The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “Right.”

  “This technique works through your own weakness. Parts of us should always stay buried, Edeard. Common decency is normally enough to keep those kinds of thoughts suppressed, but once they’ve been kindled, it’s hard to put them aside again.”

  “I know,” he said miserably.

  Dybal’s hand gripped his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Listen, there is no shame in possessing these thoughts; we all have them. If some little vixen managed to sneak through your defenses and fired them up one night, then that’s a lesson learned, and a valuable one at that. The fact that it disturbed you this much is a pretty clear sign that it’s not part of your natural personality, which is encouraging to me, if not to you. And I have faith enough in you to think you’re strong enough to survive a crisis of conscience. But just in case, here’s a recognition gift; it should help warn you if anyone tries that little trick again.”

  Edeard examined the burst of thoughts Dybal shot at him, memorizing the technique. “Thank you.”

  “Now get yourself back onto those streets and generally kick the shit out of Ivarl and his cronies.”

  Nobody in the squad said much as they all walked back across four districts to the constable station in Jeavons. Edeard just knew there was going to be a big argument when they got there. Macsen was going to pick a fight no matter what. Bijulee had been too much. That meant Edeard was going to have to do something, and he was starting to feel bad about not trusting them with the real enormity of everything he’d discovered. If the next couple of hours went wrong, everything they’d achieved would be over.

  There were a couple of other constables in the small hall; they took a fast scan of the suppressed emotions seething through the squad and hurriedly made their exit. The thick wooden doors slammed shut. Edeard raised his eyebrow at that. Someone’s third hand was adrenaline-powered today.

  He unbuttoned his cloak’s neck clasp and sat at his customary bench at the top end of the hall.

  “My mother!” Macsen said brutally.

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah? That’s all you can say? Yeah?”

  “Did you really think Ivarl wouldn’t try to apply some pressure?”

  “Pressure! Lady be damned, that was my mother they used as a punching bag. My mother!”

  “It’s his way of trying to get to me,” Edeard said quietly. His hand went to his cheek of its own accord, stroking the tender flesh. “You’re the only friends I’ve got, my one vulnerability. He’s bound to use that as hard as he can.”

  “Yes,” Kanseen said so wistfully that Edeard shot her a curious glance. She shrugged. “My sister was hassled last week. She was carrying Dium at the time.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Edeard exclaimed bitterly.

  “Trust, probably,” Macsen said viciously.

  “Oh …” Edeard flung his hands up in dismay. “In the Lady’s name!”

  “We thought we were in this together, Edeard. We were with you at Birmingham Pool, remember? Does that mean nothing to you?”

  “It means everything!” Edeard shouted. Finally he was too distraught to keep himself in check.

  They all swayed back as his doubts and confusions blazed out. He made an effort, gritting his teeth and placing his hands palm down on the old wood of the table. “Sorry,” he told their shocked expressions.

  “Edeard, in the Lady’s name, what’s wrong?” Boyd pleaded. “What happened to you, to your face? And why won’t you talk to us anymore?”

  “He didn’t trust us with the Myco warehouse,” Macsen said harshly. “Why should he trust us with anything else?”

  “You’re such an ass,” Kanseen snapped at Macsen.

  “I do trust you,” Edeard said; even to him it sounded like a bored recital. “I got burned when I was sneaking around the House of Blue Petals. That’s all. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  “You went there by yourself?” Kanseen asked disapprovingly.

  “Yeah. It’s how I’ve been keeping track of Ivarl.”

  “That’s dangerous,” Boyd said. “Edeard, you can’t do that on your own.”

  Macsen let out a scornful grunt. “He’s the Waterwalker; he can do anything. He doesn’t need us holding him back, do you?”

  Edeard sighed. This was worse than he’d steeled himself for. “The warehouse raid was the most public thing we’d ever attempted. Ivarl had laid a trap; he was going to make us—me!—a laughingstock. The whole thing was set up to destroy my credibility. I just used some misdirection. There were over a hundred constables involved, and we didn’t know half of them. If everyone had known, it would never have worked.”

  “We’re not everyone,” Macsen barked. “We’re your friends, your squad. Or so I thought.”

  “Hey, ease up,” Dinlay said. “It was good procedure.”

  “Yeah, well, I expected you to take his side.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “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 spit 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 that 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 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 toward 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 had hopes. I couldn’t stand it if they 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 around 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 it 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 defense counsels 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 around Edeard to congratulate him. Then they had to make way for Grand Master Imilan of the Chemistry Guild, who had been in the court 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 fully 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 and 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 onto 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 round of questions and doubt. How he longed for things to be as they had been before Birmingham Pool. Life had been so much simpler then.

  “Put your feet on the stool. I’ll pull your boots off.”

  He leaned 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. That 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 Edeard—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 that 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 have nowhere to run to anymore. 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 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’s 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 them somewhat. They took turns reading 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 possibilities. 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 the lazy way that certainties possessed.