The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  A couple of sailors in their traditional magenta-colored half cloaks walked through the square, oblivious to him. He grinned at their backs and set off in the opposite direction.

  The House of Blue Petals fronted the Upper Tail Canal, looking directly across the warehouse domes of the port. It was a four-story establishment with a vermiculated facade, the oval windows surrounded by onyxlike anthemion friezes. Protruding from the upper slope of its mansard roof were several hemispherical windows, as if it had grown giant eyes to peer up at the nebulae of Querencia’s skies. Edeard frowned up at them, puzzled by the faint violet glow that emanated from within. It had been a long time since he’d seen anything other than Makkathran’s ubiquitous orange glow at night.

  The three tall doorways of the ground floor were all open. The sound of piano music was spilling out into the street, accompanied by laughter and loud voices. Doormen in black jackets similar to constable tunics stood on either side of each heavy wooden door. Edeard held his breath and slipped past them, watching anxiously to see if they could sense him. One of them frowned, looking around at some phantom disturbance, but didn’t raise any challenge.

  Half of the ground floor was a bar, with the piano in the middle hammering out a jolly tune. Smartly dressed stewards mixed cocktails behind a long polished counter, and groomed ge-monkeys delivered the drinks. Polished tables were accompanied by high-backed leather armchairs where the customers relaxed with a drink as they waited for the madam to come around. Two big black iron stoves on opposite sides threw out a comforting heat as coal blazed away behind their grilles. The room was a high one, taking up two floors, with a wooden gallery running around it. Girls with strangely stiff curly hair leaned over the railing, wearing low-cut, brightly colored dresses, grinning at the men below as they made eye contact and blew kisses and made saucy longtalk calls.

  Edeard watched the wide wooden stairs that had been fixed to the wall, seeing who was going up and coming down. It wasn’t just sailors who visited Ivarl’s establishment; judging by the clothes, a large proportion were men from the guilds and families. He even saw a couple of militia officers in their sharp blue and scarlet uniforms. No constables, though. Probably can’t afford it.

  He waited, getting a feel for the routine and probing about with his farsight. The madam would go from table to table, sharing a few pleasant words with the clientele. There would be a brief discussion about the girls, with some customers requesting an old favorite, and some taking their pick from the gallery. A fee was handed over discreetly, or for regulars an addition was made to their accounts, and as soon as the man had finished his drink, he’d go upstairs to be greeted by the courtesan he’d chosen.

  After a couple of minutes standing near the foot of the stairs, Edeard followed a carpentry guildsman up to the gallery. The selected courtesan flounced along to throw her arms around the guildsman in welcome. They headed off down one of the side corridors. Edeard hurried past the other girls, startled by how strong their perfume was; it made him worry he might sneeze. Then he was wiggling through an archway shielded by curtains. That was the most difficult part, trying to disguise the motion of the thick red velvet.

  On the other side was an unembellished corridor leading back to stairs that took him up to the third floor. He’d sensed the layout of the rooms up there, where over thirty people were gathered in groups. Ivarl was easy enough to discern; Edeard wasn’t going to forget his mind in a hurry.

  Edeard didn’t bother with the door; opening it unseen would be impossible. Instead he asked the city to change a section of the wall and ghosted his way through. The gang master was holding court in a long room at the end of the building. Four of the grandiose oval windows looked out eastward to the Lyot Sea. Tonight they were covered by thick curtains. A green enamel stove burned hot in the corner, making Edeard wish he wasn’t wearing his coat. Nobody else in the room was wearing one.

  Ivarl’s gray shirt was unbuttoned, showing off a thick mat of hair on his chest. His boots were off, resting against the side of the deep-cushioned leather settee on which he was lounging. Seven other men were in attendance. Their fine clothes emphasized the illusion of their belonging to some Grand Family or merchant house. It was an image Edeard couldn’t get rid of, as if they’d somehow established a guild for their criminality and enjoyed the same benefits as any of Makkathran’s legitimate enterprises. When he’d first learned of the gangs, he’d assumed they’d consist of sour-faced men in shabby clothes meeting furtively in dark underground rooms, not this.

