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Chapter 17 - Cessair

The hum of conversation that had filled the room died down as the consuls and ambassadors took their seats on the circular bench running around the outside of the map.  Koopoos carrying trays laden with food darted back and forth behind the delegates.  Not a single person had to wait more than a few seconds to have their appetites satisfied and thirsts quenched but this did not stop a pair of swarthy Tethrans stockpiling so much food that their laps resembled a buffet table. 

As was tradition, the delegates took seats in close proximity to the countries on the map they represented.  The Chamberlain sat at the top of the map between Sessymir and Arnaksak.  ‘I’ll try to keep introductions as short as possible,’ he said pleasantly.

‘Wonderful!’ Mulupo whispered to Tagtug.  ‘An hour of prolegomena before getting down to business.’  The Mabbit just blinked uncomprehendingly then proceeded to amuse himself with a small brass compass that was hanging on a chain around his neck.  The compass was a gift from Mulupo, a token of his appreciation for saving his life back in Sarras.  This one had not been designed to point to the north; instead it revealed the direction of the Briar Patch and that made it the most treasured gift of all.

The Chamberlain began proceedings by waving a hand in the direction of Maeldune Canna who was making his way around the outside of the circle to join his wife on the part of the circular bench set aside for the representatives of Acoran.  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, to begin I would like to pay homage to my Minister for Justice, Maeldune Canna.  His counsel in the weeks leading up to this august meeting has been invaluable and I would like to publicly recognise his countless contributions.’

A tepid round of applause followed.  Bannick clapped the least enthusiastically of all.  Pylos grinned when Bannick rolled his eyes.  Bannick’s dislike of the Minister for Justice was no state secret.

Pylos was not the only one to catch Bannick’s frivolity.  The Chamberlain had seen it and was not impressed.  Tiberius Llyr was one of the few people in the entire chamber who did not hold the Consul for Arnaksak in high regard.  He considered Bannick an insincere upstart whose brash exterior hid a dull and cynical mind.  Bannick’s unwillingness to pay due respect to the authority of office had been a thorn in the Chamberlain’s side since the bold Arnakki first appeared in the Cloud Chamber.  And then there were the rumours he had heard - the ones about Bannick and his wife.

Whether he was right or wrong about Bannick, Chamberlain Llyr knew better than to publicly air his misgivings about the man.  He did not rise to popularity by criticising those who had the favour of the masses. 

‘On my left, we have Ambassador Arjuna from Arnaksak and his consul, Bannick Landen, who needs no introduction, I’m sure.’

Despite the austere tone of his voice, the Chamberlain did not completely disguise his annoyance with Bannick, but the hoots and cheers that had broken out around the chamber drowned out any antipathy he may have expressed.  Ambassador Arjuna, a plain, grey-headed man quietly nodded to the gathering, but the audacious Bannick – never one to miss an opportunity – stood up and bowed, revelling in the attention.  The eyes of every female in the chamber lingered on him and he knew it.  There was nothing boorish about him, only a playfulness that most found endearing. 

‘Good to be back, my lord.’  Bannick said once the applause died down.  He knew that the correct address for the Chamberlain was Your Grace. 

The Chamberlain’s blue eyes flashed momentarily.  ‘Ladies and gentlemen of the Assembly, may I ask that you save your applause until all delegates have been introduced.  Otherwise, we may be here until Arma, Aldra and Colla rise over our heads!’

A few polite laughs echoed around the room.  Bannick, satisfied that he had taken full advantage of his moment in the sun, leant back on his bench and signalled for a koopoo to bring him a drink and a pokpok or two.

‘For Scoriath,’ the Chamberlain continued, ‘we are honoured by the presence of Ambassador Thomas Shinnick and Sir Edgar Worseley of Pelinore.’

