The Temporal Void (ARC)

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Edeard didn't actually have one. When he did think that far ahead, to a time every district had issued warrants, he'd assumed the Grand Council would step in with a final solution. Expulsion was his preferred option, though he wasn't sure how that would be achieved, nor where the gang members would be banished to. He'd just wanted to start the ball rolling, to give people hope. Only now were the true consequences becoming apparent.

  Though even he had to laugh when on the day after Cherix received his ducking in Birmingham Pool, District Master Bise very publically signed an exclusion warrant preventing Edeard from entering Sampalok. Less amusing was the dignified announcement from the Pythia saying that she would never prohibit anyone from entering Eyrie to attend the Lady's church. Owain also declared no warrants would apply to Anemone and Majate, so that all citizens would be able to reach the seat of government, a right which Rah himself had laid down. And as for the protestations from the Gondoliers Guild about restricting their trade… There had never been a gondola strike in Makkathran before. Even though it had only lasted a day, it shocked everyone. There were threats that more would be called, especially if the vote in the Grand Council tomorrow didn't go the way the gondoliers wanted. The Dockers Guild had also pitched in with a promise to support the gondoliers.

  Thankfully, Edeard was getting a lot of support and encouragement from various traders and merchants. Ordinary people, too, were grateful, if their reaction to the constable squads on bridge duty were anything to go by.

  Edeard just wanted tomorrow's Council debate to be over, one way or the other. The weight of expectation that had fallen on him was awesome.

  Dinlay was waiting outside the main entrance of the Culverit family mansion. The first rays of sunlight had already reached the highest level of the ten storey ziggurat, to glint on the huge horseshoe arch windows. Five pistol-carrying guards with the family's insignia on their coats opened the grand iron-bound front gate. The squad walked in through the giant archway to find themselves in a broad courtyard. Vivid topaz climbing roses smothered the pillars on every side, while tall granite statues of past Culverit Masters and Mistresses gazed down sternly. An equerry greeted them and ushered them inside. Edeard sighed when confronted with a spiral stair.

  'I suppose the family live on the top floor,' he muttered to Boyd.

  'The Master's family do, of course.'

  The summit of the mansion was a house larger than the Jeavons constable station, surrounded on each side by a strip of hortus garden. It was the traditional residence of the District Master, with the lower floors occupied by dozens of relatives and household staff and clerks who administered his estates.

  As they ascended, Edeard became very conscious of the mood swirling round him. There was anger, predominant in the men, and a great deal of fright and sorrow.

  'Something bad has happened here,' he said quietly. Macsen gave a short uncomfortable nod of agreement.

  Walsfol and Julan were waiting for them on the upper hortus garden that faced the Grand Major Canal. Even so early, the Chief Constable was wearing a pristine tunic, his gold buttons shining brightly in the rising sun. Julan, by contrast, was one of the few aristocrats who showed his age. A hundred and fifty three years made his shoulders sag, and his grey hair thin. He wore a rumpled house robe over his nightshirt. His eyes were red rimmed, and sunken with abject despair.

  The squad had brought Edeard up to date with Culverit family gossip on the way over. Now, as never before, they were the subject of intense speculation and discussion within the rest of Makkathran's aristocracy. Master Julan had married very late in life. In itself that wasn't too unusual among his class. It was a truly romantic marriage. Apparently he fell completely in love with his wife (a hundred and eight years his junior) as soon as they were introduced, and was utterly devoted to her until her tragic, untimely death six years ago. Though what scandalized everyone was that the first child she produced had been a daughter, Kristabel, as was their second child, during whose birth she'd died. There was no son to inherit. It was almost without precedent in the city. But to the dismay of Lorin, Julan's younger brother, there was a clause in the Culvert family's legally registered claim to the Haxpen District to allow the lineage continuation through a daughter if there were no sons. The situation had occurred only twice before in Makkathran's two thousand year history.

  Consequently, Julan was estranged from a good percentage of his relatives; meanwhile Kristabel was the most desired girl in the city, with every noble son desperate for an introduction. Any party she was due to attend was besieged by potential suitors. 'And Lady, wouldn't you just know it, she's an exceptionally pretty thing, too,' Macsen had finished wistfully.

