The Temporal Void (11 page)

He allowed an old, deeply personal, image to leak from his mind: the smouldering ruins of Ashwell, with corpses protruding from them.

‘I haven’t been down to your district of the city yet,’ Edeard said. ‘But I’m planning on visiting soon.’

Ivarl’s pudgy lips pressed together in a big display of disappointment. He shrugged elaborately. ‘I look forward to meeting you there, young man.’ He turned and walked away, a girl clinging possessively to each arm.

Only then did Edeard notice the looks the others were giving him. ‘What?’

Captain Ronark smiled. ‘Good man, Edeard. I knew you wouldn’t betray yourself.’

Chae gave him an admiring grin, and walked out with the captain.

‘Where was that place?’ Boyd asked with trepidation.

‘The village I grew up in,’ Edeard told him.

‘Lady, just seeing it frightened me.’

‘I wanted some emphasis. I wanted to make sure Ivarl understood.’

‘Oh, I think he got it. You don’t have to worry on that score.’

‘Shame, though,’ Macsen said wistfully. ‘Did you see the blonde one?’

‘You peasant,’ Kanseen hissed at him.

‘Hey! I can make noble painful sacrifices, too, you know. You have to have standards to be a part of the Waterwalker’s squad.’

‘Don’t call me that,’ Edeard said wearily.

‘Too late,’ Boyd said. ‘Far too late.’

It was mid-afternoon when they got back to the Jeavons constable station. They claimed their usual table in the hall, and the ge-monkeys brought over plates of sandwiches and mugs of tea. Of late, the station food had improved; local shopkeepers were keen to supply the constables with their better products at reasonable prices, grateful for the noticeable reduction in gang activity in the district.

Edeard appreciated the gesture, but it made him very aware of the expectations settling on his shoulders.
And now I’ve seen the real enemy. Arminel might be gone, but Ivarl can send a dozen more just like him on to the streets. A hundred.

After the elation of the trial it was a sobering thought. He hadn’t really changed anything, just made himself famous.
And ultimately, what use is that to people?

‘Result, or what?’ Boyd said as he picked up one of the sandwiches, a malted roll containing ham and cheese with a strong tomato chutney. He bit in contentedly.

All the other constables in the station were making a point of coming over to congratulate them on the verdict. Edeard was finally getting embarrassed by the admiration.

‘Yes. A result all right,’ Kanseen said, picking through the rest of the sandwiches. ‘But it’s only one result.’

‘Trust you to pour on the ice water,’ Macsen said.

‘She’s right,’ Edeard said. ‘We’re going to have to do a lot more than this before the gangs even start getting worried.’

‘Not so. Ivarl is worried enough about the Waterwalker to crawl out from under his rock and get a firsthand look,’ Boyd said.

‘Will you please stop calling me that?’

‘I thought Arminel would get thirty to forty years at least,’ Macsen said. ‘But for the rest of his life? He’s only, what, thirty? That’s at least a hundred and fifty years in Trampello. It’s not exactly a pavilion on the Iguru. A hundred and fifty years! Owain must really want to be re-elected.’

‘I’m not sorry for him,’ Edeard said. ‘He was going to kill me.’

‘Because Ivarl told him to,’ Kanseen said.

‘You think so?’

‘No way could he put together an ambush like that without a lot of help. He’d need permission. Ivarl must have agreed.’

‘Oh Lady,’ Macsen muttered in alarm. ‘Look out.’

Edeard’s farsight showed him Captain Ronark leading Chief Constable Walsfol into the hall. Everyone fell silent, benches were scraped across the floor as the constables stood up. Even the ge-chimps stopped moving.

Chief Constable Walsfol walked directly over to Edeard’s table. He was in his full dress uniform, an immaculate black tunic with gold buttons and scarlet epaulettes with a diamond stud. Edeard had been introduced briefly the day after he arrested Arminel; he’d actually been quite impressed with the Chief Constable. The man was in his second century, and the fact he’d fought his way to the top of the constables was evident in his manner. Walsfol was a straight-talking man, secure since his position was achieved through the support of the stations.

Walsfol saluted smartly. Edeard hurriedly returned the salute.

‘An excellent day, Constable,’ Walsfol said in his clipped aristocratic accent. ‘You have done this station proud.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Walsfol took a pair of epaulettes from his pocket. They had a single silver star on them. ‘As a consequence of your bravery and actions in Birmingham Pool, I would like to offer you promotion to corporal.’

