The Temporal Void (84 page)

Dinlay had taken great delight in telling him of hidden ballot boxes stuffed with voting slips by a single candidate that ‘appeared’ along with the real ones in the Malfit Hall where the count would be made. Of the ‘ghosts’ on the registry. Of bribes. Of people claiming to be someone else.

‘If voting never makes a difference,’ Edeard asked, ‘why go to so much trouble?’

‘To make sure it doesn’t make a difference,’ Dinlay explained. ‘And don’t forget, a Representative is paid to perform their Council duties, as well as living in a grand old official City residence along with a dozen other perks. That alone is quite an incentive to get yourself re-elected.’

Forty minutes after the doors opened there was a lull in voting as the eager early birds finished up. Edeard went over to the clerks and collected his own ballot papers.

‘Remember who supported you,’ Balogg said in a loud jovial voice as Edeard went into the privacy booth.

‘And I’m pledged to continue to support you no matter what,’ one of his rivals cried out.

Edeard grinned at them as he went in. It was good humoured. But still there was an undercurrent of tension. He spread the small squares of paper out on the little shelf, and picked up the pencil before casting a seclusion haze. On the Mayor’s ballot he automatically put a cross by Finitan’s name. He hesitated on the Representative; Balogg had been supportive, and he’d had the courage to sign the Exclusion warrants with Vologral. The others were vocal in their approval of banishment, but unproven.
Balogg deserves my thanks for what he’s done
, Edeard decided, and put his cross by the Representative’s name.
So nothing has changed.

Democracy was a strange thing, he thought as he came out and posted his ballots into the metal box. A couple of sullen youths were collecting their ballots from the clerks; they didn’t meet his eye as they went to the booths.
And the two of them can outvote me
, he realized in dismay. Then he was ashamed for being so prejudiced.
That’s what democracy is: holding the strong accountable, making sure they don’t become too strong. Rah was right to give us this system.

There was another surge of voters a little later as people finished their breakfasts. Then a lull. Then mid morning saw the queues lengthening again. Edeard sent his farsight into neighbouring Silvarum, then Drupe. The voting was the same there, light but constant. No sign of trouble. He searched round the other districts. It was all pretty much the same. Except Sampalok. There, long queues snaked away from the district hall. Several squads of constables kept everyone in line, more than at any other district. Edeard observed several disputes with the clerks over residency. The official candidate observers were making heated interjections.

Sampalok was the one place he could not go today – not even if a small war broke out over voting rights. The local constables would have to handle it, with reinforcements from Bellis and Myco if necessary. Walsfol had several contingency plans worked out in case.

I have to trust other people to do their jobs. That’s democracy, too.

There were seven candidates standing to be Sampalok’s Representative. Three pro-Waterwalker, four pro-Bise. He didn’t like the ratio, but again that wasn’t down to him. He was simply glad that anyone in that district supported him. Though Macsen and Kanseen seemed to have been accepted. Or at least, they hadn’t been forced out yet. Today’s result would be a powerful indicator whether their appointment was going to be permanent or not. Nobody was arguing with the City’s right to proclaim District Masters: it was too novel, too far outside the ordinary. But if Bise’s old guard gained ground, the whispering campaign would start in earnest.

Edeard couldn’t believe anyone would vote for Owain after the debacle with the militia. But you never knew.
Democracy! Is this why the cityborn are so proficient at shielding their feelings? To keep politicians on their toes.

Beyond Sampalok, his farsight lingered briefly on the recently refurbished (again) House of Blue Petals. Feeling mildly guilty, he observed the pro-Owain party it was throwing for its clientele. It wasn’t strictly against election rules, which forbade monetary encouragement to vote for a candidate, but sailed close to the limit. He shook his head in disapproval, but then such petty defiance was typical of Ranalee. She’d finally emerged from behind all the obstructive paperwork with a legitimate claim on the ownership of the bordello. And that’s all it was now, a lewd business which filed correct tax forms with the Guild of Clerks. Edeard had left it and her alone. Ranalee had clearly found her place in life, and in the meantime there were bridges to rebuild, and the Waterwalker couldn’t afford to appear vindictive in any way. He and Finitan had agreed a line must be drawn under the day of banishment if the city was to move forward.

