The Temporal Void (22 page)

One of his ge-monkeys was dispatched to the nearest doctor’s house to fetch a soothing ointment, which he dabbed on his scorched skin. Then he apologized to Jessile and asked her not to come round for the evening, claiming he didn’t want to pass on his cold. She commiserated, and got her family’s cook to send round a hamper loaded with chicken soup and other treats.

What he wanted was to spend a couple of days resting up, thinking about his next move; certainly he needed to talk to Grand Master Finitan. Then at lunchtime on the second day Kanseen longtalked him.

The Cobara district had always delighted Edeard. It didn’t have streets like the rest of the city. Instead, over a hundred great pillar towers rose out of the ground, all a uniform four storeys high, wide enough for each level to provide enough room for a family to live in. But it was above the towers where the architecture excelled. Each tower was the support column for a broad bridge spanning the gap to the next tower. Most towers provided the base for at least three such bridges, and many had more than that, webbing the district with an array of suspended polygon structures. That was where the district’s true accommodation began, extending up to six storeys high from the low curve of each bridge platform. They formed triangles, squares, pentagons, hexagons and, right in the centre of the district, the bridges made up the famous Rafael’s Fountain dodecagon which housed the Artist, Botany, and Cartography Guilds. The fountain itself roared up from a big pool in the middle of the dodecagon, its foaming white tip rising higher than the arching crystal roofs.

Edeard walked past the fierce jet of water, his third hand sweeping away the stingingly cold spray that splattered round the edges of the pool. He was well wrapped up in his fur-lined cloak, with a black ear-flap hat pulled down over his hair, and a maroon scarf covering his mouth. Nobody recognized him through his seclusion haze, though he was very conscious of the ge-eagle slipping through the dull grey sky that was keeping pace with him.

After the fountain he took a left, heading towards the Millagal tower, with its red and blue striped walls, covered by a leafless network of gurkvine branches. Teams of ge-monkeys were out in force, clearing the last of the slush on the plaza, which extended across the whole district beneath the thick shadows of the elevated buildings. Winter gave Cobara a strangely subterranean aspect, with only sallow slivers of sunlight reaching down through the elaborate structures above. In summer, the plaza was full of people and small markets and street artists and kids playing games. Today, they were all huddled next to their stoves in the rooms overhead, complaining about spring’s late appearance.

Edeard was glad there were few people about, his mood was still down. He arrived at the base of the Yolon tower, and went through the wide archway. A massive set of stairs spiralled up the central lightwell. He grunted at the sight of them, each curving ledge spaced just wrong for human legs. One day, he reflected as he made his calf-aching way upwards, he would just throw caution away and reshape every Lady-damned staircase in the city.

Three bridge cloisters radiated out from the top of the stairs. He took the Kimvula one, and was immediately heartened by the bustling atmosphere so high above the ground. The cloister was narrow in relation to the height of the walls on either side, five storeys of ogee arches and oriel windows. Nevertheless, it was wide enough for stalls to be set up along both sides. He unwrapped his scarf as he walked past them, it was warm inside the cloister, the winter sunlight shaded with a faint pink tinge by the crystal roof. People flocked round the various stalls, haggling with the owners. The air was scented with spices, and very dry. Someone, somewhere, was roasting honeyplums.

A third of the way down the cloister he turned into a narrow side corridor which led to yet another spiral stair. Sighing, he trudged up a further three storeys. The hallway on this floor was illuminated by the city’s orange light radiating from the circles positioned above each doorway. He found the red door, with its ivy hinges painted purple, and knocked politely even though he could sense the minds behind the wall.

Dybal opened it. The old musician wasn’t his usual self, he still wore a vibrantly coloured shirt, and his hair was immaculately braided, but the forceful good humour was subdued. ‘Thank you for coming,’ he said. His eyes narrowed as he took in Edeard’s blotchy pink face. ‘Are you all right? You look like you’ve been burnt.’

‘I’m okay. I had an accident, that’s all.’

‘Strange, that’ll be the second accident I’ve heard of this week; there was a fire in the House of Blue Petals two nights ago. You shouldn’t hang around that place, Edeard, it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy.’

‘I’ll remember, thanks.’

Edeard was led into the parlour, which had a bulbous bay window looking out across the pentagonal space outside. Far below them, big nutpear trees grew in a series of troughs which curved out of the plaza floor. Their denuded branches shone bright white amid the shadows of the bridge buildings.