  'We have a problem,' Walsfol announced as soon as the squad was ushered on to the high terrace. 'No doubt the entire city will know by breakfast, but Mirnatha has been abducted.'

  Edeard risked a sideways glance at Dinlay.

  'The second daughter,' Dinlay explained with direct longtalk.

  'I'm terribly sorry, sir,' Edeard said to Julan. 'Obviously if I can do anything to help, I will.'

  Julan's distress abated long enough for him to give Edeard a fierce judgmental stare. He held up a small square of paper. 'You can start by explaining this.'

  Edeard gave him a puzzled look, and appealed to Walsfol. The Chief Constable gently extracted the paper from Julan and handed it to Edeard. 'A ge-eagle delivered it not quite an hour ago.'

  With a sinking heart, Edeard read the note.

  Mirnatha is very sweet. The price of her return alive and still sweet is eight thousand gold guineas. If you agree to our price, fly a yellow and green flag from the Orchard Palace this noon.

  The Waterwalker is to deliver our coinage by himself. He will go to Jacob's Hall tavern in Owestorn at midnight. Further instructions will be given to him there. If anyone is with him, or if he tries to snatch her back without paying she will be killed.

  'Oh Lady no,' Edeard groaned.

  'I can't order you to deliver the money,' Walsfol said.

  'You don't have to, sir, I'll take it of course. Er… do you have the money?' he asked Julan. With that much coinage you could buy Rulan province and still have enough left over for a fleet of the fastest merchant vessels.

  'It can be found, yes.'

  'Where's Owestorn?'

  'It's a village out on the Iguru,' Dinlay said. 'Maybe two hours' ride from South Gate.'

  A long way from any possible help, Edeard realized, and even I can't longtalk that far. 'The note was delivered after Mirnatha was taken,' he said delicately. 'Is there any proof that it came from those who hold her?'

  Julan held up his hand. His fingers clenched a blue ribbon with a long tuft of gold-brown hair. 'This was attached.'

  'I understand.'

  Tears were running down the old man's cheeks. 'The ribbon was from her night dress. I know it was. I kissed her goodnight.

  I kiss my Mirnatha every night. She is so precious—' He began to cry, sobbing helplessly. Walsfol moved to comfort him. 'We'll have her back for you, my friend, be assured. Every effort will be made. The constabulary will not rest until she is in your arms again.'

  'She is but a child,' Julan wailed, 'Six years old! Who could do such a thing? Why?' He stared wildly at Edeard. 'Why have they done this? What is your part in this? Why you? Why can't I go? She's my baby.'

  'I don't know, sir.' Somehow, just having so much anguish directed at him made Edeard feel shamed.

  'Of course you do,' a thin voice snapped.

  Edeard's farsight identified her being helped though the doorway behind him out on to the hortus, but he didn't want to turn round.

  'It is your fault,' Mistress Florrel insisted. 'And yours alone. You caused this with your ridiculous crusade against the gangs. Why couldn't you just leave things well alone? Nobody was being harmed. This city worked perfectly well before you arrived.'

  Edeard took a deep breath, trying to keep a shield around the growing anger in his mind. Mistres
s Florrel was in one of her usual archaic black dresses, wearing a tall hat that seemed to have purple fruit growing out of it. A man in fine aristocratic robes was holding her arm as she made her way slowly towards Edeard.

  'Lorin,' Macsen murmured. 'Julan's younger brother.'

  Mistress Florrel stood directly in front of Edeard, her shoulders all hunched up as if in sorrow; but still managed to fix him with a merciless stare. 'Well?'

  'Mistress Florrel.'

  'What have you got to say for yourself?'

  'I will bring the girl back and deal with those responsible.'

  'You will do no such thing. You will hand the money over as you're told. Nothing more. I don't want this made any worse by your wretched stupidity. Officers from the militia will lake full charge of things from now on. Gentlemen of good character and family, that's what we need. Not some country buffoon.'

  Edeard felt his teeth grinding together.

