“The kind you play at?” Bijulee asked mildly.
“Yes, my love, the kind I play at.” He eyed the three young constables. “Been to any, yet?”
“Not yet,” Kanseen said. Macsen kept quiet.
“Just a matter of time. Anyway, the reason Millical is so well funded is the tradition that the family concerned makes a donation—anonymous, of course—each time a babe is left on the house’s charity step for the Novices to take in.”
“Any money for children is distributed equally among all the Lady’s orphanages,” Salrana said.
“I’m sure a great deal of the bequests filter down to the other orphanage houses. And the Lady performs invaluable work caring for such unfortunates, as I do know. But if you ever get to work in any of the other houses, you’ll notice the difference.”
“And how do you know for sure?” Bijulee asked teasingly.
Dybal turned to face her with a sad smile. “Because I grew up in one.”
“Really?” Macsen asked.
“That’s right. Which is why I’m so impressed with you four youngsters. You came from nothing, especially Edeard and Salrana here, and you’re all making a life for yourselves. I admire that. I truly do. You’re not dependent on anyone, let alone a decadent family. I know I’m the first to complain about the city’s hierarchy, the way democracy has been expropriated by the rich, but there are some institutions which are still worthwhile. People need the constables for the security you bring to the streets and canals, and the Lady for hope.”
“I thought that was what your music brought,” Salrana said with a cheeky gleam in her eye.
“It depends which class you belong to. If you’re rich, I’m a deliciously wicked rebel, hot and dripping with sarcasm and irony. They have to pay me to perform—which I’m glad to do for them. But for the rest of the city, the people who toil their whole life to make things work, I’m a focal point for resentment, I articulate their feelings. For them, I sing for free. I don’t want their coinage, I want them to spend it on themselves so they don’t have to give away their children.”
“So you compete with the Lady?” Salrana said.
“I offer a mild alternative, that’s all. Hopefully an enjoyable one.”
“I must try and get to one of your performances.”
“I’ll be happy to escort you,” Macsen said.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she retorted before Edeard could intervene. He didn’t say anything, not there and then, that would spoil the meal.
“Do you know all the Grand Council?” Edeard asked Dybal.
“Oh yes, they think that by associating with me they gain credibility. What they’re actually doing by inviting me to their homes is contributing generously to lyrics of irony and hypocrisy. Why do you ask, Edeard? Do you need to know about their mistresses? Their strange shared interest in taxing cotton production in Fondral province? The scandal over funds for the militia? The money wasted on official functions? The disease of corruption which infects the staff of the Orchard Palace who are supposed to be impartial? How our dear Mayor, Owain, is already buying votes for the next election—the one time he needs public support?”
“Actually no, I was wondering about Mistress Florell.”
“Edeard has met her,” Macsen said with a chortle.
“We all did, while we were on duty,” Edeard countered.
“She hit him with her umbrella,” Kanseen added dryly.
Dybal and Bijulee laughed at that.
“The old witch tried to get Edeard thrown out of the constables,” Salrana said, hot-cheeked. “At the ceremony today, she told the Mayor to take his epaulettes back.”
“How typical,” Dybal said. “Don’t worry Edeard; she has no real power, not any more. She’s a figurehead for the noble families, that’s all. They like to make out she’s a much loved grandmother to the whole city. Total bollocks, of course. She was a scheming little bitch when she was younger. Which admittedly is history to all of us now. But she had three husbands before her fiftieth birthday, all first sons of District Masters, which is just about unheard of even today. She gave each of them two sons—and some say there was witchery in that. And by strange coincidence, all three second children went on to marry noble daughters in families where the male lineage had faltered in favour of the girls. By the next generation she’d spread her brood through eleven District Master families. With that kind of power bloc in the Upper Council, she controlled the vote for decades. Our last so-called Golden Age; which saw the rise of the militia at the expense of all other arms of government. You see, she believes there’s an actual physical difference between the nobility and those without their obscene wealth. In other words, her offspring are born to rule and bring order to the uncivilized masses such as thee and me. Needless to say, she doesn’t believe that we should have anything to do with the city’s government. That sort of thing is best left to those whom destiny has blessed with good blood.”
“No wonder she didn’t like you, Edeard,” Macsen grinned. “You’re not even city born. She could probably smell the countryside on you.”
“Not everyone in the Upper Council believes in that, do they?” Edeard asked, thinking of Finitan. A nephew, he’d said.
“Hopefully not. There are still a few decent noblemen around today. And of course, District Masters’ seats on the Upper Council are checked by the Guild Masters. And the Lower Council itself is still directly elected, not that you’d know it in some districts. That makes for a lot of genuine debate in the Grand Council. Rah knew what he was doing when he crafted our constitution.”
“But your songs are still popular.”
“They are. Dissatisfaction with those who rule is always attractive to the majority; it’s an obsession which humans brought with them on the ships which fell to Querencia. As a species we find it as easy as breathing. And it’s never helped by old men like me who reminisce on how things were always better in our lost youth.”
“You’re a rabble-rouser, you mean,” Bijulee said fondly as she ran her hand through his ragged braids of hair.
