The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “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 that 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 cozy glimmer, at which point he became aware of Vilby walking over the bridge into Silvarum. “Oh, Lady, no!” he groaned.

  “What’s the matter?” Jessile called out.

  “Er, I’m really sorry about this, but—”

  The squad was waiting where Edeard had told them, huddled together under an overhanging wall on Golard Street, where the pavement was only four feet wide. It was dark, with the nearest light coming from behind the undulations of a nebulous molding on the wall two houses down.

  “Saria was furious with me,” Boyd was saying. “It was her great-aunt’s annual ball; half the District Master families were there.” He was dressed in a splendid cerise frock coat with a white shirt that was all lace frills. Silver buckles gleamed on his knee-length boots.

  “Sounds like you’re making social progress,” Kanseen said. Her face wore a faint frown; she was glancing along the street as if searching for something.

  “I didn’t know he was going to call us away so suddenly.”

  “He was really worried about this,” Macsen said. “That’s not like our great Waterwalker.”

  “Well, you didn’t help,” Dinlay said. “Not the way you were shouting at Edeard the other day. All those wild accusations …”

  “Hey, I’m entitled,” Macsen said, raising a finger for emphasis and waving it right in front of Dinlay’s face. “That was my mother they attacked. And it’s his fault.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Oh, yeah? If he knows so much like he claims, then he should have warned us. If I’d known what was happening, I could have stopped those thugs from attacking my mother.”

  “We didn’t tell him what was happening to us,” Kanseen said. “We’re all to blame.”

  “He doesn’t trust us. He couldn’t even be bothered telling us about the ge-eagles. We’re his decoys, that’s all.”

  Edeard dissolved his concealment, appearing beside Macsen’s shoulder. “No, you’re not.”

  “Ho, Lady!” Macsen jumped back in shock.

  “Where in Honious did you come from?” Dinlay demanded.

  “I’ve been here all the time.”

  “You heard …?” Macsen’s thin face blushed hotly.

  “Now do you understand? This is not a game. I want to change this city. I want your help to do that.”

  “And you think that’s the way to get it?” Macsen asked.

  “If a couple of insults and a bad temper can put an end to this squad, then we were never going to achieve anything. We were just some kids thrown together with nothing special holding us. I’m hoping that’s not true. I’m not pretending I don’t have a weakness. I made an idiot of myself chasing girls. I’m too frightened to tell you everything I know about Ivarl. I didn’t know how to handle the warehouse raid, so I went along with Ronark’s suggestion. And I’m certainly not sure where we go from here, although I’ve got an idea.” He shrugged. “That’s it.”

  Macsen glanced at the others, unhappiness shining through his shielded mind. “All right, that’s honest enough. Crap on inspiration, mind. But I’m willing to see what you want to show us.”

  “Me, too,” Kanseen said.

  “Yeah,” Dinlay said.

  Boyd gave a soft chuckle. “Count me in.”

  “Thank you,” Edeard said.

  “Do we get to learn the concealment trick?” Boyd asked eagerly. “I always thought it was a city myth.”

  “Oh, you get to know it,” Edeard said. “You’re going to need it. Ready for the gift?”

  “Yeah!” the squad chorused.

  After half an hour practicing along the street, Edeard led them into the Black Horse tavern. They weren’t perfect. Boyd’s concentration kept slipping; Macsen’s farsight wasn’t half as good as he always claimed, which meant he couldn’t combine the ability with his third hand in a way that was truly effective. But Kanseen and Dinlay were surprisingly adept. Apart from the occasional lapse from Boyd and Macsen, when their ghostlike shapes flared out of nowhere, they remained invisible, certainly from casual scrutiny. The only way they knew where the others were standing was by using a tiny direct longtalk, the kind of thing they’d practiced a hundred times out on the street. Edeard helped by dimming the tavern’s lights around them, producing long deep shadows. They crept between them, passing unseen through the back rooms.

  Edeard’s nerves built with every step up to the second floor, where the private rooms were. Macsen was playing along for now, but how he’d react to this … Without Macsen, the squad would be seriously weakened, and he was going to need their full strength if he was to have any hope of success with the gangs.

  “Ready?” Edeard asked outside the door.

  “Yeah,” Dinlay whispered.

  Then Edeard heard a metallic click—a pistol’s safety catch pulled back. “Is one of you armed?”

  “Yes,” Boyd said.

  “Well, actually, all of us are,” Dinlay said defensively. “We thought we were going to be raiding a gang hideout.”

  “Oh, Lady, no, no. This isn’t a raid. It’s not actually dangerous; we just have to catch them in the act. So put the pistols away, please.”

  Several grumbles rolled along the apparently empty corridor. Fumbling sounds followed.

  “Ready?” Edeard asked again, reflecting on the impossibility of acting as a team when you couldn’t actually see one another. “Go!”

  As one they dissolved their concealment. Edeard used his third hand to smash the lock and then flung the door open. The squad charged in.

