The Temporal Void v-2

by Peter Hamilton

  '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 arc going to be exiled to some Lady-foresaken 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 Olivan'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 settle 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?

  'Who I am doesn't matter.

  'It might to your wife, or children.

  'Not married. Thankfully. Too quick on my feet. But congratulations on your engagement. Quite a catch, young Kristabel.

  'Why were you following us?

  The man glanced at his chest, fingering the scorch mark on his indigo shirt. 'Just going about my business, officer. I wasn't following anyone. Someone assaulted me and I woke up in here.

  'Yes. That was me. Sorry about the shirt. It's a nice one. Where would I get one like that?

  'A coastal town called Chelston. It's north of here. Several days' sailing in a strong wind.

  'You do understand that I won't let you out of here until I get some answers?

 
'What happens when you don't get them? Do you try and beat them out of me?

  'No, of course not. You just stay here until you answer to my satisfaction. Apparently isolation is quite an effective method of encouraging cooperation. Edeard glanced round the underground chamber which the city had converted for him. 'I'm not sure isolation is supposed to be quite as comfortable as this, but I'm a bit vague on the method. Sorry about that.

  'Asking tough questions in Makkathran is usually a little different, the man admitted too casually. 'It normally involves blades and fire and heartsqueeze and lungsqueeze. Only the Waterwalker could come up with an interrogation as strange as this one.

  'But you know it's going to work. You're already getting disturbed by the confinement, I can tell. So why don't you skip the whole unpleasant part and tell me what I need to know, then I can let you out of here.

  'Where exactly is here, Waterwalker?

  'The constable station in Jeavons.

  'You're a poor liar.

  'I know. Everyone tells me I can't shield my thoughts the way you cityborn can. I leave too much emotion visible.

  The man popped down another grape and grinned. 'You're getting better.

  'Really? Have we met before?

  'Everyone knows you, Waterwalker.

  'But not everyone is frightened of me.

  'I'm not frightened.

  'Your family is, otherwise you wouldn't be following me round.

  'I told you, I have no family. Wrong place, wrong time, that's me.

  'Why do they fear me?

  'I know nothing of such things.

  'But if you had to guess?

  'That voyage I took up to Chelston, it's a standard run for the captain. He knows the route, knows what to look out for. He's sailed it all his life, as did his father before him, and his father before that, and so on back to the day the ship fell from the sky. It's a route that keeps him and his family clothed and fed and comfortable; it is their life. It's a route that works. How do you think he would feel if one day a reef suddenly appeared in the water ahead of him and threatened to rip the keel off his ship?

  'A smart captain would know how to steer round it.

  'His ship is very large, and extremely heavily laden. It doesn't turn easily.

  'I don't suppose it does, not with people like you holding it on course. But you never know, those waters on the other side of the reef, they might be easy to sail in.

  The man shook his head and sighed. 'How can anyone so naive get so far in this city? It is a mystery I doubt even the Lady can fathom.

  'Some say the Lady has chosen me to repeat her message to this world.

  'How wonderful, are you really going to claim that you are Rah reincarnated?

  'No. Because we both know I'm not.

  'Ah well, at least you're not declaring you have a divine right to wreck a society that's worked for two thousand years. That's some comfort to me, I suppose.

  'I'm marrying Kristabel, who is a greater part of this city than a dozen minor families like yours. Do you really think I will destroy everything her family has built? It is to be my family.

  'Minor families? You think attempting to anger me will cause me to slip my guard?

  'Does it anger you? The really great families will hardly be bothered by the return to law and order. But you, you're what? Something like a fifth son of a fourth son of a third son? Your branch of the family must have been kicked out of that fabulous mansion a long time ago. Do you look at it enviously every time you walk past? Do you hear the laughter coming over the wall? And now your father is what? Some market trader with delusions of grandeur? I bet he doesn't pay all his taxes. Is that the only way you can keep paying the bills in your new little house? It that why you only have enough coinage to dress as pretty as one of Kristabel's foot servants? Is that why you joined this woeful little association of thugs, so you could fool yourself you're part of the Grand Families again?

  'Really, Waterwalker, I expected better. But you are very young, aren't you? I remain to be convinced you have what it takes to see this to the bitter end. For it will be very bitter indeed.

  'As far as you are concerned, the end has already passed you by. When banishment is enacted, you will be escorted from the city. You will not return. Ever.

  'Unless you're claiming a timesense greater than our beloved Pythia, you cannot speak of the future. So I'll just wait here to see how it plays out, thank you.