  There was a table along one wall; gold and silver platters were laden with food every bit as delicious as that served in a Lillylight restaurant. It complemented a selection of wine from estates Edeard had never heard of.

  Three girls were walking around with bottles, filling up the cut-crystal goblets held by the men. They were wearing long diaphanous skirts and simple suede slippers—nothing else. Edeard stared, feeling mildly guilty, as if he’d deliberately snuck into their bedrooms. Lady, you stupid country boy. What did you think girls would wear in a place like this? Then he really looked at them. Two were the girls who’d accompanied Ivarl to the court that morning. The third …

  Edeard couldn’t stifle the little groan of dismay that escaped from his throat. Luckily, the men didn’t hear him over their conversation. It was Nanitte, the dancer Macsen had brought back to his maisonette the night before the ambush at Birmingham Pool. Now, that was scary. Ivarl clearly operated at a level that had completely eluded Edeard. This room was the right setting for the gang master, after all; he was smart and sophisticated, with money and an unseen influence that extended a great deal further than Edeard liked to think about.

  Edeard had come there in the hope of overhearing a few incriminating conversations. Now he knew that Ivarl wasn’t going to be removed simply by a couple of well-planned arrests and some raids. If he was going to do this, take out Ivarl and ruin the gangs, he was going to have to sharpen his own act considerably. He would have to learn how Ivarl functioned, where his interests lay, who his friends were. With a depressing sensation, Edeard guessed that the gang master could never have grown to this stature without help from the city’s establishment.

  One thing at a time.

  He strengthened his concealment and settled down to listen.

  It snowed the day after New Year. Big soft flakes slid down out of a gray sky, deadening the sound of the city. Edeard bathed early, then ate a decent breakfast of scrambled eggs and grilled bacon with some slices of Orkby black pudding thrown in the frying pan along with his mushrooms. He was pretty certain he wasn’t going to get any lunch today. When he dressed, he made sure his new thickened drosilk waistcoat was fastened properly, then added a pair of drosilk undertrousers. There could well be a lot of resistance from the gang members during the raid, and he knew that over half of them were armed with pistols.

  He went out onto the walkway to finish his mug of tea, looking down onto the pool in the central oval courtyard. Snowflakes sank silently into the still surface as strands of vapor rose. The water was too warm to freeze but not warm enough for any of the kids to swim in. Edeard had thought about increasing the pool’s temperature, as he’d done with his own maisonette, but again he’d resisted for fear of drawing attention to his ability.

  Boyd and Dinlay came along the walkway, their cheeks flushed by the cold air. Dinlay as always was immaculately turned out, with a regulation knee-length coat exactly the same color as his tunic; even the silver buttons were the same size and shape. Boyd had chosen a brown leather greatcoat, quilted on the inside. Edeard had admired it so much, he’d gone to the same shop in Cobara district to get himself one.

  “Everything okay?” Dinlay asked anxiously. Since his return to duties two months ago, he’d been working hard to prove himself to his squadmates. Too keen, really, but they’d all gritted their teeth and waited until he lost his manic edge.

  Edeard was praying to the Lady that this raid would make Dinlay feel like a full m
ember of the team again, and he had one last trick to make that a reality. “No movement. The ge-eagles have been watching the street all night. Trukal and Harawold are still inside. Lian is with his girlfriend in Sampalok.”

  “What about Ivarl?”

  “Where he always is,” Edeard said. He was actually surprised by how little Ivarl ventured out of the House of Blue Petals, but then, anyone he wanted to see responded quickly to his summons. There were Grand Council Masters who didn’t command that much respect. On the plus side, that made it a lot easier for Edeard to keep watch on his opponent; by now he knew the House of Blue Petals better than any building in Makkathran except Jeavons station.

