The Temporal Void (ARC)

by Peter F. Hamilton

  'What sort of action?'

  'We're not sure. The Upper Council has been in emergency session for the last twenty minutes, nothing has been decided.'

  Edeard gazed round the concourse. A wide flow of shallow water was rippling back out of Zulmal Street to gurgle over the rim into Mid Pool. A couple of doctors had responded to the calls of the sergeants, and were moving along the row of injured. Lady's Novices in their blue and white robes were scurrying round, assisting the doctors and comforting the dazed patients.

  A shot rang out. Every constable flinched, automatically looking towards Zulmal Street. Edeard's farsight was unconsciously aware of his squadmates - just as Chae had taught them so long ago. Boyd's thoughts vanished from perception.

  Somewhere close by, Kanseen screamed.

  Edeard's farsight flashed out to where Boyd had been an instant before; one of the shops along Zulmal Street. A mind in the front room glowed with unrepentant satisfaction. There was a lifeless body in there, but farsight couldn't help Edeard identify who it was. He could however pick out the kind of kit every constable wore. 'Lady, no,' he whispered.

  Then he was running across the concourse and into Zulmal Street. It was a baker's shop, of course. The deluge of water had poured in through the broken door, creating havoc inside. Shelving and counters had flipped over as the powerful current raced through into the rear. It struck the ovens in the kitchens, releasing dangerous clouds of steam as it quenched their fires. One of the heavy cabinets in the front had toppled on to a teenage lad, pinning him to the ground. That was how Boyd found him, whimpering in agony, coughing water, blood seeping into his clothes from where broken hip bones had punctured his skin. A son of the baker or a rioter, Boyd didn't care. The lad was suffering and needed help. Boyd helped. Using his third hand and a post of wood, he was crouched down beside the cabinet, levering it free.

  When Edeard rushed in, Mirayse was still standing over Boyd's corpse, the pistol in her hand. Her clothes were splattered with blood, as well they might be. She'd put the pistol muzzle ;in inch from the back of Boyd's head to shoot. The front of Boyd face had blown off, spewing gore across the cabinet and the pot lad underneath it, who was now weeping hysterically.

  Mirayse giggled at the constables piling into the shop. "I got you,' she said in a peculiar sing song voice. 'I got you. You killed my life. We're equal now.'

  Dinlay lunged forward, face contorted in fury, his third hand reaching to heartsqueeze the demented woman. Edeard's shield protected her.

  'No. She will stand trial.' His third hand plucked the pistol from her. 'Take her out,' he told Urarl. He lifted the cabinet effortlessly from the lad. 'And get a doctor in here.'

  Urarl and two constables took Mirayse out of the shop. As they left, Argian slipped in.

  Macsen dropped to his knees next to Boyd's corpse. He reached out tentatively, as if his friend were merely pretending. Blood mingled with the water soaking into his uniform trousers. Kanseen was gripping a sobbing Dinlay, tears leaking silently from her eyes.

  'Why?' she whispered.

  Argian held up the pistol. 'This model is the kind we favour. They would know her state of mind. It would be a simple thing to give her this and whisper where one of the Waterwalker's squad was.'

  Macsen turned to snarl at Argian.

  'Wait,' Edeard said. He found it strange he was so calm. Shock seemed to be slowing his thoughts, taking him a long way away. It was as though the events inside the baker's shop were taking place on some remote stage.

  'What?' Macsen moaned. 'He's dead!'

  Edeard stood perfectly still, reaching out with his farsight. His friends faded away, as did the walls of the bakery. Droplets from the drenched walls and furniture struck the puddled floor, tinkling like bells. Slowing. Greyness eclipsed the world he walked through.

  Amidst this sombre silent universe a single figure glimmered. Edeard smiled. 'You stayed.'

  'I haven't said goodbye,' Boyd's soul told him. 'I'd like to say goodbye. But it's difficult, Edeard. They can't hear me.'

  'Take whatever you need,' Edeard told him, and held his arms out. The phantom Boyd touched him.

  It was as though a spike of ice was being driven through his heart. Edeard's mouth opened to a shocked O, his own life was flowing out through the contact. The real universe rushed back in to engulf him.

  Kanseen gasped as Boyd's spectral shape materialized above his own corpse. Edeard staggered, forcing himself to draw down a breath. The cold was spreading through him. Numbing.

