The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “That’s a huge gamble.”

  “We’re long past the time for careful certainty.”

  “Do you have any idea how to stop the Void?”

  “No. Not a single glimmer of a notion, even.”

  “But you were an astrophysicist to begin with.”

  “Yes, but my knowledge base is centuries out of date.”

  “Oh.” She pushed the empty coffee mug to one side with a glum expression.

  “Hey.” His hand stroked the side of her face. “I’m sure Ozzie and I will give it our best shot.”

  She nodded, closing her eyes as she leaned into his touch. “Don’t leave me again.”

  “We’ll see this through together. I promise.”

  “The Waterwalker never quit.”

  Inigo kissed her. It was just the same as it had been all those decades ago, which was a treacherous memory. A lot of very strong emotions were bundled up with the time he and Corrie-Lyn had been together, most of them good. “I’m not as strong as the Waterwalker.”

  “You are,” she breathed. “That’s why you found each other. That’s why you connected.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he promised, nuzzling her chin. His hands went down to the hem of the big loose shirt. “But he never faced a situation like this.”

  “The voyage of the Lady’s Light.” She began to tug at the seam on his one-piece.

  “Hardly the same.”

  “He didn’t know what he was coming home to.”

  “Okay.” He pulled back and stared at her wide eyes. “Let’s just find our own way here, shall we?”

  “What about …?”

  “Screw him.”

  Corrie-Lyn’s tongue licked playfully around her lips. “Me first. I’ve been waiting a very long time.”

  Inigo’s Twenty-ninth Dream

  “Land ahoy,” came the cry from the lookout.

  Edeard craned his neck back to see the crewman perched atop the main mast of Lady’s Light. It was Manel, grinning wildly as he waved down at everyone on the deck. The young man’s mind was unshielded as he gifted everyone his sight, which right now was looking down on their upturned faces.

  “Manel!” came a collective sigh.

  His amusement poured across the ship, and he shifted his balance on the precarious platform to hold the telescope up again. Despite regular cleaning, the lenses in the brass tube were scuffed and grubby after four years of daily use at sea, but the image was clear enough. A dark speck spiked up out of the blue-on-blue horizon.

  Edeard started clapping at the sight of it, his good cheer swelling out to join the collective thoughts of those on the other four ships that made up the explorer flotilla. Everyone was delighted. The distant pinnacle of land could only be one of the eastern isles, which meant Makkathran was no more than a month’s sailing away.

  “How about that,” Jiska exclaimed. “He did get it right.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Edeard agreed, too happy to care about the needling. Natran, who captained the Lady’s Light, had been promising sight of the eastern isles for five weeks now. People were getting anxious about his navigational skills, though the captains of the other ships concurred with him. Jiska had spent that time supporting her husband’s ability. After a four-year voyage, people were starting to get understandably fretful.

  Kristabel came up beside Edeard, her contentment merging with his. He smiled back at her as they linked arms, and together they made their way up to the prow. It was getting quite cluttered on the middeck now, which Natran was generally unhappy over. As well as the coils of rope and ship’s lockers, a number of wicker cages were lashed to the decking, each containing some new animal they’d discovered on their various landings. Not all had survived the long voyage home. Taralee’s cabin was full of large glass jars where their bodies were preserved in foul-smelling fluid. She and the other doctors and botanists had probably gained the most from their expedition, cataloging hundreds of new species and plants.

  But no new people, Edeard thought.

  “What’s the matter?” Kristabel asked.

  A few of the crew glanced over in his direction, catching his sadness. He gave them all an apologetic shrug.

  “We really are alone on this world,” he explained to Kristabel. “Now that we’re coming home, we know that for certain.”

  “Never certainty,” she said, smiling as she pushed some of her thick hair from her eyes. It was getting long again. They’d been eight days out from Makkathran when Kristabel simply sat down in the main cabin and got one of the other women to cut her already short hair right back, leaving just a few curly inches.

