The Temporal Void (93 page)

The fatigue really hit Edeard then. It wasn’t just his body that was exhausted by the ride back to Makkathran, the emotional turmoil he’d suffered was even more debilitating. He just wanted to curl up and go to sleep – for a very long time. The light scintillating round his hand began to fade.

‘Edeard,’ his mother said. ‘Don’t give up. Not now.’

He took a moment. ‘All right,’ he said miserably.

Salrana looked at him.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s see where this leads us to.’

The cave wasn’t always as wide as where they’d entered it. Some places they had to squeeze and push their way along, with the rock grazing their clothes. The cave took them upwards, which worried Edeard. After farsighting the tunnels diving down into the depths of Querencia he wondered just how far underground they were.

It took an hour for them to squirm and worm their way through the cave before Edeard finally saw a pale sliver of daylight up ahead. They had to crawl up a steep slope with a roof of rock barely three feet above it before they emerged into a level cave. The entrance was curtained by a thick layer of eaglevine, whose red and green leaves muted the afternoon sunlight.

Edeard sent his farsight probing through the lush vegetation to discover the cave mouth was halfway up a vertical cliff. He could sense no one outside, not even an animal. When he pushed the strands of eaglevine apart he found himself staring north-east across the Iguru Plain, with the Donsori Mountains in the distance.

‘This is one of those little volcanoes,’ he told Salrana. Far below him, a verdant forest of palms and vrollipan trees boiled around the lower slopes before giving way to the rich fields that divided up the plain. He twisted his head and looked up. ‘The top of the cliff is closer than the bottom. I think I can get there okay.’

‘Edeard! Be careful.’

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. His farsight was examining the rock below the swarm of eaglevine. It was a rugged surface, providing innumerable hand and foot holds. He stretched out and secured a grip, then began to climb.

‘I’ll scout round ahead,’ Dinlay’s soul said, and drifted upward. For the first time, Edeard began to envy the dead. The climb actually wasn’t so easy. He had to use his farsight to locate every grip, then shove his hands through the scratchy vines. It was even more difficult to get his feet through, he was constantly having to use his third hand to part the ancient rope-like cords.

Over ten minutes after leaving the cave, the tips of the vines gave way to bare rock. The cliff began to curve, and Edeard scrambled his way up off the rock and on to the slope of thin soil and reedy grasses.

He used his longtalk to tell Salrana: ‘Made it.’ His third hand gripped her carefully, and he lifted her out of the cave and up through the air.

‘I can’t see anyone,’ Dinlay said. ‘And there’s a pavilion a quarter of a mile round the mountain, where the ground flattens out a bit. Nobody home.’

‘Thank the Lady for that,’ Edeard muttered.

He settled Salrana gently beside him. She produced a nervous grin. ‘I think that was worse than the city tunnel,’ she said apologetically.

‘We need to take cover and decide what to do,’ Edeard said. ‘This way.’

The pavilion was exactly as Dinlay indicated. Belonging to some Grand Family, it was perched on a moderate slope with its front looking towards Makkathran, some fifteen miles away from the base of the volcanic cone. Built mainly from wood, its frontage was a long veranda with an overhang supported by a series of wide arches. Small polygonal turrets on each end had high sweeping roofs. Its white paint was starting to fade, splitting open to peel away on some of the long boards. Green spores were taking hold in the cracks and corners.

The doors were closed but not locked. Edeard and Salrana walked across the pavonazzeto tiling to find a building that had already been closed for the winter. Furniture had been covered in thick sheets. Shutters were bolted. The oil lamps drained. Bedding, carpets and rugs had been taken away. Tin saucers of poison laid out for vermin.

‘Not a lot of food in the kitchen,’ Salrana called out as she explored. ‘Jars of fruit preserves and some flour. I suppose I could bake a loaf if you like. There’s some wood and coal for the stove.’

Edeard had gone through the only bedroom out on to the veranda. The slope outside was in shadow now the sun was low in the sky on the other side of the volcano. He leaned on the handrail, staring out at the city. Just the sight of it produced an ache in his heart; he longed to return, to put things right. But too much had happened, Owain had destroyed everything of value. ‘No fires,’ he said. ‘Nor lights. They’ll be looking for us.’

She came out on to the veranda and put her arm round his shoulder. ‘Of course. I wasn’t thinking. What do we do?’