  'Boyd?' Dinlay said.

  'My friends,' Boyd gazed round them magnanimously.

  'Don't go,' Kanseen said.

  'I have to. I can hear the nebulas calling. It's quite beautiful. I only waited for Edeard to notice me.'

  'We need you, too.'

  'Dinlay, tell Saria for me. Be kind, she will need a lot of comfort.'

  'I promise.'

  'Kanseen, Macsen; don't hide, not like this. Life is too precious for a single moment of happiness to be lost.'

  'I…' Kanseen gave Macsen a forlorn look. 'Yes. Yes, you're right.'

  Boyd regarded Argian. 'You, the doubter. Have faith in Edeard, he is stronger than all of us. I can see that. I can see the way he affects this universe, it flows to his will.'

  Edeard grimaced, his knees sagging. The cold was becoming unbearable.

  'I'm sorry, Edeard,' Boyd said. 'I weary you. I am one pattern you cannot sustain.'

  'Pattern?' Edeard gasped.

  'Why yes. That is what this universe is, a beautiful memory. There are so many patterns folded within its structure; they stretch back for ever.' He let go of Edeard's hand, and immediately began to diminish. As he did so, he gave a knowing grin. 'I never realized the city was alive like this, Waterwalker. But you know, don't you? You can feel its dreams. Get it to help you, today of all days. Stop being so timid. This needs more than water to finish it. Have courage and be bold.'

  Edeard couldn't stop shivering. 'I will,' he pledged.

  'You must think I'm so weak to leave,' Boyd said as his spectre lifted towards the sky, thinning out.

  Edeard's perception followed it. 'No,' he said. Then he heard, 'We have to stay, he is all we have.'

  'What?' he asked.

  The sensation of a smile emerged from Boyd's essence. 'I understand.' And he was gone, ascending to the nebulas.

  * * * *

  Kanseen was crying openly as they stepped back out on to Zulmal Street. 'I'm sorry,' she blubbed, wiping the back of her hand over here eyes. 'I'll be all right.'

  'You do see souls,' Argian said in astonishment.

  'Yes,' Edeard said. He was incredibly tired. It would be so easy to sit down and just close his eyes, chasing a moment's rest. After all, Walsfol had ordered him back to Jeavons. None of this was his problem any more.

  Yeah, right.

  'What do you want to do?' Macsen asked.

  Edeard gave him a desperate look. 'I don't know.'

  'My people,' Bise's longtalk voice called.

  As one the squad turned to face the District Master's mansion at the heart of Sampalok. Bise stood on the roof, dressed in his flowing violet robes, the fur-lined hood thrown over his left shoulder. He held his arms out in benediction to his vast audience. 'I speak to all of us within Sampalok, those whose families have been here for generations and those newly arrived, seeking safe haven from the Waterwalker's persecution.'

  Edeard immediately bridled.

  'Don't say anything,' Kanseen ordered sternly. 'Arguing in public will make you seem petty.'

  'Do not fight among yourselves,' Bise said softly. 'Your enemy is outside, and this conflict only strengthens him. Even now the forces who fear your freedoms are gathering in High Moat. I urge you to stand firm against them. Resist their occupation of your home, the last place in the city where you are independent men as Rah promised. I offer your families sanctuary within the walls of my mansion. Here they will be safe while you fight to establish your liberty against the
oppression brought upon all of us by the Waterwalker.

  'We have little time now. Listen to those who walk among you speaking with my authority. Resist the invasion of those who seek to banish you from this city which is your birthright.' Bise gifted a humble smile, and stepped down into the tower.

  'What in Honious was that?' Dinlay asked. 'Some kind of election stunt?'

  'I have no idea,' an equally confused Edeard grunted. He gave Argian a questioning glance. 'Could he really be the top gang lord?'

  'No,' Argian said. 'It isn't like that. The Diroals have strong links with the gangs. They profit from having business rivals weakened, but Bise is smart enough to keep his distance. This is something else entirely.'

  'Oh Lady,' Kanseen groaned. She was facing north, her eyes closed as her farsight ranged out. 'The militia's coming.'

  'What?' Edeard gasped.

  'The militia. A whole regiment, by the look of it. They're coming across High Moat.'

  It took a second for Edeard's own farsight to find the long rank of men marching past the caravan pens. 'What are they doing? The constables are holding the rioters in Sampalok, they can't get over the bridges.'

