By
three pm on the first day of the meeting the tree chamber was already filled
with debris. Tea cups were spilled, plates were hidden in the most
extraordinary places, and people seemed to shed coats and jackets without any
concern for finding them again. It drove Hardacre mad.
He tried to calculate how much rubbish was
being generated per hour of talking and extrapolated in his mind to the traditional
thirteen hours of the first session. After a few seconds he forced himself to
stop thinking about it: it was too depressing to contemplate completely. Fire
fighting meant slipping in when he could, to mop up the most egregious stain or
retrieve the many pieces of broken crockery. Worst of all, when he appeared the
council members would insist on quizzing him about his recent experiences. This
was bad housekeeping compounded by bad etiquette.
They had congregated around the circular
table, broadly following Laurence’s seating plan. John sat in the very slightly
larger oak chair reserved for the coven leader. Either side of him sat the
twins: Gwyneth on his right and Bronwyn on his left. Kathleen, Bronwyn’s closest
Hybitor friend, sat beside her. Next to them were Celia and Owen, the tall
blonde woman and her shorter companion with his jet black hair. Celia had
somehow got some buns and they were sharing them; she was passing them under
the table to Owen from a small wicker picnic basket.
On the other side, sitting next to Gwyneth
was Huw, the youngest and newest member of the council. He had originally
plonked himself down to the right of John, in Gwyneth’s traditional place. The
others had waited with considerable interest to see what would happen
next. Fortunately, Hardacre had just
happened to be in the room at that time, dealing with the fires, and a whispered
private conversation between him and Huw was enough to put everything right.
Next to the temporarily settled Huw, was
Angharad, playing with what looked like some sort of clock or barometer on the
table in front of her. Beside her, Dai sat frowning, his back straight, his
arms folded. The two oldest council members, George and Stephen, were sitting
close together by him, comfortable in their long-shared companionship.
These made a contrasting pair. George seemed
to personify old age, with his doddery voice, white beard and shabby old cloak.
Stephen, on the other hand, was still a dapper little man in a smart new brown
jacket and a red tie, in the manner of an Ethian businessman or minor
functionary.
The last two council members were equally
unalike. Myfanwy was dressed in full orthodox witch regalia – the layered
clothes that she wore were in complimentary shades of green, from lime to dark
olive. She looked like a walking plant, and generally talked as you might
expect a plant to talk, if it could. There was a very obvious physical gap
between her and the last of the council members, Elizabeth, who was very smart
in a black dress. The two women generally didn’t talk to each other. This
pairing was caused by Huw’s repositioning – normally Elizabeth would be next to
Gwyneth, her close friend and ally.
Hardacre was regretting Huw’s impetuosity –
he hated a gap. Several years before he had insisted that the table had to be
round because it was impossible to get thirteen people round a rectangular
table without leaving a gap, for some reason.
At least now no-one was stuck at one end. Under no circumstances should
anyone feel left out.
There were no latecomers, or absentees, not
even George, who often sent apologies at the last moment, particularly if the
agenda looked a little thin. This time, however, the agenda was essentially,
‘how John and Laurence helped to kill Whitecloak’. How could anyone stay away?
They were able to start at noon, as was
traditional, with the expectation that this first session would last thirteen hours,
ending at one in the morning. Most of
them were already wondering when lunch would arrive.
Gwyneth, as always, stood to greet them and
spoke very briefly, introducing their new member and then laying out what they
were going to discuss.
Then she passed the chair on to John. He
proceeded to describe the story of Kath’s expedition to reach Melloreis, the
diplomacy of Laurence, their intervention in Ortia and finally the exploration
of Melloreis and the triggering of the alarm cloud that summoned Whitecloak
from Tlaxaca. He then turned to his own travels in the Outer Void and Belenor
Helios and the final confrontation with Whitecloak, leading, eventually, to
their enemy’s death.
He told the story mostly himself, but he also
asked a very reluctant Hardacre to clarify particular points. He purposefully
left out the contribution of two council members – Celia and Owen – because he
knew that their story might well fill up a lot of time. That would have to
wait.
Finally, at two thirty, when they were all
exceedingly eager for lunch, he summed up.
‘We were very fortunate to overcome
Whitecloak and his horde, but that threat has at least now been removed.
However, more concerning is the strong evidence we’ve uncovered that Whitecloak
was in some form of an alliance with the CRS’
He waited to let this fact sink in. The
Hybitor had been formed explicitly to counter The CRS.
