The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

He shook his head, banishing the small hall from his mind. “Kristabel?” his directed longtalk asked gently.

  On the bed, she tensed and then curled up tighter. Her mind’s strongest shield tightened around her thoughts.

  “Kristabel, please, I’m so sorry.”

  It was no use. She was completely closed to him.

  “Fuck!” He smashed his fist down on the bench, unconsciously putting his telekinetic strength behind it. The ancient wood splintered with an almighty crack. Both halves of the bench hit the ground. A small sea of paperwork skidded down onto the floor. He stood up. “I’m going to see her.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good—”

  “My mistake,” he was almost shouting now. “I will put this right. I have to.”

  “Edeard.”

  The gentleness of her tone caught him by surprise. She put her arms around him and kissed his brow. “The Lady’s luck be with you, Waterwalker. You deserve her.”

  “Thanks,” he said, shamefaced. “Er, any other customs I should know about? Before I … you know.”

  “Only that it’s a custom, not a law. Go get her.”

  He perceived the two ge-eagles as soon as he stormed out of the station. They watched him carefully as he made his way over Arrival Canal into Silvarum. Someone was very interested in his movements. He recognized at least one of the ge-eagles from the aviary at the ziggurat. His farsight skipped ahead. Homelt was standing outside the main gates, marshaling several family guards. Armed guards—in the daytime, no less. The gate itself was closed and locked, as were all the other entrances into the mansion. It was Lorin who was organizing everyone, striding around the main courtyard issuing orders.

  “You little shit,” Edeard muttered under his breath. Lorin was making no effort to conceal his eagerness at sealing up the vast ziggurat mansion.

  The constable guards on the bridge between Silvarum and Haxpen gave Edeard a respectful salute as he hurried over. He returned it casually. His longtalk whispered into several ge-monkeys in the Culverit mansion, stirring long-dormant amorous thoughts that were wickedly misdirected. Five of them began to scamper across the courtyard behind the main gate, their affection for Lorin unbound.

  Citizens strolling along the streets outside the ziggurat heard peculiar squeaks of desire mingling with Lorin’s outraged and downright fearful yells. Agitated, frightened thoughts were broadcast wildly as clothes got torn. Servants and guards came hurrying over, adding to the physical and emotional commotion. It took several minutes for the ge-monkeys to be calmed and led away. There was so much noise that even Homelt peered in to watch in bemusement as Lorin’s unwelcome new suitors were coaxed back to their nests. He looked around the courtyard thoughtfully, then closed the big main gate again, trying to suppress a smile.

  When Lorin recovered his dignity and a servant handed him a new cloak to cover his ripped sleeves, he cast his farsight out beyond the walls again, but to no avail. The family’s ge-eagles were now circling aimlessly above Birmingham Pool.

  “Where is the Waterwalker?” he demanded. No one could tell him.

  It wasn’t quite the grand gesture entrance Edeard had hoped for. Even though he’d slipped through the ground-level walls with no problem, he still had ten flights of those ever-damned Makkathran-style stairs to climb. And he was in a hurry, fearful that every second of delay would act against him.

  When he finally passed through the wall into Kristabel’s bedroom, he was nearly breathless from the exertion. Kristabel was still on the bed, sitting at one end, shoulders slumped, head in her hands, with her thick mane of hair hanging down over her knees. The broad glass doors to the hortus were open; Mirnatha was outside, bending over the vine-clad wall to look down on the western districts. Edeard abandoned his concealment and closed the glass doors.

  Mirnatha spun around, her little mouth open in shock. Her fright vanished when she saw it was Edeard who’d materialized in the room, replaced with immediate indignation. Her hands jabbed into her sides as she glared at him in affront.

  “It’s all right,” Kristabel told her with a croaky voice and unsteady longtalk. “Walk around the hortus for me, please.”

  Mirnatha gave Edeard a final glare, then stomped off.

  Edeard went down on his knees in front of Kristabel and laced his fingers together as if in prayer. “I am so sorry,” he said. “Please, marry me. I didn’t know before.”