All eyes in the chamber fell on the shining figure of the knight.  He sat erect, his posture perfect, with his feet parallel to each other and at right angles to the bench.  Edgar was wearing the ceremonial golden armour of the Pelinore Guard and it glowed.  The sun shining through the glass dome above seemed to focus its light upon the pristine metal and it was hard to look at the knight for more than a few seconds.  Edgar smiled courteously to the Chamberlain, whilst Shinnick, a taciturn red-headed man simply lifted his hand in acknowledgement of the introduction.

The Chamberlain returned Edgar’s smile.  ‘Ambassador Shinnick, Sir Edgar, it is pleasing to see you both back in Cessair.’

Edgar nodded appreciatively then turned his attention to removing the crumbs of snowbread that had found their way from Shinnick’s plate onto the folds of the knight’s red robe.

‘Next, our dearest colleague from the Isles of Cephalonia, Prime Minister Lambert, has sent us Bormanus Cole.  The Prime Minister was somewhat wary of making the long trip from Cephalonia to Cessair and has sent us Mr Cole in his stead.  Mr Cole hails from the city of Cibola and comes highly recommended.’

The Chamberlain gestured to a small, white-haired young man sitting in the shadow of the hulking, gleaming mass of armour next to him.  In contrast to the heaviness of Edgar’s metal suit, Bormanus was arrayed in delicate Corran silks, accentuated by white ruffles, ornate buckles and countless silver bangles.  Everything about him was effeminate and a number of battle-worn consuls stared incredulously at the newest inductee to the Assembly of Nations.  He sat nervously, looking warily into the sea of cold faces before him.  His tiny fingers articulated his discomfort, making delicate little movements as he waited for the Chamberlain to move to the next delegate in the ring.

Unexpectedly, Remiel Grayson leaned forward and said, ‘Cole?  I have heard that name before.’

      ‘It’s a common name in Cephalonia, Father.’  His voice was thin and wispy, as if all bass tones had been removed from it.  ‘Have you ever been to Cephalonia?’

        ‘This is my first time abroad,’ Remiel replied, his voice slightly muffled by the dark scarf across his face.

‘Really?’ said Cole raising an eyebrow, as if he were surprised by the comment. 

‘I live in a relatively cloistered environment,’ Remiel said defensively, not enjoying Cole’s sudden interest in him.  He was unsettled by the questions.

Bormanus leaned forward and smiled.  ‘Then we’re both newcomers here, Father…?’  

‘Gideon,’ he said quickly.  ‘My name is Father Gideon.’

‘No! No! No!’ cried the Chamberlain, smiling but obviously annoyed at the interruption.  ‘I am doing the introductions!’ he said laughing lightly.  ‘You will get your turn Father Gideon.’

Both Bormanus and Remiel eased back down on their benches, but before the Chamberlain moved on, Remiel was sure he heard Bormanus whisper, ‘Gideon?  I have heard that name before.’  It almost seemed that the epicene man was mimicking him, but he decided to dismiss it as hyper-sensitivity brought on by his anxious state.

‘Once more, Tuatha is represented by Ambassador Cierra Greenwood of Findias.’

He smiled solemnly to a woman sitting beside Bormanus.  She was clad in yellow, the traditional mourning colour of Tuatha.  Her face was hidden behind a veil and her head was bent forward.  ‘We regret to announce that Ambassador Greenwood arrived here alone.  Her ship was attacked en route to Tindalo.  Her consul and son, Maddock Greenwood, died whilst protecting his mother.  Ladies and gentlemen of the Assembly, Maddock Greenwood had been appointed to the rank of Consul only three weeks ago.’ 

The Chamberlain stared into her yellow veil.  A look of earnestness was chiselled across his face.  ‘Cierra, he died before his time and this assembly will do all it can to avenge his death.’

The veil shook slightly as she nodded her head appreciatively. 

‘Also from Tuatha, we have the mariner Gerriod Blake, who, as some of you may know, escaped from the realm from whence these attacks upon us have been launched.  He has much to share with us and I know he will be a great asset as we devise our plans to respond to the situation in which we now find ourselves.’