The rest of his squad were already there. Boyd and Dinlay standing close to a coal-burning iron stove, looking concerned and radiating worry. Kanseen was busying herself with a samovar of tea, her thoughts tightly shielded as always. Macsen knelt on the floor next to a chair where Bijulee was sitting, his arm on his mother’s legs. She’d obviously been crying. Now she was dabbing at her face with a handkerchief, wearing a brave smile.

Edeard looked at the bruise that was darkening round her eye, and winced. His dismay suddenly turned to anger. ‘Did you know them?’ he blurted.

She directed a fond smile at Edeard. Even with the bruise, she was still beautiful. ‘No. I told them not to call you. I don’t want you worried by this.’

‘Mother,’ Macsen said. ‘It’s our fault this happened.’

‘No,’ she insisted.

‘What did they do?’ Edeard asked, almost afraid to know. He could see Macsen’s hands clenching into fists.

‘Nothing,’ Bijulee said. She smiled up at Kanseen, who brought her a cup of steaming tea over. ‘Thank you. They were just some thugs.’

‘Four,’ Macsen growled. ‘Four thugs.’ He gave Edeard a significant look.

‘They told me that actions have consequences,’ Bijulee said. ‘And that Macsen should watch out.’ One hand caressed her son’s head. ‘They said you should find a different job. Then . . .’ She indicated her eye. ‘I never saw it coming. Me! I used to think I was city-smart. Lady, how stupid of me.’

‘Bastards!’ Macsen exclaimed.

‘Cowards,’ Dinlay said.

‘We’ve always known that,’ Kanseen said.

‘Do you remember what they looked like?’ Edeard asked. ‘Can you gift us?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ Bijulee said. ‘It’s all a bit of a blur. Maybe tomorrow when I’ve calmed down.’

‘Of course. I’m so sorry this happened. I don’t know what Ivarl thinks he can achieve. The trial is only going to last another couple of days. Lian and the others are going to get decades in Trampello. What does he think he’s going to get me to do by this?’

‘It’s not your fault.’

Macsen’s jaw muscles clamped down. He continued to gaze up at his mother full of concern and adoration.

‘Did anyone see anything?’ Edeard asked Dybal.

‘No. It was the middle of the morning in the Bellis market. Hundreds of people were there, and nobody can remember anything. They do what they always do, and rush to help afterwards.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Edeard said again. He felt so useless. ‘I’ll do everything I can to make sure this doesn’t happen again.’

Dybal gave him a sad smile. ‘I know you will. You’re a good lad, Edeard, I appreciate that. I appreciate what you’re trying to achieve, too. People need hope, especially now. Shame there’s only one of you. This is a big city.’

The squad got ready to leave. Edeard found Macsen’s blatant hostility quite disconcerting; his friend was normally the most level headed of them all. ‘Can I talk to you for a moment?’ Edeard asked Dybal.

The musician ushered him into a small room which held over a dozen guitars as well as a drum set. A desk overflowed with sheet music. Normally Edeard would have been fascinated by the instruments, today he took a shaky breath. ‘I know this isn’t a terribly appropriate time.’

Dybal took off his blue glasses and polished them with his sleeve. ‘I’ll help you any way I can, lad. You know that. You’re important. Not just because you’re Macsen’s friend.’

‘Thank you. Er . . .’

‘You’ll find there’s very little shocks me, if that’s any help.’

‘Okay. I just wondered if you knew anything about longtalk dominance?’

Dybal raised an eyebrow. ‘The old lust slave serenade? You don’t want to be messing with that kind of mischief, Edeard, no matter how pretty she is. Trust me, there can be repercussions. Anyway, from what I’ve heard, every mother and daughter in the city is forming a disorderly queue to drag you off to bed.’

‘I don’t want to use it. I want to stop it being used against me.’

‘Ah. I see. Some of those family daughters not taking no for an answer, eh?’

‘I wish it was that pleasant.’

Dybal studied his face closely. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. First off, keep your mind tightly shielded. Which is a shame. You always seem a little more open than those of us born in the city, it helps make you so endearing.’

‘Right.’

