The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle
Page 38
“I cannot accept you into the guild at that level. I know this seems intolerably harsh, Edeard, but there are formalities which even I have to follow.”
Edeard was aware that his cheeks were burning. It was not quite anger, but all he could think of was the pettiness of the Guild Master back in Thorpe-by-Water. Surely the Grand Master, the leader of the whole Eggshaper Guild, could not be so small-minded; what he said was law to the guild. “I see.”
“I doubt it, but I do sympathize with the exasperation you must feel. I will be delighted to accept you into the guild here in Makkathran, Edeard, but it must be as a junior apprentice. I cannot make exceptions, especially not in your case.”
“What do you mean?”
“To acknowledge your journeymen status without a formal letter from your Master will lay me open to a charge of favoritism from others on the guild council.”
“Politics,” Topar said.
“I understand,” Edeard whispered. He was frightened that he was going to burst into tears in front of them. To get to Makkathran, to be in the presence of the Grand Master, and then to be told that all he had achieved was worthless because he lacked a piece of paper … “Pardon me, but that’s stupid, sir,” he said sullenly.
“It’s much worse than that. But I appreciate your politeness, my boy.”
Edeard sniffed and wiped his nose. “How long would it take me to get back to being a journeyman?”
“Here at the Blue Tower and assuming you have the appropriate talent: seven years. Appointing you a journeyman at your age was … ambitious even for Akeem, but at the same time so very typical of him.”
“Seven years,” Edeard repeated numbly. Seven years of repeating every lesson and knowledge gift he’d ever undergone, seven years of having to hold himself back, seven years of obedience to journeymen less able than himself. Seven years!
“I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not even using farsight,” Finitan said gently. “It is a terrible thing to ask you to undergo.”
“I’m not sure I can,” Edeard said. “I thought when I came here that I wanted nothing more than to be a part of the guild, but now … These formalities. Akeem always said I would find them difficult. I thought he was teasing.”
“Listen to me, Edeard,” Finitan said, “for I am about to say something which borders on the sacrilegious.”
“Sir?”
“The hierarchy we have in the guilds—not just ours but all guilds—exists for those who seek to further themselves within our political system. Talent in your chosen field plays a part, but always it is a matter of money and politics. That is the way things are here in the capital. If you were not born into a grand family and have ambition, then you join a guild and fight your way to the top. Now consider that very carefully because this is a choice that will decide the rest of your life for you: Is the Eggshaper Guild what you truly want? It is what I wanted, and I have achieved my goal. I am Grand Master. But look at the battles I have to fight on every level. I am surrounded with so many people seeking the same thing, seeking this seat in this office, that I cannot make an exception for someone as gifted as yourself because a hundred years ago I had a Master who went on to teach you. Is that sanity, Edeard? Is that the life you want for yourself? To have a dozen such considerations every day, to be unable to put a foot wrong, to continue a tradition no matter how dry and worthless it is because that is what supports you? To be unable to change, even though change was the one thing above all that used to drive you? That is what I am, Edeard; that is what Topar is. I despair of myself at times, of how helpless I have become, entrapped in the very system I once wanted to alter and improve.”
“But sir, if you can’t make changes, who can?”
“Nobody can, Edeard. Not now, not in these times. Our society is mature. Change is instability. That is why every institution we have resists change. To maintain the status quo is our sole objective in life.”
“That’s wrong.”
“Yes, it is. But what do you want to do about it? Do you want to spend seven years working your ass off to become a journeyman, to make that first real step toward receiving Master status, at which point your talent is irrelevant and the politicking begins in earnest? You build allies and make enemies on every council on which you sit in order to gain greater power and control. But it is only power and control over the councils. Ultimately it amounts to very little.”
“Are you saying I should go back and join the caravan?”
“No. My offer to admit you to the guild is genuine and remains open while I am Grand Master. Who knows? Maybe you will make a difference if you make it to this office. I should tell you now that nobody under a hundred years old has ever sat here.”
“I don’t know,” Edeard said helplessly.
“There is one alternative. You already know how to sculpt eggs. By joining the guild you would be acknowledging that your life is now oriented to a political goal. However, the city constables are always seeking recruits. It is a noble profession. My position on the Upper Council allows me to sponsor you into their ranks. They would delight in accepting someone with such a strong third hand. And this city desperately needs men of good stature to enforce the law. Without that we will all become nothing.”
“A constable?” He was not even sure what a constable was.
“Even a city as sophisticated as Makkathran has crime, Edeard. Decent people, especially those in the poorer districts, live in fear of gangs that roam the streets at night. Merchants suffer thefts and increase their prices accordingly, which injures everyone. You would be helping people directly—and immediately. Unlike the other guilds, constable apprentices are not tucked away out of sight toiling to make their Master’s life easy. The hierarchy of the constables is a lot less complex than that of any normal guild. The prospect for advancement is good. You’re smart and strong. I will not delude you that it is an easy life, for it is not. But you’ve even been in a real life-or-death fight, which is more than any other recruit has done. You should do well.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Of course not. I didn’t expect you to give me an answer immediately. You need time to think about your future. What you decide now determines the rest of your life. Why don’t you escort your friend to her church, then take a good look around. Get a feel for the city before you make up your mind. If you want to give the constables a try, longtalk Topar here, and we will arrange for your admission.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You are welcome. And Edeard.”