Gerriod lifted his eyes to accept the welcoming eyes of the Assembly members, but instead found a number of cold stares and looks akin to suspicion.  The weak smile he had proffered quickly vanished and his gaze fell back to the swirling clouds on the map as he tried to understand the mistrust he had seen in the faces of numerous individuals in the chamber.  To a certain extent, he was angered by their response to his introduction but as he sat there and dwelt upon the matter, he could almost understand it.  He was a humble mariner who had eluded the very creatures that had already slaughtered countless brave and honourable Myrrans.  Could he really blame anyone for doubting his escape?  He wrung his hands in his dirty woollen jumper and waited nervously for the Chamberlain to move to the next introduction.

‘For Tuirren we have the Lady Valeria Essar of Tir Thuinn and her consul, Will Stoops.’

Applause broke out again, despite the Chamberlain’s earlier request regarding such shows of approval.  But it was impossible to legislate against such displays of affection and in Stoops’ case, the Chamberlain thought the acknowledgement was well-deserved.

Stoops joined in the applause whilst Lady Valeria demurely lowered her gaze.  She resembled the gold-beaked nightswans that ambled over the crimson waters of Lake Cessair.  Her long, willowy neck rose elegantly from an ornate, gold brocade dress.   Stoops couldn’t help but squash against her and she pulled a face every time his rough burlap cloak pushed against her delicate fair skin.

‘…and representing Nessa, the Archbishop of Garlot and his prelate Father Gideon.  We are honoured to have their company.’

The Archbishop could hardly contain his excitement and was clearing his throat to speak when Llyr quickly interceded.

‘These two holy men are considered luminaries among the people of Nessa.  It is my hope, and that of my counsellors, that the presence of two devoutly religious men will lend a certain moral weight to our collective response to these attacks against the Myr.

‘Now, from the beautiful city of Skyfall Town we have the Sapphyrran Ambassador Akampa Lodd and his newly-appointed consul, Trypp Elan.  As some of you may know, Trypp Elan was one of the first to encounter one of the monsters –’

‘I don’t know how much more of these introductions I can bear,’ muttered Sela Noye as she stretched her short arms into the air.  This gesture was followed by a yawn so long and loud that it stripped the Sapphyrro of any attention they had received.

‘I hope the next introduction doesn’t bore you, Sela’ the Chamberlain said tersely to the Tamuan, ‘because it is yours.’

‘It all depends on what you say, Chamberlain,’ she replied unabashedly. 

Llyr wanted to bite back at this comment but he knew any retort would be lost on the eristic Tamuan consul.  There were few people present that had not, at one point or another, been on the receiving end of one of Sela Noye’s barbed comments.  Their sympathies lay with him whatever he did.

‘From the all-too-distant Tamu Plains, we are blessed to have Ambassador Kaniya Sawoye.  And her consul Sela Noye.  Thank-you for making the journey all the way from your faraway savannahs.’

From behind her mask, Sela scoffed.  ‘Thank-you, Your Grace.  Like any journey, it’s the last 30,000 steps that seem the longest.  Surely –’

‘I do apologise for cutting you off, Consul,’ the Chamberlain said quickly, ‘but as you so rightly pointed out, these introductions are eating away at the time we have available.  If you would not mind holding your comment for now.’

It was fortunate that Sela wore a mask.  Everyone was spared seeing her livid face.  Before she could embark upon the most brutal riposte she could think of, the Chamberlain was gesturing in the general direction of the Ankarans to Sela’s left.

‘From the great water city of Copacati, we are fortunate to have the Ankaran Ambassador Pochica Ku and Consul Rama Ta join us.’

Pochica gave a small smile in acknowledgement of the introduction, but Rama swept his head around so that all could see his happy face.  His long, thick dreadlocks swung about as he nodded to the Assembly.

‘What’s he smiling at us for?  He can’t even see us!’ 

The comment came from the southern edge of the map where two Tethrans sat laughing in a most disrespectful fashion.  They were an intimidating-looking pair.  Both were over six foot tall and had the characteristic weathered skin of all inhabitants of the dry land to the south-east of Cessair.  Their faces were equally rough, battered by hard living in a harsh landscape. 