  Vilby’s face was a mask of astonishment and fright; his head lifted off the pillows to stare at the squad. He couldn’t move any farther; his own handcuffs fastened his wrists to the odd metal hoops driven into the wall above the bed. Nanitte, who was straddling his chest, holding a jar of honey in one hand, turned around and let out a soft gasp of shock. Then she saw that one of the intruders was Macsen, and her face registered real concern. “Ladycrapit.”

  Edeard could sense the longtalk yell she was directing out toward the other end of the city. It wasn’t much: “They’ve caught me with Vilby. I never sensed them coming; they were bloody invisible.” His own face was part of the accompanying gift she sent. No one replied to her.

  “Don’t come back to the station,” Edeard told Vilby. “And get you and your family out of the tenement by tomorrow evening. Only constables live there.”

  “But—”

  Edeard closed his third hand around the man’s chest. Honey squelched out around the edges of his grip. “Don’t,” he growled in warning.

  Vilby sagged in defeat.

  Kanseen lifted an eyebrow as she gazed at the tacky mess covering the man’s groin. “Well, thanks a whole lot, Vilby. I’ll never be able eat a meringue again.”

  Boyd sneered down. “You know, you really need to leave them in the oven lon
ger; a proper meringue is never that sticky in the middle.”

  “Is that right?” an interested Dinlay asked as they turned and walked out the door.

  “Oh, yes. Any half-wit baker’s apprentice knows that.”

  Macsen hadn’t said a word. He was staring at Nanitte, who returned the look unflinchingly.

  “Come on,” Kanseen said. She put her hand on Macsen’s shoulder and gently propelled him out of the room.

  Edeard gave Vilby a derisory wink and closed the door as he left.

  The waitress in the Olovan’s Eagle was puzzled by the squad’s lack of good humor as they clustered together in the corner booth. Edeard tipped her a brass farthing and scooped the beer glasses off her tray with his third hand. He put the first one down in front of Macsen. “Sorry,” he said cautiously.

  Macsen shook his head and put his hand around the glass. He stared intensely into the dark amber liquid with its thick head.

  “It’s a war of who knows most,” Edeard said.

  “Lady,” Kanseen grunted heavily. “I think we get that now, Edeard.” She took a long drink of beer. “Was anyone I’ve …?”

  “No.”

  “That’s lucky. For them. I would have ripped their balls off and stuffed them where the sun doesn’t shine.”

  “Um,” Boyd ventured. “About Saria?”

  “A lovely girl. Don’t worry.”

  “So it’s just me, then, is it?” Macsen said bitterly. He was still glaring at his beer. He hadn’t managed to look at Dinlay since they’d left the Black Horse.

  “Not exactly.” Edeard cringed as he gave Dinlay an awkward glance. “Chiaran.”

  “No!” Dinlay squawked in horror. “She’s a constable.”

  Boyd turned his head slowly to give Dinlay a fascinated look. “Who’s Chiaran?”

  “Her father is in debt to one of Ivarl’s lieutenants in Fiacre. She’s helping to pay it off.”

  “She can’t be.”

  “You never said anything about a Chiaran to me,” Boyd said with a rising smile. “You sly old thing.”

  “Sorry,” Edeard said.

  “Oh, Lady!”

  “Well, aren’t you the clever one?” Macsen said, still not looking up.

  “Actually, no,” Edeard said. He took a breath. “I’m sure you all remember Ranalee.”

  Kanseen actually spilled some of her beer. “What?”

  Edeard’s shoulders slumped. “The Gilmorn family has strong ties with Ivarl. It’s all part of the way the port works—I discovered afterward. Too late afterward, unfortunately. I think that’s how Ivarl found out I knew about Vilby.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to tell them about that night.

  “Wait. He knows you knew?”

  “Yes.”

  “But— Oh, Lady be damned.” She took another gulp of beer.

  “So,” Boyd said with a frown. “If he knew that you knew he … I don’t get it. Why would he go ahead with the Chemistry Guild robbery if you both knew what was happening?”

  “I told you, it’s a war of who knows the most and then how you apply it.”

  Macsen finally looked up, fixing Boyd with an icy glare. “Get it now? All of this is a giant pissing contest between Ivarl and Edeard, which of them can outsmart the other.”

  “Which is why you have to understand,” Edeard said firmly. “Fully understand.”

  “Well, I understand now,” Macsen said bitterly. He faced up to Dinlay. “I’m the idiot who got you shot. Me!”

  “Hardly,” Dinlay said with a nervous guffaw.

  “I told her. I said we were going to do undercover work after we talked about watching Boltan Street.”

  “When did we say that?” Edeard asked.

  “The day we caught Arminel in the storeroom,” Kanseen supplied.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Arminel used it, didn’t he?” Macsen said. “He used that to mount the ambush at Birmingham Pool.”

  “We don’t know anything for certain,” Edeard said. “What I was trying to show you tonight is just how smart and organized Ivarl is. Not only that, his organization is big; it reaches right across the city.”