  Boyd put his hand on Edeard's arm, smiling politely. 'We will cooperate in any way we can, Mistress Florrel.'

  Her eyes narrowed. 'I know you. Saria has taken a shine to you.'

  'Yes, Mistress.'

  'Ha,' she dismissed him with a flutter of her hand. Her voice took on a tragic tone. 'My dear dear boy,' her arms rose up in sympathetic greeting as she shuffled over to Julan; 'how are you coping? This is all too, too terrible.'

  'She'll come back,' Julan managed to stammer.

  'We'll make sure of it, brother,' Lorin said effusively. 'What has passed between us is nothing now. I am resolute in helping you endure this ordeal.'

  Julan bobbed his head. 'Thank you,' he whispered.

  'Come along,' Mistress Florrel said. 'Sit down my dear Julan. You family is here to comfort you now. That is what you need. You are no longer alone or surrounded by fools. Go and get him some tea,' she told Walsfol imperiously. 'Now my boy, have you enough money to pay the ransom? I will help if not. We simply must get her back to her home and loving family.'

  Walsfol inclined his head respectfully to Julan as he left the hortus, and signalled the squad to follow. They hurried after him.

  'Now what?' Edeard asked.

  'I hate to concede the point, but Mistress Florrel is right in one respect,' Walsfol said. 'This is about you.'

  'Yes sir,' Edeard said miserably.

  'Stay here for now in case they get in touch again; and for the Lady's sake keep out of her way,' Walsfol said, pointing back through the horseshoe arch in considerable irritation. 'I'm going to convene the station captains. Somebody out there must know where that poor girl is. One of them will talk.'

  Edeard was looking round the magnificent lounge with its clutter of fabulous artwork and gilded furniture. 'How did they get up here?' he asked in bewilderment. 'And then how did they get out again, carrying Mirnatha? In the Lady's name, there are hundreds of people in the mansion, and this is the tenth floor.'

  'A valid question,' Walsfol said in a low voice. 'The captain of the house guard here is called Homelt. Talk to him. The kidnappers must have had some inside help. Take a look round the girl's room. There must be some clue, some evidence we can use to uncover the kidnapper.'

  'Do you think she's still alive sir?'

  Walsfol took another guilty look out on to the pleasant hortus. 'Very few kidnapping victims are ever returned. Just enough to make the families and merchants pay out in the hope that their loved one will be the exception.'

  'So she might still be alive?'

  'Yes. She might. We have to carry on in the belief that Mirnatha is going to be handed over safe and well in return for the money.'

  Edeard wasn't much encouraged by his tone. They found Homelt waiting for them in the central corridor. He was in his fifties, thickset but still fit. The kidnapping had left him angry and distressed; it was taking up a lot of self control just to clamp down on his emotions. He'd spent twenty years in the constables, he told them, serving out of Bellis station. 'I was a good constable,' he insisted. 'Not like some of them, who were just in it for the pay off. I did my duty and earned this post.'

  'So how did they get her?' Edeard asked.

  For an instant it looked like Homelt might strike out. He stood quite still and took a long breath. 'I don't know. And that's the Lady's honest truth. It was the middle of the night. All our gates are locked and guarded. There are more guards on random patrol inside. There's always someone on the stairs. I just don't understand.'

  'What about new guards?'

  'Yesterday, I thought I could trust every one of them. Today

  I'm not sure of anything any more. We don't take in just anyone, they have to be known and sponsored; and like you we've got a pretty good idea who's in with the gangs.'

  'All right, so tell us what happened.'

  'The kid's nursery maid raised the alarm really early on. The first thing we did was double the gate guards, then we searched the whole mansion, every room I promise you. Not just farsight, we physically inspected everywhere. Then that bloody ge-eagle flapped down on to the tenth-floor hortus. The Master… I've never seen him so broken. She was a lovely little thing, she really was. Nothing like you'd expect a family child, none of the airs half of them have.'

  'Can I see the room please?'