  “It’s practical,” she’d explained calmly to an aghast Edeard. “You can’t seriously expect me to fight off my hair on top of everything else storms will throw at us, now, can you? It’s been bad enough for a week in this mild weather.”

  But you managed with a plait, he managed to avoid saying out loud. Kristabel without her long hair was … just plain wrong somehow.

  Edeard could laugh at that now—besides, she was still rather cute with short hair, and elegant with it. It was the least of the changes and accommodations that they’d collectively made. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen a woman in a skirt aside from the formal dinner parties held every month without fail. With the exception of the flotilla’s Mother, who’d maintained her traditional decorum at all times, they wore trousers, shorts in the summer. The small revolution meant they were able to help with the rigging and a dozen other shipboard tasks that were usually the exclusive province of sailors. Indeed, there had been a lot of grumbling from the Mariners Guild at the very thought of women going on such a voyage, whereas the general Makkathran population had been mildly incredulous—the male population in any case. Edeard had received a huge amount of support from the city’s womenfolk.

  Skepticism about taking women, shaken heads over the prospect of repeating Captain Allard’s grand failure, more consternation from Kristabel’s endless flock of relatives concerning the cost of five such vast vessels. At times it had seemed like the only ones in favor were the Guild of Shipwrights and a horde of merchants eager to supply the flotilla. Such a dour atmosphere had lurked across Makkathran’s streets and canals from the time he announced his intention until that day three years later when the ships had been completed. Then, with the five vessels anchored outside the city, attitudes finally began to mellow into admiration and excitement. There wasn’t a quay large enough or a Port district channel deep enough to handle the Lady’s Light and her sister ships, adding to their allure. Trips around the anchored flotilla in small sailing boats were a huge and profitable venture for the city’s mariners. To lay down the keels, Edeard had even gone to the same narrow cove half a mile south of the city that Allard had used a thousand years ago to build the Majestic Marie. It all fostered a great deal of interest and civic pride. This time the circumnavigation will be a success, people believed. This is our time, our ships, our talent, and we have the Waterwalker. It probably helped that Edeard announced his intention the week after the first Skylord arrived to guide Finitan’s soul to the Heart.

  Edeard prided himself that he’d held out that long. He never wanted to go back so far into his own past again. Querencia might have been saved from the nest, but the personal consequences had been too great. It had been a terrible burden to live through every day again, watching the same mistakes and failings and wasteful accidents and petty arguments and wretched politics play out once more when he already knew the solution to everything from his previous trip through the same years. Time and again he was tempted to intervene, to make things easier for everyone. But if he began, he knew there was no limit to what he could and should do once that moral constraint was broken. There would be no end to intervention; constant assistance would become meddling in the eyes of those he sought to help.

  Besides, those repeated events he endured weren’t so bad for everyone else, especially since the nest hadn’t arisen this time around
. People had to learn things for themselves to give them the confidence to live a better life in their own fashion. And ultimately … where would he draw the line? Stop a child from falling over and breaking an arm wouldn’t teach the child to be more careful next time, and that was a lesson that needed to be learned. Without caution, what stupidity would they do the next day?

  So with the exception of preventing several murders he recalled, he restrained himself admirably. That was why he was so desperate to build the ships and sail away on a voyage that would last for years. As well as satisfying his curiosity about the unknown continents and islands of Querencia, he would be doing something different, something new and fresh.

  And it had worked; the last four years had been the happiest time he’d known since he’d come back to eliminate Tathal. Kristabel had gladly responded to that, even relishing being free of the Upper Council and its endless bickering politics. They were as close now as they had been on their wedding day.

