Authors: Peter F. Hamilton
It was as if his nerves had died. Edeard stared at the crazy girl smiling defiantly in front of him, feeling absolutely nothing. ‘No,’ he said. A lone tear trickled out of his eye. ‘You cannot build a world on a foundation of violence and fear. He will destroy Querencia just as he has destroyed you.’
‘I am not destroyed, I have never been more alive.’
Edeard’s farsight observed the armed men reach the pavilion’s front door. He wasn’t the slightest surprised to see their leader was Arminal. ‘You would see me dead?’ he asked faintly.
‘The strong survive. Owain fears you will replace him. You still can. You can take his place, Edeard. You can shape the world to your vision. I would help you. We can be together yet.’
Edeard looked at his wife. He looked at his friend Dinlay. He looked at his parents who had so much faith in him. ‘I will not be Mayor, not now. And you, you will not be Pythia.’
‘Fool!’ Salrana screamed at him. She spun round and raced out of the bedroom.
Edeard realized that the ability to sense through concealment was not one of the gifts and treats Owain had bestowed upon her.
Arminal and his men charged into the hall. They started firing indiscriminately as they ran forwards. Bullets chewed up the walls, shredding the furniture. Muzzles blazed as they swept back and forth, seeking out the Waterwalker.
Salrana’s shield wasn’t strong enough. Eight bullets struck her as she flailed desperately. Huge blood plumes burst across her Novice robe. She was flung backwards, her body landing inelegantly on the elegant pavonazzeto floor to sprawl inertly. Her soul was already staring down at it.
Edeard dived behind the big bed, allowing the thick mattress to absorb the hail of bullets. Now, as the gang hurriedly swapped their exhausted magazines for fresh ones, he raised his head. ‘I wish you well,’ he told Salrana’s soul. ‘I hope you find peace in the Heart.’
‘Edeard?’ she said. ‘Oh Edeard, what have I done?’
‘Go,’ he told her. ‘Find the Heart. I will join you there.’
Her soul wavered, drifting up through the pavilion’s ceiling. There was a final surge of distress, and she was gone.
Arminal finally slammed the fresh magazine into his rapid-fire gun, and brought it up. His farsight swept through the pavilion, eagerly searching for the Waterwalker.
The magazine suddenly crumpled, the thin metal buckling as an inordinately powerful telekinesis squeezed it. And the Waterwalker materialized in the bedroom.
‘Kill him,’ Arminal shouted at his squad. But their rapid-fire guns were equally useless as delicate components and casings were crushed and mangled.
‘Last time we say goodbye,’ the Waterwalker told him.
Arminal hardened his shield, and turned to flee. The pavilion doors slammed shut with a bang that reverberated through the entire wooden structure. Arminal spun back to face his enemy, catching a glimpse of Edeard in the bedroom as his black cloak fluttered around him. Edeard held up both arms, his fingers splayed wide. Lightning ripped out from each fingertip.
Within seconds the entire pavilion was on fire. Joists, rafters, doors, walls, window frames, shelves, furniture and roofing shingles ignited as they were raked with lightning bolts. Thick black smoke swirled out from the roaring flames, clotting the air.
Edeard pushed the bedroom door open, and walked out on to the veranda. Inside, the squad were coughing and yelling in fright as the smoke clogged their lungs and the heat began to roast their flesh. The bedroom door closed. Edeard hopped over the rails and landed on the grassy field. Inside the pavilion, the squad were blundering into each other. Voices reached a crescendo of pain and fright; several had already fallen. Edeard folded his concealment around him like an outer cloak and walked away into the night.
The trusted Weapons Guild guards that Owain sent to eliminate the Waterwalker skirted the burning ruins of the pavilion. They wrinkled their noses up at the stench given off by the smouldering corpses inside, but carried on tracking their quarry. Several among them claimed to be able to perceive right through the Waterwalker’s concealment, and hurried after the dark figure they said skulked through the trees just up ahead.
At the bottom of the mountain, the militia regiments completed their deployment, forming a tight ring just outside the fringes of the forest. As ordered, they drew their pistols and waited. Farsight tracked the squads high up on the slopes past the smoking pavilion. Occasionally there was a burst of gunfire that made them flinch. But the guards armed with their deadly new guns pressed onwards and upwards.
