The Evolutionary Void (26 page)

Edeard walked through the open wooden gates into the central courtyard,
where white and scarlet flowering gurkvine grew up the walls to the upper
balconies and a fountain played cheerfully in the central pond. Several
ge-chimps were tending the heavily scented flower beds, with another sweeping
the gray-white flooring. He went up the broad central stairs to the third
floor.

A young Novice was waiting at the top of the stairs, her blue and white
robe immaculate. She bowed her head slightly. “Waterwalker.”

“How is he?”

“A better day, I think. The pain is not so great this morning. He is
lucid.”

“He’s taking the potions, then?”

She smiled in regret “When he wants to or when the pain becomes too
much.”

“Can I see him?”

“Of course.”

Finitan’s room had long slim windows that stretched from floor to
ceiling. The walls and ceiling were white, and the floor was a polished
red-brown flecked with emerald in the shape of minute leaves, as if they’d been
fossilized in the city substance. It was furnished equally simply, with a desk
and several deep chairs. The bed was large, half-recessed in a semicircular
alcove. Finitan was sitting up in the center of it, his back resting on a pile
of firm pillows.

“I’ll be outside,” the Novice said quietly, and closed the heavy carved
door.

Edeard walked over to the bed, and his third hand lifted one of the
chairs over. He sat down and studied his old friend. Finitan was quite thin
now; the disease seemed to be consuming him from within. Even so, up until a
few months ago he had weathered it well; now he was visibly frail. Blue veins
stood proudly from pale skin, and what was left of his fine hair was a faded
gray.

Edeard’s farsight examined the body, exposing the malignant growths
around his lungs and thorax.

“Don’t be so bloody nosy,” Finitan wheezed.

“Sorry. I just …”

“Want to see if it’s retreating, if I’m getting better?”

“Something like that, yes.”

Finitan managed a weak smile. “Not a chance. The Lady is calling. To be
honest, I’m always quite surprised these days when I still find myself waking
up of a morning.”

“Don’t say that.”

“For the Lady’s sake, Edeard, accept I am dying. I did quite some time
ago. Or are you going to start making politician’s talk about how I’ll be up
and about soon? Cheer my spirits up?”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Thank the Lady. Those bloody Novices do. They think it helps, while what
it really does is get me depressed. Can you imagine that? I’ve got a gaggle of
twenty-year-old girls fussing over me, and all I want is for them to shut up
and get out. What kind of an ending is that for a man?”

“Dignified?”

“Sod dignity. I know how I’d rather go. Wouldn’t that be something, eh?
Scandalizing everyone at the finish.”

Edeard grinned, though he felt like crying. “That would indeed be
something. Perhaps the doctor knows of some concoction that would give you a final
burst of strength.”

“That’s better. Thank you for coming. I appreciate it. Especially now,
when you should be out campaigning. How’s it going, by the way?”

“Well, Trahaval’s a certainty. I’m not sure about me; in private, my
campaign people tell me there’s only a couple of percent in it. Yrance might be
returned as Chief Constable.” He bit back on his irritation.

Finitan smiled broadly and rested his head back on the mound of pillows.
“And that annoys you, doesn’t it? That’s the wonderful thing about you, Edeard;
after all this time the one thing you of all people cannot do is shield your
emotions properly. It’s amazing that that’s the only psychic ability you lack.
So I can tell how it irks you that you, the Waterwalker, should have to
struggle for votes after all you’ve done for the city.”

“It’s true. I didn’t expect quite such a struggle, yes.”

“Ha. You’re just angry because people have forgotten. Only forty years
since the banishment, and you get taught in history class. That’s what you are
to a whole generation, a boring afternoon stuck in school when they could be
outside having fun.”

“Thank you for that.”

“Always does good to knock politicians down a peg or two.”

“I’m not a poli—”

Finitan chuckled, which turned to an alarming cough.

Edeard leaned forward in concern. “Are you all right?”

“No, I’m dying.”

“There’s a difference between facing up to your fate and just being plain
morbid.”

Finitan waved him silent. A glass of water drifted through the air and
finished by his lips. He took a sip. “Wonderful; my psychic powers remain
intact. How ironic is that?”

“It’s not your brain that’s affected.”