It might have been Edeard’s imagination, but he was sure the word ‘offer’ was stressed. But he was so relieved that this was the test Finitan had spoken of rather than Ivarl’s crude attempt at bribery he simply said, ‘Yes, sir; thank you, sir, I’d be honoured to accept.’

Captain Ronark led the applause as the Chief Constable attached the epaulettes to Edeard’s shoulders.
Of course Finitan wasn’t talking about Ivarl
, Edeard chided himself,
the Grand Council want to know if I’m going to support their authority. Lady! Do they think I might be a challenge to them?

Walsfol finished, and saluted again.

‘Corporal Waterwalker,’ Macsen said, holding up his beer and laughing.

Edeard had now completely surrendered to the ribbing he was getting. They’d all wound up in the Olovan’s Eagle for a few celebratory drinks, claiming a small booth in the upstairs bar where they were relatively undisturbed.

‘I wonder which squads will be under your command?’ Kanseen mused. ‘Corporals are normally in charge of three.’

‘Please don’t team us up with Droal’s lot,’ Boyd said. ‘They’re worthless crap artists, and everyone knows Vilby is on the take.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ said Edeard.

‘What, with all your psychic superpowers?’ Macsen asked.

Edeard showed him the hand gesture Obron always used to employ, only to find it summoned up a mournful nostalgia that unexpectedly made his eyes water.
Obron, he would be twenty-three now . . .

‘You’re going to have to think about this, Edeard,’ Kanseen said. ‘Seriously, they’re all going to watch what you do with the promotion. It’s an opportunity to put together a team of your own constables, people you know you can rely on.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Edeard didn’t really want to think of all the responsibility which came with his new position. Unfortunately, his problem was that he couldn’t stop worrying about what he should do next. Gangs and constables would both want to see what he was capable of: whether he was just some strong lad from the countryside happy with the attention of all the city girls, or someone who would stand up for the law and make a difference.
The Orchard Palace probably want to know as well.

‘I suppose I’ll have to keep you lot,’ he said with a grand show of reluctance.

It was Boyd’s turn for the hand gesture.

‘Even Dinlay?’ Macsen said in such a soft voice only Edeard heard him.

‘Yes,’ Edeard said with a tiny directed longtalk. ‘Even Dinlay.’

Macsen scowled into his beer glass.

‘And what are you going to do with this team of yours?’ Kanseen asked earnestly. ‘It’s only fifteen people, after all.’

‘Two months ago it was just the five of us,’ Edeard said calmly. ‘We can shape ourselves into something useful, I’m sure. That’s if Ronark will allow us. There are procedures, after all.’

‘Not to start with,’ Boyd said, uncharacteristically serious. ‘You’ve got some momentum behind you, Waterwalker, and a great deal of goodwill. This is your chance to make something of it.’

‘Dear Lady, give him a beer and listen to the politician sprout forth,’ Edeard groaned.

‘I know Makkathran,’ Boyd insisted. ‘There’s a chance here for you.’ He put his arms around Kanseen and Macsen. ‘And we three native guides are going to make sure you don’t blow that chance.’

‘You three,’ Edeard rolled his eyes. ‘Great. How can we fail?’

‘We stick together,’ Macsen said. ‘Always have, always will, no matter what.’

‘No matter what!’ They all drank to that.

Boyd pushed his empty glass across the table. ‘And with your new corporal’s pay, I believe you can afford the next round.’

‘Sorry,’ Edeard said, standing up and buttoning his tunic. ‘I have an appointment at the Alrado theatre, and it’s a long walk to the Zelda district.’

‘An appointment?’ Macsen inquired keenly.

‘Someone from the Guild of Clerks, they’re helping me with taxes.’

He left to the sounds of their derisive laughter. Just as he started down the awkward curving stairs he heard Kanseen exclaim: ‘No! I bought the last round.’

It was cold on the streets outside Olovan’s Eagle. Frost was clinging to the city’s pavements, and there were flakes of snow drifting down past the bright orange lights shining out of the buildings. People wrapped in thick coats wove past Edeard as he made his way along Albie Lane towards Flight Canal. He’d thrown out a seclusion haze to ward off curious farsight, as did all Makkathran’s citizens going about business they regarded as private. The effect was like a mild version of concealment.