  Edeard tilted his head on one side to regard his unnervingly suave opponent curiously. He hadn't been expecting anything quite this difficult. 'Were you one of the four on the tower? Edeard had returned to the base of the tower three times since he fell, examining the city's memories of that day. He'd felt the footsteps of his four assailants on the staircase winding up the centre three hours before the pistol exchange, but try as he might he simply couldn't backtrack them successfully. They came from a large crowd of worshippers attending the afternoon service at the church, several hundred people milling around together. It was too confusing to single out one set of feet. And, of course, after he fell no one knew what actually happened on the top of the tower until he regained consciousness. Even then he'd only told his friends. So no attempt had been made to apprehend the mysterious foursome when they scurried back down in the middle of the confusion and panic that raged around the base of the tower for well over an hour.

  The man smiled. It was a harsh expression. 'When you fell, you thought it would be to your death. You didn't know you were going to live. That is our greatest concern. Who helps you, Waterwalker, and why?

  'The universe helps those who lead a good life. It says so right there in the Lady's scriptures.

  'Answer me that one question, and I will answer all of yours.

  Edeard gave a weary shake of his head. 'You will stay in here until you cooperate. I don't imagine it will take long. Isolation is an evil foe. And you are as isolated as it is possible to be on this world.

  'Do you truly believe you have time on your side?

  'We will see whose ally time really is. I'll be back. Eventually. He told the floor to let him through, and sank away.

  * * * * *

  The financial courts were situated in the middle of Parliament House, running along the south side of First Canal. The nine horseshoe arch bridges connecting the buildings on both sides of the water were so thick, containing whole suites of rooms, that they essentially formed a tunnel over the little canal. Because of that, light inside the courts was supplied almost entirely from the concave octagons decorating the vaulted ceilings. They might as well have been underground for all the difference the high slit windows made, looking out into the shadowed cavity beneath the bridges. The dusky lighting certainly added to the general sense of gloom pervading the eighth court when Edeard crept in quietly at the back of the semi-circular chamber. It wasn't laid out like a law court. Instead, long tables were arranged in tiers, with the tax investigator at a round table at their centre. Lamps were lit on the ends of each table, jamolar oil producing pools of yellow light across the untidy stacks of paper and files. To Edeard's first glance it was as though paper had come alive to breed faster than drakkens. There couldn't be so many accounts relating to the House of Blue Petals. But each table had at least two clerks sitting at it. They were all dressed the same, in shirts and waistcoats. Most seemed to be wearing spectacles. None were under fifty.

  The tax inspector's waistcoat was lined with silver, otherwise there was no way of distinguishing between him and his fellow Guild members. He would consult a page from a very large ledger, and ask a question relating to income or expenditure. Then Buate's team of clerks would mutter among themselves and go through files and books before producing receipts or affidavits, and offering an explanation as to how the money was spent or received. At which point the clerks retained by the Mayor's Inspector General would counter the claim, producing different bits of paper, or an entry in the ledger of the business concerned that was different to Buate's contention
.

  After listening to the evidence, the inspector would write laboriously in his ledger, and move on to the next question.

  Three years' worth of records were subject to investigation. Every day's purchase of drinks had to be accounted for. Three years of the House of Blue Petals buying and cleaning bed linen. Three years of genistar husbandry. Three years of replacement mats behind the bar. Three years of crockery, acquisitions and breakages and depreciation and amortization. Three years of the girls' cosmetics and hair styling. Three years of hairclip acquisition, each batch meticulously recorded and queried.

  Buate sat at a table at the far side of the court. His shoulders slumped, eyes glazed, his skin paler than the drab lighting could shade. He looked up as Edeard walked in. His expression of misery slowly changed, as if his facial muscles were regaining strength, hardening his cheeks and jaw into a look of pure fury.

  Edeard met it without flinching as the inspector demanded to know about higher than normal expenditure on smoked toco nuts on the sixth Thursday of June two years ago. Buate never shifted his gaze from Edeard while his clerks struggled to produce receipts for the jars.

  In the end, it was Edeard who looked away first. He could barely believe it, but he was close to feeling sorry for Buate. Theirs was an epic struggle for the soul of an entire city, it should be fought out there on the streets and along the canals, followers slugging it out with fists and third hands, while their political masters plotted and schemed in Council. Not this. This was inhuman.

  And I did it to him.

  Edeard bowed his head to look at his boots; every inch the little boy at the back of the class struggling not to giggle. He hurried out of the finance court, then stopped in the cloister and laughed out loud. Clerks in their drab claret and olive-green waistcoats stared at him disapprovingly.

  'Sorry, Edeard said to them and their Guild in general. He made an effort to compose himself, then walked on towards Centre Circle Canal. He could do that. He could leave the court after a good laugh. Good gloat, if I'm honest. Buate couldn't. Buate had to stay there for six hours every day, as he had done for ten days now. And the investigation was likely to last another eight days at least, Edeard had been told.