  Kristabel combed some of her hair away from her face. Her eyes were red and puffy; by contrast, her cheeks had paled as if she were ill. “Marry you?”

  “Please?”

  Confusion clouded her gaze. “You didn’t know?”

  “This week and a day thing. I had no idea, I swear. Please believe me. I would never try to deceive you in any way, let alone this. I love you, Kristabel.”

  “You didn’t know?” Her voice had risen in hope.

  “No. By all the Lady holds precious, I did not know.”

  Her tears began to flow again, but now her mouth had lifted in a smile. “You didn’t know?” It was nearly a wail.

  Edeard bowed his head in suffering. “Gache fungi,” he pleaded.

  Kristabel started to laugh, but it swiftly turned to sobbing. She swatted his head, and then somehow they were clutching desperately at each other.

  “I thought …” She wept. “I thought you’d … I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t understand. After that week—everything we did, everything we shared—I didn’t know why.”

  “Shush,” he urged her, and held her tighter. “Shush. It was a stupid mistake and all my fault. And I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promise. Now I’m going to go to your father right this second and ask his permission. I know I’ve only got a day. That’s”—he paused and gulped—“if you’ll have me.”

  “No,” she said.

  “What?” he demanded, stricken.

  “Yes,” she said quickly. “Sorry. Yes, of course I want to marry you. Look at the state I’m in at the thought of not doing it. But no, I don’t want you to go to Father.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this is guilt talking.”

  “No, it’s not. I want to marry you. I can’t believe you actually want me, but if you think I’m going to be stupid again, then I—”

  “Listen,” she said, and grasped his hands, forcing them to be still. “Look at me.”

  Edeard did as he was told. Even with tears all over her face she was bewitchingly beautiful.

  “When I asked you to spend the week with me, I knew what I was asking,” she said. “I gave you what I thought was a choice—the traditional ‘a week and the day’ or just become lovers that night there and then, with no obligation. You went for the week, which in itself tells me a lot about you, that you’d respect me rather than settle for a quick tumble. But you didn’t know what that was supposed to be, what it meant. You weren’t thinking of marriage. And that applies now as much as it did then. You haven’t thought this through. Believe me, I have, and I know what I want. But Edeard, you’ve known for about … how long?”

  “Kanseen just explained it to me,” he admitted.

  “An hour, then.”

  “No! Not that long. I came right away, I promise.”

  “All right, half an hour. Edeard, you don’t make a decision like this in half an hour. You’re doing it because of a huge misunderstanding, and you very gallantly don’t want to upset me. Which only makes you more adorable, but it still doesn’t make this the right thing for you.”

  “That’s all wrong. I want to marry you. I do.”

  “Fine. Did Kanseen explain why we have this custom?”

  “To see if we’re okay physically.” He cleared his throat selfconsciously. “I think we passed that test, didn’t we?”

  “We did. Very much so. But did she say why we needed to find that out first?”

  “Because if we marry, we’ll spend a long time together, centuries probably. Everything has to be right.”

  “
Yes, and even that’s no guarantee, especially if we marry as young as we are. A hundred years is a long time to sustain love, let alone two hundred. So do you see now? I’d thought about this from the moment we met, and I knew it was the right thing to do for me to ask you. But you hadn’t thought about it. You still haven’t except for this wild impulse. Edeard, I need you to think clearly about what you’re asking. I need that from you. Please.”

  “Oh.” He sat back on his ankles. “Of course,” he said formally.

  She grinned and peered closely at him. “And that doesn’t mean you spend a week trying to work out how long you have to wait to make it seem like you’ve considered everything properly. Understand?”

  “Yes.” Edeard could actually feel the warmth of the blush rise up his cheeks. “Lady, what is life going to be like with you?”

  She smiled back and kissed his nose. “As difficult as I can make it.”

  “That’s fair.” He held her head so he could kiss her properly.

  They spent a long time in a soft embrace before finally moving apart. Edeard’s farsight revealed a highly agitated Lorin urging Homelt and four armed guards up the third flight of stairs. Fit though they all were, it was hard going.

