The Evolutionary Void (41 page)

“Suicide?” Liatris suggested. “She leads them into the Gulf, and the
Pilgrimage ships get blasted apart by the warrior Raiel.”

“That’d work for me,” Beckia grunted.

Oscar grinned from the strength of his own conviction. “Have a little
faith,” he told the Knights Guardian. “After all, she is a messiah now.”

Tomansio groaned. “You mean you want us to stay on?”

“You’ve seen what’s going on in the docks right now. Every Living Dream
follower on the planet is going to come running to the wormhole, and Phelim
will have to shut off the weather dome to let them in. If we left now, we’d
definitely be seen; we’d blow our cover.”

“We don’t need cover if the operation is over.”

“Give her a few days. She is rather busy right now, after all. And she
has my number.”

“Don’t we all,” Beckia muttered.

Araminta stood at the front of the big passenger capsule, looking through
the transparent fuselage that wrapped around her. Five hundred meters below,
Greater Makkathran was laid out across the ground, a phenomenal urban sprawl
that stretched to the horizon in every direction. Sunlight glinted and flashed
off the crystal towers rising from lush parks; lower buildings shone with
implausible colors. It was, she acknowledged, a beautiful city. However, her
vision of the capital was slightly obscured by the sheer number of capsules
rising up out of the designated traffic streams to wait for her to pass. Then
they curved around to join the festive armada already flying along behind her.
There were so many packed together like a smoke cloud, she could actually see
the hazy shadow they splashed over the ground.

Up ahead, the ocean appeared on the horizon where the city dipped down to
a broad swath of green park. And there, gleaming in the late afternoon
sunlight, Makkathran2 was perched on the shoreline.

“Do you want to go straight to the Orchard Palace, Dreamer?” Captain
Darraklan asked. He’d stayed with her after they walked through the wormhole,
seemingly appointing himself as her personal guard. She wasn’t about to argue.
With his helmet off, he was actually quite handsome in a classic square-jawed
way, his floppy chestnut hair reminding her of one of Mr. Bovey’s younger
selves.

“No,” she said without taking her gaze from the hauntingly strange
reproduction city. “Edeard first entered through the North Gate. Take me there;
that will be fitting. I will walk to the Orchard Palace.”
Which
will give Ethan plenty of time to throw up the barricades, if he dares
.
She felt a grim amusement coming from Darraklan’s mind as the capsule began to
lose altitude. He must have been thinking the same thing.

They touched down on the vast circle of parkland surrounding the crystal
wall. As she alighted onto the grass, she glanced back at the armada that was
now tussling for ground space. It really had turned the sky dark. She was sure
none of them were obeying local traffic control orders anymore.
That’s good. A little knot of anarchy which I influence. They
don’t all obey Ethan’s laws unquestioningly
.

So far everyone was waiting to see what would happen next, pushing her
along with their enthusiasm and her apparent newfound relish for the role of Dreamer.
All she had to do was supplant Ethan, and the only way to do that was to show
her ability and determination were greater than his.
Just
like Bradley said
.

Araminta walked through the great arch in the crystal wall, with people
pouring out of their badly parked capsules to form a carnival procession behind
her. She didn’t really get much of a look at Makkathran2 from ground level.
High Moat, which the gate opened on to, was jammed with people; surely everyone
who lived in their shrine city had turned out to welcome her. The cheer that
arose at her arrival was deafening. A row of men in Makkathran constable
uniforms exactly like those of the Waterwalker’s squad saluted. Darraklan and
their sergeant shouted back and forth while Araminta waved at the crowd, all
the while moving forward.
Never hesitate, never slow
.

After a moment the constables fell in around her, easing her passage
toward the bridge over North Curve Canal and into Ysidro.

She was wrong about the whole population being on High Moat. Ysidro’s
narrow twisting streets were packed solid with supporters, some crying openly.
The eerily familiar Blue Fox tavern was there beside the ginger sandstone
bridge that took her into Golden Park, where the sunlight was shimmering off
the white pillars. Another sea of bodies thronged the vast open space, and the
high domes of the Orchard Palace dominated the far skyline.

