The Evolutionary Void (23 page)

“At least the animal markets is one enterprise you haven’t contaminated
yet,” he told her. It was petty, but …

“Poor Edeard, still jealous after all these years. You never expected me
to be so successful, did you?”

He refused to rise to the bait. But Ranalee’s business ability had
surprised him. She’d invested wisely, unlike the previous owners of the House
of Blue Petals, who had simply squandered the money on their own lifestyle.
Today, Ranalee owned over two dozen perfectly legitimate businesses and had a
considerable political presence on the general merchants council and in the
Makkathran Chamber of Commerce. Nowadays, she was completely independent of the
old faltering Gilmorn family. He knew of course that she’d used her vile
ability for dominance to sway unsuspecting rivals at opportune moments and to
build unseemly financial alliances, yet he could never prove anything. And of
course, her children had been married off selectively, gathering more wealthy
families into her dominion.

“That’s Makkathran for you,” he replied. “Equal opportunity for
everyone.”

Ranalee shook her head, seemingly tired of the argument. “No, Edeard.
It’s not. Nor—before you start—are all of us born equal. You got where you are
because of your strength, just as I foresaw. And I am where I am because of my
strength, and you resent that.”

“Are you saying you used illicit methods to gather your new wealth?”

“Did you achieve
your
position legitimately?
Where is my father, Edeard? Where is Owain? Why has there never been an inquiry
into their disappearance?”

“Is an inquiry needed into their activities?”

“Would it ever be an impartial one?” She reached up and began removing
the jeweled pins from her hair so it could fall free.

“You don’t want that.”

“No,” she said simply. “The past is the past. It’s done. Over. I look to
the future. I always have.” She regarded the youngsters dispassionately. The
ardent girls had taken the lad’s shorts off. They giggled as they pushed him
down on a big couch.

Edeard couldn’t watch the lad’s enraptured, worshipful face as Ranalee
moved over to the side of the couch and stared down at him.
Too many memories
. “Why do you do this?” he asked. “You’ve
achieved so much.”

A victorious smile twitched across Ranalee’s lips. “Not as much as you.”

“Oh, for the Lady’s sake!”

“Would you like to linger tonight, Edeard? Would you like to remember how
it was? How much you lost?”

“Good night,” he said in disgust.

“Wait.” She turned from the couch.

“Ranalee …”

“I have some information for you. It’s something she would never come to
you with.”

“What’s this?” he asked, though with a falling heart he knew exactly who
she was talking about. Ranalee would never attract his attention simply to
taunt; she always had some way of inflicting harm or worry.

“Vintico has spent the day answering uncomfortable questions in the
Bellis constable station,” she said. “I’m surprised you didn’t know about it.
Apparently, they’ve detained him overnight so formal charges can be drawn up
tomorrow.”

“Oh, Lady,” Edeard groaned.

Vintico was Salrana’s oldest child and one of the most worthless humans
ever to walk Makkathran’s streets. His father was Tucal, Ranalee’s brother.
That despicable pairing had finally made him realize that there would never be
a truce between him and Ranalee, that their war would continue until the bitter
end.

“What this time?” he asked in despair.

“I believe he made a bad choice of business partners. Something about a
deal falling through and a large debt to established merchants. Apparently they
get quite serious about such things. Especially nowadays, what with the city
being run so efficiently. After all, law and order must prevail.”

“I can’t help.”

“I understand. You have standards. But it will break his mother’s heart
if he’s sent to Trampello; it might spell the end of her engagement, as well.
That single fragile chance to bring some happiness into her life. I only
mention this because he’s family.”

“Then why don’t you offer to help your family if it’s so important?”

“If only I could. I don’t have any spare cash right now. All my money is
tied up in new enterprises, investing in the future for my own children.” She
smiled lecherously and turned back to the lad sprawled across the couch. “Are
you going to watch now?”

A furious Edeard wrenched his farsight away, but not before her vicious
amusement had infiltrated his perception. “FucktheLady!” he spit.

Salrana! The one name he could never mention again in the Culverit
ziggurat. Kristabel’s patience on that topic had run out decades ago. Salrana:
He’d tried to help her time and again over the years. He’d watched and waited,
believing that her old self would one day reassert itself, that Ranalee’s
mental damage would wither away. It was never to be. Ranalee had been too
skillful at the start, while his opposition was too crude, helping the new
false emotions establish themselves in her thoughts until they were no longer
false. Salrana hated him.

The battle had lasted for years before he admitted defeat. Eventually
even Ranalee had moved on to more rewarding endeavors. The five children
Salrana had borne for men Ranalee selected proved unspectacular, especially
their psychic ability. So Ranalee administered the final indignity by
discarding her. Now Salrana was engaged to Garnfal, a carpentry Guild Master
more than sixty years her senior. Edeard was fairly sure Ranalee had nothing to
do with it, so the attraction (whatever that was) might just be genuine.
Ranalee could have been truthful; it was a chance for Salrana to be happy on
her own terms.

I can’t interfere
.

But Salrana was his fault. She always would be. That meant she was his
responsibility, too: a charge that would never end.

Just for a moment he thought of going back a couple of weeks, warning
Vintico off whatever ridiculous deal he’d gotten himself involved with. That
would mean another two weeks of electioneering, of parties he’d already been
to, of reliving the whole livestock certificate debacle.

Edeard groaned at the notion of it.
Impossible
.
He directed his longtalk toward a specific little house in the Ilongo district.
“Felax, I have a job for you.”