“And proud of it,” Dybal raised his glass again. “To making our masters’ lives a misery.”
The whole table drank to that.
***
“So what’s the story with you and Salrana?” Kanseen asked. It was late at night. The celebratory lunch had lasted all afternoon. Edeard hadn’t wanted it to end. He was perfectly relaxed, thanks to that lovely wine with bubbles, the company of friends, eating fine food, making happy intelligent conversation. No, today was a day which, if the Lady were kind, should last and last.
But as was the way of all things, they finished the final bottle of wine, ate the last morsel of cheese and bid each other farewell. Dybal winced theatrically when the bill arrived. The sun had set outside, leaving the city’s own cold orange lighting to bathe the streets, along with the faint haze of the nebulas overhead. Edeard announced he would walk Salrana back to Millical House in the Lillylight district. As it was directly between Abad and Jeavons, Kanseen offered to walk with them.
The orphanage house was a nice one, close to the Victoria Canal, with its own garden and play yard. Yet he couldn’t help noticing, it was the smallest building on the street. Salrana had given him a light peck on the cheek before scooting off through the imposing doors which filled the entrance arch.
Edeard and Kanseen carried on together, using a bridge over Castoff Canal to put them in Drupe district, where the palaces matched anything along the Great Major Canal. It was quiet on those district’s narrow streets and broad squares. Bodyguards stood imposingly outside the iron gates of the palaces. Edeard tried not to stare as they passed the alert figures in dark uniforms; he was sure that staying a constable was better than such monotonous duty night after night. That disapproval must have escaped his shielding.
“That’s not what I’ll be doing,” Kanseen said quietly as their footfalls echoed around them in a narrow street high enough to block out all the night sky
except for the slim violet thread of Buluku’s meandering tail. “None of them are ex-constables. Estate workers and farm boys who’ve come to the city in search of a better life. They only last a couple of years before they make their way back home. That or migrate into Sampalok.”
“Could have been me, then,” Edeard said.
“Somehow I doubt that.”
They walked over the third bridge across the Marble Canal, back into the familiar territory of Jeavons. Gondolas slid past quietly underneath them, a small white lantern glowing on the front of each. Their passengers snuggled up under the canopy, enjoying the romance of the ride. By now Edeard could recognize the wind rising from the sea, the moisture it carried. Clouds were scudding overhead, starting to veil the nebulas. It would rain tonight. In another hour, he decided as he smelt the air.
The constables’ tenement was two streets away from the Jeavons station, a big ugly building from the outside, but wrapped around a central oval courtyard boasting a pool of warmish water large enough to swim in and overlooked by four levels of walkways. It contained the maisonettes reserved for the constables. Those with families had taken over one end, with the bachelors at the other. Not that it was a fixed divide. Edeard along with the rest of the squad had moved in a couple of days ago. Each morning he’d been woken by children shouting outside his door as they raced along the walkway, playing some exciting game of chase.
Now the children were long in bed as he and Kanseen walked up a set of awkward rounded stairs to the third level where they both had maisonettes.
“No real story,” he told her. “You know Salrana and I travelled here together. I’m sort of like her elder brother.”
“She’s in love with you.”
“What?”
“I was watching her this afternoon. It’s obvious to anyone with half a brain. Even Macsen fathomed that out. Didn’t you notice he’d stopped trying to flirt with her by the time the fish course arrived? There’s no point. She’s only interested in you.”
“She’s smart enough to realize how shallow he is. That’s all. If they don’t fall at his feet in the first five minutes, he moves on. You know what he’s like.”
“I never thought I’d see you in denial.”
“It’s not denial. You asked a question and I answered it.”
They stopped at the top of the stairs, and looked out over the extensive courtyard. The rim of the pool was a thin intense line of pale-orange. It made the water look very inviting. Edeard knew a lot of the constables went for a night-time dip. His stomach was too heavy from a whole afternoon bingeing, he decided reluctantly.
“Actually, you didn’t answer,” Kanseen said. “All you admitted to was knowing her, which doesn’t shed any light on your relationship at all.”
“Lady save me, you really did take in all of Master Solarin’s lectures, didn’t you?”
“My grades were almost as high as yours, yes. So on that long trip through the mountains and across swamps filled with monsters, did you sleep with her?”
“No!”
“Why not? She’s very pretty. And slim. I’ve seen what your eye lingers on when we’re out on patrol.”
“She’s far too young, for a start. And she’s getting pretty. Doctors in Makkathran have better ointments than we had on the caravan.”
“Edeard!” Kanseen gave a small shocked laugh. “I think that’s the most evil thing I’ve ever heard you say about anyone, let alone your little sister.”
“Lady, you’re cruel. I don’t answer a question to your satisfaction and you say I’m in denial; then I give an honest answer and you brand me evil.”
She sucked contritely on her lower lip. “Sorry. But you can understand why.”
“Not really.” Edeard was looking at her profile in the coppery shimmer thrown off by the surface of the pool. In such a light she looked almost aristocratic, with her strong chin and slight nose, skin painted enticingly dark. She turned to face him, cocking her head slightly to one side in that questioning way he enjoyed.