  “You’ve made your point,” Kanseen said. “We were naïve. That’ll stop now.”

  “I’m sorry,” Macsen said. He was pleading with Dinlay now.

  “You didn’t shoot me.”

  “It was my fault.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Edeard said. “You all know Arminel, what he’s like. If they hadn’t come after us that day, it would’ve been another. You don’t send people like Nanitte to spy on us unless you’re making a real effort to eliminate us.”

  “And Chiaran,” Dinlay said forlornly.

  “And Chiaran,” Edeard conceded. “That means he’s still out to get us, even more since the warehouse. It’s going to get ugly.”

  “She was beautiful,” Dinlay said. He took off his glasses and polished the lenses intently.

  “We’re all good, though, aren’t we, Waterwalker?” Boyd said cautiously. “Tell us that at least. Tell us nobody here tonight belongs to Ivarl.”

  “We’re all good,” Edeard promised them.

  “Nanitte,” Macsen moaned, and slumped back into his seat. “What about the others? Have any more girls belonged to Ivarl?”

  Edeard grinned. “I don’t have the time to keep track of that list.”

  “Nor your own, it would seem,” Kanseen observed archly.

  “Nor mine,” he conceded.

  “Lady, this is wonderful,” she muttered. “We have to seek your consent for our lovers now. It’s like I’m living at home again and getting my mother’s approval.”

  “What were her criteria?” Boyd asked eagerly.

  “Well, she wouldn’t have let you through the front door, that’s for sure.”

  Edeard laughed. “It’s not that bad.”

  Kanseen gave him a level gaze. “Yes, it is.”

  “You don’t have to tell me who you’re with every night. And as of now, I’m not going to farsight. Just …”

  “Be paranoid?”

  “I was going to say ‘cautious.’ If you want me to check out a new acquaintance, I will.”

  “Paranoid is good,” Boyd said. “Unlike all of you, I, of course, chose very well.”

  “You had no choice at all,” Kanseen said. “Saria chose you. She makes all the decisions for you.”

  “She does not! I am my own master.”

  Kanseen reached forward and plucked the sleeve of his remarkable frock coat. “Did you choose this? Did you even pay for it?”

  Boyd turned red as the others laughed.

  “So what do we do now?” Dinlay asked.

  “And he does mean ‘we,’ ” Macsen said. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Dinlay stumbled over his words. “It’s just … Chiaran.”

  “Get rid of her,” Macsen said harshly. “She’s not your girlfriend; she’s his whore. Do it with longtalk; that’s nice and insulting. In fact, I’ll be happy to do it for you.”

  “Would you?”

  Macsen turned to Edeard. “Do you want to use her first?”

  “No,” he said. “No, though it’s tempting. But if we’re going to do this, I don’t want us stooping to his methods.”

  “It’s not going to be that clean,” Kanseen warned.

  “I know.” He smiled at his squad. His friends. “But we’ll manage.”

  “So what exactly do we do now?” Boyd asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about this,” Edeard told them. “The biggest part of Ivarl’s income comes from the protection rackets. He has teams in every district intimidating shopkeepers and stall holders. I want to push them out. I want to start by making Jeavons clean, then keep going, force them to retreat across the city until we’ve got them penned up in Sampalok.”

  “Then what?” Kanseen said. “And how would you make them retreat there? Do we intimidate them? They’ll fight back.”

  “I don’t know the details. We
need to consult with Grand Master Finitan about how to begin such a scheme and the politics behind it. We’d certainly need Grand Council support, maybe even a new law.”

  “All right,” she said. “Even if you get him to support you in Council and we get all the station captains to play along and a hundred other crappy impossible details sorted out, how do we find them? There must be hundreds of gang members working this racket. Are we all going snooping around the House of Blue Petals?”

  “Ah.” Edeard gave them a rather smug grin and reached into his tunic to produce a thick black notebook. He put it down among all the beer glasses. “You must be talking about this list I made of all the names I overheard.”

  “A grand alliance against gang-related crime,” Grand Master Finitan said. “Nice idea.” He turned in his high-backed chair to stare out through his office window.

  Edeard and the squad sat in smaller chairs in front of the big desk, all of them trying not to gape at the remarkable view offered by the office’s vantage point.

  “Do you think the Council would support it, sir?” Edeard asked. If it hadn’t been for the tea and cookies served to them by the ge-chimps, Edeard could well have imagined himself as part of some lowly apprentice class being lectured by the Grand Master.

  “If you went up to individual Masters and Representatives to ask them for help expelling the gangs, each and every one would look you straight in the eye and pledge their full and unswerving support, save Bise, of course. Privately, any new law to banish suspected gang members wouldn’t even get read out in Council, never mind voted on.”

  “Why not?” Dinlay asked.

  “Expense. Legally proving a man is a gang member would consume a lot of time in court and an even greater amount of lawyers’ time, which never comes cheap. And what would you effectively be accusing them of? If you can prove membership, you can prove felony, which can get them carted off to the mines, anyway. No, you need some other way.”