  “Your uncle’s on his way,” Edeard murmured.

  “And Mirnatha is back,” she said spryly.

  Edeard turned around to see the little girl pressed against the glass, peering through. Then his farsight caught Julan approaching down the central corridor.

  “Oh, Lady,” he groaned.

  “I’ll deal with Daddy,” she said, and directed her longtalk to him.

  Edeard allowed the glass doors to open again.

  “Are you sorry?” Mirnatha asked.

  “Very sorry,” Edeard assured her. “Your sister and I have made up now.”

  “I knew you would.”

  “I wish I’d known.”

  She tilted her head up to scrutinize him. As he squirmed under the gaze, Edeard finally understood the phrase “six going on sixty.”

  “If I was older, I’d have you for my husband,” Mirnatha decided.

  “Er … that’s good.”

  Kristabel kissed her sister on the top of her head. “Once more around the hortus.”

  “Krissy!”

  “Go. Now.”

  Mirnatha gave her a sullen glare and pranced out.

  Kristabel smiled after her. “I already feel sorry for her husband.”

  “Your father?” Edeard queried.

  “Placated. For the moment. We’re both going to have to talk to him.”

  Edeard tried to smile supportively.

  “He’ll understand. More than anyone.” She went over to study herself in a full-length mirror. “Oh, my sweet Lady. Look at me.”

  “You look fabulous.”

  “That’s very loyal. If not very realistic.” Kristabel directed a longtalk summons to her maid. “I’m going to get ready to face people again. I will be some time.” She started teasing strands of hair out of the tangle.

  “Okay.” Now, as he started looking around the bedroom properly, he saw that what Mirnatha was to pink, Kristabel was to frilly lace trimmings. It was slightly unnerving.

  “You can wait if you’d like,” she said.

  “I would. Yes.”

  “Edeard, not in here.”

  “Ah right.”

  Kristabel found a set of clips on a dresser. “And Edeard.”

  “Yes?”

  “What exactly did happen to poor Uncle Lorin down there in the courtyard?”

  “I’ve no idea,” he said innocently, and hurriedly closed the door behind him.

  Captain Larose was waiting outside the Jeavons station entrance. Just seeing him in his ceremonial blue and scarlet jacket, with his sword and pistol hanging from his white leather belt and his back held perfectly straight, took Edeard back to the day he’d first encountered a militia officer on the road to Makkathran. Larose had the same aristocratic arrogance as that patrol officer, as well. Five ordinary soldiers accompanied him.

  “Waterwalker,” Larose said as Edeard approached.

  “Captain?”

  “Mayor Owain requests that you attend him.”

  Edeard didn’t know what to make of that at all. “I see.”

  “Excellent.” Larose turned to his soldiers. “Fall in, chaps.”

  “Why the escort?” Edeard asked.

  Captain Larose smiled thinly. “The Mayor does rather enjoy the trappings of office. He says it helps remind people of the order of things.”

  “Oh.”

  “Personally, I find all this pomp and ceremony a real pain in the ass. My mess staff spent half the night getting my uniforms ready.”

  Edeard resisted the impulse to look down and check his own tunic. He was still wearing the ones he’d bought during his probationary period. They were starting to show signs of wear and tear.

  “Where are we going?” Edeard asked as they started to walk along Chates Street toward the Brotherhood Canal. He’d assumed they’d be going to the Orchard Palace.

  “The militia stables,” Larose said. “The Pholas and Zelda regiment is leaving for Talence province today, and it’s customary for the Mayor to see the troops off.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “It’s happening a lot now. I’m probably going to get deployment orders myself soon.” He gave Edeard a rueful grin. “Not exactly what I signed up for, but one has a duty, yes?”

  “Yes,” Edeard agreed promptly.

  “Good man. You’ve been quite an inspiration to people lately. It’s about time someone brought the gangs to heel. Things simply cannot go on as they are.”

