The Evolutionary Void (27 page)

They were watched every inch of the way; some kids even ran along the
side of the canal, dodging the trunks and pedestrians to keep up with the
gondola. Several ge-eagles flapped lazily overhead.

The gondolier steered them down Hidden Canal and then over to Market
Canal until they were level with the Lady’s church. Hundreds of people were
waiting for them around the mooring platform, keen for either spectacle or
failure.

The Pythia headed up the semiofficial reception group at the top of the
wooden steps, with her entourage of six Mothers waiting passively behind. She
was new to the position, anointed barely three years ago. She didn’t have quite
the vivacity of the previous incumbent, nor did she immerse herself in
Makkathran’s social events, but her devotion to the Lady was never in doubt.
She had a zeal for the teachings that always made Edeard slightly uncomfortable
around her.

“Waterwalker,” she said courteously. Her handsome face was impassive, as
was her mind. Edeard walked up the steps while his third hand elevated Finitan
behind him.

“Any sign of it?” Finitan asked.

Kanseen, who was standing just behind the Pythia, took his hand and
squeezed gently. “Not yet,” she said sweetly.

“It won’t be long,” Edeard promised. But even he gave a nervous glance
toward the Lyot Sea in the east. He’d longtalked to the Skylord the previous
evening before the planet’s rotation had carried it out of sight. Several
astronomers had claimed they’d seen it. That was countered by Yrance’s campaign
staff as cronies trying to curry short-term favor with the Waterwalker.

Kristabel gave him an encouraging smile, but there was no way she could
hide her concern from him. Macsen just rolled his eyes, his thoughts brimming
with bravado and confidence that he hoped might infuse Edeard.

With Kanseen holding Finitan’s hand, the whole group walked over to the
nearest tower. It was a drab gray in color, its crinkled surface beset with
slim fissures whose sides were a dark red. Two angled gaps at the base led into
the central cavelike chamber. A single thick pillar rose up from the center of
the floor, with an opening to the narrow spiral stair that snaked up to the
platform high above.

Even inside the thick walls, Edeard could feel a lot of farsight pressing
against them as more and more city residents started to observe what was
happening.

“I’ll take you up by myself,” Edeard said. He wasn’t entirely sure what
happened around the top of a tower when the Skylord came to claim a human soul.
The Lady’s book spoke of cold fire engulfing the bodies of those who’d been
chosen for guidance. It didn’t sound good for the living.

Everyone looked to Kristabel, who simply shrugged. “If that’s what must
be done,” she said reluctantly.

“May the Lady herself welcome you, Finitan,” the Pythia said. The other
Mothers clasped their hands in prayer.

Edeard started to move Finitan toward the cramped entrance to the stairs.
Macsen’s hand caught his elbow. “Don’t linger,” the master of Sampalok said
quietly. “It was bad enough the last time you went up one of these towers
alone.”

Edeard grinned at him and started up the stairs.

“Do you ever wonder what’s there?” Finitan asked. He was ahead of Edeard,
his body tipped to almost forty-five degrees as Edeard’s telekinesis maneuvered
him upward around the not-quite-symmetrical curves of the stair.

“In the Heart?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know. It can’t be a physical existence, not some kind of a fresh
start, a grand house by the sea with servants and fine wine and food.”
We can do that here
.

“Yes, I was thinking along those lines. So what exactly is it?”

“Well, you’ll know before me.”

Finitan laughed. “That’s my Edeard, ever the practical one.”

They were about a third of the way up. Edeard grimaced and concentrated
on not dropping the old master. The stairs were badly claustrophobic.

“Philosophy was never my strong point,” Finitan went on. “I was more an
organizer.”

“You were a visionary. That’s why we achieved so much.”

“Very kind of you, I’m sure. But what does the Heart need with a human
visionary?”

“Lady, but you’re getting morose for someone about to embark on the
ultimate journey.”

“What if it isn’t?” Finitan whispered. “Edeard, I’m afraid.”

“I know. But consider this: Even if the Heart isn’t for you, it’s where
an awful lot of your questions will be answered. Think who’s there waiting for
you. Rah and the Lady for a start. The people who built Makkathran, whoever and
whatever they are. The Captain on the ship which brought us all here, and he’ll
be able to explain what made him come into the Void. Maybe even the Firstlifes;
imagine what they can tell you. You might get to discover why the Void exists.”