  'There is a complete breakdown of law and order inside Makkathran,' Macsen said tonelessly. 'If you're the Mayor, how would you feel about that? The militia aren't going to reinforce the bridges, they're coming in to stop the riots.'

  'How?' Edeard asked. 'This isn't a militia job. The constables are much better trained to break up mobs.'

  'They're armed,' Kanseen said quietly.

  The chill akin to that Edeard had experienced at Boyd's touch returned; of all the constables he'd organized to help today only the sergeants and corporals were authorized to carry revolvers. 'But the people on the streets…'

  'And Bise has just told them to resist the invaders,' Dinlay said.

  'They have to be stopped,' Edeard said. 'The militia can't shoot at civilians, even if they are breaking the law.'

  'People in the mob are armed,' Argian said. 'It may be that the militia will be shot at first. That would be… convenient.'

  'Will your people listen to you? Can you get them to stop this?'

  'There is little to be done on the streets,' Argian said. 'Though I will try and speak to those of my fellowship walking Sampalok today. But it is Motluk and his kind who ultimately hold sway.'

  'Talk to him,' Edeard said. 'This cannot be allowed to happen.'

  'I will do what I can.' Argian turned and headed off along the street.

  'With me,' Edeard told the others. 'We have to get to High Moat and stop this.' He started running back to the concourse, his farsight ranging out. 'Lady curse it, where are all the gondolas, why are they never about when you need one?'

  'You planning to give the militia a good soaking?' Dinlay asked keenly.

  'Whatever it takes.' The nearest gondola Edeard could sense was in Lilac Canal, heading away from Great Major Canal. It would take far too long. He stood in the middle of the Mid Pool concourse, twisting about, wracked by indecision. His support of Boyd had left him aching and enervated, he knew he didn't have the strength to pull many more stunts like the water cascade, especially not if he had to first run the entire length of Sampalok to reach the High Moat bridge. 'Lady damn it.' He sent his farsight straight into the Orchard Palace, finding the Mayor in the Upper Council chamber. 'Sir, please, I have to talk to you.'

  'Waterwalker,' the Mayor's timbre was frigid. 'The only reason you're still in this city is so you can give evidence before the commission I'm setting up to examine today's events and determine who is to blame. Alter that I have no doubt the Grand

  Council will pass a very specific act of banishment, with you as the sole name listed.'

  'Sir, please, you have to call back the militia.'

  'What Lady-damned choice have you left me? Makkathran has not seen the like of this disorder for over a thousand years. And it was all your idea. Arresting these Hundred troublemakers was supposed to put an end to chaos. All you have done is provoked outrage and horror. People, decent people in Sampalok, and there are many, contrary to your propaganda, are suffering untold brutality at the hands of a wild mob. A mob you provoked. I am the Mayor, and I will not let that stand. It must be stopped.'

  'Let me stop it, sir. I can use water on them again; however many times it takes, a dozen if I have to. Please, you cannot let the militia shoot people.'

  'Since you are so obviously very hard of understanding I will say this in simple terms. You are to leave Sampalok at once. The officers of the militia are not savages, they will deal with this in a fast and professional manner. Do you understand? If you do not comply this instant, I will have Walsfol issue an order for your arrest. Not even you can withstand a hundred constables at once.'

  'Yes sir,' Edeard said. His throat was strangely hard, making it difficult to swallow.

  'So what are we doing?' Dinlay asked.

  Edeard stared round. The squad were still waiting for his word. And look where my ideas have got us. But I know what I am doing is right. I know it is. The politicians and families are twisting everything. He smiled grimly at his friends. 'We're doing exactly what Boyd told me: being bold. Are you with me?'

  Macsen put on a pained expression. 'Why are you asking that?'

  Several constables were heading towards them, led by a very uncomfortable-looking sergeant. Edeard waved insolently al them. 'I think we just stopped being constables.'

  'Oh Honious,' Kanseen groaned.

  'You'll really need to hold my hands for this,' Edeard said, suddenly relishing what he was about to do. His friends sensed his new mood, and grinned. So they held hands, the four of them standing together in the middle of the concourse. In broad daylight, with a hundred constables looking on, and thousands of farsight gazes playing over them, they sank down through the solid surface laughing defiantly all the way.

  * * * *

  It was Macsen who screamed the loudest while they tore through the bright tunnel as if they were falling to Querencia from the very nebulas themselves.