While she was walking along one of the park’s elegant paths, Darraklan
leaned over to murmur in her ear. “The Cleric Council has convened at the
entrance to the palace.”

“Wonderful,” she replied. There were a lot of children lining the path,
all of them with shining adulation in their eyes. It was hard to keep pushing
on knowing she would ultimately betray that trust and reverence.
It is their parents who have misled them, not me. I will be the
truth for them
.

By the time she reached the wire and wood bridge that crossed Outer
Circle Canal, her resolution had returned. The thousands of smiling faces that
urged her on no longer even registered as she crossed the canal. Darraklan
accompanied her while the constables tried to stop the crowd pressing forward
into the canal itself. They were all so desperate to see what happened next,
their combined thoughts urging the Clerics to acknowledge their new Dreamer.

As Darraklan had said, the Cleric Council was waiting for her just inside
the Malfit Hall, resplendent in their scarlet and black robes. Ethan stood in
front of them, his white robes shining far brighter than Araminta’s own.
Reasonable enough, she admitted. After all, she’d sewn hers together from the
lining of Mr. Bovey’s semiorganic curtains.

The Cleric Conservator bowed deeply. “Dreamer,” he said. “Welcome. We
have waited so long for this moment.”

Araminta gave him a sly smile. For someone who’d just been politically
outmaneuvered, he was in surprisingly good humor. “Be careful what you wish
for.”

“Indeed. May I ask why you have finally come forward?”

“It was time,” she replied. “And I wished to end Viotia’s suffering.”

“That was most regrettable.”

“It is past,” she said lightly, knowing how angry her homeworld would be
at that. “I am here to lead those who want a better life for themselves, those
who chose to live as the Waterwalker did.” Again she appealed to the Skylord,
who said: “We await you. We will guide you.”

The gasp of joy from the crowd outside was audible through the hall’s
thick walls. She smiled significantly at Ethan: your call.

“We are honored,” he said effusively.

“Thank you. Shall we move to the Upper Council chamber now? We have much
to settle.”

Ethan glanced along the line of Cleric Councillors, their uncertain
hopeful faces. One of them smiled slickly. “Of course, Dreamer,” he said.

“Rincenso, isn’t it?” Araminta said.

“Yes, Dreamer.”

“I’m grateful for your support.”

“My pleasure.”

I’ll bet it is, you unctuous little tit
.
“Which way?”

Rincenso’s bow was so deep, it verged on parody. He gestured. “This way,
please, Dreamer.”

She watched the eternal storm playing across the ceiling, oddly saddened
by the fact it was only a replica of the real Malfit Hall and the vivid images
above her were nothing but a copy of Querencia’s planetary system. Now that
she’d begun this course of action, she was actually keen to see it resolved, to
walk through the real Makkathran and see for herself the streets and buildings
where Edeard’s dramas had played out.

They walked silently through the smaller Toral Hall and into the Upper
Council chamber. Araminta grinned at the solar vortex playing on its
cross-vault ceiling. Here the copper sun’s accretion disc was still in its
glory days, not as Justine had just seen it, with the brash comets dwindling
and a new planet orbiting where it should never have been.

“You haven’t updated it, then?” she inquired lightly as she walked
straight to the gold-embossed throne at the head of the long table.

“This is the Makkathran of the Waterwalker, Dreamer,” Ethan said.

“Of course. Not that it matters; we will soon be leaving here for good.
Be seated,” she said graciously.

Ethan claimed the seat on her left-hand side, and Rincenso sat opposite
him. There were just enough seats for everyone.
No Phelim
,
she thought sagely.
Let’s keep it like that
. The
thin Cleric unnerved her somewhat.

“May I ask if you intend to keep sharing so widely with the gaiafield?”
Ethan said.