As was their way, the Tethrans’ bodies were covered in scraps of metal.  When a Tethran was old enough to be considered an adult, he or she would subject themselves to a horrific process euphemistically called getting dressed.  This entailed having sheets of iron and plates of steel cauterized into the skin.

The elder of the pair, Ambassador Barbarossa Judd, had a lean, muscular physique and a moderate amount of plating.  In contrast, Gunther Ross, his consul, was a large-framed man carrying more weight than any other consul, with the obvious exception of Will Stoops.  A healthy appetite had caused Gunther’s metal plates to move away from one another over the years and expanses of hairless skin could be seen between them.  The plates had lost all their lustre and around the edges brown patches of rust had built up. 

Gunther exhibited all the characteristics of a man addicted to having metal work done.  Even his forehead had been covered and one half of his skull.  The hemisphere of his head that was covered in metal had a large dent in it, the result of a tavern brawl with a group of Sessymirians.  He wore the dent with pride.  Gunther even had his knuckles armoured and the metal there was adorned with sharp angular studs.  He had been known to break a man’s jaw within one punch of a fight starting.

The most disturbing aspect of Gunther’s appearance was not the armoured plating, but rather the massive iron ball connected to a great chain that had been worked into the flesh of his right forearm.  The chain was curled around his armoured right hand which seemed to be ready to swing the brutal weapon at a moment’s notice. 

From across the Cloud Chamber, Sir Edgar Worseley looked upon the pair with disdain.  It was not their oafish behaviour he found so objectionable – it was their lack of cleanliness.  He wanted to go over to Gunther in particular, and wipe the grime from his plating.  Edgar found it difficult to even look in their direction without feeling dirty.

‘I mean, what’s the point of having the damn Ankarans here?’

Known to have less tact than brains, Gunther was ignorant of the contemptuous looks his comment had attracted.  He slapped his compatriot on an armoured knee and continued with his unrestrained commentary on the presence of Pochica Ku and Rama Ta.  ‘How are a couple of blind men going to help us stop the Ghul?’

Bannick Landen having finished his pokpok, made a move to throw the core of the fruit at the Tethran.  As his elbow pulled back, it hit one of the koopoo attendants right in the eye.  The poor koopoo gave a little yelp and the glass of wine it had been carrying was flung high into the air.  All eyes were on the glass as it sailed over Arnaksak and the Oshalla Ocean.  It was about to land in the orchards of Nessa (from whence the wine had come) when a hand caught it and most of the precious liquid.  In fact, only a few red drops had landed on Garlot.

The hand belonged to Rama Ta who had leapt from his seat as soon as he heard the koopoo’s intake of breath as it let go of the glass.  He had listened as it arced over the northern reaches of the Myr and he was ready to catch it before it hit the green fields of Garlot.  He held the glass up like a trophy then strode across the map and presented it to Gunther Ross.

‘I think I’ll shut up for a bit now,’ Gunther muttered as he took the glass.

Barabarossa nodded.  ‘That’s probably for the best, Gunther.’

‘And from the great Helyan city of Sulis, Ambassador Pedaeus Rhodes and General Pylos Castalia…’

Applause again.  Llyr had expected the response.  Pedaeus and Pylos were almost as well-loved as Bannick Landen and Will Stoops

‘…Hafaza Habid and Sefar Hadith, paladins of Khepera.’

They both stood and bowed.

On the other side of the room, Trypp Elan was in awe.  He had never seen a Kheperan before.  The Kheperans were not great lovers of water and saw no attraction in crossing Lake Erras to visit Skyfall Town, so the sight of the tall, horned men in long flowing robes was something of an event in the Sapphyrran’s eyes.  It didn’t cross Trypp’s mind that to the Kheperans, he was just as unusual a sight.