  Back on the middeck Natran was the center of an excited crowd, receiving their congratulations and thanks with good-humored restraint. His little son, Kiranan, was sitting happily on his shoulders. Born on board three years ago, the lad was naturally curious about living in the big city the way Edeard and Kristabel described it to him. In total twelve children had been born on the Lady’s Light during the epic voyage, with another thirty on the other four ships. That was where things had finally, wonderfully, begun to change. Rolar and Wenalee had stayed behind to manage the Culverit estate and take Kristabel’s seat on the Upper Council; Marakas and Dylorn had also chosen to remain in Makkathran. His other children had all joined the flotilla. Jiska and Natran were married, which they hadn’t been this year before. Taralee had formed a close attachment to Colyn, a journeyman from the horticultural association who might well qualify for guild status after this voyage. But it was Marilee and Analee who had surprised and delighted him the most. He’d simply assumed the twins would stay behind and carry on partying. Instead, they’d insisted on coming. Of course, they just carried on in their own way through shipboard life, almost oblivious to the routines and conventions around them. Not long out of port, they’d claimed Marvane as their lover, a delighted, infatuated, dazed junior lieutenant, and enticed him down to their cabin each night. (Not that they needed to try very hard; his envious friends amid the flotilla swiftly named him Luckiest Man on Querencia.) It was a relationship that lasted a lot longer than their usual, for he was actually a decent, worthy man.

  Little Kiranan stretched his arms out toward his grandma and squealed delightedly as Edeard’s third hand plucked him from his father’s shoulders and delivered him to Kristabel’s embrace.

  “I wonder if it’s changed,” Kristabel murmured as she made a fuss over the boy.

  Kiranan pointed at the horizon. “Island,” he announced. “Big home.” His mind shone with wonder and expectation.

  “It’s close, poppet,” Kristabel promised.

  “It won’t change,” Edeard declared solemnly. “That’s the thing with Makkathran; it’s timeless.”

  Kristabel flashed him a knowing smile. “It’s changed since you arrived,” she said smartly. “Ladies in shorts, indeed.”

  He smiled, glancing down. She was wearing a white cotton shirt with blue canvas shorts, her legs lean and tanned from years of exposure to the sun. “There are worse revolutions.”

  “Daddy,” Marilee called as she made her way along the deck.

  “We’ll be back in time,” Analee said, accompanying her sister, the two of them linking arms instinctively against the swell. Lady’s Light was making a fair speed in the warm southwesterly wind.

  “Not that we don’t trust Taralee.”

  “Or the ship’s surgery.”

  “But it will be a comfort to be back in the mansion with all of the Doctors Guild on call.”

  “Just in case.”

  They grinned at him. Both of them were six months pregnant and gloriously happy despite the constant morning sickness they both suffered from. And on board that was a very public morning sickness; nobody was completely shielded from the twins’ nausea, which had brought about a lot of sympathetic barfing among the exposed crew.

  “That’ll be a close call,” he said, trying to be realistic. Not that the twins had ever paid much attention to that. “Even with good winds it’ll take a month from here.”

  “Oh, Daddy,”

  “That’s so mean.”

  “We want to have landborn children.”

  “Really?” he asked. “What does Marvane want? He’s a sailor, after all.”

  Marilee and Analee pulled a face at each other.

  “He’s a father now.”

  “And our husband.”

  “Yeees,” Edeard said. Natran had married the three of them a year and a half ago. A beautiful tropical beach setting, everyone barefoot while the bright sun shone down and wavelets lapped on the white sands, the twins ecstatic as they were betrothed to their handsome fiancé. Querencia had no actual law against marrying more than one person at a time, though it certainly wasn’t endorsed in any of the Lady’s scriptures, so it had to be the senior captain rather than the flotilla’s Mother who conducted the ceremony. With Marvane’s title now irrefutable, the elated trio spent their honeymoon in a small shack the carpenters had built for them above the shore while the expedition took an uncommonly long time to catalog the flora and fauna of the island.

  “So he’s going to settle with us,” Marilee announced as if it should have been obvious.

  “In some little part of the Culverit estate on the Iguru.”

  “Where we can raise babies and crops together.”

  “Because this voyage is a lifetime’s worth of sailing.”

