'And that's going to bring the Skylords back? Macsen asked incredulously.

'Tell me what else will? Edeard countered. 'I'm happy to try something else. You saw Boyd and Chae leave; they're out there somewhere trying to reach Odin's Sea. You know that part of the Lady's teachings is real.

Macsen ran his hand through his hair. 'I know, he admitted. 'But… Marcol!

'And others, Edeard said.

'Have you sensed others? Kanseen asked. 'People with stronger powers?

'Not yet. But this city encourages people to hide their abilities. And use them to their own advantage.

'You just said we were becoming more enlightened, Macsen said.

'Becoming is right, Edeard said. 'There's a long way to go yet.

Edeard had never seen the Malfit Hall so full. Every inch of floorspace was taken up by big tables where clerks were sitting, counting mountainous piles of ballot papers. They were divided up into districts in mimicry of the city outside. More clerks and constables were still delivering sealed boxes, opening them up to avalanche yet more paper on to the tables.

Mayor Owain stood at the top of the stairs, surrounded with his staff and supporters, chatting away as if nothing of consequence was happening. Further along the gallery Finitan was clustered with his own circle of advisers, also making light of the count below. Occasionally, he and Owain would exchange a few pleasant words.

The expectant Representative candidates were less light-hearted about the wait. They all hovered around their own counting tables, jostling with their opponents whenever an unclear ballot paper was held up to questioning. Accusations and insults were frequently shouted at the adjudicator clerks.

For once, few people paid any attention to the Waterwalker as he walked in with Macsen and Kanseen. As they crossed the vast ebony floor he knew Owain's gaze was following him, yet the Mayor's composure remained urbane. The ceiling above them shone a rich dawn light across all the frantic activity.

'We'll go and check up on our district, Kanseen said as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Watching them stride over to the Sampalok counting tables, Edeard felt a surge of admiration for his friends. There weren't many people you could thrust into such a position and expect them to hold fast. But Kanseen and Macsen had done it. Dressed in their fur-lined robes, with their hoods hanging over their shoulder they really did look like they'd been born to the role. Maybe it's not just psychic strength that's an indicator of the Lady's teachings.

He started to walk up the stairs. Owain and Finitan watched him approach.

As a city constable I should be impartial, he told himself. Greet both of them and then go back down to the Jeavons tables. After all, if Owain wins I'll have to work with him.

Owain's face produced a neutral smile of welcome as Edeard reached the top of the stairs.

Politician!

Edeard inclined his head. 'Mayor Owain, he said politely, and walked over to Finitan.

Honious take him, he was going to kill innocent people to keep

his position. I would never be able to work with someone like that, he represents everything that's wrong with Makkathran.

There was a brief unguarded flash of gratitude amidst Finitan's thoughts as Edeard shook the Grand Master's hand. 'Do you know how the count's going, sir?

'I have a small lead, Finitan replied. 'Not as much as we were hoping, but it remains constant.

A half hour of laboured chat and forced humour later, they all watched as the Clerk Master supervising the Ysidro district vote walked to the stairs and stood on the bottom step.

'Ysidro always makes a show of being first to complete their count, Topar grunted. 'It's a small district, but they've a wide mix of people; it's a good indicator.

The Master cleared his throat. 'It is given this day that Alanso is duly elected as the people of Ysidro's Representative to Council. And further that mayoral candidate Finitan collected fifty-seven per cent of the vote.

There was some scattered applause, and the rest of the hall went back to the count.

'Alanso is one of ours, Topar said. 'Thank you, Lady.

Owain graciously congratulated his rival on the vote, to which an equally gracious Finitan replied that the night was young.

Fiacre and Lillylight finished their count next, both returning Owain stalwarts as their Representatives; though the mayoral vote was split nearly fifty-fifty. Jeavons, Silvarum and Haxpen returned Finitan supporters (Balogg among them), and gave him a large proportion of the vote. Nighthouse and Bellis elected Owain supporters; but Myco, Vaji, Cobara and Tosella put Finitan supporters forward to the Council. They also increased Finitan's overall vote to sixty per cent. When the results came in from Abad, Drupe, Igadi, Padua and Fiacre, Owain had only one more Representative, and Finitan's vote had increased to sixty-eight per cent. Zelda produced Owain's last Representative; Pholas Park and Lisieux Park were solid Finitan districts.

'We've got it, Topar hissed elatedly as Finitan's vote rose to seventy-one percent.

'Oh Lady, Finitan muttered, he seemed dazed, but nothing could remove the smile from his face.

Ilongo, Neph and Drupe declared, putting Finitan's percentage up another point. That just left the Sampalok vote. It wouldn't affect the result now, but it mattered. Edeard started down at the eight tables where the ballots were counted, willing them to finish. Kanseen and Macsen were still walking between the clerks, backing up the adjudicators. There had been more disputes on those eight tables than the rest of Malfit Hall put together. The Grand Master of the Guild of Clerks himself had been over a dozen times during the night to make his final judgement on smudged crosses. Finally, the Clerk Master assigned to supervise the Sampalok count stood at the foot of the stairs and announced: It is given this day that Gregorie is duly elected as the people of Sampalok's Representative to Council.

'He's ours, Topar whispered incredulously.

'And that mayoral candidate Finitan collected fifty-one percent of the vote, the Clerk Master concluded.

Thousands of people were waiting in Golden Park, despite the chill late-night air. There was a lot of movement after Sampalok declared. Dejected Owain supporters headed home, shaking their heads in dismay and muttering dark disapproval. Finitan supporters surged forward right up to the Outer Circle Canal. A line of fit young constables had a struggle to keep some of the over-eager ones from falling into the water.

Finitan emerged on to the balcony overlooking Golden Park, and the cheering reached deafening levels. He began his thank you speech. Not all the faithful listened. Bottles were being passed round. Groups of strolling musicians were playing, urging people to dance. The party in Golden Park would last until dawn.

Edeard was one of those who didn't bother listening to the speech. He made his way back to the Culverit mansion where an overjoyed Kristabel was waiting, and they celebrated in their own fashion.

Kristabel made Edeard wait. He couldn't believe it. Tradition was one thing, but he stood at the front of the Lady's church all by himself with the farsight of the city focused on him as minute after painful lonely minute dragged on. Tradition said the groom wasn't allowed to use his own farsight to check and see if the bride was on her way. So he just stood there and endured.

The smell of pollen — sweet when he and Dinlay walked into the church, was now overpowering, threatening to make his eyes water. It seemed as if half the Iguru Plain had been stripped of foliage to decorate the huge church. The band from the Musicians Guild played on and on, repeating the same tune which had become more like a funeral dirge. As the same terrible notes began once more he gritted his teeth, wishing he'd pleaded a lot harder with Dybal to play for him; but Dybal was only going to sing at the reception gala tonight. He shifted his weight from one foot to another. In front of him the thirty-foot-high snow-marble statue of the Lady gazed down benignly, her arms uplifted to summon the Skylords to Querencia. The sculptor had captured a most enigmatic expression. It was almost as if she was giving her congregation a judgemental glance. Certainly, anyone standing right at the front of the pews — curiously, on the exact spot he had to wait — was singled out for her disapproval. Shifting from one foot to another he considered that she must have known that one day Edeard would be married in her church, that her timesense had warned her of the sacrilege. Why else single him out to glare at?