The Evolutionary Void Part 16

"As always, I'm flattered by your attention."

"Why do you want a telescope?"

"To watch the end of your world approaching."

"How coy. I'll find out, of course."

"You certainly will. I'll be announcing it very loudly in a few days."

"How intriguing. That's why I always liked you, Edeard. You make life exciting."

"Who are your new friends?"

Ra.n.a.lee smiled as she looked around the office at the youngsters. "Come and join us; find out for yourself." She signaled the girls, who immediately went over to the lad and started kissing him.

"No thank you."

"Still holding out against your true self? How sad."

"You're really not going to enjoy my announcement. I'm about to turn even those with the weakest of wills away from your kind of existence."

"You're very bitter tonight. Were those livestock certificates so desperately important to you?"

Every time. She could do it Every Single Time. Edeard pressed his teeth together as he tried to quash his anger.

"At least the animal markets is one enterprise you haven't contaminated yet," he told her. It was petty, but ...

"Poor Edeard, still jealous after all these years. You never expected me to be so successful, did you?"

He refused to rise to the bait. But Ra.n.a.lee's business ability had surprised him. She'd invested wisely, unlike the previous owners of the House of Blue Petals, who had simply squandered the money on their own lifestyle. Today, Ra.n.a.lee owned over two dozen perfectly legitimate businesses and had a considerable political presence on the general merchants council and in the Makkathran Chamber of Commerce. Nowadays, she was completely independent of the old faltering Gilmorn family. He knew of course that she'd used her vile ability for dominance to sway unsuspecting rivals at opportune moments and to build unseemly financial alliances, yet he could never prove anything. And of course, her children had been married off selectively, gathering more wealthy families into her dominion.

"That's Makkathran for you," he replied. "Equal opportunity for everyone."

Ra.n.a.lee shook her head, seemingly tired of the argument. "No, Edeard. It's not. Nor-before you start-are all of us born equal. You got where you are because of your strength, just as I foresaw. And I am where I am because of my strength, and you resent that."

"Are you saying you used illicit methods to gather your new wealth?"

"Did you achieve your your position legitimately? Where is my father, Edeard? Where is Owain? Why has there never been an inquiry into their disappearance?" position legitimately? Where is my father, Edeard? Where is Owain? Why has there never been an inquiry into their disappearance?"

"Is an inquiry needed into their activities?"

"Would it ever be an impartial one?" She reached up and began removing the jeweled pins from her hair so it could fall free.

"You don't want that."

"No," she said simply. "The past is the past. It's done. Over. I look to the future. I always have." She regarded the youngsters dispa.s.sionately. The ardent girls had taken the lad's shorts off. They giggled as they pushed him down on a big couch.

Edeard couldn't watch the lad's enraptured, worshipful face as Ra.n.a.lee moved over to the side of the couch and stared down at him. Too many memories Too many memories. "Why do you do this?" he asked. "You've achieved so much."

A victorious smile twitched across Ra.n.a.lee's lips. "Not as much as you."

"Oh, for the Lady's sake!"

"Would you like to linger tonight, Edeard? Would you like to remember how it was? How much you lost?"

"Good night," he said in disgust.

"Wait." She turned from the couch.

"Ra.n.a.lee ..."

"I have some information for you. It's something she would never come to you with."

"What's this?" he asked, though with a falling heart he knew exactly who she was talking about. Ra.n.a.lee would never attract his attention simply to taunt; she always had some way of inflicting harm or worry.

"Vintico has spent the day answering uncomfortable questions in the Bellis constable station," she said. "I'm surprised you didn't know about it. Apparently, they've detained him overnight so formal charges can be drawn up tomorrow."

"Oh, Lady," Edeard groaned.

Vintico was Salrana's oldest child and one of the most worthless humans ever to walk Makkathran's streets. His father was Tucal, Ra.n.a.lee's brother. That despicable pairing had finally made him realize that there would never be a truce between him and Ra.n.a.lee, that their war would continue until the bitter end.

"What this time?" he asked in despair.

"I believe he made a bad choice of business partners. Something about a deal falling through and a large debt to established merchants. Apparently they get quite serious about such things. Especially nowadays, what with the city being run so efficiently. After all, law and order must prevail."

"I can't help."

"I understand. You have standards. But it will break his mother's heart if he's sent to Trampello; it might spell the end of her engagement, as well. That single fragile chance to bring some happiness into her life. I only mention this because he's family."

"Then why don't you offer to help your family if it's so important?"

"If only I could. I don't have any spare cash right now. All my money is tied up in new enterprises, investing in the future for my own children." She smiled lecherously and turned back to the lad sprawled across the couch. "Are you going to watch now?"

A furious Edeard wrenched his farsight away, but not before her vicious amus.e.m.e.nt had infiltrated his perception. "f.u.c.ktheLady!" he spit.