After a few hours hanging round the hall doing exactly nothing, Edeard left Dinlay in charge and headed in to Haxpen.

Finitan’s farsight found him as he crossed Flight Canal. ‘So have you voted yet, young Edeard?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Did I get your approval?’

‘Voting is private, sir.’

Finitan’s humour carried through his longtalk. ‘It certainly is. Unfortunately.’

‘Any idea how it’s going, sir?’

‘Indications are good so far. Those who speak to the observers are effusive. According to the percentage we calculated an hour ago, I’m in the lead.’

‘But that is good news.’

‘Remember when you walked into Sampalok to arrest Buate? Everything seemed to be going smoothly, then Owain damn near walked away with the day. Never underestimate him.’

‘I’ll remember, sir.’

‘Ah . . . I’m sorry, Edeard. I haven’t slept in days. I’m worried. What if I lose? I’ve gambled everything on this election.’

‘Sir, I remember what you told me at our first meeting. You said that even those in high office would never be able to change anything. Well, I believe you’re about to prove yourself wrong.’

‘Thank you, Edeard. At least you and I know we gave this our best endeavour. That is what we will be judged on.’

‘Yes, sir.’

When he arrived at the Culverit mansion there wasn’t much activity inside. In fact it was almost deserted apart from the guards who greeted him warmly enough.

Kristabel was waiting in one of the lounges on the top floor, sitting at a wide leather-topped desk with folders stacked up on either side of her. Her hair had been plaited into a tight tail, which hung loosely down her back. Her dress was a pale lemon, which she’d accompanied by a thick gold necklace made with figure-of-eight links. It suited her perfectly.

She was writing when he came in, the tip of her long onyx fountain pen quivering furiously. There was a wonderfully intense frown on her face. Edeard wished he could capture the image forever.

‘You look like you’re signing a death warrant,’ he said.

She gave him a disapproving look. ‘I am.’

‘What?’

‘You see all this?’ Her hand waved expansively at the paperwork. ‘This is my family, which is going to be your family as soon as we get married.’

‘Er, right.’

‘Daddy has decided that you and I will have the entire tenth floor for ourselves, which is very sweet of him. But, that also means he and Mirnatha will live on the ninth floor below us, along with aunt Rishia and cousin Gorral, in addition to Uncle Lorin and his wife and children and the first three grandchildren. Uncle Lorin really isn’t happy about that. He and Daddy had a stinking row about it last night. Daddy just says he knew it was inevitable and he should accept it. Uncle Lorin has accused him of abdicating to you. But Daddy’s still Master so down to the ninth he goes, which means a lot of people there get displaced down another floor.’

‘Oh Lady, I know your uncle doesn’t like me . . .’

‘Ha! Honious take him. That’s not the real problem. It’s the families on the third floor that I’ve got to deal with.’

‘Third?’

‘Yes, below that it’s just the staff.’

‘Right.’

‘Once everyone here has adjusted, there’s going to be eleven sets of cousins move out.’

‘Eleven?’ Edeard muttered in dismay as he pulled a chair over to sit in front of her desk. Jessile had said something about her father giving her a country estate, but that was as a dowry.

‘Yes, and I’m the one who has got to find somewhere in our estate to put them all.’ Kristabel rested a hand on top of a pile of folders. ‘These are details on lands and farms and vineyards and houses and other properties we own beyond the Iguru Plain. Of course, they’re all currently occupied as well.’

‘This is crazy,’ he declared. ‘Families shouldn’t have to support so many . . . relatives.’

‘Deadbeats?’

‘I wouldn’t quite say that.’

‘Actually, my cousins on the third floor aren’t as bad as the ones further up. At least they knew they were going to have to move out some day. Most of them have taken some kind of schooling, even if it’s not terribly practical. And a few are now seriously considering joining a Guild; cousin Dalbus has already arranged for a commission in the militia. It’s everyone else who can’t stand the idea of losing status, not to mention their place on the entitlement list.’

