Oscar almost started to ask about the Cat and what she used to do. Decided against. 'I have to find someone, and then extend them an offer of protection.
'That sounds very worthy. Who is it?
'The Second Dreamer.
For the first time since they'd met, Oscar witnessed Tomansio lose his reserve. 'No shit? The Knight Guardian started to laugh. 'Twelve hundred years without you, and now you bring us this. Oscar, you were almost worth the wait. The Second Dreamer himself! He suddenly sobered. 'I won't ask why. But thank you from the bottom of my simple heart for coming to us.
'The why is actually very simple. There are too many people who wish to influence him. If he does choose to emerge from the shadows, he should be free to make his own choice.
'To go to the Void or not, to possibly trigger the end of the Galaxy in pursuit of our race's fate — or not. What a grail to guard, Oscar. What a challenge.
'I take it that's a yes?
'My team will be ready to leave in less than an hour.
'Will you be leading them?
'What do you think?
* * * * *
'I was so sure! Araminta exclaimed. 'She was this mild scatty little thing. She did everything he told her to, and I do mean everything.
'Face it, darling, at the time you weren't in any position to be the perfect observer, Cressida said archly.
'But it was the way she did it. You don't understand. She was eager. Obedient. Like the other ones. I think. Shit. Do you think he was chossing me about? Maybe she is profiled and he told her to always give that answer. Araminta made an effort to calm down. Alcohol was a good suppressant. She tipped the wine bottle over her glass. There was none left. 'Damn!
Cressida signalled the smart-suited waiter. 'Quite an offer, though.
'Yeah. What is it about men? Why are they all complete shits? I mean, what kind of mentality does that? Those women are slaves.
'I know.
The waiter brought another bottle over and flipped the seal. 'The gentleman over there has asked if he can pay for it.
Araminta and Cressida looked across towards the giant floor-to-ceiling window, which gave them a stunning view out across the luminous glow of the night time city. The bar was on the thirty-fifth floor of the Salamartin Hotel tower, and attracted a lot of tourist types who thought nothing of paying the absurd bar prices. Today every room in the hotel was taken by Living Dream followers, which was why the lobby was besieged by protestors. Araminta had forced her way through the angry chanting mob to plead with the doorman to let her in. She'd been frightened; there was a strong threat of violence building up on the street. Cressida of course had the authorization code to land her capsule on the executive rooftop pad.
The man smiling at them from a table in front of the window was dressed in natural fabric clothes styled as only a Makkathran resident would wear.
'No, Araminta and Cressida chorused.
The waiter smiled understanding, and started pouring.
Araminta watched morosely as her glass was filled. 'Do you think I should go to the police?
'No, Cressida said emphatically. 'You do not go down that road, not ever. He sat you next to the Prime Minister at dinner for Ozzie's sake. You know how powerful he is. Besides which, no police force on the planet would investigate him, and even if they did they'd never be able to prove anything. Those girls — if you were right, and I'm not saying you're not — wouldn't ever be found, let alone analysed to see if their brain was wired up illegally. Forget it.
'How about the Commonwealth Government? Don't they have some kind of crime agency?
'The Intersolar Serious Crimes Directorate. So you take a trip to their local office, which is probably on Ellezelin, and you walk in and say you think some of his wives might be psychoneural profiled, because of how they behaved while you were all having sex together, an orgy during which incidentally your macrocellu-lar clusters were running a sexual narcotic program.
'It wasn't a narcotic, Araminta said automatically.
'Point in your favour, then. That should do it.
'All right! What if I told them about his commercial plans? The way he's built up Albany's capacity?
'Tell whom?
Araminta pouted. For a friend, Cressida wasn't being very helpful. 'I'm not sure. The industrial association of Ellezelin, or whatever it's called.
'Do you think they don't know? Albany isn't something you can hide. And exactly what has that got to do with psychoneural profiling?
'I dunno.
'Sounds more like vengeance than justice to me.