As the Kheperans sat down, Trypp noticed Sefar Hadith’s robes fall open slightly.  It was difficult to be sure in the mist of the map that swirled around the Kheperan’s legs, but Trypp thought he saw something very strange – where he expected to see the boot of the man, he had caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a talon much like the kestra that flew above Skyfall Town.

‘My friends, Ambassador Lokota Fall and his son Tawhawki of Caquix.’

The Caquikki were not sitting on the bench but had stretched out on the floor at the edge of the circular map.  The tall waves of the Tamtu Ocean broke harmlessly on their massive six-legged bodies.  Lokota Fall nodded deferentially to the Chamberlain, a picture of civility.  He wore a blue silk waistcoat, matching silk shirt and an ornate ceremonial headdress made from the feathers of a Tamtu vaingull.

‘Your Grace, we are pleased to be in attendance and it is our hope that we expedite a solution to these matters as swiftly as time allows.’  His speech was eloquent, his diction perfect.  Fortunately, his hearing wasn’t what it once was, otherwise he would have heard Gunther Ross mimicking his polite response to the Chamberlain’s introduction.

‘Representing the twin island states of Kompira and Susano is Emperor Yoshiro Kimura accompanied by Princess Sumi Kimura, Consul for Susano, and Taro Kumari, the newly-appointed Consul for Kompira… in the absence of Trojanu Sato.’ 

The Emperor’s colourful silk robes filled with swirling designs and shimmering hues contrasted starkly with the black garb of his daughter who sat in perfect stillness beside him.  She did not blink, did not react to the introduction but her eyes sparkled with absolute attention to the proceedings.

The Chamberlain addressed Sumi directly.  ‘Consul Kimura, I feel for your loss.  Trojanu was a truly great man.  A hero of the ages.  We held him in the highest esteem.  He will be terribly missed from our assemblies.’

His voice was tender and it shook slightly.  There was no doubting it, Chamberlain Llyr was speaking from the heart.

‘Thank-you, Your Grace,’ she replied, a flicker of emotion springing up in her deep brown eyes.  She said nothing but dropped her head recognising the kindness of his words. 

‘…For Tethra, we welcome Ambassador Barbarossa Judd from the Ganesa Plateau.  We have already heard some words of wisdom from his consul Captain Gunther Ross and as always we endeavour to find merit in his contributions to our proceedings.’

Gunther scratched the fleshy part of his forehead, trying to decide whether the Chamberlain had just insulted him or not.  Finding the task too difficult, he drained his glass and looked about for a koopoo to fill it again.

‘Ambassador Judd, is it true what I hear?’ asked the Chamberlain as he took a glass of wine from a passing koopoo.  ‘This is your last appearance in the Cloud Chamber as Tethran Ambassador.’

‘Yes Your Grace, it is,’ Barbarossa replied, the sound of his voice as rough as his appearance, but his words reflecting years of friendship with the Chamberlain.  ‘I have been offered the wardenship of the Hulks, and as much as I enjoy climbing the stairs to the Cloud Chamber, the financial incentive to take on this new position is too good to ignore.’

‘You will be a fine warden, Barbarossa.  We are lucky to have you continue to serve the Myr in such an important capacity.’  He meant it.  The Chamberlain knew that the management of the massive floating penitentiary moored outside Brigantia was no easy job but the welfare of the Myr depended on it.  Should the thousands of criminals imprisoned in the Hulks ever escape… it was a thought too frightening to dwell on.

‘I will do my best,’ Barbarossa said with a degree of humility rarely seen in a Tethran.

‘From the city of Elidor, representing Acoran, are Her Majesty Ana Carrucan and her consul and niece Jehenna Canna.’

The family resemblance between the two was unmistakeable.  Their proud features were almost identical, apart from Jehenna’s skin which was dramatically fairer than that of her aunt’s.  When her mother Claudia – Ana’s younger sister – had married the fair-skinned seaman Jonas Kallady, everyone they knew joked about the poor children who stood to inherit his swarthy appearance.  As it was, all Jehenna inherited was Jonas’ pigmentation.  She had her mother’s alluring eyes, straight teeth and high cheekbones.  Unfortunately for Jehenna’s brother Simeon, swarthy was an appropriate word to use when describing him.