“Sir?”
“I’m glad Akeem had such a gifted pupil at the end. It wouldn’t have been easy for him in Ashwell; you must have helped enrich his life considerably.”
“Thank you.” Edeard rose from the seat, knowing his time was up.
“Sir? Why did Akeem leave the Blue Tower?”
Finitan smiled fondly. “He was like you, my boy. He wanted to make a difference, to help people. Here, he could do very little. Outside our crystal wall, in Ashwell, I suspect he had a profound effect on the lives of the villagers.”
“Yes, sir; he did.”
“What happened in there?” Salrana demanded when Edeard reappeared in the anteroom. “You don’t seem very happy.”
“I’m not,” he admitted, and picked up his shoulder bag. “Come on. We need to get you to the church before nightfall. I’ll tell you what happened on the way.”
“You can’t give up,” Salrana said as they crossed a bridge over Grove Canal into the Eyrie district, her voice pleading. “Not after so much.”
“Finitan was right, though. What’s the point? I can already shape eggs as well as just about anyone. If I join the guild, I’ll be doing it to climb up the hierarchy, nothing else. And what’s there even if I do become Grand Master? Sitting at the top of a tower organizing the guild while everyone else on the council waits for me to make a mistake. I’d have a million enemies and no friends, and nothing will change. I won’t be helping anyone. Remember Ashw
ell, what it was like before people accepted that the genistars could improve their life? Well, Makkathran is a thousand years along from that. You can’t shape better genistars; you can’t increase the amount in use here.”
“Then when you become Grand Master, you must push genistars out on people next to the wild lands. The Eggshaper Guild can still make a difference to everyone beyond the Iguru plain. You’ve seen what life’s like in the distant provinces. Make it better for them, Edeard; make their life as easy as it is for everyone here.”
“It’s too much,” he said. “I can’t do it, Salrana. Most of all, I can’t stand seven years as an apprentice again. I just can’t. I’ve learned the guild teachings; I’ve been on the road fending for myself for a year. Any position less than journeyman would be a huge step backward for me. I’m sorry.” He could see Akeem shaking his head in that weary way of his. The guilt was terrible.
She stroked his cheek, which brought astonished glances from passersby. “I’m not going to give up on you. And I’m certainly not going to let you give up on your own dream. Not after what we’ve been through.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said spryly.
He glanced up at the strangely twisted spires that jutted out of the ground like gigantic stalagmites. Even the smallest was higher than the Blue Tower. There were no windows or balconies, just a single entrance at ground level leading to a central spiral stair. Right at the tip, they flared out into broad platforms that looked terribly unstable, as if they would snap off at any second.
After the madcap bustle of the other districts they had experienced, Eyrie was almost deserted by comparison. With night falling, the devout were making their way to the central church of the Empyrean Lady for the evening service of prayer and thanksgiving. Light was beginning to shine out of crevices in the crinkled towers around them, washing the hard ground in a pale tangerine illumination. Edeard regarded it curiously, realizing it was the same glow that had lit his way up the stairs of the Blue Tower; somehow the city material emitted it without heat.
“Where will you go tonight?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Find a cheap tavern with a room, I suppose.”
“Oh, Edeard, you’ll be so lonely there. Why don’t you go back to the caravan? Anyone there will be happy to lend you a cot.”
“No,” he said firmly. “I won’t go back.”
She pressed her teeth together in dismay. “Your pride will be the end of you.”
He smiled. “Probably.”
The Lady’s central church was impressive: a large cloud-white dome with the top third made of the same crystal as the city wall. Three wings radiated out from the middle, lined with balconies.
“I’m here,” Salrana said in wonder. Tears glinted in her eyes, and her mind shone with happiness. “The Lady herself lived the last years of her life here. Can you feel how sacrosanct this ground is? It’s all real, Edeard; the Lady’s message to the word is real.”
“I know,” he said.
The main door to the church was wide open, shining a broad fan of rose-gold light across the broad plaza outside. Several Mothers dressed in splendid white-and-silver robes stood on the threshold to give a personal welcome to their congregation. Salrana straightened her shoulders and walked up to the first. There followed a long conversation on which Edeard did his best not to eavesdrop. It culminated with the Mother embracing Salrana. Another two Mothers hurried over at her longtalk call. They all began chattering excitedly around the suddenly overwhelmed girl.
Salrana turned, holding an arm out to Edeard. “They’ll take me in,” she said, her face suffused with delight.
“That’s good,” he said softly.