'He's a shit. He deserves it.
'Was he good in bed?
Araminta hoped she wasn't blushing as she concentrated on pouring out some more wine. 'He was adequate.
'Listen darling, I'm afraid this is one of those nasty times when you just have to forget him and move on. You learned a valuable lesson: just how ruthless you have to be to get on in this sad old universe of ours.
Araminta's head collapsed down into her hands, sending her hair tumbling down around her glass. 'Oh Great Ozzie, I went and had sex with him! How humiliating is that? She wished she could get rid of the memory, at least the bit about how much she'd enjoyed herself. Actually, there were various commercially available routines and drugs capable of performing neat little memory edits. Oh stop being so self-pitying, girl.
'There there. Cressida reached over and patted Araminta's hand. 'By now he'll have had half a dozen more girls in his bed, and won't even remember your name. It never meant as much to him as it does to you.
'And you're telling me this to cheer me up?
'That was his deal wasn't it? You would be the second Friday of months with an R in them?
'Yeah I know. Hell, I'm a big girl, I knew what I was doing.
'With hindsight, yes, the view is always clear.
Araminta brought her head up and grinned. 'Thank you for not judging.
'You're still a work in progress. And I think you're improving under my tuition. This was a much smaller mistake than Laril.
'When you want to cheer someone up, you really go for it, don't you?
Cressida pushed her glass across the table, and chinked it to the rim of Araminta's. 'You're starting to understand life. That's good. So what are you going to do about Mr Bovey?
Araminta grimaced. 'Mr Bovey's proposal, actually'
'What! He didn't?
'He did. Marriage with me once I've gone multiple.
'And you think I'm pushy! Wait a minute, did he ask you this before you had your little visit to Likan?
'Umm. Yes.
'You go my girl. So what was the Likan thing all about?
'Trying out options while I consider what to do.
'Wow.
'Have you ever considered going multiple? Likan said it was purely a lifestyle choice, not a business one. I'm not so sure. Ten pairs of extra hands would be very useful in my line of work.
'I haven't considered it, no. It's still only one mind, which is all a lawyer needs. But if you're serious about property development then I can see the practical advantages.
'It's self limiting, though, isn't it? It's saying I'll always be somebody stuck doing some kind of manual job.
'Your pride seems to be a very fluid thing.
'I just want— She didn't know how to finish that sentence, not at all. 'I don't know. I was just shaken up by what happened at the weekend. And I had this really awful dream, too. I was like this really big creature flying over a planet when someone tried to smother me. Been having a few of those lately. Do you suppose it's stress?
Cressida gave her a puzzled look. 'Darling, everyone had that dream. It was the Second Dreamer's dream of the Skylord over Querencia. And that wasn't someone trying to smother you, that was Ethan trying to talk to the Skylord direct. They say he's still in a coma in hospital with his minions trying to repair his burned out brain.
'I couldn't have dreamed that. 'Why not?
'I don't have
gaiamotes. It always seemed a bit silly to me, like a weak version of the Unisphere.
Cressida became very still; she pushed her glass aside and took Araminta's hand. 'Are you being serious? 'Serious about what? 'Didn't your mother tell you?
'Tell me what? Araminta felt panicky. She wanted another drink, but Cressida's grasp was surprisingly strong. 'About our great-great-great-grandmother. 'What about her? 'It was Mellanie Rescorai.
After all that work up, Araminta felt badly disappointed. She'd at least been expecting some Dynasty heir — maybe old Earth royalty. Not someone she'd never heard of. 'Oh. Who is she?
'A friend of the Silfen. She was named their friend. You know what that means?
'Not really, no. Araminta's knowledge of the Silfen was a little vague. A weird humanoid race that everyone called elves. They sang gibberish and had a bizarre wormhole network that stretched across half the galaxy allowing them to literally walk between worlds. An ability which a depressing number of humans found incredibly romantic and so they tried to follow them down their twisting interstellar paths. Few returned, but those that did told fanciful tales of adventure on new worlds and the exotic creatures they found there.