  'What do you think?' Dinlay asked as Homelt led them along the corridors. Dispirited staff hung their heads as the squad walked past. Edeard couldn't detect the faintest flash of guilt, they all shared the same numb horror. The three nursery maids were in their parlour next to the family rooms, all weeping openly. Even the ge-monkeys were subdued, caught up in the emotions saturating the mansion.

  'The same as you,' Edeard said. 'Somebody with a concealment ability. There's no other way.'

  'The gangs have that?' Kanseen asked in alarm.

  'Not the street soldiers we normally deal with, but I found out the hard way that Ivarl has a considerable psychic power.'

  Mirnatha's nursery room was the same size as the whole of Edeard's maisonette. The walls were draped in pink tapestries depicting colourful fairies and nikasprites and birds. Dressers and chairs were lined in streamers of fluffy pink feathers. There were two big dolls houses whose elaborately dressed inhabitants were strewn everywhere. A wooden rocking horse stood in one corner. The wardrobes were full of sweet little frocks.

  Edeard found it painful just standing on the pink carpet looking round. He sniffed the air. 'Do you smell that? Something tangy?' Walking round, the smell was strongest by the bed with its twee lace canopy.

  'Chloroform,' Homelt said. 'That's how they kept her quiet.'

  'What's chloroform?' Edeard asked. The squad was regarding him with an expression he was staring to tire of.

  'It's a chemical,' Dinlay said. 'If it's inhaled it puts you to sleep. Nearly every kidnapper uses it. You soak it into a cloth and hold it over your victim's face.'

  'Chemicals?' Edeard said. 'They used chemicals on a six year old girl.'

  'Yes,' Homelt was giving him a strange look.

  Edeard took a final look round the nursery and pushed the glass doors open. The section of the hortus directly outside was mainly laid with grass, with some ornate yew trees in urns standing along the silver-grey balustrade. He stood with his hands pressing down on the rail and looked down. Each of the terraces in the ziggurat was laid out below him, forming a series of horticultural steps down to the ground. Now spring had truly arrived, the plants formed a blaze of colour as their flowers opened to greet the warm days. Mirnatha's hortus faced east. Away to his left, the Great Major Canal stretched out in a perfectly straight line to the Lyot sea in the distance. People were just starting to appear along its side, claiming their position in readiness for the festival. He let his farsight expand along it, past Forest Pool and Mid Pool down to First Pool which formed the base of Myco. There was the House of Blue Petals, its interior impressively restored after the fire.

  Ivarl stood in front of his office's oval window, stretching his farsight towards Edeard. Just for a second, Edeard was back in his
room at the Ashwell Eggshaper Guild, searching the towers of the village gate for any sign of the guards, with the bandit chief watching him.

  'I wouldn't have believed even you would stoop to this,' Edeard informed his adversary coldly. 'She's six years old, for the Lady's sake. Six!'

  'I'm sorry about the girl,' Ivarl replied. 'But it wasn't me.'

  'You're a bad liar.'

  'You and your activities have started to dismay some very important people in this city. And that stunt you pulled vanishing in the fire, that was impressive, even to me. They're starting to work out what you are and what you're capable of. I have a feeling myself that even you don't know your full potential yet. Not that it matters, because that potential has already made them fearful. You won't be allowed to reach it, they'll make sure of that. That's what today is about, not the girl. She's just a means to an end, but you know that already don't you?'

  'Where is she?'

  'I don't know. Nor do I know who does. If you want her you'll have to deliver the ransom.'

  'Is she still alive?'

  'I would imagine so. They need to entice you out of the city by yourself, away from any possible help. If she's dead, they lose their advantage and their ability to manipulate you. Just an observation; from someone who has a lot more experience than you in such matters.'

  'Who? Who has done this?'

  'Oh, please, Waterwalker.'

  'I hold you responsible.'

  'Really? Is the truth too great a burden for you? This is your war, and you should have considered the consequences before you began it. It's far too late now to act outraged when it goes against you. And you can't back out now. You're the only one who can save her.'

  'Will you negotiate for me? I'll go to them in Owestorn if they let her go.'

  'You really are that stupidly noble, aren't you. Dear Lady: youth and its virtue. This city will be doomed if you ever sit in the Mayor's chair at Council.'