Salrana! The one name he could never mention again in the Culverit ziggurat. Kristabel's patience on that topic had run out decades ago. Salrana: He'd tried to help her time and again over the years. He'd watched and waited, believing that her old self would one day rea.s.sert itself, that Ra.n.a.lee's mental damage would wither away. It was never to be. Ra.n.a.lee had been too skillful at the start, while his opposition was too crude, helping the new false emotions establish themselves in her thoughts until they were no longer false. Salrana hated him.

The battle had lasted for years before he admitted defeat. Eventually even Ra.n.a.lee had moved on to more rewarding endeavors. The five children Salrana had borne for men Ra.n.a.lee selected proved unspectacular, especially their psychic ability. So Ra.n.a.lee administered the final indignity by discarding her. Now Salrana was engaged to Garnfal, a carpentry Guild Master more than sixty years her senior. Edeard was fairly sure Ra.n.a.lee had nothing to do with it, so the attraction (whatever that was) might just be genuine. Ra.n.a.lee could have been truthful; it was a chance for Salrana to be happy on her own terms.

I can't interfere.

But Salrana was his fault. She always would be. That meant she was his responsibility, too: a charge that would never end.

Just for a moment he thought of going back a couple of weeks, warning Vintico off whatever ridiculous deal he'd gotten himself involved with. That would mean another two weeks of electioneering, of parties he'd already been to, of reliving the whole livestock certificate debacle.

Edeard groaned at the notion of it. Impossible Impossible. He directed his longtalk toward a specific little house in the Ilongo district. "Felax, I have a job for you."

Edeard sensed Kristabel's thoughts while she was only on the sixth floor. He grinned at the tone. She was in a foul mood again, something he found amusing now that his own temper had abated. He had good reason to be confident again: Felax was clever and discreet, and the Vintico problem would vanish before dawn. Not that it would ever do to let Kristabel know of his reaction to this particular temper, but the predictability was entertaining. Their children must have known of their mother's disposition, too. All of them had contrived to be out of the Culverit ziggurat this evening, at parties or just "meeting some friends"; even Rolar and his wife were absent with their children. Don't blame you Don't blame you, he blessed them silently.

"What are you doing out there?" Kristabel's longtalk lashed out, suffused with anger.

"Stargazing," he replied mildly. When he looked into the study through the tall external doors, she was silhouetted in the doorway from the hall. The fur-lined hem of her purple and black ceremonial Grand Council robes was held off the floor by her third hand, and its hood flopped back over her shoulder. That allowed her to jam her hands on her hips.

Edeard remembered the first time he'd seen her strike that pose: the day Bise refused to sign their wedding consent bill in the Upper Council. She had stormed out of the chamber with a face set in a mask of fury. Nervous district masters crept out of the door behind her and got the Honious out of the Orchard Palace as fast as they could. Even Bise had looked apprehensive.

"Well, that's useful just before an election," Kristabel snapped as she walked through the study. "And why is it so dark in here?"

"Light sewage," he told her.

"What?"

"It needs to be properly dark out here for the telescope to work at its best. Something to do with the eye contracting. You can't pollute the night with light."

"Oh, for Honious's sake, Edeard. I've got real problems, you've got obligations, and you're out here wasting time with this genistar c.r.a.p."

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" She reached the hortus. Her hair was shorter these days, and her maids had their work cut out each morning to try and rein it in. Tonight it had frizzed out of the elegant curls and ringlets arrangement she'd started the day with, as if the sheer heat of her anger had pushed it into rebellion. "That little t.i.t, Master Ronius of Tosella, slapped a whole lot of amendments on the trade bill. Five months I've steered that through the Council. Five Lady-d.a.m.ned months! Those tariff reductions were vital for Kepsil province. Has someone stolen his brain?"

"The bill was never popular with some merchants."

"There were balances," she growled back. "I'm not stupid, Edeard."

"I didn't say you were."

"Don't patronize me!"

"I-" He made an effort to calm down. You know she's always like this after an Upper Council meeting. And a lot of other times, too, these days You know she's always like this after an Upper Council meeting. And a lot of other times, too, these days, he added regretfully. "I have something to show you," he said, with the excitement rising in his voice and mind. "Come." He led her across the strip of hortus to the telescope. It was truly dark now. Makkathran was laid out below them, a beautiful jewel of glimmering light stretching east toward the Lyot Sea, where the orange-hued buildings sketched their amazing shapes against a cloudless night sky. The ca.n.a.l network cut rigid black lines through the illumination. He could see the gondolas in the Great Major Ca.n.a.l at the foot of the ziggurat, their bright oil lanterns bobbing merrily across the water. Occasional s.n.a.t.c.hes of song slipped up through the balmy night air. The city was a vista he never tired of.

Kristabel bent over the telescope, her third hand pushing her hood aside as it slid around. "What?" she said.

"Tell me what you see."

"Alakkad, but it's off-center; you haven't got the telescope aligned properly."

Every second sentence is a criticism these days. "It is centered correctly," Edeard persisted stoically. He permitted a hint of excitement to filter through his mental shield.

Kristabel let out a sigh of exasperation and concentrated on the image.

"There's a ... I don't know, it's like a little white nebula."

"It's not a nebula."

She straightened up. "Edeard!"