  “For anyone.”

  “And Taralee has found us some fabulous new plants to cultivate.”

  “Which people are going to love.”

  “And make us a fortune.”

  Edeard couldn’t bring himself to say anything, though he could sense Kristabel becoming tense with all the twins’ daydream talk. But then, why shouldn’t it come true? Stranger things have happened, and as daydreams go it’s sweet. Besides, that’s what we’re all ultimately aiming for, isn’t it? An easier, gentler life. He was saved from any comment when he sensed Natran’s longtalk to the helmsman, ordering a small change of course. “Why?” he inquired idly.

  “We need to identify the island,” Natran replied. “There are eight on the edge of the eastern archipelago. Once I’ve got an accurate fix, navigating home will be easy.”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you ready for home?” Kristabel asked quietly.

  “I think so,” he said, though he knew it to be true. It’s all new from now on. Living in Makkathran again would be easy. Anticipation stirred a joy in him that had been missing for so long. He guessed she knew that, judging by the contentment glowing within her own thoughts.

  “We could always go the other way around the world,” she teased. “There’s both poles to explore.”

  Edeard laughed. “Let’s leave that to the grandchildren, shall we? You and I have enough to do taking up our roles again. And I think I might just consider running for Mayor at the next elections.”

  The look she gave him was as if she’d never seen him before. “You never stop, do you?”

  “Wonder who I learned that from, mistress?”

  She grinned and cuddled Kiranan tight as the boy strained to see the city he knew was out there somewhere. “And you,” she told the boy. “You’re going to meet all your cousins.”

  “Yay-oh,” Kiranan cooed.

  “Who probably make up half the city’s population by now,” Edeard muttered. The rate at which Rolar and Wenalee produced offspring was prodigious, and he knew from the last time around that Marakas and Heliana were keen to get started.

  “Daddy!” the twins chorused in disapproval.

  “I wonder if Dylorn will be wed,” Kristabel said softly; there was a bri
ef pang of regret—swiftly banished—at being parted from her children for so long.

  “Without us there?” Analee sounded shocked.

  “He wouldn’t dare.”

  “You two did,” Edeard pointed out.

  “That’s different.”

  “We had you there.”

  “Which makes it proper.”

  Edeard sighed and grinned at the horizon. “Not long now. And Lady, we’re going to have the reunion party of all time.”

  Makkathran appeared over the horizon just before noon on the thirty-eighth day after Manel had sighted the first eastern isle. The crew of the Lady’s Light knew it was near. Cargo ships had been a regular sighting for days, and early that morning they’d passed the outbound fishing fleet from Portheves, a village not ten miles from the city itself. Once they’d recovered from their shock, the fishermen had stood and cheered as the giant boats of the flotilla slid past.

  By midmorning, they had a loose escort of a dozen traders heading toward the coastline. Good-hearted, curious longshouts from their new companions were thrown their way as they plowed through the crisp blue water. Then Makkathran emerged, its sturdy towers the first aspect to rise up over the horizon, their sharp pinnacles piercing the cloudless azure sky. A fervent rush of farsight swept out from the city to wash across the flotilla, accompanied by astonishment and a burst of exultant welcomes. Everyone was up on deck to see the city they’d left behind just over four years ago. Edeard thought the ships would just fly onward through the water even without any wind, so strong was the compulsion to make it home now. They must have been quite a sight to those in the city. Each magnificent ship had set out with three full sets of snow-white sails; now the Lady’s Light was rigged with a grubby patchwork of canvas stitched together from whatever sails remained after years of sun bleaching, storms, and frozen winters in which ice crystals hung heavy from every seam and rope. Both the Lady’s Star and the Lady’s Guidance had broad repairs of a softer tropical wood on their waterline where the coral of the Auguste Sea had breached them despite the crew’s best telekinetic efforts to snap the vicious submerged spines. Several ships had new masts to replace ones that were snapped off in various gales.