Edeard slid up smoothly and silently up through the city-altered floor into the lounge of the House of Blue Petals to find it nearly deserted. The doors were closed and locked. Two drunks were snoring on couches, with blankets thrown over them by considerate staff. Three ge-monkeys and a couple of tired stewards were busy in the room at the back, washing the last of the glasses. The fires in the iron stoves had sunk to a cosy red glimmer.
He took a good look round. The furniture was similar to last time, though it was all new of course. Even the piano looked the same. There were no globes full of oil, or any other container for that matter. No beagle, either.
Edeard shed his concealment, and walked up the stairs to the gallery. Several of the rooms were still occupied by girls and their clients. The madam and two doormen were sitting in a small parlour, eating a very late supper as they waited for the girls to finish.
It felt strange to be visible as he walked along the corridors and up stairs where before he had always crept about like a nervous ghost. As he approached the long room on the third floor which Ivarl used to hold court in, the doors swung open for him, pulled by someone's third hand. Edeard walked through.
'I wondered when you'd pay me a visit, Buate said.
That he and Ivarl shared a parent wasn't in question. Edeard guessed it must be their father. He had the same broad forehead and strange green eyes. But where Ivarl's powerful frame had started to inflate, Buate was slim and muscled, as if he'd spent his life doing hard physical work. He was also younger than his half-brother, probably no more than seventy, with luxuriant black hair arranged in trim ringlets that hung below his collar — a fashion that was current amid the Grand Families in the city's northern districts. As was the expensive gold-embroidered leather waistcoat that he'd left unbuttoned to reveal a vivid scarlet shirt. His jewellery was more discreet than Ivarl's, a couple of gold bands on his fingers, and one diamond stud earring. A very large diamond, Edeard noted.
Buate was sitting behind the desk, gazing at his visitor with aristocratic contempt. Unlike Ivarl who had always kept the office tidy, there were papers and legal scrolls scattered everywhere. As if to counter the difference, Nanitte was there as before, sitting on a broad velvet-covered couch to one side of the desk; above her gauzy skirt she wore a strange narrow corset of leather straps that looked uncomfortably tight. She gave Edeard a blank stare, her mind perfectly shielded.
Edeard used his third hand to close the door. 'It will only be the one visit, he said, deliberately ignoring Nanitte — though there might have been a bruise on her cheek, the light was too poor for him to be sure. 'This kind of visit, anyway.
Buate picked up a silver stiletto, playing with it absently. 'And what is this kind of visit, Waterwalker?
'A friendly one.
'Indeed? What kind of friendship do you imagine we could have?
'Brief.
Buate laughed. 'I see why my dear brother enjoyed you as his sparring partner.
'I don't remember seeing you at the funeral.
'I was busy in the provinces. I only returned to Makkathran after I heard the sad news.
'Do you know who killed him?
'I thought he drowned.
'No. He was dead long before he hit the water. Torture tends to do that.
'That's awful. I trust you're busy finding the criminals who did this.
'That's one of the reasons I'm here.
'Ah. How interesting.
'Did you hear Grand Master Finitan has declared his candidacy for Mayor?
'It was the talk of the house tonight.
'His campaign will be centred on banishment.
'Yes, so I heard. I'm afraid he won't be getting my vote. Too many of my friends would suffer under such a policy.
'That's why you need to lead them away.
Buate's detached amusement faltered. 'Excuse me?
'I want you to go now. Leave the city. Take your colleagues and your business associates and your lieutenants with you. This way you'll be able to leave with most of your money; you can live a good life in exile.
'Normally I'd just laugh at something so preposterous. But I can see you're actually being serious.
'A lot of people are going to get hurt over the next few months. There will be deaths. You can avoid that. Think of this as an appeal to your better nature.
'You believe I have one?
'I think you're smarter than your dead brother. He was a jumped-up thug, using equally stupid muscle against small fry. But now you're here, and I see things are already changing. The gangs are targeting merchants and larger businesses now. You're trying to integrate yourself deeper within the city's economy, and submerge yourself from legal challenge. That takes a more methodical mind. He reached out with his third hand, and aggravated a whole ream of paperwork on the desk, sending the sheets fluttering across the floor. Nanitte scrambled to pick up those that fell across her and the couch. 'The mind of someone who appreciates paperwork.
Buate dropped the stiletto, and watched the swarm of paper with disapproval. 'Please don't do that.
Edeard sent a last flurry of papers chasing up towards the high ceiling. 'A smart legal mind. And I've grown to dislike lawyers.
'I have no idea what you're talking about. I am not acquiring businesses, nor have I any desire to. The House of Blue Petals provides a more than adequate income.
Edeard heard loud footsteps pounding along the corridor outside. He cocked his head to one side and gave Buate an expectant look.
'Boss! a man yelled.
The doors burst open. A very out-of-breath Medath came charging in, his oilskin cloak scattering water on the polished floor behind him. 'Boss! Boss! The Waterwalker was there, he caught us with Rapsail and—AAARGH! Medath nearly fell over backwards in fright. He clutched at his heart, eyes bugging as he drew a juddering breath. Buate was actually trembling in anger as he glared at his enforcer.
Edeard smiled contentedly. 'T-t-t timing is everything in our line of work, don't you find?
'You can't be here, Medath cried. 'You're back there. His finger pointed madly out towards the city. 'I ran… Boss?
'SHUT UP.
Edeard made his smile vanish. 'Leave the city. Take this cretin and all the others like him with you. You cannot win. Not against me.
Buate rose from the chair, his hands pressed palms-down on the desk. 'You understand nothing. Go back to your countryside, boy, before you and everyone you love gets hurt. This city is not for you.
They stared at each other as Medath continued to pant loudly behind them.
'Makkathran is already mine, Edeard said. 'You have no idea what I'm capable of. He turned and started to walk for the door.
'You're as weak as my brother, Buate spat after him. 'Next time it won't be Mirnatha who gets taken.
Edeard spun round, flinging an arm out. Buate was torn from his seat to smash against the wall between two of the oval windows. He squirmed impotently seven feet above the floor. Thin worms of dazzling static crackled in the air around him, jabbing down at his clothes. Buate wailed in dread as tiny puffs of smoke squirted out of each strike point.
'If anything ever happens to her or any of my friends, you will join your brother in a manner that will make his passing seem a delight. Edeard abruptly withdrew his third hand. Buate fell to the floor, landing badly on his shoulder. He grunted savagely at the pain.
'You keep bad company, Edeard told Nanitte, and closed the doors behind him.
Edeard woke alone in his maisonette. His ge-chimps bustled round getting breakfast ready as he walked down the steps into his pool. For all the fun Kristabel and he had sponging each other down in the beach house, he'd missed the sheer luxury of the bathing pool with its perfect temperature. At first he thought that might account for his melancholia, then he acknowledged he just missed not waking up with Kristabel.