‘You have all met my Minister for Justice,’ the Chamberlain said as he nodded to Maeldune Canna, ‘so now we move to two very special guests.  Although the nations of Camulos and the Briar Patch have never sought representation in the Assembly of Nations, we have made places for the Spriggan Mulupo and the Mabbit, Tagtug.  What they have seen concerns us all and the information we have garnered from them has helped us greatly in our search for an answer to the darkness that has fallen upon our golden lands.’ 

As the Chamberlain spoke, all eyes drifted to the two small figures sitting beside the lofty Acora.  Unfortunately, so much time had passed since the Chamberlain had started his introductions, the Spriggan had consumed at least six glasses of Nessan wine and was oblivious to the fact he was being introduced.  

Similarly Tagtug had no real sense of what was going on.  He had no interest in the introductions and so found his eyes and mind wandering across the map before him. 

The sudden silence tapped away at Tagtug until he could not ignore it any longer.  He lifted his head to find everyone in the Cloud Chamber staring at him.  He blinked nervously in response to their gazes – he was out of his depth and yearned for the solace of the Briar Patch.  He tugged at Mulupo’s waistcoat to get his attention.  The Spriggan looked at Tagtug who nodded to the ring of delegates quietly waiting for the pair’s acknowledgement of the Chamberlain’s introduction.  Mulupo, realising that it was his time to be introduced, shot up to bow which sent his plate of seafood spiralling over Tagtug’s head and onto the lap of Maeldune Canna who gazed dumbfounded at the piscatorial mess on his expensive robes.

‘Oh, I don’t believe this!’ Maeldune groaned as he cast a penetrating look at the intoxicated Spriggan who sank back onto the bench without another word.

Gunther clapped loudly, much amused by the incident.  ‘Ha!’ he bellowed.  ‘The Ankaran didn’t catch that one!’

Bannick was also laughing and Pylos had to stare at fingernails to avoid joining him.

The Chamberlain was feeling like he was losing control.  Things had gone a lot smoother when he had rehearsed his introductions with Porenutious the day before.  He decided Gunther Ross, who was laughing loudest, would have to be reined in.  ‘Do you have anything constructive to offer, Captain Ross, or will your contributions be limited to jeering, heckling and inane laughter?’

The question had caught Gunther off-guard, and being too dim-witted to realise that the sarcasm was a rebuke requiring nothing more than an apology, answered somewhat disrespectfully:  ‘This is better than a circus!  A fine lot of help a Spriggan and a Mabbit’s going to be.’ 

Barbarossa Judd turned to Gunther, looked him straight in the eye and said, ‘I thought you were going to shut up for a while.’

Gunther just shrugged and muttered, ‘Well, how long’s a while?’

‘If we may continue?’ asked the Chamberlain, risking a rhetorical tone again.  This time Gunther gave no answers and just played with the Isle of Antaeus with his foot.

The Chamberlain reached into his richly embroidered, red gown and extracted a scroll.  He opened it and held it aloft so that all in the chamber could see it.  ‘I cannot claim I wholly understand the parchment I hold before you but it informs me of terrible things done in Kolpia.  Many Kolpians have been killed.  A creature known as Kleesto has been loosed upon the land.  Ladies and gentlemen of the Assembly, may I introduce to you Kali of Kolpia, one of the few surviving members of his tribe, a peaceful, private people to whom violence was unknown until two months ago.’

All eyes went to the hulking Kolpian who sat looking out at them like a caged animal.  He could see them communicating but his ability to hear words had long since faded.

Gunther Ross could not help himself.  ‘Oh, this just keeps getting better.  The Kolpian is really going to help with the discussion.’  He paused to see if anyone had taken his meaning, and upon receiving nothing more than angry stares added, ‘Those Kolpians can’t hear you know.’