“Come, child,” said the first Mother, and put her arm protectively around Salrana. “Young man.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“We commend you for aiding our lost soul. May the Lady bless you for what you have done.”
He did not know what to say, so he just ducked his head gracelessly.
“Will you stay for the service?”
“I, er, have to get to my lodgings, thank you.” He backed away and turned, walking quickly across the plaza.
“Don’t forget,” Salrana’s longtalk voice chided him. “Talk to me first thing tomorrow. I want to know that you’re all right.”
“I will.”
Even with the cold orange light shining down from the twisted towers, he was unnerved walking through the empty district. The dark upper sections of the towers formed black silhouettes against the glowing night sky. His mind kept firmly focused on the warm aura of human minds on the other side of the Grove Canal. Before he reached any bridge, he came to a decision. His farsight strained to reach the Blue Tower. The sparks of minds were very hard to distinguish through its walls, but he persevered and eventually found one he recognized.
“Excuse me, sir,” he longtalked to Topar.
There was a small burst of surprise from the man, quickly smothered. “Where are you, Edeard?”
“In Eyrie, sir.”
“And you farsighted me through the walls of the Blue Tower from there?”
“Er, yes, sir.”
“Of course you did. So what can I do for you?”
“I know this probably seems sudden to you, sir, but I have thought over what the Grand Master said to me. I’d like to join the constables. There’s nothing else for me here.”
“Yes, we did make that promise to you, didn’t we? Very well. Report to the main constable station in the Jeavons district. By the time you get there, they will be expecting you. Your letter of sponsorship will be with the captain in the morning.”
“Yes, sir. Please thank the Grand Master for me, sir. I’ll not let him down.”
“Somehow, Edeard, I don’t think you will. One word of advice from a lifelong citizen of Makkathran.”
“Sir?”
“Don’t let your fellow constables realize how strong you are, not at first. It may attract the wrong kind of interest. Politics, remember?”
“I remember, sir.”
“Get up, you little turds!”
Edeard groaned, immensely tired, blinking against the orange light flooding into the dormitory. His thoughts were a confused whirl as reality intruded into the shrinking dream.
“Come on. Up! I haven’t got the time to nurse you pathetic tits. If you can’t even get up in the morning, what use are you? None. Which doesn’t surprise me in any respect. I want every one of you dressed and in the small hall in five minutes. Anyone who doesn’t make it before I close the doors can piss off right back home to your mummy again. Now move it.”
“Whaa—?” Edeard managed. Someone walked past the end of his bed and whacked his feet with a truncheon. “Ouch!”
“If you think that hurt, wait till I get to work on your feelings, farm boy.”
Edeard hurriedly pushed the blanket down and rolled out. There were six bed alcoves in the dorm room; only two were empty. He had met the other constable recruits the previous night at a quick session before Chae, their squad’s training sergeant, marched in and barked at them to shut up and get some sleep “because you’ve got an early start in the morning.”
As he struggled into his shirt, Edeard suspected it was Chae who’d just woken them. The voice was familiar.
“He’s got to be kidding,” said Boyd, a tall lad with lank blond hair and large ears. The fourth son of a baker in the Jeavons district not far from the station, he was in his early twenties, and as he had seen his older brother take on more and more of the bake house, he finally had acknowledged that he was not going to inherit any part of the family business. His sisters were married, and his other brothers all had left the district to forge their own way forward. He lacked their entrepreneurial streak, so decided the only way out was the guilds or signing up with either the militia or the constables. He did not have the money to buy into the militia, and his psychic talents were limited.
Edeard shoved his bare feet into his boots. “We’d better do as he says, at least until we figure out how serious the officers are,” he said. He looked at the locker beside the cot where his shoulder bag was resting and briefly wondered if it would be safe. Not that there was much of value inside. And anyway, this is a constable station.
“Chae’s serious, all right,” Dinlay said. Their final roommate was also a youngest son, but his father was a constable. As such, Dinlay was the only one to have a uniform already. He was doing up the silver buttons on the front of his dark blue tunic. The little metal circles had been polished to a sheen, as had his black ankle-high boots. The trousers were pressed, showing a sharp crease down the front. It was not a new uniform, but one had to look carefully to see any wear. Dinlay had told them the previous night that it used to belong to his father when he had been a probationary constable. Of the four of them, he seemed to be the only one enthusiastic about their new profession. He used a longtalk whisper to tell them: “Father said Sergeant Chae is a heavy drinker. He was sent to this station because he’s screwed up everywhere else in the city.”
“So they put him in charge of training recruits?” Macsen exclaimed.
Dinlay winced, glancing about uncomfortably. “Not so loud. He doesn’t like being reminded he threw his career away.”
Boyd chuckled. “Career. In the constables. Aren’t you the comedian.”
Dinlay gave him an angry look before putting on his wire-rimmed glasses. There was something about him that reminded Edeard of Fahin: not just his short-sight problem but the way he was so dedicated to his life choice yet at the same time so obviously was not cut out for it.