  Edeard was mildly surprised. He’d assumed the captain wouldn’t really approve of him; he’d met so many arrogant useless family sons that these days he simply classed them all as beneath contempt. But for all his airs, at least Larose seemed to have some awareness of what was going on in the world.

  The wooden stables in the middle of Tycho’s wide meadowland were bustling with activity. At one end, the regiment was mounting up and forming ranks: two hundred officers and soldiers on horseback, dressed in their full uniforms and regalia. Edeard had to admit it was a rousing sight. The purple and green insignia of the regiment was prominent, never more so than on the elaborately feathered headgear of the Colonel who sat astride his midnight-black terrestrial horse with two groomed ge-wolves keeping flank.

  Down at the other end of the stables, Edeard’s farsight observed the mess staff and ge-monkeys getting ready in an altogether less structured manner. Nearly forty wagons were loaded with supplies, with the final bales and boxes being piled hurriedly on board under the cursing of the quartermaster and his aides. Two smaller covered wagons contained arms and munitions, each guarded by five soldiers and its own pack of ge-wolves. A small flock of livestock was being herded by ge-dogs, while chickens and geese squawked from inside their cages. It looked like a much more difficult operation than getting the soldiers ready.

  Mayor Owain was standing on a wooden platform at the end of the stables, surrounded by a gaggle of advisers and three other Masters. He wore his maroon and sapphire robes with a startlingly white fur trim, the hood loose over his shoulder. As always, Owain’s mind was perfectly shielded as his facial expression radiated interest in the vista before him.

  “Not long,” Larose muttered to Edeard as they waited at the foot of the stairs of the platform.

  The regimental bugler sounded formation, and the horses quickly arranged themselves in front of the Mayor’s platform. Ten ge-eagles settled on the stable roofs. The Colonel saluted from his saddle.

  “I wish you good fortune on your endeavor,” Mayor Owain said to the assembled regiment. “I am confident you will restore order to

  Talence province. While bandits may find it easy to elude local farmers and sheriffs, they will soon discover it is altogether different to run and hide from a stalwart man of the regiment riding after them. It is with pride that I
see you leave today, knowing that our city is the symbol of hope that all on Querencia turn to in their moment of deepest need. I know that above all, the militia can be relied on to complete their task with honor.”

  The Colonel led his troops in a hearty three cheers for the Mayor, who applauded them back. Then the bugler sounded slow advance, and the regiment began its ride to the City Gate and its undertaking beyond. Their ge-eagles took flight, soaring out toward the crystal wall.

  Owain stood on the platform, his face perfectly composed, until the last man rode past. It was only when the first of the wagons began to roll out that he turned and made his way down the steps.

  “Your Honor,” Edeard said courteously as the Mayor reached the ground.

  “Waterwalker, thank you for coming. I hope it’s not too inconvenient.”

  “No, sir.”

  Owain actually smiled. “Ah, polite as well as effective. How long before you’re our Chief Constable, eh?”

  “I don’t think Walsfol has anything to worry about, Your Honor.”

  “We shall see. Walk with me, please.” He waved a hand at the gaggle of advisers, who fell back discreetly; Captain Larose and the soldiers took up position just behind them. Owain chose a narrow track that led back toward the Outer Circle Canal around Majate. The meadowland on either side was just about deserted.

  “I regret that we seem to have started off on the wrong foot, young Waterwalker. I blame myself; you are Finitan’s protégé, after all.”

  “He supports banishment, Your Honor.”

  “Yes. So do I.”

  “I didn’t know that, Your Honor.”

  “Still polite even in the face of provocation. You are too kind, Waterwalker. You see me as someone who has opposed your clever exclusion warrants and who of course will fight Finitan and his proposal.”

  “It does seem that way, Your Honor, yes.”

  “I’m sure it does. That is because you are young and—your pardon—can as yet only visualize short-term benefits. Do you really think, do you believe in your own heart, that I do not want this city rid of crime?”

  “No.”

  “Precisely. Well, I thank you for that courtesy. I actually rather like the idea of the exclusion warrants. You are to be congratulated on implementing them, and against such strong political opposition.”