  For the last two weeks he’d eavesdropped on the plans for their robbery in Vaji district. It was audacious and impressive: to break into the Chemistry Guild yard during New Year’s Eve and steal their stockpile of platinum ingots. The planning was meticulous, involving more than twenty gang members and four gondoliers. They’d gathered guard rosters, bribed a couple of guild members to leave certain doors open, lined up girls to make sure other strategic people were away from their posts. They’d even staged a fight in a tavern to occupy constables from Vaji station. What could be more natural than a drunken brawl on New Year’s Eve?

  Once he’d learned all that, the real maneuvering game began. Edeard told the squads under his command that he’d gotten a source in Ivarl’s gang and that there was a robbery being arranged. That took less than a day to get back to the gang master, and the resulting friction and suspicion it unleashed among otherwise trusted lieutenants was a joy to behold. Then Edeard convinced Ronark to allow the robbery to go ahead, promising that his source had revealed the hideaway where the ingots were to be stashed. That was where the constables’ raid should take place, he insisted, after they’d let the gang think they’d gotten away with it. Hopefully, senior gang members would be lured to the hideaway as they began to fence the platinum to unscrupulous merchants and loose-moraled jewelers.

  After that, Ivarl called in Trukal and Lian to announce a slight change of plan that only the three of them would know about. Edeard almost laughed out loud as they quietly plotted their reverse deception. All the deceit and countertrickery was starting to muddle his head, but this wasn’t about the robbery anymore. It was about him and Ivarl going head-on. Watching Ivarl from within his concealment, he could see his adversary knew that, too.

  Kanseen and Macsen arrived outside Edeard’s maisonette. They looked eager.

  “No hangover?” Edeard inquired lightly.

  “Not from last night,” Macsen said. “I have an example to set to the rest of your squads. I was in bed by nine o’clock with a cup of hot chocolate.” He winked at Boyd. “Alisool knows how to make really good chocolate.”

  Kanseen wrinkled her nose. “Lady preserve us from your ego.”

  “Let’s go,” Edeard told them.

  When they got to the Jeavons station, the two other squads that were under Edeard’s command were waiting for them in the small hall. Everybody was sharing the same anticipatory glow. Droal and Urarl, the squad leaders, both saluted, and Edeard returned the gesture scrupulously. He was doing his best not to direct any attention toward Vilby.

  “Everything all right?” Urarl asked. He was a couple of years older than Edeard, a third son from a smithy in the Cobara district. Strictly speaking, he’d been due promotion, though he never showed any resentment toward Edeard for making corporal first.

  “They haven’t moved,” Edeard assured everyone in the hall.

  “Chae’s team has been observing them all night. The ingots are there waiting for us, and we’ve identified seventeen gang members involved. The courts are going to be very busy this afternoon.”

  Captain Ronark led another three squads into the small hall. “Ready to go?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Edeard said.

  “Here’s your weapons certificate,” the station commander said, handing over a small parchment with his official seal. “I’ve just longtalked with the commanders of Neph and Bellis stations; they’re reserving some squads to assist with the arrests. Good move, that. Don’t want to put their noses out of joint.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Edeard looked up as Probationary Constable Felax hurried into the room. The lad was only seventeen; he’d joined up just after Birmingham Pool, along with twenty others. Chae claimed his life was now a nightmare trying to train so many worthless screwups. Privately, of course, he was loving it.

  “All the warrants signed, sir,” Felax said. “Judge Salby says good luck.”

  Edeard put the warrants into his pocket without looking at them. “You can stay with us for today; we’ll need runners.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Felax said worshipfully.

  “Okay, your attention, please,” Edeard said, stepping onto a bench. “The ingots taken from the Chemistry Guild are sitting underneath a house in Whitemire Street in Sampalok. They’re being guarded by five or six armed gang members; however, we expect more gang members to arrive this morning to begin distributing them to dodgy merchants across the city. Keeping the ingots in one place is risky for them, so we need to move in after those carriers arrive and before they leave. That will give us the maximum amount of people to arrest. Once we have recovered the ingots, we’ll also be arresting everyone involved in the crime, but I have to stress we need the ingots as evidence. The first time I was in court with Arminel taught me that.”