‘Get away,’ he said. ‘Travel into the east and find a province where the Waterwalker is just a tale from the city that nobody really believes.’

‘Aren’t you going to stay and fight?’

‘No. Owain and his kind are in power now.’

‘Nobody wanted them. People will expect you to do something.’

‘Buate was right, all I can do now is kill. That’s not the answer.’

‘But, Edeard—’

‘No.’

‘I understand,’ she said solemnly. ‘Come inside.’

He let her lead him back into the big bedroom. Edeard settled back on the fat mattress, staring up at the ceiling while Salrana went back to rummaging in the kitchen. Now he’d actually stopped moving the pain in his legs and buttocks began plaguing him. The horse ride back to Makkathran had been brutal. When he probed his tender flesh he found his trousers were damp from blood and skin fluid. It hurt, making him wince.

‘I sensed that,’ Salrana said, standing in the doorway holding on to a couple of large fruit jars.

He knew her farsight was concentrating on him, and didn’t protest.

‘Edeard! What have you done to yourself?’

‘I had to get back here,’ he said. ‘We thought I might still have time.’ He knew the tears were going to spill out again. Even now he didn’t want Salrana to witness that.

‘Eat something,’ she said, and put a jar on the bed beside him. ‘I’ll have a hunt round for some medicine; there’s bound to be some here somewhere. And, if not, I saw some falanpan leaves outside. I can make a poultice.’

Edeard didn’t have the energy to protest. The jar contained plums preserved in a sugary syrup. He ate several before she returned, holding up a tube of ointment.

‘I didn’t realize I was so hungry,’ he admitted. Then he had to grit his teeth as she gingerly stripped his trousers off. Her expression at the sight of his raw flesh wasn’t reassuring. She did her best to brush her own concern away.

‘This might sting,’ she warned, and began to rub the salve on.

Edeard had to clamp his mouth hard shut to prevent the howl from leaving his throat. ‘Lady!’ His fingers clawed the top of the mattress.

‘I’ve finished,’ she said some interminable time later. ‘That should start soothing the damage soon.’

‘I think it already has. That or you’ve burned the nerves away.’ His thighs were definitely easing.

‘Don’t be so mean,’ Salrana said smartly, and gave him a brief kiss. She pulled a furniture sheet over him. ‘You rest now, I’m going to see if I can find some clothes.’

‘Keep a look out,’ he said. ‘I need to know if anyone comes.’

‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘Nobody knows we’re here. Nobody knows we can be here.’

Edeard started to eat another plum. He was asleep before he finished.

Dreams claimed him. Not his usual bizarre visions of life elsewhere. These were his own. Mostly of Kristabel. Kristabel surrounded by flames. Men with rapid-fire guns circling round her, the roar of their weapons shattering his skull. Kristabel flying. Falling, her nightdress fluttering around her. The very same white nightdress she’d worn on the day they met. Falling down the central stairs in the ziggurat. The same stairs he’d started to reshape. Stairs that were now easy for the invaders to mount. Little Mirnatha screaming in terror as the ziggurat was consumed by the flame and bullets of the rapid-fire guns, clinging to her sister. Both of them falling from the tenth floor. A hand pushing them over the rail. Both screaming all the way to the floor. The hand was his own.

He cried out in torment. The sensation of something wrong was like a tidal wave of fear, threatening to send him plunging down into the infinite black of the abyss beneath the world. A pitiful broken thing on his way to Honious. Left behind by the Skylords. Left behind by Kristabel. Dinlay, Boyd, Macsen, Kanseen; all of them peered down from the rim. One by one they turned away.

‘No,’ he begged, pleaded, wept. ‘No, come back.’

But they wouldn’t because something was
wrong
.

He woke violently, back jerking off the bed as he clawed his way out of the abyss. Shaking with fear. It was still dark all around. Silent. He fought for breath against panic so strong it was throttling him. ‘What!’ he demanded, and sent his farsight stabbing out.

The souls of Dinlay, Kristabel and his parents were clumped together by the end of the bed. Kristabel’s arms were held out to him, radiating tangible concern.

‘What?’ he repeated as his breathing became less frantic.

‘Edeard, we’ve tried to wake you,’ Dinlay said. ‘We tried hard. But you were so tired.’

‘I’m awake.’ When he squinted through the half-open door on to the veranda, he could see nebula-light washing the white-painted rails outside with familiar pastels. It must have been close to midnight.

