Peter Hamilton - The Evolutionary Void

“So who’s this, then?” Dinlay asked.

Edeard’s smile returned in a weaker form. No Burlal? Edeard was still thinking. Lady, but he didn’t deserve oblivion like Tathal. That’s not right, not right at all . “This is my new grandson, Kiranan,” he managed to say levelly as he ruffled the lad’s hair.

“Granpa!” The boy twisted away. “You’re Dinlay. You were shot once. Granpa has told me all about you.”

“Has he, now? Well, you come and see me one day, and I’ll tell you about him. Everything he thinks you shouldn’t know.”

“Really? Promise?” The boy looked up admiringly at his new friend.

“Promise on the Lady.”

“Welcome home, Edeard,” Macsen said, and took Edeard’s hand warmly.

“So where’s Kanseen?” Edeard asked.

Macsen’s wide smile froze. “We called it a day,” he said with what was an attempt to maintain a jovial attitude. “Best for both of us.”

“No! I’m … sorry to hear that.” Lady, you can’t do this to me. They were still together before .

“She said she’ll see you later.”

“Okay, then.”

“And this is Hilitte,” Dinlay said proudly, ushering the tall girl forward. “We’ve been wed these last seven months.”

This bit was easy. Edeard had done this many many times, every time he had begun again. So yet again and as always he kept a composed face and smiled politely as he held out his hand to the robust girl. “Congratulations.” No disapproval shown, no surprise at her youth (younger than Jiska, easily), no confusion at the somehow familiar features smiling coquettishly back at him.

Macsen moved behind him, his mouth brushing past Edeard’s ear as if by chance. “Nanitte’s daughter,” he whispered.

Edeard coughed, hoping to Honious he was covering his shock.

“Thank you, Waterwalker,” she said in a husky voice-yes, definitely similar to that of her mother. And that coquettish smile deepened, becoming coy, appraising.

Edeard quickly turned back to Macsen. “Lady, it’s good to be back.”

“So you really went the whole way around the world?” Dinlay asked.

“We certainly did. Ah, the stories I have to tell you.”

“And?”

Edeard knew exactly what the question was. “There’s only us. No one else.”

Dinlay’s disappointment was all the more prominent amid the rejoicing inflaming the city. “Ah, well,” he sighed.

“What’s going on outside the North Gate?” Edeard asked.

“Those bastards-” Macsen began.

“Macsen,” Dinlay said awkwardly. “The Waterwalker hasn’t even seen his family yet after four years. We’ve held the peace for this long; we can wait a day more. Edeard, it’s nothing to worry about. We have the situation under control.”

Macsen gave a reluctant nod. “Of course. I’m sorry, old friend. This is wrong of me. There’s so much I want to hear about.”

“And by the Lady, you shall,” Edeard promised.

It was several days before Edeard found the time to meet privately with his old friends. The first two days were spent happily enough greeting his family and getting to know the latest additions; then, for one day, he was banished to a lounge on the ninth floor of the ziggurat with the other senior males of the family, to feel worthless and faintly guilty while Taralee, two midwifes, several Novices, Kristabel, and even Marvane helped the twins give birth. For once they didn’t synchronize perfectly; Marilee gave birth to her two daughters a good five hours before Analee produced a son and a daughter. After that, of course, was the formal Culverit tradition of the arrival breakfast, where an overwhelmed Marvane sat in a daze receiving congratulations from his new family.

Lunchtime on the fourth day after the flotilla arrived back saw Edeard take a gondola down to Sampalok. He walked along Mislore Avenue to the square at the center of the district. Every building he passed was occupied. No matter how small or awkward, every cluster of rooms had someone living there: bachelor, bachelorette, couple, small young family, stubborn old widower or widow. There was nothing left for any newcomer.

At the end of the avenue the six-sided mansion was a welcome sight. He always felt a mild satisfaction every time he saw it, something he’d created, something oddly reassuring.

This time, the square around it had none of the makeshift camps of stopover visitors awaiting guidance. It was back to a pre-Skylord normality, with Sampalok residents strolling around the fountains while kids played football and hoop chase in the sunshine. Stalls on either side of Burfol Street were doing a good trade in sugared fruits and cool drinks.

People smiled graciously at the Waterwalker in his customary black cloak. Once there was a time when he would have welcomed such a greeting from the citizens of Sampalok; now he found it hard to return those smiles. But I’m being unfair. It’s not just this district that’s to blame .

He went into the mansion via the archway on the lavender-shaded wall and hurried up the stairs to the fifth floor, where Macsen had his private study. It was a simple room opening onto a balcony. Today the tall windows were shut. The desk was covered in leather folders, often with the ribbons untied to let the papers spill out; the tables were also piled high, as were various shelves and cabinets. Some of the chairs were also pedestals for the chaotic paperwork. It used to be an immaculately tidy room, Edeard reflected. As if reading his thoughts directly, Macsen gave a conciliatory grin as he got to his feet. “Before you ask: Yes, it has only got like this since she left.”

Edeard eyed the food (or wine) stains down Macsen’s shirt but said nothing. Some of the chairs already filled with paperwork had cloaks and robes draped over them. “Something that big will take a while to adjust to,” he said diplomatically.

“Have you seen her?”

“No. Not yet. Kristabel visited her last night.”

Macsen shook his head and sank back into the chair behind the desk. “She doesn’t even live in Sampalok anymore.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Oh, Lady, no. She said I was losing my focus or drive or something; the usual rubbish women spout. You know what they’re like. Nothing I did was ever right.”

“Yeah, I know what they’re like.”

“What? Even Kristabel?” Macsen seemed pathetically eager for confirmation, to know he wasn’t alone in his suffering.

“Especially Kristabel,” Edeard assured him, wishing he was being completely dishonest. But … Lady, she’s changed since we got back. And it’s all supposedly my fault .

Macsen picked up a crystal decanter and poured out some of the double-blended spirits the Rassien estate was famous for. He squinted at the golden brown liquid as it swirled around the tumbler, then swallowed it in one go. The decanter was held out to Edeard.

“No thanks.”

“You pity me, don’t you?” Macsen burped loudly.

Oh, Great Lady, I don’t need this. Not on top of everything else . “I don’t pity you. I’d like the old you back, but I’m prepared to wait.”

“Oh, Edeard, how I wish we’d gone with you. None of this would’ve happened. No Our City movement, no Doblek winning the election, none of the squalid blockade camps.”

“I heard they call themselves Our City; Rolar told me. Of course, I sensed the camps and the militia as soon as we reached port.”

“The militia has to be there to keep the peace. I even voted in favor of Doblek’s proposal to deploy them, may the Lady forgive me. There was no choice, Edeard. We were facing citywide riots, possibly a massacre worse than anything Buate ever planned. Ilongo had endured two days of anarchy after Our City prevented the stopovers from using any of the free housing. What else could we do?”