Peter Hamilton - The Evolutionary Void

“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.

They were watched every inch of the way; some kids even ran along the side of the canal, dodging the trunks and pedestrians to keep up with the gondola. Several ge-eagles flapped lazily overhead.

The gondolier steered them down Hidden Canal and then over to Market Canal until they were level with the Lady’s church. Hundreds of people were waiting for them around the mooring platform, keen for either spectacle or failure.

The Pythia headed up the semiofficial reception group at the top of the wooden steps, with her entourage of six Mothers waiting passively behind. She was new to the position, anointed barely three years ago. She didn’t have quite the vivacity of the previous incumbent, nor did she immerse herself in Makkathran’s social events, but her devotion to the Lady was never in doubt. She had a zeal for the teachings that always made Edeard slightly uncomfortable around her.

“Waterwalker,” she said courteously. Her handsome face was impassive, as was her mind. Edeard walked up the steps while his third hand elevated Finitan behind him.

“Any sign of it?” Finitan asked.

Kanseen, who was standing just behind the Pythia, took his hand and squeezed gently. “Not yet,” she said sweetly.

“It won’t be long,” Edeard promised. But even he gave a nervous glance toward the Lyot Sea in the east. He’d longtalked to the Skylord the previous evening before the planet’s rotation had carried it out of sight. Several astronomers had claimed they’d seen it. That was countered by Yrance’s campaign staff as cronies trying to curry short-term favor with the Waterwalker.