suspected.
As a result of being part of a rigidly controlled society, the average citizen expected to be housed, fed and protected by the state. They didn’t expect more than a nominal voice in how that state was run. They expected to be left to their own devices in the matter of accumulating wealth, property and magic, as long as they didn’t exceed the very strict limits imposed. They certainly never expected to have any contact with, or even a glimpse of, the elite that ran everything.
In the unlikely event of an ordinary person being allowed access to their rulers’ high-walled domain, they would encounter many things that seemed wondrous, even for a world drenched in enchantment.
One of the more modest spectacles was an impossible garden. It was unfeasible in two respects. First, it contained a profusion of flowers that simply shouldn’t have been blooming at
such an intemperate time of year. Second, there were plants-exotic, beautiful, bizarre-unknown to the most knowledgeable of horticulturists. Another peculiarity of this acre of abundance was that it occupied a perfectly defined circular plot. Outside an apparently invisible line, everything was dormant or withered, as would be expected in this season. It was as though a totally transparent dome encased the entire growing area, and different weather conditions prevailed inside.
The garden was being tended by a tall, gangling old man. He had faultless skin and a copious head of hair, but both looked markedly unnatural. On his knees, trowel in hand, he appeared in his element. But woe betide anyone who mistook him for a menial. Despite his humble gardening clothes and the soil under his fingernails, he was by far the most powerful man in Rintarah.
He was Elder Felderth Jacinth, head of the empire’s ruling Central Council.
Not far from his garden stood one of the many flagpoles scattered about the grounds. The ensign it bore showed Rintarah’s emblem: an eagle with spread wings, framed by lightning bolts. An approaching figure glanced at the flag as he walked the path that wound to the improbable garden.
When he stepped through the imperceptible barrier he was met by a wave of warmth and exquisite perfume.
‘Good day, brother.’
Jacinth looked up. ‘Rhylan. It’s not often I see you here.’
‘I thought you might have been at the strategy meeting.’
The ruler climbed to his feet and patted the dirt from his hands. ‘They function just as well without me at these routine gatherings,’ he told his younger sibling. ‘I preferred to spend time here.’
‘I’ve never understood the attraction this holds for you, Felderth. It’s not as though you use the Craft to raise these plants. You don’t even get servants to do the work.’
‘It’s important that I do it myself. It gives me a chance to think.’
‘And to partially quench your thirst for true creation? Given that’s largely a memory for us now.’
‘Or a dream of what’s to come again.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Another thing about being here, working with the soil, is that I gain some empathy with the common people.’
‘Why ever would you want to do that?’ his brother wondered.
‘Because they’ve gone wrong somewhere. Or we have. The masses don’t have the deference they used to. Some of them even dare to take up arms against us.’
‘Then we must meet such insolence as we always have, with force.’
‘We bear down on them ever harder, and make punishments more severe, and it only seems to inflame them. We know Gath Tampoor is doing the same, with no better results.’
‘Think how much worse it might be if we didn’t. Society hasn’t collapsed. We don’t have anarchy.’
‘I find myself more in sympathy with those who think it might be best to simply eradicate the masses that serve us and start afresh. As Nature dampens down life to make ready for a new season.’
Rhylan looked to the summer garden. ‘Unlike you. You’ve suspended the seasons here.’
‘Which is exactly what we should have done with those we rule.’
‘How do you mean, brother?’
‘Our interests would have been best served by keeping them tightly yoked. Instead we’ve allowed them to develop greater and greater leeway. So much so that they now presume to challenge us.’
‘They don’t have an inexhaustible supply of lives to throw away in their cause. We will endure.’
‘But that isn’t all, is it? We’ve rarely had so many imponderables facing us at the same time. Not only are increasing numbers resisting our rule, there’s also this business of the northern warlord and his expansion. We’ve had no word from the expedition we sent. Doesn’t that concern you?’
‘You’ve changed your tune on all this. Not long since you were practically dismissing such problems as insignificant.’
‘I’m beginning to think that perhaps I was wrong. I edge towards the doubters’ camp, Rhylan.’
‘I still think Gath Tampoor is more culprit than victim as far as the disorder’s concerned, as you used to. And it wouldn’t surprise me to find that they were behind Zerreiss in some way, too. It’s the old, old story, brother; the struggle between the empires carries on, it just takes different guises.’
‘That’s enough of a worry in itself.’
‘Don’t underestimate the strength we can bring to bear against them. Rintarah is no sickly weakling. Our might is incomparable.’
‘Yet in respect of the insurgents in our midst, we’re like a bear that’s trodden on an ants’ nest. For all our might we haven’t rooted them out.’
‘We will. You forget who we are. What we are.’
‘You make no mention of the most worrying development; the disturbance to the matrix. There was a particularly severe episode just in the last few days, as you know.’
‘Again, why shouldn’t this be Gath Tampoor’s doing?’
‘Because
we
can’t do it. It’s beyond the powers we now have, and we’ve no reason to think they’re any more advanced.’
‘What, then?’
‘There are two possibilities, both of which I find troubling. One is that some unknown, unsuspected power is respon
sible for interfering with the magic’s flow. In some ways that might be the worse option, as it implies something we didn’t anticipate.’
‘And the other possibility?’
‘I fear that Caldason might have become aware of his capabilities.’
‘Now we get to it. That damnable situation has been a thorn to us for far too long. But why should he have woken to himself now and not before?’
‘Who knows? That may not be as important as recognising that he
has
.’
‘He can’t have entirely realised his potential, or we’d certainly know it.’
‘Perhaps not, but he could be progressing by degrees. As a man might learn some new skill.’
‘With respect, Felderth, what I see are several unrelated events. Thugs making trouble on the streets, as ever was; a barbarian warlord, latest in a long line of ten-day wonders; and an anomaly in the matrix, which in itself isn’t entirely without precedent. None of it necessarily adds up to a threat to us. I repeat: remember who we are.’
‘Take this,’ his brother said, plucking a red rose from its stem, ‘and see in it the fate of our rule if you’re wrong.’
Rhylan took the flower and breathed deep of its gorgeous aroma.
But the instant he stepped outside the barrier the rose turned black and crumbled to dust.
The constant glow of magic that emanated from any heavily populated area usually outshone the night sky. But this evening the luminescence was less bright than normal, perhaps because the colder weather meant fewer