Edeard kept ahead of them easily enough. He’d only headed up because there was nowhere else for him to go. A squad was guarding the cliff face with the cave mouth. He’d never be able to climb to it and escape. Salrana must have told Owain about the cave, about the travel tunnels . . . everything. So up he went. The terrain wasn’t exactly tough, the trees were few and far between above the pavilion. Grass was ankle high. Small streams trickled down the steep slope. Eventually, even the trees were behind him. Now there was just grass and boulders. He could see the summit already.
And that’s when I have to decide.
‘I could imprison them,’ he told his small ethereal court of advisers. ‘The city can create rooms without doors or windows. They would have food.’
‘I think death would be more merciful,’ his father said. ‘Remember what happened to poor Argian when you did that to him, and that was only for a couple of days.’
‘He’s right,’ Dinlay said. ‘Locking them up is just for the benefit of your conscience. They have to be wiped out. We know how ruthless they are now. If you don’t remove them altogether they will come back again and again. How many times do you want this to happen to the city?’
‘Once was too much,’ Edeard said. ‘But to kill so many . . .’
‘The Lady will understand,’ Kristabel assured him.
‘They half expect it,’ Dinlay said. ‘That’s why we are where we are.’ He gestured at the groups of men making their way up the slope. At best, the lead squad was twenty minutes behind.
‘I’m not so sure I can get past them all,’ Edeard said. ‘Owain seems resolute.’
‘Of course he does,’ Kristabel said. ‘He knows you are the only thing left between him and absolute power.’
‘Perhaps if I retreat out to the provinces, form a legitimate opposition.’
‘A revolution?’ his mother asked. ‘It would take years, if not decades. How many would die in that struggle. No, if this is to be done it must be done swiftly. That will keep the bloodshed to a minimum. Every day you hesitate sees him consolidate his authority still further.’
‘You sound so certain.’
She smiled, nebula-light shining through her diffuse silhouette. ‘You don’t grow up in Makkathran without knowing all about politics.’
‘You are from Makkathran?’
‘Yes. The fifth daughter of the fourth son of the family Herusis. But that was many years ago. My sisters and brothers will have even less status now.’
‘Herusis?’ Edeard paused, trying to recall what he knew of that family. A wealthy trading enterprise with large land holdings on the Iguru and a small fleet of ships. ‘Isn’t Finitan a Herusis?’
‘Yes. One of my great uncles.’
‘Finitan is my relative?’
‘Yes.’
‘I wonder if he knew?’
‘He probably suspected. Akeem certainly did.’
‘But . . . Mother, why did you leave?’
‘I was engaged to a lout of a Kirkmal, it was arranged between our families. I didn’t want to go through with the wedding. I wanted my life on my terms, even if it meant giving up the money.’
‘That’s where he gets his stubbornness from,’ Kristabel said.
‘I’m not—’ he gave a wan smile. Even now she could tease him.
He covered the final slope quickly. The summit was mainly boulders and loose stone, with tufts of wiry grass growing out of cracks between pebbles. A gentle breeze was blowing in from the sea.
Edeard stood there, and turned a complete circle until he was facing Makkathran. The city’s orange lights cast a strong glow into the air above the streets and canals. He could just make out the jagged outline of the towers. The first time he’d seen the city it had been so compelling, as if he was finally coming home. That yearning was still there, but the grief was a stronger force. He could barely bring himself to look at it.
I have to decide.
Everything he’d ever wanted or asked for had been contained inside the crystal wall, as had everything he’d ever feared.
‘I don’t think I can go back,’ he confessed to the souls. ‘I think Owain and the others are right. I’m not strong enough.’
‘You have the strength, Son,’ his father said.
‘I don’t. The suffering I would bring is unthinkable.’
‘You only have to take away the leaders,’ Dinlay said. ‘Owain and his cronies.’
‘That might have worked at the start, but not now. Everything has changed. The guns are out there in the open. Hundreds of people are flocking to join him.’
‘Hundreds more resisted him, and died. Don’t they deserve justice? You know you have support. Think of the election results.’
Edeard knelt on the ground, still looking at Makkathran. ‘I can’t do this. It’s over.’
‘We understand,’ Kristabel said. ‘This is what makes you you. This is what I loved.’
‘We’ll be together,’ he promised her. His farsight sensed the first squad reaching the final slope up to the summit. All of them were readying their rapid-fire guns. ‘We will reach the Heart and live there for eternity.’
