quality, and no amount of diligence could hold back the years that threatened it. Granted, there were alchemies and sorceries that could be mustered to stand in the breach, but the dark tide was reluctant to bargain, for it abided by its own laws and those laws were immutable. Worse yet, Brizad’s efficacy was defined by the whims of others. As professional as he might be, his every partner was, potentially, a fathomless well of raw emotions, yearning to grasp hold of Brizad and ensnare him. Outwardly, of course, there were rules in place. He was a consort, after all. The queen already had a husband. The Chancellor was bound to ancient laws denying him formal relationships with man or woman. Turudal Brizad possessed virtually no rights; the children he might sire would be without name or political power – indeed, the queen was required to ensure such pregnancies did not occur, and thus far she had held to that prohibition.
But it was rumoured that Janall had given her heart to Brizad. And that Triban Gnol might well have done the very same, with the potential consequence of tearing apart the old alliance between queen and Chancellor. If so, then Turudal Brizad had become the unhappy fulcrum. No wonder the man was plagued with stress.
Yet what were the consort’s own ambitions? Had he too surrendered his heart, and if so, to which lover?
Brys entered his room. He divested himself of his belt and armour, then drew off his sweat-damp undergarments. He layered himself in scented oil which he then scraped off with a wooden comb. Dressing in clean clothes, he set to donning his formal armour. He replaced the heavier practice sword with his regular longsword in the scabbard at his waist. A final moment scanning the contents of his modest residence, noticing the misplaced brace of knives on the shelf above his bed, indicating that yet another spy had gone through his room. Not one careless enough to leave the knives in the wrong position – that had been done by whoever had been spying on the spy, to let Brys know that yet another search for who knew what had taken place, a weekly occurrence of late.
He moved the knives back into their usual position, then left.
‘Enter.’
Brys stepped inside, then paused to search through the crowded, cluttered chamber.
‘Over here, King’s Champion.’
He followed the sound of the voice and finally caught sight of the Ceda, who was suspended in a leather- strap harness depending from the ceiling. Face-down and close to a man’s height above the floor, Kuru Qan was wearing a strange metal helmet with multiple lenses fixed in a slotted frame in front of his eyes. On the floor was an archaic, yellowed map.
‘I have little time, Ceda,’ Brys said. ‘The Chancellor has requested that I attend him in a short while. What are you doing?’
‘Is it important, lad?’
‘That I know? I suppose not. I was just curious.’
‘No, the Chancellor’s summons.’
‘I’m not sure. It seems I am to be increasingly viewed as some kind of pivotal player in a game of which I have no comprehension. After all, the king rarely asks for my advice on matters of state, for which I am eternally grateful, since I make it a point not to involve myself with such considerations. Thus, I have no opportunity to influence our Sire’s opinion, nor would I wish to.’
‘By this means,’ Kuru Qan said, ‘I am proving that the world is round.’
‘Indeed? Did not the early colonizers from the First Empire make that evident? They circumnavigated the globe, after all.’
‘Ah, but that was physical proof rather than theoretical. I wished to determine the same truth via hypothesis and theory.’
‘In order to test the veracity of the methods?’
‘Oh, no. Said veracity is already a given. No, lad, I seek to prove the veracity of physical evidence. Who can trust what the eyes witness, after all? Now, if mathematical evidence supports such practical observation, then we’re getting somewhere.’
Brys looked round. ‘Where are your helpers?’
‘I sent them to the Royal Lens-maker for more lenses.’
‘When was that?’
‘Sometime this morning, I believe. Yes, just after breakfast.’
‘You have therefore been hanging there all day.’
‘And turning this way and that, without my own volition. There are forces, lad, unseen forces, that pull upon us every moment of our existence. Forces, I now believe, in conflict.’
‘Conflict? In what way?’
‘The ground beneath us exerts an imperative, evidenced by the blood settling in my face, the lightness in the back of my skull, the unseen hands seeking to drag me down – I have had the most exquisite hallucinations. Yet there is a contrary, weaker force seeking to drag me – another world, one which travels the sky around this one-’
‘The moon?’
‘There are actually at least four moons, lad, but the others are not only distant, but perpetually occluded from reflecting the sun’s light. Very difficult to see, although early texts suggest that this was not always so. Reasons for their fading as yet unknown, although I suspect our world’s own bulk has something to do with it. Then again, it may be that they are not farther away at all, but indeed closer, only very small. Relatively speaking.’
Brys studied the map on the floor. ‘That’s the original, isn’t it? What new perspective have you achieved with all those lenses?’
‘An important question? Probably, but in an indirect fashion. I had the map in my hands, lad, but then it fell. None the less, I have been rewarded with an insight. The continents were once all joined. What forces, one must therefore ask, have pulled them apart? Who forwarded the Chancellor’s request?’
‘What? Oh, Turudal Brizad.’
‘Ah, yes. Such an errant, troubled lad. One sees such sorrow in his eyes, or at least in his demeanour.’
‘One does?’
‘And he said?’
‘He spoke of a feud between you and the Chancellor. A, uh, new one.’
‘There is? First I’ve heard of it.’
‘Oh. So there isn’t one.’
‘No, no, lad, I’m sure there is. Be good enough to find out about it for me, will you?’
Brys nodded. ‘Of course, Ceda. If I can. Is that the extent of your advice?’
‘So it is.’
‘Well, can I at least help you down?’
‘Not at all, lad. Who knows how many more insights I will experience?’
‘You may also lose your limbs, or pass out.’
‘I still have my limbs?’
Brys moved directly beneath the Ceda, positioning his left shoulder below Kuru Qan’s hips. ‘I’m unstrapping you.’
‘Be assured I will take your word for it, lad.’
‘And I intend to have a word or two with your assistants once I’m done with the Chancellor.’
‘Go easy on them, please. They’re woefully forgetful.’
‘Well, they won’t forget me after today.’
Hands clasped behind his back, Triban Gnol paced. ‘What is the readiness of the military, Finadd?’
Brys frowned. ‘Preda Unnutal Hebaz would be better equipped to give you answer to that, Chancellor.’
‘She is presently indisposed, and so I would ask you.’
They were alone in the Chancellor’s office. Two guards waited outside. Votive candles exuded a scent of rare Kolanse spices, giving the chamber an atmosphere vaguely religious.
‘Yes yes, Finadd. But I am seeking a soldier’s opinion. Are the king’s soldiers ready and capable of war?’
