The hoary substance through which the drama played out, bubbling and seething, filled the bed of a smooth-walled pit. Two men stood at the polished handrail surrounding this cavity, looking down at the ever-changing vista. They wore fine robes of glamoured fabrics that coursed with colours and subtle patterns.
Both men were old. Cosmeticians and face glamours had alleviated their appearance to some degree, but not convincingly. The smoothness of skin and abundance of hair proved frauds on close inspection.
Elder Felderth Jacinth, the single most feared man in the empire, was marginally the older. But it was a near-run thing as to who was the grimmer.
‘Enough,’ he decided, slicing the air with an easy gesture.
The images in the pit dissolved; the not-quite liquid fell back to churning and grew quieter.
‘Do you still think this unrest is of little account, Rhylan?’ the Elder asked.
His brother seemed less ruffled. ‘Let’s not get this out of proportion; it’s not as bad as the visualisations suggest. The disturbances are restricted to isolated pockets.’
‘But they shouldn’t be happening at all.’
‘Our system’s too well ordered to allow such disobedience to persist for long. Besides…’
‘What?’
‘Besides which the greater part of the masses are bound to be restrained by their devotion to us.’
‘Please, Rhylan, let’s not stretch credulity too far.’
The Elder turned away from the pit and its faintly sulphurous fumes, followed by his brother.
They walked into the main body of an enormous, windowless chamber. It was fashioned from exquisite marble, and a score of pillars rose gracefully to a high, vaulted ceiling. An abundance of glamour orbs bathed the room in a soft glow. In keeping with old ways, the routes of subterranean power channels were marked out with coloured pigments. Red, blue, green, gold, a mesh of lines cut across the chamber’s floor.
Shaped like a shield and large enough to support a chariot and team, a table occupied centre stage. Clusters of the power lines ran to its sturdy legs, infusing the oak with magical essence to invigorate those who deliberated there, and to make vibrant the motif imprinted on the table’s surface. So that the emblem of empire-an eagle in flight against a backdrop of lightning bolts-was imbued with pseudo-life. The eagle soared, working its powerful wings as lightning crackled all around.
Upwards of twenty members of Rintarah’s Central Council were seated at the table. Had an ordinary citizen been admitted, which they never were, they would have noticed that the men and women present bore an obvious familial resemblance. Blood, rather than egalitarianism, had always determined the Council’s composition. An onlooker would also have been struck by the fact that the majority in attendance were very old.
Felderth Jacinth took his place at the head of the table. Rhylan made for the last vacant seat.
‘Some of you, including my brother here, feel that our current public order problems are no more than a passing nuisance,’ the Elder began without preamble. ‘I disagree. What we’re seeing on the streets of Jecellam, and throughout Rintarah, may not be widespread, but it is significant.’
‘More important than the unrest we’ve weathered in the past?’ a sceptical relative asked.
‘Yes, and for two reasons. First, we have something new in the mix: the Diamond Isle. From the moment dissidents from here, and from Gath Tampoor, were allowed to reach it, it kindled hope in the radicals’ breasts. The wretched place is a beacon for every malcontent, troublemaker and revolutionary.’
‘But we’re talking about a relatively tiny number of people,’ Rhylan argued.
‘Which wouldn’t ordinarily concern us too much,’ the Elder agreed. ‘But that brings me to the second factor, and one which I shouldn’t have to spell out. The Qalochian.’
‘Ah yes, a problem that should have been dealt with long ago.’
‘Had we been able to settle our differences about him, it would have. Now we have him entangled with the dissidents, and that’s like throwing oil on smouldering embers.’
‘Aren’t we in danger of exaggerating Caldason’s importance?’ another sceptic wondered.
‘That argument’s devilled us for far too long,’ the Elder replied. ‘If we forget his genesis, and his potential for harm, we do so at our peril.’
‘I agree,’ a female councillor interjected. ‘Caldason and the alienated ones are a volatile mix. There’s no question that action’s overdue.’
‘But we don’t even know if he’s aware of his latent capabilities,’ Rhylan responded, ‘let alone about to exercise them.’
‘There you have it: we don’t know,’ Felderth Jacinth said. ‘Are we prepared to take that risk?’
‘We need no persuading of the man’s latent menace,’ someone else assured him. ‘It’s the methods about to be employed that trouble many of us.’
There were supportive murmurs. Almost half the people at the table nodded agreement.
‘As we’ve permitted this situation to escalate to crisis point,’ the Elder told him, ‘we’re left with little option.’
Rhylan spoke for the doubters. ‘But joining forces with our deadliest rivals? That strikes many of us as an extraordinary state of affairs, brother.’
‘We are not joining forces with them. Achieving a joint goal would be a more accurate description.’
‘Whatever you call it, it’s totally unprecedented.’
‘Desperate times demand desperate measures.’
‘Maybe so. But are you honestly saying that the situation on the Diamond Isle is beyond the capability of Rintarah’s armed forces? Why do we need Gath Tampoor?’
‘We don’t. Militarily, of course we’re perfectly able.’
‘Then why this…alliance?’
‘Gath Tampoor is preparing to act whatever we do, and politically it makes sense for them. They have to demonstrate to their subjects that dissidence won’t be tolerated. If we act differently we leave ourselves open to accusations of weakness, which would only give sustenance to our own rabble-rousers.’
‘The argument does have merit,’ a supporter murmured.
‘I repeat that this is not an alliance,’ the Elder continued. ‘It’s a question of mutual self-interest. Necessity makes for strange bedfellows, and no matter how profound our differences, the only issue of any import is survival.’
That brought down a pall of silence.
The Elder waited a beat, then explained, ‘There need be no concerns that our dealings with Gath Tampoor have in any way compromised us. Such exchanges as have occurred were at the highest level, and our position was made plain. There can be no misapprehension on their part that we’re offering concessions of any kind.’
‘That’s reassuring,’ an opponent uttered with less than total conviction. Then he added, ‘What exactly do we know about the security situation in Gath Tampoor’s sphere?’
‘If anything, they’re suffering more than we are. But then they do have some notoriously troublesome colonies, Bhealfa being a good example. Which was Caldason’s birthplace, of course.’
‘Hmmm. And the rebels? Do we know their disposition?’
‘Less clearly than we did. They’ve been decimated and many of the survivors are scattered, which makes intelligence-gathering all the harder. Not that it was ever easy planting spies in their ranks.’
‘Yet we had one informer amongst them with access to their upper echelons.’
‘Yes, and they proved a useful source. But contact was broken just when some very interesting information was starting to come through. We don’t know what happened to that informer. Our suspicion is that they perished at the hands of Gath Tampoor’s security forces during their cull.’
‘Ironic,’ Rhylan observed.
His brother nodded. ‘Indeed.’
‘Of course, the informer might simply have changed allegiance.’
‘What do you mean?’ the Elder asked.
‘It’s a reasonable supposition that Gath Tampoor also had a highly placed source in the so-called Resistance, else they wouldn’t have been able to strike at them so hard. Perhaps it was the same person.’