"An hour ago it was several degrees farther from Alakkad. It's moving. And before you ask, it's not a comet, either."

Kristabel's anger vanished. She gave him a shocked look, then bent to the telescope again. "Is it a ship? Has it come from outside the Void like the one which brought Rah and the Lady?"

"No." He put his arms around her and smiled down into her confused face. "It's a Skylord."

Mayor Trahaval was throwing a large party every second night, moving through the districts with a relentless pace to drum up support for himself and the local representative candidates who endorsed him. The Seahall was the only place in Bellis grand enough for such an occasion. With its unusual concave walls shaded a deep azure supporting a roof that was made from clashing wave cones, it really did have a marine theme, even down to the unusual ripple fountains that curved around the ten arching doorways. This evening the usual seating had been removed to make room for the tables laden with food, and a small band was playing at the center. The guests had been chosen with almost as much care as had gone into the lavish canapes. There was a broad mix of Bellis citizens to socialize with Trahaval and his entourage of stalwart supporters, from the smaller merchant families desperate for political influence to street a.s.sociation chiefs, local guildsmen, and ancient Grand Family patriarchs and matriarchs, as well as a vetted selection of "ordinary working folk." The idea was the same as it was for every party in every election. Trahaval and the Upper Councillors would mingle with and talk to as many people as possible so they would spread the word among their friends and family that he wasn't aloof after all, that he understood everyday problems, that he had a sense of humor and knew a good bit of gossip about his rivals and some Grand Family sons and daughters.

Edeard had no idea how many times he'd been to identical parties over the last four decades. The only number that registered was too many too many.

"Oh, come on," Kristabel said quietly as they made their way under the gurgling water that surrounded the main doorway. "You can do this."

"There's a difference between can can and and want to want to," he murmured back. Then people noticed that the Waterwalker and the mistress of Haxpen had arrived. Hopeful smiles spread like wildfire. Edeard put on an equally enthusiastic "happy to be here" face for everyone to see, twinning the burst of enthusiasm from his mind. He helped Kristabel out of her scarlet and topaz cloak, unb.u.t.toned his own signature black leather cloak, and handed both to a doorman.

I wonder if the Opera House cloakroom fiends are here tonight? They'd get a good haul out of this lot.

"Macsen and Kanseen are here; look," he said cheerfully.

"You're not to talk to them until you've talked to at least fifteen other couples," Kristabel ordered. "Once you and Macsen start, that's it for the evening."

"Yes, dear." But he grinned because the rebuke wasn't as sharp as they had been of late. Kristabel had actually brightened up considerably in the last few days since he'd spotted the Skylord. And anyway, she's right. Macsen and I are a pair of dreadful old bores And anyway, she's right. Macsen and I are a pair of dreadful old bores.

A third hand pinched sharply. "And less of that," she warned.

"Yes, yes, dear."

They smiled at each other, then parted. It was easier to work the crowd separately, they'd found.

A wine importer cornered him first. The man and his very young wife were keen for trade with Golspith province, where some excellent vineyards were producing some wonderful new varieties. The merchant's third hand plucked a gla.s.s from a waiter. It turned out he was proud to be sponsoring all the party's drinks for Mayor Trahaval tonight. Edeard took a sip and agreed the new wine was all he had promised. "So if you could see your way to mentioning the ruinous tariffs to your beautiful wife ..." Which Edeard promised he would do.

Funny how people still thought he was the boss in their marriage.

Then came the street traders' a.s.sociation chief. The man a.s.sured the Waterwalker of his vote and those of his fellows for Chief Constable, but then, Edeard had always taken care to maintain good relationships with the a.s.sociations.

Next was a Guild Master from the shipyards. A local Councillor, a woman: "Just completely inspired by your wife, so I stood at the last election, and now I'm on the Council." Three sons from the district's Grand Families, wanting his opinion of joining the militia regiment. A shopkeeper. A chinaware dealer called Zanlan, who was the fifth son of a third son in a big merchant family, inordinately pleased to have broken free and set up for himself, importing interesting new cargoes from many provinces. "I'm a member of the Apricot Cottage Fellowship," he told Edeard proudly.

"I think I've heard of it," Edeard muttered diplomatically.

"We're new, a generation like myself who aren't going to sit about living off our families. Things are changing on Querencia, and we want to grasp those opportunities for ourselves."

"That's the kind of talk I like to hear," Edeard said, genuinely impressed.

"Of course, none of the established guilds and a.s.sociations recognize us. They're probably frightened of the compet.i.tion. And the Orchard Palace ignores us completely; we get frozen out of so-called open contracts."

"Leave it with me," Edeard promised. "I'll make some inquiries."

"All we ask for is a fair market."

Then there was a blacksmith. A female apprentice from the Eggshaper Guild who was a little overawed and a little drunk.

He was on his fifth gla.s.s of the appalling new wines and his third plate of heavily spiced pastries when he caught sight of Jiska and hurried over. "You count as a party guest," he told her. "Talk to me."

"Oh, poor Daddy. Is Mummy bullying you horribly again?"