The Temporal Void (23 page)

Read The Temporal Void Online

Authors: Peter F. Hamilton

BOOK: The Temporal Void
4.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

‘Come on,’ Edeard said. ‘We can’t do this. Ivarl will be laughing at us.’

‘So his opinion is valuable to you, is it?’ Macsen said. ‘Whereas mine – no contest.’

‘That’s not—’

‘Don’t get upset,’ Kanseen interjected. ‘He’s just angry.’

‘No shit?’ Macsen spat at her. ‘Why do you think that is? I am a part of this fucking squad, this so-called team. I had faith in you, Edeard. Faith. Me, of all people, me! And how do you treat that? You just bloody use us to boost your own stature. The Waterwalker saves the day again. Well crap on that.’

‘I didn’t
use
anyone. We were all on that raid together. I made you a vital part of it. Did you know there was going to be a robbery? Did you know where they were going to stash the platinum? Did you know there was going to be a switch?’

‘So what are you saying? I’m not worthy enough because I can’t spy as well as you? Are any of us, because that’s what this is about. Even Dinlay’s pissed at the way you exclude us.’

‘I am not,’ Dinlay said, so quickly Edeard didn’t even look at his friend’s face.

‘If all you want is a bunch of constables who’ll run around and do your bidding, then fine,’ Macsen said. ‘There are dozens of them in this station alone. But if you want to work with me, then you come down off your tower and start trusting us again.’

‘Screw you!’ Edeard said. ‘You have no idea what we’re up against. Not the faintest clue. I’m protecting you.’

‘I don’t need your protection. And I know more about the gangs than you ever will, country boy. I grew up in Makkathran.’

‘I grew up in Makkathran,’ Kanseen said. ‘Dinlay did, Boyd did. You had a nice cushy life on the Iguru.’

‘I did what?’ Macsen pushed his face out towards Kanseen.

‘Stop it, now,’ Edeard said. ‘I didn’t include you in certain things because I was frightened.’

They stopped arguing, and shot each other puzzled looks. Edeard rested his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. He was worried there were tears leaking from his eyes he was so worked up. ‘You’re all I’ve got. I don’t want us broken up. Not just because I depend on you. We have something here, and it’s more than just kicking the crap out of Ivarl. We have hopes. I couldn’t stand it if those were broken. I’d be left with nothing once more. I’d rather be dead.’

Kanseen came and sat on the bench next to him as the others started to radiate concern. ‘What is it?’ she asked, putting her arms round his shoulder. ‘What’s the matter, Edeard? We all trusted each other at the start. Nothing’s changed, not really. Tell us.’

Edeard lifted his head and stared straight at Macsen, letting his friend see all his anguish. ‘Do you want to do this?’

‘Yes,’ Macsen said, now looking really worried.

‘Really?’

‘Yes!’

‘Everyone?’

Boyd and Dinlay nodded.

Kanseen squeezed his shoulder. ‘Of course.’

‘All right, then. But I want you to swear on the Lady that you won’t shoot the messenger.’

‘Hey, we’re grown ups,’ Macsen said.

‘No, we’re not,’ Edeard said. ‘Not really.’

‘You’re getting very depressing,’ Boyd said with a nervous smile. ‘Just what do you want to tell us?’

‘What we’re up against. The scale of the gangs. I want to make you understand.’

‘We do know, Edeard,’ Dinlay said sympathetically. ‘They even tried to intimidate my sister Carna last Wednesday. Lady, they won’t do that again in a hurry.’

‘Carna?’ Macsen said. ‘She’s the, er . . .’

‘My big sister,’ Dinlay said with a contented smile. ‘Very big.’

Edeard cocked his head at Boyd.

‘Yeah,’ Boyd nodded dismally. ‘Isoix had some more trouble.’

‘So?’ Macsen insisted. ‘What’s your big secret?’

‘I’ll show you,’ Edeard said slowly. ‘Sometime in the next few days. I’m not sure when, but be ready. When I call for you go to the Flight Canal end of Golard Street.’

‘You mean near the Black Horse?’ Macsen asked.

‘Yeah, but don’t go in there for the Lady’s sake. And make very sure you’re not followed.’

‘Easy.’

‘Actually, it isn’t. Ivarl uses ge-eagles to shadow all of us, but I’ll take care of them. It’ll be night, so that’ll help you.’

‘He does what?’ Kanseen asked; just for a moment her mind betrayed real alarm.

‘He watches us,’ Edeard said quietly. ‘He has for the last month. I’ve been messing with the ge-eagles he uses, but I can’t manage to protect you the whole time.’

‘Shit.’

