored,’ he told her.

  Kristabel started. Then she smiled at Edeard as he stood in the doorway. ‘I never even sensed you,’ she exclaimed. ‘Are you creeping up on me? And why are you here? What about the bandits? You couldn’t have found them already.’

  ‘No, we didn’t. But I know who and where they are now. They’ll just have to keep for another day. I wanted to be home with my beautiful wife.’

  She hurried over with a big smile on her face, and kissed him welcome. ‘That’s so sweet. Finitan will kill you, though, it was hugely important.’

  Edeard put his arms round her. Not wanting to let go. Ever. He took a look out of the window, across the hortus to the fabulous living city beyond. ‘Others have tried.’

  She frowned, and poked him in the chest. ‘Are you all right? You seem . . . tired.’

  ‘No. I’m fine. It’s just that today I realized there are some things you can never fix no matter how hard you try.’

  Kristabel kissed him again. ‘But I know you, you’ll just keep on trying. That’s what makes you you. That’s why I love you.’