Edeard was approaching the iron bridge over to the Haxpen district when his farsight swept over a figure for the third time. They’d been trailing him for some time, ignoring his obvious wish to be left alone. He focused on them to find it was: ‘Salrana,’ he exclaimed.

She scurried forwards, thoughts radiant with impish delight. Almost as tall as him now, he acknowledged. Her full length dark-grey poncho coat flapped as she moved, a big hood pulled well forward. ‘You’re so slow,’ she admonished, giggling. ‘I’ve been following you ever since you left the tavern. If I was an assassin, you’d be dead by now.’ She pushed her hood back, allowing her auburn hair to flow free, and kissed him breathlessly. ‘You know, I hardly recognized you with your hair so long. The city fashion suits you.’

Edeard grinned back, very aware that she was still pressed up against him. He studied her face with its sharp cheeks and lovely dark brown eyes that were wide and teasing. She was gorgeous now, and because of that he kept trying to avoid her. They still longtalked every day, but he kept using the trial as an excuse for not actually meeting up. Just being with her on a cold gloomy street made him embarrassed about all the girls he’d tumbled these last few weeks, so spending a pleasant afternoon together with her would be torture.

Why?
he asked himself.
She’s beautiful, and she wants me, and I’d adore having her in my bed and my life. We really would be the perfect couple. The only other who even comes close is Kanseen.

His hesitation was born out of some stupid notion of duty. At least that was always the excuse he gave himself. He really did feel protective towards her – and that was hardly necessary any more. It wasn’t as if they were alone against the world these days. Maybe he was just afraid to change the way things were; there had been so many upheavals, she was his constant in a very unsteady life. And how she’d hate being told that. She was young and vivacious, and wanted some fun. She deserved happiness. And they
would
be happy together . . .

‘Gosh, seeing me really does cheer you up, doesn’t it?’ she mocked.

‘Sorry,’ he smiled, pushing his emotions down below any possible farsight perception. ‘It’s fantastic to see you, but that just reminds me what I’ve got to do tonight.’

‘Really?’ she asked brightly. Her arm tucked through his, and they started to walk over the iron bridge. ‘You poor thing. It must be truly terrible having to entertain Kristiana
and
Ranalee in your bed.’

Edeard stopped in shock. ‘How on Querencia did you know that?’

She giggled again, delighted to have flustered him. ‘Oh, Edeard, the whole city knows who’s snagged the Waterwalker tonight. Kristiana has been bragging in half the saloons in town today. And you know what this city is for gossip.’

‘Yes,’ he said brokenly. Then, because he couldn’t help it, he asked, ‘Are people really talking about my love life?’

‘Talking. Singing. Writing books on it. I think they’re planning a play for the ox-roast on Golden Park this New Year.’

‘Shut up.’

She pressed him against the railing and kissed him again. Her skin was warm, soft and silky. Her scent strong. ‘Will the second act be us? And the third and the fourth?’

Edeard almost pushed her away. Instead, with a massive effort of will he smiled back ruefully, and turned round to lean on the rail. Then he put his arm round her. Her mind’s flash of delighted surprise at the gesture was intoxicating. ‘Have I been really stupid?’ he asked.

‘Only rejecting me. The rest of it, you’re just like any Grand Family son on his fifteenth birthday. You’ve got the run of the city, Edeard. The difference between you and them is that you earned it. People are fascinated to learn what’s going to happen next; if Arminel was just a fluke, or if you’re truly going to be the Waterwalker.’

He sighed. ‘I hate that name.’

‘I hope . . . Edeard, I hope you live up to it. Did you know church attendance has gone up since Birmingham Pool? You displayed duty and honour that day, as well as courage. They’re traits so sorely lacking in this city. It showed people what was absent from their own lives. It was a wonderful thing, Edeard.’

He stared down into the dark water with its surface crust of slush. There were ripples near the far bank where fil-rats were nesting. A couple of gondolas were edging their way towards them along from High Pool on the Grand Major Canal, their lamps glinting on their prows, their gondoliers harmonizing a gentle melody. ‘I don’t know what to do next,’ he confessed. ‘Actually, that’s not true. I know what I should do. But if I go there, if I use my talent to take on the gangs, then there’ll be no turning back. Right now I can do nothing, and all the fuss will die down. But . . .’

She hugged him back. It was a gesture more intimate than any of her flirting had ever kindled. ‘You can’t do that,’ she whispered. ‘You know you can’t.’