Edeard climbed to his feet. He gave Macsen a sorrowful look. ‘I am sorry about Bijulee.’

‘I know.’ Macsen stuck his hand out.

Edeard shook reluctantly, still dreading what was to come. ‘Remember, the messenger is just that.’

‘Got you.’

Edeard went back to the court the next day to watch the prosecution and defence councils deliver their closing statements. He was interested that Ivarl couldn’t be bothered to turn up to hear Lian be found guilty, nor was he there the following day when a twenty-five-year sentence was handed out. After the judges left the chamber, the constables from Jeavons station crowded round Edeard to congratulate him. Then they had to make way for Grand Master Sparbil of the Chemistry Guild who had been in the court for every day of the trial.

‘Thank you, young man,’ Sparbil said, giving Edeard’s healing face a close look. ‘The loss of that material would have meant a considerable financial weakness for my Guild. I am in your debt.’

‘I was doing my job, sir,’ Edeard replied.

‘I’m sure you were. But I remain grateful. If we can ever assist you, please just ask.’

‘I will. Thank you, sir.’

‘Finitan was right about you, I think you are of benefit to the city. A shame District Master Bise doesn’t share that opinion, but don’t worry, he is outnumbered in Council.’

‘Bise?’ Edeard knew the name, Bise was Sampalok’s District Master. He’d never seen Bise turn up at the House of Blue Petals in person, but he knew the Master had extensive financial connections with Ivarl’s organization.

‘High politics, I’m afraid,’ Sparbil said with a grin. ‘Not that there is anything high about it, of course. Our little voting bloc in the Council is full square behind you. Unfortunately, our opponents take the opposite view. But that’s the way it is in Council. If they had come down on your side, I’d probably be against you by now. Same with the weather; if they vote for sun, I’ll vote for rain.’

‘Uh, I see.’

‘Take my advice, don’t put yourself forward as a candidate for Chief Constable for at least another two hundred years. That way you can remain out in the city where you’ll still be in a position to accomplish something.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Edeard gave the Grand Master a formal bow, frowning at the man’s back.
The Grand Council is taking sides over me?

‘A drink tonight?’ Chae asked. ‘This victory is probably more significant for you than Arminel’s was. It shows the gangs you’re not going away. That needs to be celebrated properly.’

‘No, thank you, I have a date.’

‘Ah, good for you, lad. Enjoy it while you can, while you’re young. They turn sour when they get older.’

‘Who?’

‘Women. All of them.’

‘Is everyone in this city a cynic?’ Edeard asked that evening.

Jessile pulled a beer bottle out of the wicker hamper she’d brought. ‘Who’s cynical?’

‘Everybody, so it seems. Or maybe I’m just paranoid.’

She smiled sweetly. ‘You probably are.’

‘Thanks.’ Edeard took the bottle and flopped down on to the maisonette’s heavy old couch. He felt exhausted, even though all he’d done was sit around in court all day. Victory should have perked him up, yet all it seemed to have done was raise another bout of questions and doubt. How he longed for things to be as they were before Birmingham Pool. Life had been so much simpler then.

‘Put your feet on the stool, I’ll pull your boots off.’

He leant back and did as he was told. It was nice having Jessile around. After that final night with Ranalee he’d almost sworn off family girls for life. Except he remembered how genuinely nice Jessile was, almost the opposite of Ranalee. She was undemanding. Enthusiastic in bed. And discreet. At least she was now. Which was a good thing, he reflected. He was desperate to recover some of his public dignity after those months of excess following Birmingham Pool.

Her fiancé hadn’t been in the city for three days before he was sent back out again, much to her dismay. They hadn’t even managed to set a day for the wedding. So in the meantime, she was happy to carry on seeing him – just not so visibly.

Two lonely people, basically
, he thought. There were few mornings when he didn’t look out of the window, searching the brighter skies which would signal Salrana’s return.

He glanced guiltily at the letter propped up in one of the maisonette’s alcoves. It had arrived yesterday. Salrana had written it three weeks earlier. That was how long a letter took to reach Makkathran from Tralsher province. In it she explained how she might have to stay on for a few more weeks. The Mothers were desperate for help, she said, and she couldn’t let them down. There were so many people who looked to the Church for help in Ufford.

‘Lian got twenty-five years,’ Edeard said as they sat down to supper. His ge-monkeys had been busy preparing the food the chefs in her mansion had packed in the hamper. ‘The others got between three and eleven years.’

‘That’s good,’ she said.

‘Really? Have you noticed a drop in crime?’

‘Did you mention something about cynicism?’

‘Sorry.’

‘He’s going to be another six weeks at least.’

‘Who? Oh. Right.’