“I hate the brew they give me to numb the pain. It tastes vile, and then
I spend the day dozing. I don’t want to spend the day dozing, Edeard.”

“I know.”

“What’s the point in that? My soul will soon soar free. Why spend the
time bedbound and humbled? I hate this existence. Lady forgive me, I want it to
end.”

Edeard could feel his cheeks flush and knew Finitan would be scrutinizing
his thoughts with expert ability.

“Ah,” the old man said in satisfaction, and closed his eyes. “So what
truly brings you here?”

“A Skylord is coming.”

“Dear Lady!” Finitan twisted around abruptly and winced at the spike of
pain the motion caused. “How do you know?”

“The city revealed it to me. Then last night I spoke to it.” He smiled
warmly and gripped Finitan’s cold hand in his own. “It comes to see if any of
us have reached fulfillment. It comes to guide our souls to the Heart.”

“Fulfillment?” There were tears spilling from Finitan’s eyes. “Do I look
fulfilled? The Lady damn its arrogance. By what right does it judge us?”

“Finitan, dearest friend, you are fulfilled. Look at the life you have
lived, look at what you have accomplished. I’m asking you, I’m begging; go to a
tower in Eyrie. Accept its guidance to Odin’s Sea. Show Makkathran, show the
world, that we have become worthy again. Let people have that ultimate hope
once more. Show them your way is the right way.”

“A Skylord will never take my sorry soul anywhere other than Honious.”

“Stop that; it will. Trust me one last time. You read my emotions, but I
can see your soul, and it is glorious.”

“Edeard …”

“If you go, if you are worthy of guidance, other Skylords will know; they
will come to Querencia again. Our lives will be complete. Everything you and I
have achieved together, all that it cost, all that pain we endured to wrest the
city from the grip of darkness and decay, will have been worthwhile.”

For a long while Finitan said nothing. Finally, he sighed. “Honious take
me, I’m dying anyway. Why not?”

“Thank you.” Edeard leaned over the bed and kissed the old man’s brow.

The decision seemed to have cheered Finitan up. He pulled his pale lips
into a rueful pout. “Well, at least the election’s over. What does it feel like
to be Chief Constable?”

“How do you see that? Have you got a timesense you’ve been hiding all
these years?”

“You’re going to be the Waterwalker again. You’re going to be the one who
calls the Skylord to Querencia. Then in front of the whole city you’ll hoist me
up to the top of the tower so I can be guided to the Heart. You, Edeard. Just
you. Who’s not going to vote for a savior like that?”

———

Edeard announced the Skylord’s arrival that afternoon as he was making a
campaign speech to Eggshaper Guild apprentices in Ysidro. There was silence in
the hall at first, as if his words hadn’t quite made sense. Then came a swell
of surprise and incredulity. Longtalk calls shot out to friends and family.
Dozens of hands were raised, and questions shouted.

“It’s very simple,” the Waterwalker said. “The Skylords are flying to
Querencia again. The first will be here in just over a week. It will guide
Finitan through Odin’s Sea to the Heart.”

“How do you know?” several apprentices barked out simultaneously.

“Because I’ve been talking to it for the last few nights.”

“Why is Finitan going to be guided?”

“Because of all of us, he is the one who has reached fulfillment. The way
he has lived his life is the example we must all follow. When the Skylord sees
him, it will know the time has come for humans to be guided to the Heart once
more.”

Makkathran’s true currency had always been gossip and rumor, a currency
inflated during election time, when candidates sought to defame their rivals.
So news of the Skylord traveled as such momentous news always did in
Makkathran, as fast as sunlight. Within an hour everyone knew of the
Waterwalker’s amazing claim.

The Astronomers Association promised they would find any Skylord
approaching Querencia and immediately started quarreling among themselves about
false observations. Mayor Trahaval carefully avoided direct comment or
criticism. Chief Constable Yrance dismissed it as a ridiculous vote-grabbing
stunt; however, his campaign team quickly spilled their ridicule around the
city. A sign of the Waterwalker’s desperation, they claimed, a stunt, a lie.
He’s past his prime. He’s delusional. A has-been. You need someone stable and
practical, someone who produces actual results, a man like the existing Chief
Constable.