“Until we pass into the Void,” she confirmed. “The followers of Living
Dream have had too much doubt and trouble intrude into their lives of late, in
no small part due to you, Cleric. I feel they need the reassurance of seeing
for themselves that I am honestly doing everything I can to lead the
Pilgrimage. That is my only concern now. In that respect I will require this
council to continue its running of the day-to-day aspects of Living Dream.”

She studied Ethan, curious about how he’d react to the deal. It was so
painfully obvious that he didn’t understand or believe in her apparent
conversion to the cause. He suspected something but couldn’t see what could
possibly be askew.

“I will be delighted to help in any way I can,” Ethan said.

“We all will be,” Rincenso added quickly.

Araminta had to be stern with herself not to leak any disgust out into
the gaiafield at the Clerics’ sycophancy. “Excellent. So my first question is
on the progress of the Pilgrimage fleet.”

“The hulls are all complete,” Cleric DeLouis said. “Fitting out is going
to take a while, but hopefully no more than a month.”

“And the drives?” Araminta asked.

It probably helped that Ethan was less than a meter away from her, but
there was no way he could hide the little burst of dismay from her. She turned
to fix him with a level stare. “By my estimation, it will take nearly half a
year to reach the Void using a standard hyperdrive.”

“Yes, Dreamer.”

“There is also the problem of the warrior Raiel. Justine barely made it
through.”

“We are making arrangements,” Ethan said grudgingly.

“Which are?”

He made a small gesture with his hand. “They are confidential.”

“No more. This unhealthy obsession with secrecy and violence ends now. It
has done untold damage to Living Dream; Inigo and Edeard would not have
tolerated such vice. Besides, we are no longer members of the Greater
Commonwealth, and you are under my protection. Now, what arrangements have been
made?”

“Are you sure you—”

“Yes!”

“Very well. I organized delivery of ultradrives for each Pilgrimage ship.
The journey time should be less than a month.”

“Good work. And the Raiel warships? How do we get past them?”

Ethan was completely impassive. “The same manufacturing facility will
also provide force fields capable of withstanding an attack by the warrior
Raiel.”

“I see. And the cost?”

“It’s budgeted for. We do have the wealth of the entire Free Trade Zone
at our disposal, after all.”

Araminta’s voice hardened. “The cost, please, Cleric, specifically the
political cost for this technology?”

Everyone at the table turned to look at Ethan. The pressure of curiosity
from the gaiafield was extraordinary. Even the Skylord was displaying a minor
interest, engaged by the volume of emotion.

“Our supplier is to be taken into the Void with us.”

“Logical,” Araminta said. She smiled graciously. “Thank you one and all
for attending me. We’ll convene formally tomorrow when I’ve had a chance to
settle in. Ethan, I will be using the Mayor’s state rooms here in the Orchard
Palace as my residence until we depart.”

“Yes, Dreamer.” He seemed surprised there had been no censure concerning
his Faustian deal.

Darraklan peered in through the door as the subdued yet relieved Cleric
Council filed out. Araminta held up a finger to him. “A moment more, please.”

“Yes, Dreamer.” He bowed and shut the doors after the last Cleric had
left.

Araminta allowed herself a slow look around the Council chamber, her gaze
falling once again on the radiant image spinning endlessly on the ceiling. She
wondered how Justine was getting on inside the Void, if she had reached the
real Makkathran yet. But no, that would take days—weeks—even with the Void’s
accelerated time, although the
Silverbird
should
arrive before the Pilgrimage ships reached the boundary.
Ozzie!
I hope she and Gore can do something to salvage this crock of shit before then,
or I’m well and truly screwed. It sounded like Gore had a plan, or at least an
idea. He owes me, too. Maybe he’ll get in touch
. Somehow, she suspected
she was going to have to do most of the work. But for now, there was the real
threat to face. She took a breath, feeling the billions of Living Dream
followers share her mind with a sense of trepidation as her own unease leaked
out.