He leant forward and kissed her. She pressed in against him, hands sliding over his back. For once he dropped his mental guard, showing her how much he delighted in the touch of her, the closeness… After a long time they ended the kiss. Her nose rubbed against his cheek, and she let him sense how much that meant to her.
“Come to bed with me,” he murmured. His tongue darted out to lick the lobe of her ear. She shivered from the contact. Hot lines of pleasure flickered across her mind. He was delightfully aware of her breasts against his chest, and hugged her closer. This is going to be the best ever.
“No,” she said. Her shoulders dropped, and she rested her hands against his shoulders, moving them apart to end the embrace. “I’m sorry, Edeard. I feel a lot for you I really do, you know that. That’s the trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
“We could work, you and me. I really think we could. Lovers, then marriage, children. Everything. I’m not afraid of that. It’s just the timing. It’s wrong.”
“Timing?”
“I don’t think you’re ready for a long-term commitment yet. And I certainly don’t need another fling, not with someone I care about.”
“It wouldn’t have to be a fling. I’m ready to settle down with someone as important to me as you are.”
“Oh Lady, you’re so sweet,” she sighed. “No Edeard. I can’t compete against the ideal of Salrana. You’re closer to her than you know, or will admit. How could you not be after all the two of you shared. I’m not jealous, well not exactly. But she’s always going to be there between us until you sort your feelings out.”
“She’s just a kid from the same village, that’s all.”
“Open your feelings to me, show me your naked mind and say you don’t want to bed her, that you don’t want to know the feel of her against you.”
“I… No, this is stupid. You’re accusing me of… I don’t know: having dreams. This world is full of opportunities. Some we grasp, others we pass by. It’s not me who’s scared of what might be. You need to look at your own feelings.”
They were standing apart now, voices not raised, but firm.
“I know my own feelings,” she said. “And I want yours to match mine. That means I can wait. You’re worth waiting for, Edeard, however long it takes: You mean that much to me.”
“Well that’s got to be the craziest way of showing it. Ever,” he said, trying not to let the hurt affect his voice. His mind hardened against releasing any emotion, which was difficult given the turmoil she’d kindled.
“Tell her,” Kanseen said simply. She reached out to stroke his cheek, but he dodged back. “Be true to yourself, Edeard. That’s the you I want.”
“Goodnight,” he said stiffly.
Kanseen nodded then turned away. Edeard was sure he saw a tear on her cheek. He refused to use his farsight to check. Instead he went into his own maisonette, and threw himself on the too-high bed. Anger warred with frustration in his mind. He imagined Salrana and Kanseen fighting, an image which quickly took on a life outside his control. His fist thumped the pillow. He turned over. Sent his farsight swirling out across the city, observing the vast clutter of minds as they wrestled with their own demons. It felt good not to be suffering alone. He took a long time to fall asleep.
***
“Rumour has it, the Pythia uses her concealment ability to twist her features. She is over a hundred and fifty, after all; she could give Mistress Florell a run for her money in the withered crone stakes. There has to be some kind of devilment involved to make her look the way she does,” Boyd put a lot of emphasis on that last sentence, dipping his head knowingly.
“Can you do that?” a startled Edeard asked.
“I don’t know.” Boyd lowered his voice. “They say the Grand Masters can completely conceal themselves from view. I’ve never seen it myself.”
Edeard paused on the threshold of pointing out the slight logical flaw in that admission. “Right.” They were on pat
rol in Jeavons, walking alongside the Brotherhood Canal, which bordered the southern side of the district. Beyond the water was Tycho, not strictly a district, but a wide strip of meadow between the canal and the crystal wall. Wooden stables used by the militia squatted on the grass, the only buildings permitted on the common land. He could see stable boys cantering horses and ge-horses along sandy tracks, the morning exercise which they and their predecessors had performed for centuries. Several horses had ge-wolves running alongside.
It was their sixth patrol since graduation. Six days during which he and Kanseen had barely exchanged a word. They’d been perfectly civil to each other, but that was all. He didn’t want that, he wanted them at least to go back to how it was before that messed-up evening. How they might arrive back at that comfortable old association was a complete mystery. One he was definitely not going to consult the others on. He got the impression they already guessed something had happened. Knowing them, they’d royally screw up that speculation.
For some reason he’d also held off saying anything to Salrana.
Grudgingly, he acknowledged that Kanseen did have a small point there. He really was going to have to face up to the whole ‘friends become lovers’ issue simmering away between him and Salrana. It wasn’t fair on her. She was growing up into a beautiful adolescent, so much more vivacious than any of the city girls he encountered. All he had to do was get over his notion of protectiveness. That was stupid too. She was old enough to look out for herself, and make her own choices. The only person who’d appointed him her guardian was himself. Something he’d done out of obligation, and friendship. To do anything different, especially now, could be considered as taking advantage.
Sometimes you have to do what’s wrong to do what’s right.
And physically he knew they would be fantastic together. That body, and as for those legs… Altogether too much time of late was spent thinking about how her legs would feel wrapped round him, long athletic muscles flexing relentlessly. It would end with them both screaming in pleasure. We wouldn’t even get out of bed for the first year.
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