“Ah, now there’s a thought. Or perhaps we’ve misunderstood, and the Heart
is simply the gateway out.”

“Out?”

“To the universe outside. If we’re fulfilled, if we’ve proved we’re
worthy enough, we get to go home.”

“I don’t believe there’s a good behavior requirement to go and live in
the universe outside,” Edeard said flatly.

“You’re probably right,” Finitan said. He shuddered, as if gripped by a
sudden chill.

Edeard could see the sweat slick on his friend’s brow. “Did you take the
painkiller potion before we left?”

“Of course not,” Finitan snapped irritably. “You think I want to be
dozing when my very own Skylord comes looking for me?”

Edeard said nothing.

“And you can wipe that smirk off your face.”

“Yes, master.”

They finally emerged out onto the platform. As always, a strong wind
whistled across the shallow curving floor. Seven giant spikes rose up from the
edges, angled steeply back over the platform, their jagged tips almost touching
high above the stairwell entrance.

Edeard placed Finitan gently on the floor and squatted down beside him.
“How are you doing?” he asked.

“For someone who’s dying? Not bad. Actually, I feel quite relieved. It’s
not many who are given such clear knowledge about the exact moment of their
death. Such knowledge is refreshing. It means I have nothing to worry about.”

Edeard’s fingers carefully brushed the loose strands of pale hair from
the man’s damp forehead. Finitan’s skin felt unpleasantly cold, giving Edeard a
fair indication of what his deteriorating body was going through.

The number of people farsighting them now that they were out of the
stairwell and in the open was almost oppressive. Edeard could sense that the
city had virtually come to a halt to focus its full attention on him and the
tower. Everyone was waiting expectantly. Even Yrance’s agitators were silent
now that the promised moment was approaching.

Edeard felt the unknown watcher’s farsight sweep across him, even
pervading the tower structure around him, probing and questing. It was coming
from Cobara district, as usual.

“Today is hardly secret,” he shot back.

The farsight ended.

“Who was that?” Finitan asked.

“I don’t know. But I expect I’ll be finding out before too long. You know
Makkathran: always trouble brewing somewhere.”

“That was more than the usual trouble. They had an ability equal to
yours.”

“Greater, I suspect.”

“Have you sensed them before?”

“I’ve had indications that there are people of my stature emerging, yes.
But that doesn’t affect today.”

“Edeard—”

“No.” Edeard closed his finger around Finitan’s frail hand. “This is
about you and the Skylord. You have to prove once and for all that what you did
was right. After that, all our troubles will be minor. That is what I ask of
you today.”

Finitan’s head fell back onto the cushion of his cloak hood. “Stubborn to
the very end—well, my end. You know, that day you arrived in my office, I was
worried you might just decide to be an apprentice in the Blue Tower for seven
years. What a waste that would have been. What a loss to the world.”

“I always thought you were overemphasizing the bad points.”

“One of my smaller crimes. I’m sure the Lady will want to discuss it at
length if I ever catch up with her, along with all the others.”

“You will. What a meeting that’s going to be.”

“Ha! I don’t think she …” Finitan trailed off, an expression of outright
surprise manifesting on his face. “Oh, my. Edeard?”

Edeard turned to face the Lyot Sea. Right on the horizon a peculiar haze
patch was rising above the water to expand across the sky. “It comes,” he said
with simple happiness.

Finitan’s hand grasped his tightly. “Thank you, Edeard, for everything.”

“I owe you so much.” He could sense the startled longtalk starting down
on the streets and canals below as those with the most powerful farsight became
aware of what was approaching Makkathran. The gifted visions were spreading
wide. Surprise and delight blossomed among the startled citizens.

“And I you,” Finitan said. “Now it’s time for you to leave me here so
that I might start that final journey. Soon I will have answers. So soon, Edeard.
Imagine that.”

“Yes.” Edeard stood and looked at the thick pillar that was the start of
the stairwell, then glanced across to the edge of the platform.