Edeard sensed Kristabel’s thoughts while she was only on the sixth floor.
He grinned at the tone. She was in a foul mood again, something he found
amusing now that his own temper had abated. He had good reason to be confident
again: Felax was clever and discreet, and the Vintico problem would vanish
before dawn. Not that it would ever do to let Kristabel know of his reaction to
this particular temper, but the predictability was entertaining. Their children
must have known of their mother’s disposition, too. All of them had contrived
to be out of the Culverit ziggurat this evening, at parties or just “meeting
some friends”; even Rolar and his wife were absent with their children.
Don’t blame you
, he blessed them silently.

“What are you doing out there?” Kristabel’s longtalk lashed out, suffused
with anger.

“Stargazing,” he replied mildly. When he looked into the study through
the tall external doors, she was silhouetted in the doorway from the hall. The
fur-lined hem of her purple and black ceremonial Grand Council robes was held
off the floor by her third hand, and its hood flopped back over her shoulder.
That allowed her to jam her hands on her hips.

Edeard remembered the first time he’d seen her strike that pose: the day
Bise refused to sign their wedding consent bill in the Upper Council. She had
stormed out of the chamber with a face set in a mask of fury. Nervous district
masters crept out of the door behind her and got the Honious out of the Orchard
Palace as fast as they could. Even Bise had looked apprehensive.

“Well, that’s useful just before an election,” Kristabel snapped as she
walked through the study. “And why is it so dark in here?”

“Light sewage,” he told her.

“What?”

“It needs to be properly dark out here for the telescope to work at its
best. Something to do with the eye contracting. You can’t pollute the night
with light.”

“Oh, for Honious’s sake, Edeard. I’ve got real problems, you’ve got
obligations, and you’re out here wasting time with this genistar crap.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” She reached the hortus. Her hair was shorter these days,
and her maids had their work cut out each morning to try and rein it in.
Tonight it had frizzed out of the elegant curls and ringlets arrangement she’d
started the day with, as if the sheer heat of her anger had pushed it into
rebellion. “That little tit, Master Ronius of Tosella, slapped a whole lot of
amendments on the trade bill. Five months I’ve steered that through the Council.
Five Lady-damned months! Those tariff reductions were vital for Kepsil
province. Has someone stolen his brain?”

“The bill was never popular with some merchants.”

“There were balances,” she growled back. “I’m not stupid, Edeard.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Don’t patronize me!”

“I—” He made an effort to calm down.
You know she’s
always like this after an Upper Council meeting. And a lot of other times, too,
these days
, he added regretfully. “I have something to show you,” he
said, with the excitement rising in his voice and mind. “Come.” He led her
across the strip of hortus to the telescope. It was truly dark now. Makkathran
was laid out below them, a beautiful jewel of glimmering light stretching east
toward the Lyot Sea, where the orange-hued buildings sketched their amazing
shapes against a cloudless night sky. The canal network cut rigid black lines
through the illumination. He could see the gondolas in the Great Major Canal at
the foot of the ziggurat, their bright oil lanterns bobbing merrily across the water.
Occasional snatches of song slipped up through the balmy night air. The city
was a vista he never tired of.

Kristabel bent over the telescope, her third hand pushing her hood aside
as it slid around. “What?” she said.

“Tell me what you see.”

“Alakkad, but it’s off-center; you haven’t got the telescope aligned
properly.”

Every second sentence is a criticism these days
.
“It is centered correctly,” Edeard persisted stoically. He permitted a hint of
excitement to filter through his mental shield.

Kristabel let out a sigh of exasperation and concentrated on the image.

“There’s a … I don’t know, it’s like a little white nebula.”

“It’s not a nebula.”

She straightened up. “Edeard!”

“An hour ago it was several degrees farther from Alakkad. It’s moving.
And before you ask, it’s not a comet, either.”

Kristabel’s anger vanished. She gave him a shocked look, then bent to the
telescope again. “Is it a ship? Has it come from outside the Void like the one
which brought Rah and the Lady?”

“No.” He put his arms around her and smiled down into her confused face.
“It’s a Skylord.”

Mayor Trahaval was throwing a large party every second night, moving
through the districts with a relentless pace to drum up support for himself and
the local representative candidates who endorsed him. The Seahall was the only
place in Bellis grand enough for such an occasion. With its unusual concave
walls shaded a deep azure supporting a roof that was made from clashing wave
cones, it really did have a marine theme, even down to the unusual ripple
fountains that curved around the ten arching doorways. This evening the usual
seating had been removed to make room for the tables laden with food, and a
small band was playing at the center. The guests had been chosen with almost as
much care as had gone into the lavish canapés. There was a broad mix of Bellis
citizens to socialize with Trahaval and his entourage of stalwart supporters,
from the smaller merchant families desperate for political influence to street
association chiefs, local guildsmen, and ancient Grand Family patriarchs and
matriarchs, as well as a vetted selection of “ordinary working folk.” The idea
was the same as it was for every party in every election. Trahaval and the
Upper Councillors would mingle with and talk to as many people as possible so
they would spread the word among their friends and family that he wasn’t aloof
after all, that he understood everyday problems, that he had a sense of humor
and knew a good bit of gossip about his rivals and some Grand Family sons and daughters.

Edeard had no idea how many times he’d been to identical parties over the
last four decades. The only number that registered was
too
many
.

“Oh, come on,” Kristabel said quietly as they made their way under the
gurgling water that surrounded the main doorway. “You can do this.”

“There’s a difference between
can
and
want to
,” he murmured back. Then people noticed that the
Waterwalker and the mistress of Haxpen had arrived. Hopeful smiles spread like
wildfire. Edeard put on an equally enthusiastic “happy to be here” face for
everyone to see, twinning the burst of enthusiasm from his mind. He helped
Kristabel out of her scarlet and topaz cloak, unbuttoned his own signature
black leather cloak, and handed both to a doorman.