‘Entitlement list?’

‘Senior family members are entitled to money from the Culverit estate. The further removed you are from the succession, the smaller the amount.’

‘Oh Lady, so when I come along and marry you—’

‘Actually, everyone’s entitlement stays the same until we start having children. Then they all get bumped down the list.’

Edeard grinned. ‘How many children are we planning on having?’

‘Let’s put it this way: we’d need to have seventy before Uncle Lorin gets disqualified.’

‘People should always have a goal in life.’

‘Edeard Waterwalker! If you think I’m bearing you
seventy
children—’

He started laughing. Kristabel tried to give him a cross look, and failed. She smiled wearily. ‘Well how many do you want?’

‘I don’t know. I was an only child, so definitely more than one – but I agree less than seventy.’

‘All right.’ She stood up. ‘We’ll resume negotiations after lunch. It’s a buffet, I’m afraid. The staff are all off voting.’

‘Oh, dear Lady, how the senior family suffer for the good of the city. You’ll have to order your own genistars around next.’

‘If you want to be capable of siring just one child, watch your mouth.’

‘Yes, Mistress.’

They walked out on to the hortus, looking over the southwestern districts. Edeard’s arm instinctively went round her shoulder. The winds fluffed her skirt around.

‘Is Finitan going to win?’ Kristabel asked softly.

‘He must. Nobody in their right mind would vote for Owain. Surely people understand what he was trying to do with the militia.’

She pressed her lips together. ‘This is Makkathran. Anything can happen.’

‘Have you been to vote yet?’

Kristabel gave him one of
those
looks. ‘No, Edeard. People like me don’t vote.’

‘I thought everybody is entitled to vote.’

‘Everybody is. But it’s considered bad form for senior members of Grand Families. We carry enough power as it is.’

‘It was bad form to vote against our Marriage Consent bill. You could get one back on Bise by going down to the hall and voting.’

‘Two wrongs don’t make a right,’ she said automatically.

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘Is he still out there?’

‘Bise? Yes. Him and his closest family have moved into one of the Gilmorn farms twenty miles away.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Argian has been doing what he does best, and stretching his farsight for me.’

‘I’m not sure I trust him.’

‘Did you know the families have agents like him?’

‘Daddy never said anything specific, but I’ve always known we were supposed to be protected in a way ordinary people weren’t.
Things
get done quietly if you need them to be. I suppose I will be introduced to the right people when I become Mistress.’

‘I wonder who they’re loyal to in times like this?’

‘The most conservative families, trust me.’

‘You’re probably right.’

She cuddled up close. ‘You’re learning.’

They ate lunch on the hortus, on a long stone table under an archway of flowering honeysuckle. Julan and Mirnatha joined them; the little girl was delighted to be able to pick her own food from the array of dishes the cooks had prepared the previous night, going back several time for slices of smoked hulfish and clotted cheese cream until her father told her no more. She sulked for a while before collecting her pudding of toffee banana cake.

It was a lazy, pleasant afternoon which followed. Kristabel talked with her father on redistributing their family members from the third floor. Edeard finally began to gain an appreciation of just how widespread their holdings were.

The whole agreeable family scene gave him an insight into what the next century might be like, with his children having a similar discussion in another thirty years as they took over the ninth floor and more third-floor cousins prepared to leave. Such a thing gave him a sense of continuity, firming up the future from a few vague notions of trying to make life better; this was particulars, making solid plans for expansion and still better days. Like nothing he’d known before.

Captain Ronark longtalked him in the middle of the afternoon. ‘Take a look who just showed up to vote in Lillylight.’

Edeard obliged, focusing his farsight on the Opera House annexe where the Lillylight voting was conducted. Master Cherix was standing in front of a clerk who was running through the registry ledger. Edeard grinned at the lawyer’s distinctive mental signature – no mistake, it was definitely him. When he checked by using the city’s perception he saw Cherix was keeping his composure, waiting with apparent patience for the clerk to find his name. ‘I wonder where he’s been holed up?’ The constables had been unable to locate him on the day of banishment; since then Edeard had more pressing issues than tracking down the lawyer.