“Go on.” Finitan chuckled. “Be the Waterwalker, today of all days. Beat
that little oaf Yrance. But don’t stop there, you are greater than all of them;
never forget that. And at the end, I’ll be waiting. We will have such a reunion
in the Heart, Edeard. Even down here they will know our joy.”

“Goodbye.” Edeard smiled. There was so much more he wanted to say, but as
always, there was no time. He turned and ran across the platform. When he
reached the edge, he leaped off with a jubilant cry.

On the ground so far below, there was a horrified gasp as the faces of
the crowd turned up to watch him. Laughing defiantly, he held his arms wide,
allowing his black cloak to flap madly around him as he streaked downward.

That powerful farsight played over him as he fell. Then, a hundred feet
from the ground, the city took hold of him and slowed his wild flight, lowering
him softly onto the pavement at the foot of the tower. The crowd exclaimed in
admiration. Several people applauded; more cheered.

He saw Macsen’s derisory sneer. Dinlay gave him a disapproving frown. But
it was Kristabel whose face was pure anger. He shrugged an apology, which
clearly wasn’t anywhere near good enough. She was still scowling as he walked
over and put his arm around her.

“Daddy,” Marilee scolded.

“That was so bad.”

“Teach us how to do that.”

He winked at the twins. “The Skylord comes,” he said solemnly.

The crowd was excited now, chattering wildly as they all turned to the
east. There was nothing to see at first; the towers of Eyrie blocked any view
into the sky directly over the sea. Then the astonished residents of Myco and
Neph gifted their sight to the rest of the city.

The Skylord had risen above the horizon. Now it was flying directly over
the choppy sea. Edeard didn’t appreciate the size at first. From the city’s
Port district it simply looked like a shiny white moon skimming over the waves,
slowly getting bigger as it dipped down again. Its actual surface was hard to
make out; it had the same shimmer as a pool of water rippling under a noonday
sun, a bright distortion that could never stay still long enough to focus on.
Then he realized the Skylord wasn’t losing altitude; it was simply getting
closer. The curving underside was already at least a mile above the sea, which
was impossible because that would make it miles across. Yet there it was. The
shadow it cast turned the gray-blue water nearly black across a vast area. The
fine white sails of ships that were eclipsed beneath it turned gray and
billowed energetically as the turbulence it created roiled against them.

Finally the leading edge of that colossal circle slid across the city
skyline. Like everyone else standing in Eyrie, Edeard felt awed and worshipful.
Its size was beyond intimidating; it was utterly overwhelming and not a little
frightening. It must have been almost half the size of the city itself. And it
flew!

“Oh, great Lady,” he whispered as Kristabel and the twins clung to him.
His arms went around them, offering nowhere near enough comfort. He wanted to
scream to the city’s mind to protect them. Some wretched primitive aspect
wanted him to flee, to cower before such
majesty
.
Instead he laughed hysterically; to think, only minutes ago he and Finitan had
been doubting the Skylords and the purpose of the Heart.

Around him people were flinging themselves to the ground, screaming in
terror as they wrapped their arms over their heads. When Edeard glanced at the
Pythia, he saw great tears of joy streaming down her cheeks as she held her
arms upward in greeting. Her mind shone bright as she poured her welcoming
thoughts up into the sky.

Dazzling slivers of pure sunlight shimmered across Makkathran’s rooftops
and streets. Now that Edeard could see it directly, the Skylord seemed to be
made of some crystalline substance, a million thin sheets of the stuff folded
into bizarre twisting geometries that somehow never seemed to intersect as they
should. Sunlight foamed through the core, bending and shifting erratically. He
could never be sure if it was the light that fluctuated or if the crystalline
sheets themselves were in constant motion. The Skylord’s composition defied
logic as the creature itself defied gravity.

The umbra fell across Eyrie as the Skylord slid across Makkathran, a
darkness alleviated by the perpetual flashes of brilliant prismatic light that
radiated out of its undulating surface. With it came the thunder of its
passage, the roar of a thousand lightning bolts blasting out simultaneously.
Wind rushed down the streets, shaking the trees and mauling clothes and any
loose items. A monsoon of flower petals surged into the dark scintillating air
as they were ripped away from their trees and vines.