'Okay, Cressida said. 'It goes like this. The Silfen named Ozzie their friend too. They gave him a magic pendant which allowed him to understand their paths, and even join their communal mind, their Motherholme.
'Ozzie? You mean our Ozzie? The one we—
'Yes. Now Ozzie being Ozzie, he broke open the pendant and figured out how the magic worked. That it wasn't magic but quantum entanglement. So humans then started to produce gaiamotes. Our gaiafield is basically a poor copy of the Silfen communal mind.
'Right. So where does our ancestor come in to this?
'Mellanie was also a Silfen friend. Which is actually a little more than just being given the pendant. Their Motherholme accepts your mind and shares its wisdom with you. The pendant only initiates that the contact. After a while, the ability becomes natural — well, relatively speaking. And like all magic it's believed to be inherited. Cressida let go of Araminta's hands and smiled softly.
'You just said it wasn't magic'
'Of course not. But consider this. Mellanie and her husband, Orion, came back. They had a little girl, Sophie, while they were out there walking across the galaxy. One of very few humans ever born on the paths, and certainly the first of two Silfen friends. She was attuned to the Motherholme right from the start, and passed the magic on to her children. Thanks to her, most of our family can feel the gaiafield, though it's weaker now with our generation. But on a good night, you can sometimes sense the Motherholme itself. I even ventured down one of the Silfen paths myself when I was younger; it's just outside Colwyn City in Francola Wood. I was thirteen, I wanted adventure. Stupid, but…
'There's a Silfen path on Viotia?
'Yes. They don't use it much. They don't enjoy planets with civilizations like ours on them.
'Where does it lead? Araminta asked breathlessly.
'They don't lead to any one place, they join up and twist. Time is different along them as well. That's why humans who aren't Silfen friends are always lost along them. I was lucky, I managed to get back after a couple of days. Mother was furious with me.
'So… my dreams. They're not actually mine?
'That Skylord one the other night wasn't, no.
'It felt so real.
'Didn't it just. She glanced pointedly round the bar packed with its Living Dream followers. 'Now you see why they're so devout. If you're offered that kind of temptation every time you go to sleep, well who would want to wake up? That's what the Void is to them. Their dreams, forever.
INIGO'S SIXTH DREAM
Nearly eighty probationary constables sat together in a block of seats on the ultra-black floor of the Malfit Hall, while the vast arching ceiling above played images of wispy clouds traversing the beautiful gold and pink dawn sky. Edeard had one of the seats on the second row, his head tipped back so he could watch the giant ceiling in astonishment. He was sure it must be the marvel of the world. His fellow squadmates were all amused by his reaction. Not that they'd actually been in the Orchard Palace before — except for Dinlay. But at least they'd known about the moving imagery. And they hadn't thought to warn him.
Edeard gasped as Nikran rose up into the replica sky. The ruddy-brown planet here was a lot larger than it every appeared in Querencia's skies. He could see tiny features etched on the world's eternal deserts. For some reason it made him think of it as an actual place rather than an element of the celestial panorama.
'Does anyone live there? he whispered to Kanseen, who was in the chair next to him.
She looked at him, frowning, then glanced up at the image of Nikran, and giggled.
'What? Macsen hissed.
'Edeard wants to know if anyone lives on Nikran, Kanseen announced solemnly.
The whole squad snickered; surrounding squads joined in.
Edeard felt his face heating up. 'Why not? he protested. 'Rah's ship fell on to this world, why not another ship to Nikran?
'Absolutely, Macsen said. 'Perfectly valid question. In fact, there's a whole other Makkathran up there.
Edeard ignored them, and simply looked straight ahead in a dignified manner. He resolved to never ever tell his friends of his dreams, and what they showed him.