  A ripple of laughter went around the room.

  “We have three ge-eagles and ten ge-hounds from this station as backup, and in addition we’ll have a number of other squads from

  Bellis and Neph. We know some of the gang members are armed, which is why we’re being issued pistols, but please only use them as a last resort. I don’t want any casualties. This is a big operation, and it’s going to send a very loud New Year message from us constables to the gangs that this is going to be their last year in Makkathran.” Macsen and Dinlay led the applause and whistles.

  “It’s going to be total chaos,” Macsen said as they made their way down the Great Major Canal on a gondola; another four gondolas were following them, carrying the rest of the squads.

  “Why?” Dinlay demanded irately. “Edeard has done a great job organizing this.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who has responsibility when we arrive? The squads from Bellis and Neph are going to want to grab the credit, and they’ll be led by sergeants. No disrespect, Edeard, but there are too many constables involved. The squads aren’t used to working as a big team.”

  “I know,” Edeard said. He sat back happily in the gondola and smiled up at the sky. It had stopped snowing, with the clouds starting to clear. Strong fingers of winter sunlight were stabbing down to glare on the snow-clad buildings of the city. With people starting to return to work after the New Year holiday, Makkathran had an air of clean expectation. He liked that.

  “What are you up to?” Kanseen asked suspiciously.

  “Actually, it’s a lot worse than Macsen says,” Edeard said cheerfully. He glanced back at the gondolier, who was trying not to show too much obvious interest, and leaned forward to whisper to his friends. “The gang knows we’re coming.”

  “How?” Boyd asked.

  “My source told me.” In fact, the link was a simple one. Three nights each week Vilby paid a visit to a private room in the Black Horse tavern, where Nanitte was waiting for him.

  “Who in the Lady’s name is this source?” Macsen demanded. “Everything we’ve done these last weeks is governed by what they’ve told us—you!”

  “Can’t tell you.” Edeard hadn’t quite summoned up the courage to tell Macsen. Of course, Macsen probably wouldn’t even remember Nanitte.

  Macsen growled and slumped back.

  “So what do we do?” Dinlay asked.

  “Use their arrogance against them.”

  The squads from Bellis and Neph were waiting on the bridge by Mid Pool. Edeard’s gondola pulled in to a mooring platform, and he
got off to consult with the two sergeants in charge. Macsen had been right; their eagerness was palpable. Edeard knew they wouldn’t follow his polite requests to coordinate with him. It would end up in a rush to make the arrests. He took out a map and showed them where the suspect house was in Whitemire Street, and they agreed to a pincer movement with their squads going through Pholas Park while Edeard took his across Myco so that they could converge on the hideaway from opposite sides. If the gang members sensed them coming, they’d still be trapped.

  Edeard’s gondola carried on down Great Major Canal, with Bellis on one side and Sampalok on the other. The difference was pronounced. Along the canal, the cylindrical buildings of Bellis were roofed by long twisting spires; cuplike Juliet balconies bulged out of the walls as if they’d sagged open.

  Sampalok was made up of big tenements not dissimilar to the one Edeard lived in, except these were three or four times the size and the maisonettes were smaller. Families here were packed in tight. The broad streets circling the tenements were cluttered with rubbish; the district’s ge-monkey sanitation teams seemed unable to cope. It was worse than Ashwell had been. That would be a good starting point, Edeard thought: improve basic living conditions, give people higher expectations. So why doesn’t the District Master do something?

  As if reflecting their surroundings, the residents close to the canal stared sullenly at the gondolas carrying the constables. They spit into the water and made obscene gestures. A few third hands nudged at the little craft. Gangs of kids jeered when they saw the uniforms.