‘Perhaps even more worrying is the depth of
our ignorance about the very structure of our world and the ones surrounding
it. Can anyone shed any light on what I’ve recently found out?’
There was a longsilence while everyone
racked their brains.
‘I’ve heard some of this before’ said
Stephen, eventually, ‘my old tutor,
Macrocephalos, taught a course on advanced cosmology in Kinspit back before
most of you were born. George may well have had the same tutor’
George nodded once. He had been listening
intently but hadn’t said anything yet.
‘Anyway’ continued Stephen, ‘he said that the
universe was thought by some to be split into three parts, often represented as
the stages of a day: daylight, twilight, night’
John nodded; his eyes bright with sudden
understanding.
‘Helios, Skiophos, Nux. Well, that makes a
bit more sense. What else did he say?’
Stephen looked slightly pained.
‘It was all a bit mathematical after that so
I lost concentration a little’ he admitted.
‘Can you remember the formulae?’ asked Huw,
cutting across the flow of the conversation, ‘I might well be able to make some
sense of it’
Stephen stared at him. His face screwed up
uncertainly.
‘Who is this young man, John? Did you just
introduce us?’
John was sure that Stephen knew exactly who
he was. He chose to let the questions
pass without comment.
Angharad looked up from her strange clock
device.
‘So, can you remember anything, Stephen?’ she
asked, ‘I mean about the equations?’
Stephen frowned.
‘Long time ago…’ he mumbled, ‘…not much of a
mathematician…I thought it was more theoretical than practical…I’m sorry’
Huw shook his head, disbelievingly and
slumped back in his chair. Angharad smiled.
‘Never mind’ she said to Stephen,
‘Macrocephalos can’t be the only one who knows this stuff’
‘I
don’t think he’s still at Kinspit, anyway’ said John, glumly, ‘I’ve not come
across him’
Bronwyn leant forward and rested her arms on
the table.
‘Could we not send a delegation to Helios?’
she said, ‘the Helians seem friendly enough’
It was John’s turn to frown.
‘At the moment, no’ he said, ‘the way through
The Folds is blocked. I don’t think we could risk it’
‘You got through, though’ said Gwyneth, ‘so
it must be possible’
John was disturbed by this question, even
though he didn’t show it. He had no real idea how he got through The Folds that
separated Helios from Skiophos. He had been almost stripped of his mind by the
creatures that lived in The Folds, creatures that persisted in the matrix that
seemed to surround everything. At his lowest point he had a dream of the Rhylan
god, Ionadon, and in the dream Ionadon had led him to safety. Anyway, he wasn’t
ready to mention any of that yet.
‘I think I was very lucky’ he said, ‘I
certainly wouldn’t try it again’
Bronwyn wasn’t happy to give up this line of
reasoning.
‘Well, we need to ask around intensively in
Kinspit. There must be someone who knows about all of this’
‘Possibly’ responded John, ‘but I’m not sure
how many of them will be willing to tell…’
‘Oh, that’s a bit disappointing’ said
Bronwyn, flatly.
‘We can certainly try though’ said John,
perking up slightly, ‘I have lots of contacts there’
The council murmured its approval of this
idea, but no-one else came up with any more information. John glanced over at
George. He was very surprised that the old man, who had always been his mentor
and knew more about almost everything than anyone else in the world, had had
nothing to say so far. John knew that he must have his reasons, but he couldn’t
imagine what they might be.
Dai finally unfolded his arms.
‘What are the threats?’ he asked. His voice
was slow, deep and gravelly, almost inaudible at the lowest frequencies.
John considered this.
‘Direct ones? I’m not really sure. The CRS
seem to have established some contact with this intermediate realm, the Outer
Void, and they seem to be able to bring the creatures into this world,
surrounded by a shield of some kind. The rays that Whitecloak used were very
powerful, but the Ortian army managed to find a way to destroy them ‘
‘That certainly sounds dangerous enough’
agreed Dai, ‘but it seems that they can be countered’
Celia interrupted eagerly, keen to contribute
something useful.
‘Owen and I have…’
‘Later – after the break, Celia’ said John,
interrupting with a wave of his hand, ‘it may be a bit easier to stomach after
a hearty lunch’
This was a cue for everyone to talk about
lunch all at once. Any further discussion would have to wait. Celia looked at
Owen, obviously a little disappointed, but he laughed and pointed out that
their story really would be better told after lunch, when they would have everyone’s
full attention. They both glanced down eagerly at the long box that Owen had
hidden under the table.
Hardacre, waiting for this moment in the
kitchen, just inside the main buildings, ordered that the meal should be
served.