‘Together,’ Kristabel agreed.
Edeard drew in a deep breath. He looked out one last time across the Iguru Plain, his thoughts serene as he stopped shielding himself. Makkathran’s thoughts brushed against his mind, as slow and content as always. Dreaming in another realm.
‘Thank you for all your help,’ he told it, and poured his gratitude out to the city.
For the first time he sensed a change. The giant mind began to quicken. Stronger, more concise thoughts began to rise, like some massive creature coming up from the depths of the sea. Makkathran was waking.
Edeard swayed back, astounded by the reaction he’d kindled. He’d tried innumerable times to make himself understood to the city, never receiving any reply. It did his bidding for simple things like altering the buildings, or sending him along the travel tunnels. But he’d assumed any true connection was beyond him.
‘You heard me,’ he longtalked in astonishment.
The answer was still slow, measured and considered as he expected it to be. Solemn: as was fitting for such a magnificent creation. ‘I felt sorrow,’ Makkathran said. ‘You are in pain. I have not felt pain like that for such a time.’
‘I . . . I have lost. That was the pain you felt. I apologize. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I simply wished to thank you for all you’ve done.’
‘Loss? I remember loss. Once there were many, now I am alone.’
‘There were others like you?’ Edeard asked.
‘Once. No more. Not even here. To revisit that time would be useless.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Can I help? I’m about to go to the Heart of the Void. Will your kind be there?’
‘No. None would submit to absorption. That is not what we are.’
‘What are you?’
‘The failed past.’
‘You haven’t failed us. You gave us shelter, refuge.’
‘I am glad. Do you accept the Void’s purpose? Is that why you go to its Heart?’
‘What purpose?’
‘To become one with this universe. It seeks all rationality.’
‘That’s . . . No. I go because I have lost my life.’
‘How can you lose your life in the Void?’
He gave Kristabel and the others a puzzled look, very conscious of the armed men slinking up the slope towards him. ‘I don’t understand.’
Something like a gust of emotion swept out of the city.
Reluctance. Acceptance
. Pity. ‘The Void allows you to find your perfect life,’ Makkathran said. ‘It is the way it brings you to fulfilment, to reach your personal evolution and achieve contentment with what you are.’
‘What do you mean?’ Edeard started to harden his shield again as he heard a number of safety catches clicked off.
‘All of those who come from outside strive for this state, that is why the Void welcomes them. This universe had no other purpose, not now. That is its beauty for those inside, and tragedy for those without, for they will ultimately pay the price.’
‘I can’t achieve a perfect life. My life is over.’
‘Reach into the Void. Search out where you wish to be, and begin again. It is simple. Once you adapt to the Void it provides you with whatever you want. Every species that ever arrived here was drawn into that evolution. You will be no different, I suspect. There is no harm in that. I wish you well on your journey.’
The city’s thoughts began to slow again. Withdrawing back into slumber.
‘No,’ Edeard said. ‘No wait. Tell me how.’ He turned to the souls. ‘What did it mean?’
‘I sense patterns around me,’ Kristabel said. ‘Just as Boyd told you. The universe remembers what happened everywhere. Our whole life is visible there in the past.’
‘Can you show me?’ Edeard asked.
‘See with me,’ she said. Edeard tried to sense her thoughts, the gift of her perception. It was a strange union, a dimension of farsight he’d never known of before. As he followed his wife’s observation into the fabric of reality, he saw for himself. Saw himself stretched out down the slope, a million, a billion, images of himself leading back; they encapsulated every instant of the climb, every step, every breath, every heartbeat. Every thought. It was as if he was looking into an infinity mirror. Makkathran was right, his essence had been captured by the Void. Every moment of his existence had been remembered.
Edeard regarded himself, the one of five minutes ago, studying how real the vision was. He appeared frozen. Awaiting the breath to fill his lungs in order to become real.
‘Oh, my Lady,’ he gasped. ‘I think I understand. But . . . no. That would mean.’ He leapt to his feet. ‘Kristabel?’
‘Do it,’ she entreated. ‘Edeard, if there’s even a chance—’
‘Yes.’ He flung his arms out, unleashing his third hand. The squad members were hurled into the air, an expanding bracelet of struggling figures arching up and out, away from the ground. Screaming as they began their plummet hundreds of feet to the wider slope below.