The block of probationary constables settled down. Edeard started to concentrate on what he was seeing. They were facing the grand curving staircase that dominated one side of the Hall. Owain, the Mayor of Makkathran, had appeared at the top, followed by the Guild Masters and District Masters who made up the Upper Council. They were all wearing their full ceremonial robes, producing a splendid blaze of colour as they filed down to the floor of the Hall.
'Oh Lady, Dinlay groaned.
Edeard caught a sensation of queasiness emanating from his friend. 'Ten seconds maximum, he told Dinlay using a tiny directed longtalk voice. 'Then it's all over. Just hold it together for ten seconds. You can do that.
Dinlay nodded, whilst appearing completely unconvinced.
Edeard resisted looking round at the much bigger block of seating behind him, where the families and friends of the probationary constables were gathered to watch them receive their bronze epaulettes. Probably an exaggeration, but half of them were Dinlay's family, and all of them were in uniform.
'I bet there's a crime wave going on in every district, Macsen had muttered while they were all taking their seats earlier. 'There aren't any constables left out there to patrol.
Owain reached the platform that had been set up at the bottom of the stairs. He smiled round at the attentive audience. 'It is always an honour and a privilege for me to perform this ceremony, he said. 'In my position I hear so many people complain about the state which not just the city is in, but of the chaos which supposedly reigns in the lands outside our crystal walls. I wish they were standing here now, to see so many young people coming forward to serve their city. I am heartened by the sense of duty you are displaying in taking this commitment to serve your fellow citizens. You give me confidence for the future.
Now that's a real politician, Edeard thought uncharitably. The Mayor of all people must have known how inadequate the number of constables was. That the eighty of them here today wasn't enough; that at least an equal number of constables had left in the last few months to become private bodyguards or for a better paid and respected job as a sheriff in some provincial town. Why doesn't he do something about it?
The Mayor finished his inspirational speech. The probationary constables stood up as one, then the first row trooped up to the platform to be greeted by the Mayor. The Chief Constable read the probationer's name out to the Hall, while an assistant handed a pair of epaulettes to the Mayor to be presented with a handshake and a smile.
Edeard's row started to move forward. He'd thought this would be boring at the least, that it was stupid, an irritation he could have done without. Especially as the only person in t
he audience clapping for him was Salrana, who'd been given the day off her duties. But now he was here, now he was walking up to the Mayor of the entire city, he actually began to feel a sense of occasion. Behind him, the audience was radiant with pride. They believed in the constables. In front, the Upper Council was registering their approval. None of the councillors had to be here, it was a ceremony repeated three times a year, every year. They'd been to dozens, and would have to come to dozens more. If they'd wanted to cry off, they could have done. But no, it was important enough for them to turn out every time.
And here he was himself, coming forward to make a public pledge to the citizens of Makkathran that he would do his best to protect them and implement the rule of law. This was why Rah and those who followed him into office had created this ceremony and others like it, to recognize and honour the commitment the constables made to their city and lives. It was neither silly nor a waste of time, it was a show of respect.
Edeard stood in front of the Mayor, who smiled politely, and shook his hand as the Chief Constable read out his name. A pair of bronze epaulettes were pressed into his hand. 'Thank you, sir, Edeard said. There was a lump in his throat. 'I won't let you down. Ashwell will never happen here.
If the Mayor was surprised, he didn't show it. Edeard caught sight of Finitan standing on the grand staircase. The Master of the Eggshaper Guild looked rather splendid in a gold and purple gown, with elaborate scarlet symbols embroidered down the front; his silver-tipped hood was arranged over the left shoulder. He caught Edeard's eye and winked. 'Well done, lad, his longtalk whispered.
Edeard stepped off the platform. There was a burst of applause. He nearly laughed, it was as if the audience was rejoicing he was out of the way. In fact it was Dinlay's considerable family clapping loudly as their relative received his epaulettes. Dinlay managed to not trip, or throw up, or collapse from fright. He followed Edeard back to their seats with a glowing face, grinning back at his kin.
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