‘Salrana,’ Kristabel told him brokenly. ‘She betrayed you.’

‘What?’ he blurted in confusion. ‘What?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Dinlay said. ‘She has an exceptionally strong longtalk. She called Owain just after sunset. She told him where you were.’

‘Salrana? What do you mean?’

‘We couldn’t stop her,’ Kristabel said. ‘We are helpless against the living.’

‘No, no,’ Edeard said. His farsight sensed Salrana walking across the hallway.

‘Edeard?’ she said in a light voice. ‘Are you all right? I thought you were still sleeping.’

‘She called Owain,’ Kristabel insisted. ‘His men are already here. They’re coming up the mountain.’

‘They can’t be. That’s not—’

‘Who are you talking to?’ Salrana asked, she was standing in the room, giving him a curious look.

‘My wife,’ he said levelly.

Salrana’s face remained impassive. The start of surprise in her mind was minute, and well shielded. But like Edeard, she was no Makkathran native. ‘You know I can see souls,’ he said. ‘I even gifted the Pythia that particular vision. Here,’ he said, and opened his mind so she could receive his farsight.

Salrana gasped as she found herself surrounded by four souls. ‘I . . .’

Edeard slid off the bed. ‘They told me you betrayed me,’ he said in a flat voice as he approached her. ‘They told me you called Owain himself. I said they were wrong. Are they?’

Salrana took a step backwards. ‘Edeard—’

Edeard sent his farsight out from the pavilion, ranging across the side of the volcanic mountain. Using the gift dear Finitan had bestowed him to uncover concealment he exposed over twenty men approaching the wooden building, each carrying a rapid-fire weapon. Out in the darkness behind them, more teams were gathering. Then Edeard viewed the base of the mountain. Two entire militia regiments were down there, deploying around the bottom of the slope, encircling the mountain.

‘Dear Lady,’ he murmured in astonishment. ‘You really did.’ He stared at her, trying to understand. ‘Salrana, you called them!’ A note of hysteria had crept in from somewhere.

For a moment her composure held. Then she simply glared at him. ‘Yes, I called Owain.’

This can’t be happening. This is Salrana. My Salrana. The two of us together against the world.

‘Why?’ he pleaded. ‘Why did you do this? Because of Kristabel?’

Salrana gave Kristabel’s soul a contemptuous glance. ‘Jealous of that? Me? Hardly. I’m just as beautiful. Probably better in bed, too. Your loss.’

‘But . . . us.’

‘Oh you stupid country peasant. Haven’t you learned
anything
since we arrived here? Did you really think a thirteen-year-old’s crush lasts for life? That I’d be loyal to you forever?’

‘You can’t believe in Owain’s One Nation?’

‘Why can’t I? Because it doesn’t fit our wretched backward provincial upbringing? This is how the world works, Edeard. Can’t you see that? The Grand Families already have wealth and power, and with Owain’s leadership it will grow even stronger. I can be a part of that. I can make myself part of that. Did you think you were the only one with ambition?’

‘This is not you,’ he said through growing anguish. ‘These are not Salrana’s words. Not your thoughts.’

‘You are so weak. Even now you could claim the city for yourself. You have the power, the strength to make this world your own. Why don’t you?’

‘No one person can rule a world.’

She gave a disgusted snort of contempt. ‘Humility, the refuge of the weak.’

‘The Lady teaches decency.’

‘And what has her church ever achieved except for instilling a decent sense of obedience in the lower orders?’

‘Now I know that’s not you. Who did this to you? Who changed you?’

‘I changed myself. I finally understood the world and set out to make something of myself in it. After all, you found your Grand Family bitch.’ She waved dismissively at Kristabel’s soul. ‘A good way in to the Upper Council for someone so spineless. Why shouldn’t I have some of the same? I’ve been screwing people who can help me; the ones who hate you are easy to take advantage of. And greatest among those is Owain himself. Did you know he has eight mistresses, but I’m the one he turns to now? He likes it. He likes having me, the Waterwalker’s childhood friend. I saw how resolute and determined he is, so much more than you. He’s smarter, too. You have your virtue, he has ambition and fire and power and wealth, and, above all, vision. He will be an emperor, uniting the whole world as One Nation. I will have a big part of that, I will be Pythia, he promised me that. Our children will be born to positions of privilege and power.’