  * * * *

  'Edeard, what are you doing?' Finitan's longtalk asked when they surfaced in a deserted alley not far from the central bridge over Cloud Canal.

  'I have to stop the militia, sir,' Edeard replied, impressed by how fast the Grand Master had found them. Then he saw a ge-dog at the other end of the alley.

  'Listen to me, Edeard, do not use force against the militia. You do not have universal approval among their officers. And Owain has given them a free hand to deal with the rioters.'

  'Why?' Edeard asked. 'Why is he doing this?'

  'As the city sees it, he is clearing up the mess you have created,' Finitan said with infinite weariness. 'In doing so he usurps you as the force of law and order within Makkathran, and breaks the gangs at the same time. When people are killed in any number, this city will blame you. And because of that, they'll vote for him at every election for the next hundred years.'

  'All this is about votes,'

  'No, Edeard, as I told you right at the beginning, it is about politics. Always. Those in power are not easily dislodged. Certainly not by good intentions.'

  'But what about Bise? He's offering people sanctuary in his mansion while the rioters defy the militia. He's making things worse.'

  'Bise is a sacrifice Owain is prepared to make. They were allies in Council until this morning. Each wanted to claim credit for defeating you. Bise underestimated Owain's resolve. It is a split which Owain has played perfectly. He is already talking of the Council putting Bise on trial for complicity; and there are enough of Bise's relatives who will leap at the chance of taking his District Mastership should he be disbarred. All Bise can do is make his gesture of resistance in the hope it makes things worse for Owain.'

  'Do you think it will?'

  'I have no idea. They may yet reach an accord before the point of no return is reached. Whether they do or not, nobody is going to vote for me, not after today, probably not even m
e. I'm seriously considering offering Owain my allegiance, that way I might salvage some of my political influence. Possibly if I work with him I can be a moderating voice.'

  'No, you can't do that.'

  'We all have to face reality, Edeard; he is consolidating the city behind him just as we hoped to do.'

  'By causing people to die! There are family agents positioned among the crowd ready to escalate this conflict with the militia.'

  'Then we will need the Lady to grant us a miracle, for I see no other way out of this. We are pressured on every side. And you, my brave friend, you will have lost all you have achieved.'

  'This can't happen.'

  'It already has. I will protect you as best I can, but I doubt that will be of much use tomorrow.'

  Edeard bowed his head as he ended his longtalk with the Grand Master.

  'What's the matter?' Dinlay asked.

  'We're completely on our own,' Edeard told them. 'Owain has won. He's just swept the rest of us aside as if we didn't exist.'

  'But we do exist,' Macsen said urgently. 'I am here with you to help stop the militia killing people. Let us go and do that.'

  Edeard's farsight observed the first rank of the militia marching over the bridge from High Moat. 'All right,' he said with no real conviction. 'One last try.'

  They were spotted as soon as they started walking towards the bridge. Thousands of farsight glances settled on them. More and more people became attuned to their position as the word spread across every district. The weight of attention was like the muggy air of a summer's day pressing down on the four friends as they walked onward. Nothing else was happening in the city, everyone was watching the events in Sampalok. A vast barrage of longtalked jeers and remarks fell on them. Edeard blocked them all out, trying to think what to do.

  A miracle from the Lady, that's what Finitan said we needed. And he's right. But The Lady only ever performed one real miracle here in the city: her church. I wonder… That would be bold beyond even Boyd's imaginings.

  The central bridge across Cloud Canal from High Moat was a low curve of the city's substance, lined by stubby emerald pillars with tangerine grooves spiralling up the outside. It led over into a small plaza where tall espaliered fruit trees grew up the sides of every building, covering the bowed walls with thick lines of blossom. The mild scents of peach and plumb were now overwhelmed by the acrid smoke that chuffed out of the barricades. Both Burfol Street and Jankal Lane which led back into the heart of Sampalok had been blocked by piles of furniture that the crowds had set alight. Behind them the shops and businesses had all been looted. Edeard and the squad saw several named on the Hundred list moving among the confident crowd, congratulating friends, muttering instructions. He picked out a lot of pistols being carried openly. Inside the buildings it was a sorry story. Injured shopkeepers and traders nursed their wounds, while their families watched the triumphalist carnival outside with mournful thoughts and a great deal of suppressed rage.