‘This technique works through your own weakness. Parts of us should always stay buried, Edeard. Common decency is normally enough to keep those kind of thoughts suppressed, but once they’ve been kindled it’s hard to put them aside again.’

‘I know,’ he said miserably.

Dybal’s hand gripped his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. Listen, there is no shame in possessing these thoughts, we all have them. If some little vixen managed to sneak through your defences and fired them up one night then that’s a lesson learned, and a valuable one at that. The fact that it disturbed you this much is a pretty clear sign that it’s not part of your natural personality, which is encouraging to me if not you. And I have faith enough in you to think you’re strong enough to survive a crisis of conscience. But just in case: here’s a recognition gift, it should help warn you if anyone tries that little trick again.’

Edeard examined the burst of thoughts Dybal shot at him, memorizing the technique. ‘Thank you.’

‘Now get yourself back on those streets, and generally kick the shit out of Ivarl and his cronies.’

Nobody in the squad said much as they all walked back across four districts to the constable station in Jeavons. Edeard just knew there was going to be a big argument when they got there. Macsen was going to pick a fight no matter what. Bijulee had been too much. Which meant Edeard was going to have to do something, and he was now starting to feel bad about not trusting them with the real enormity of everything he’d discovered. If the next couple of hours went wrong, then everything they’d achieved would all be over.

There were a couple of other constables in the small hall, who took a fast scan of the suppressed emotions seething through the squad and hurriedly made their exit. The thick wooden doors slammed shut. Edeard raised his eyebrow at that. Someone’s third hand was adrenaline powered today.

He unbuttoned his cloak’s neck clasp and sat at his customary bench at the top end of the hall.

‘My mother!’ Macsen said brutally.

‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah? That’s all you can say? Yeah?’

‘Did you really think Ivarl
wouldn’t
try to apply some pressure?’

‘Pressure! Lady-be-damned, that was my mother they used as a punchbag. My mother!’

‘It’s his way of trying to get to me,’ Edeard said quietly, his hand went to his cheek of its own accord, stoking the tender flesh. ‘You’re the only friends I’ve got, my one vulnerability. He’s bound to use that as hard as he can.’

‘Yes,’ Kanseen said so wistfully that Edeard shot her a curious glance. She shrugged. ‘My sister was hassled last week. She was carrying Dium at the time.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Edeard exclaimed bitterly.

‘Trust, probably,’ Macsen said viciously.

‘Oh . . .’ Edeard flung his hands up in dismay. ‘In the Lady’s name!’

‘We thought we were in this together, Edeard. We were with you at Birmingham Pool remember? Does that mean nothing to you?’

‘It means
everything
!’ Edeard shouted. Finally he was too distraught to keep himself in check.

They all swayed back as his doubts and confusions blazed out. He made an effort, gritting his teeth and placing his hands palm-down on the old wood of the table. ‘Sorry,’ he told their shocked expressions.

‘Edeard, in the Lady’s name, what’s wrong?’ Boyd pleaded. ‘What happened to you, to your face? And why won’t you talk to us any more?’

‘He didn’t trust us with the Myco warehouse,’ Macsen said harshly. ‘Why should he trust us with anything else.’

‘You’re such an arse,’ Kanseen snapped at Macsen.

‘I do trust you,’ Edeard said, even to him it sounded like a bored recital. ‘I got burned when I was sneaking around the House of Blue Petals. That’s all. It’s not as bad as it looks.’

‘You went there by yourself?’ Kanseen asked disapprovingly.

‘Yeah. It’s how I’ve been keeping track of Ivarl.’

‘That’s dangerous,’ Boyd said. ‘Edeard, you can’t do that on your own.’

Macsen let out a scornful grunt. ‘He’s the Waterwalker, he can do anything. He doesn’t need us holding him back, do you?’

Edeard sighed, this was worse than he’d steeled himself for. ‘The warehouse raid was the most public thing we’d ever attempted. Ivarl had laid a trap, he was going to make us – me! – a laughing stock. The whole thing was set up to destroy my credibility. I just used some misdirection. There were over a hundred constables involved, and we didn’t know half of them. If everyone had known, it would never have worked.’

‘We’re not
everyone
,’ Macsen barked. ‘We’re your friends, your squad. Or so I thought.’

‘Hey, ease up,’ Dinlay said. ‘It was good procedure.’

‘Yeah, well I expected you to take his side.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’