Under Dinlay’s direction a flurry of counterclaims were passed from
district to district. The Skylord is real. It is coming as the Lady prophesied.
Finitan will be guided to the Heart because he has lived a life of fulfillment
just as the Lady said we should. Who else but the Waterwalker could summon our
final salvation? He is the one we need to lead us. Edeard will lead us to the
future we have spent so long trying to achieve.

“You’d better be right about this,” Dinlay said as he and Edeard arrived
at the Eggshaper Guild retirement house five days later.

“Have a little faith,” Edeard told his old friend in a wounded tone. Out
of all of them, Dinlay had always been the most loyal. He was also the one
Edeard considered had changed the least over the years. Dinlay had been captain
of the Lillylight constable station for eight years now. That affluent district
particularly welcomed his promotion; it was quite a catch having one of the
Waterwalker’s original squad appointed to supervise the policing of their
streets. Influence and status, to those residents in particular, meant
everything.

Dinlay, of course, had fitted in perfectly (as Edeard had suspected he
would). There were a lot of formal social events, which suited him. The station
was organized efficiently. He was actively involved in the training of the new
generation of constables, producing polite and effective squads. Prosecution
lawyers achieved high success rates in court. Lillylight streets were safe to
walk along at any time of the day or night. And Captain Dinlay was newly
engaged to one of their own. Again.

Edeard led the way upstairs to Finitan’s room. The house’s chief doctor
was waiting outside the door, flanked by two Novices.

“I’m not sure this is in the patient’s best interest,” the doctor said
firmly.

“I think that’s for him to decide, isn’t it?” Edeard replied calmly.
“That is his right at such a time as this.”

“This journey may finish him. Would you have that on your conscience,
Waterwalker?”

“I will hold him steady, I promise. He will reach the tower in comfort.”

“And then what? Even if a Skylord were to come, he is still alive.”

“The Waterwalker has said a Skylord is coming,” Dinlay said heatedly.
“Are you going to deny your own patient the chance to reach the Heart?”

“I can offer him certainty,” the doctor said. “Not promises based on
myth.”

“This is not some election stunt,” Dinlay said, his anger growing now.
“Not a politician’s promise. The Skylord will guide Master Finitan’s soul to
the Heart.”

He really does believe in me
, Edeard realized,
feeling almost humbled by a trust that had lasted forty years. He wasn’t quite
sure what to do about the stubborn doctor, who was only doing her job and
securing what she believed was best for her patient.

“Doctor,” Finitan’s longtalk urged. “Please let my friends in.”

The doctor stepped aside with a great show of disapproval. Finitan was
sitting up in bed, dressed in the robes of the Eggshaper Guild’s Grand Master.

“You look splendid,” Edeard said.

“Wish I felt it.” The old man coughed. He gave a frail, brave smile. “Let’s
get this over with, shall we?”

“Of course.” Edeard folded his third hand gently around Finitan, ready to
lift him off the bed.

“Master?” the doctor queried.

“It’s all right. This is what I want. I thank you and the Novices for a
splendid job. You have made my life bearable again, but your obligation ends
now. I would hope you respect that.” There was just a touch of the old master’s
authority in the tone.

The doctor bowed uncomfortably. “I will accompany you to the tower
myself.”

“Thank you,” Finitan said.

Edeard lifted Finitan carefully and maneuvered him through the door. The
small procession made its way down the stairs to the courtyard.

Quite a crowd had gathered outside, eager and curious. They jostled for
position on the narrow street, sweeping their farsight across the ailing
master. Finitan raised a weak smile and waved.

“Where’s the Skylord?” someone shouted.

“Show us, then, Waterwalker. Where is it?”

“There’s nothing in the sky except clouds.”

Dinlay scowled. “Yrance’s people,” he muttered. “Have they no sense of
decency?”

“It is an election,” an amused Finitan observed.

“After today they won’t matter,” Edeard replied.

There was a gondola waiting for them on Hidden Canal. Edeard eased
Finitan down onto the long bench in the middle, and the doctor made him as
comfortable as possible with cushions and blankets. The old man smiled
contentedly as the gondolier pushed them off down the canal. Folfal trees lined
both sides of the canal, their long branches curving high above the water. With
the warm spring air gusting across the city, bright orange blossom buds were
bursting out of the trees’ indigo-shaded bark, producing a beautiful show of
vibrant color.