‘I got a letter this morning. They’re staying on in Reutte province to help another town. Eriach, I think.’

‘Yeah, it’s on the western side of the Ulfsen Mountains.’

‘You know it?’

‘I passed it on my way here.’

‘Well, they’ve got bandit trouble now.’

Edeard looked up from the asparagus and kafish quiche. ‘What sort of trouble?’

‘Raids on hamlets, and the roads aren’t safe. Honestly, the militia pushed them out of the estates around Tetuan and they just popped up again a few miles away.’

‘They have a habit of doing that. Frightening them away isn’t good enough. They’ll just come back later. If you want to be rid of them, you’ve got to push them back and back until they’ve nowhere to run to any more. Don’t give them anywhere to hide. Then you can go in for the kill.’ He stopped. ‘That might work.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing, just an idea.’

‘There’s not even any certainty that Eustace will come back after Eriach. Suppose the bandits appear somewhere else?’ She started turning her silver vine ring, unconsciously rubbing the diamond.

He put his hand on hers, squeezing lightly. ‘He’ll be back.’

‘Thanks. I know.’

‘Did he mention if they have guns?’

‘Guns? No. He hasn’t said. Do you think it’s likely? He might get shot!’

‘Some bandits have guns. Not many,’ Edeard lied quickly, allowing her to sense a calm confidence in his thoughts. ‘They just get hold of the odd pistol from farms, that kind of thing. To be honest, pistols have a very limited range anyway.’

‘Oh.’ She gave him a nervous smile. ‘Don’t scare me like that.’

‘Sorry. No sane bandit is going to tangle with a mounted militia squad. He’ll be perfectly safe. You’ll be married off by midsummer.’

‘I hate that he had to go. It’s all politics. Mayor Owain only sent the militia so he can look strong and benevolent at the same time. That’s what Daddy said. And I’ll bet Owain’s Guild merchants are there following the militia around, selling guns to the locals.’

‘See? Everyone’s a cynic.’

She grinned at him. ‘I guess we are.’

‘Owain might have sent the militia for political gain, but it’s been beneficial. Reutte needed help. The local sheriffs couldn’t cope. Quite a few farming families have arrived in the city since New Year. I spoke with some of them; they were forced off their land.’

‘I know.’

‘He will come back.’

‘Thank you, Edeard. You’re a lovely man.’

After the meal they settled down to read a book Jessile had brought.
Kadril’s Voyage
, which told of the legendary merchantmen captain who’d opened up the trade route to the south, finding a navigable route through the Straits of Gathsawal. Edeard enjoyed the tales of ocean life and fights against pirates, even though he suspected the author had enlivened the tales somewhat. They took it in turns to read to each other, slowly sipping red wine as the coal in the stove hissed and snapped. Edeard felt the tensions drain away from him. This was what he wanted his life to be like. Success in the courts, pushing the gangs from the streets, then home. Not back to the maisonette, but a true home, one with Salrana, maybe. He’d even seen a few vacant buildings in Cobara and Igadi that were possibles. They would need the room eventually, he hoped, for the children. Children who would know a city without the shadow of crime and the excesses of the families; playing in streets and parks where they were safe. And it could be done, his idea had been growing since supper, expanding in that lazy way that certainties possessed.

‘You look a lot happier,’ Jessile murmured. She closed the book and leaned in against him.

‘You have a soothing voice,’ he told her.

Her nose rubbed against his cheek. ‘My voice, is it?’

‘Yes.’

‘I wish you had a piano in here. I’m quite an accomplished player, you know. Music would be extra soothing.’

It was that casual grumble which made him smile so merrily. She really had no idea how little a constable earned; on his pay it would take months for him to buy a piano. ‘We’d never get it up the stairs.’

‘Never mind.’ She kissed him, her thick hair brushing his face and neck. ‘I bought a new satin chemise today. It’s not very big, I’m afraid. Would you like to see me wearing it? Well . . . trying to wear it.’

‘Yes.’

‘Say please.’

‘Please,’ he croaked hoarsely.

She got up, showing him a truly immoral smile. ‘Back in a minute.’ She picked up the hamper and disappeared into the bathroom.

Edeard took a breath to recover. He was beaming in anticipation as he rolled off the couch and ordered the light down to a cosy glimmer. At which point he became aware of Vilby walking over the bridge into Silvarum. ‘Oh Lady, no!’ he groaned.

Other books

LUKE by Linda Cooper
Don't Bet On Love by Sheri Cobb South
Kill Me If You Can by James Patterson
Third Transmission by Jack Heath
Troll Bridge by Jane Yolen
Poison Pen by Carolyn Keene
The Vanishing by John Connor