‘Yes, I kind of guessed that Gunther,’ groaned Barbarossa, all too aware of the bad name his countryman continued to give all Tethrans.  ‘Maybe it was the complete absence of ears that gave it away.’

‘Captain Ross,’ said the Chamberlain sternly, ‘It would be advantageous if you chose not to speak for the remainder of the session.’

Gunther threw his arms up in despair which lifted the heavy iron ball at his feet up into the air and back down again, missing the Queen of Acoran’s foot by inches.  ‘Am I to be silenced for merely saying what everyone else was thinking?  How much help do you think the Kolpian can give?  And I wouldn’t worry about offending him.  He can’t hear a word I say!’

‘The Kolpian will provide more assistance than you could possibly give, you moronic metalhead!’ said Bannick coolly from across the chamber.

‘Oh, you just walk over hear and say that pretty boy,’ Gunther said somewhat nervously.

‘Perhaps you’d like to discuss it out on the landing?' Bannick inquired, again politely, impassively.

Gunther knew he was no match for Bannick and did not answer.  His eyes darted back and forth as the delegates waited for him to accept or reject Bannick’s offer.  Instead, he picked a piece of fruit from the heaped plate on his lap and started eating.  Crunching down hard on a sugar-apple was as great an act of defiance as he was prepared to make.

Chamberlain Llyr returned to the leather parchment in his hand.  Kali watched the Chamberlain moving his mouth as he held up the scroll containing the Kolpian’s account of what had happened in his homeland.  He watched the faces of the delegates drop as the tale of what happened on Hurucan Hill was relayed to the Assembly.  When the Chamberlain finished, Kali saw that no-one spoke, not even the big man with the metal skin.  He knew they wanted to communicate with him, but lacked a medium.

The Chamberlain placed the scroll back in his lap and gazed passively around the room.

The scroll.  Lilith said he would find a way.  Kali stood slowly and walked over to the Chamberlain.  He held out a large hand and Llyr quickly realised he wanted the leather parchment.  Kali took the scroll and placed his palm in the middle of it.  Moments later he held the scroll up high for all to see, just as the Chamberlain had done.  Upon it a single sentence formed:

If you have a question to ask of me, please do so.

It was Pylos who was first to respond.  Kali watched as the man with a long scar running down the left side of his face rose from his seat and crossed the floor.  The man bowed respectfully to the Chamberlain, then reached out for the scroll in Kali’s hand.  He placed his palm on the scroll and closed his eyes as his mind repeated the question it had formed when he first heard Kali’s tragic tale.

He handed the scroll back to Kali.

Do you wish to fight alongside us?

It was a question Kali had considered many times on his long journey from Kolpia to Cessair.  His desire to turn around and return to his son’s side slowed him many times in his tracks, but Lilith’s words kept coming back to him: ‘There will come a day when desolation and decay will cover up all the lands of the Myr, should this new threat go unchecked, and even the beautiful, cloistered plains of Kolpia will not be so far away as to escape this fate.’

It was this comment that had propelled him onwards to Cessair and it was this comment that had opened his eyes to the world beyond Kolpia’s steep borders.  More than anything, Lilith’s words made it clear to him that his responsibility to his son demanded that he should do what he could to avert the day when the Ghul returned to Hurucan Hill to finish what they had started. 

Kali put his hand upon the scroll and gave his answer.  He handed the scroll back to the scarred man who read the answer aloud.  The ring of Myrrans then broke out into applause when the scarred man read his answer and though Kali couldn’t hear the sounds of clapping, a smile appeared on his broad, thin mouth to show he understood the gesture.

 

 

 

‘From Morae, the Pryderi have given us the emissaries Arinna Brine and Lara Brand.  This is indeed an honour as we have been out of contact with our fair friends of the wood for far too long.’

‘The fault is ours, Your Grace,’ Arinna said after an uncomfortable pause.  ‘It is one we hope to rectify.  It is time for us to rejoin the world outside.’

The Chamberlain smiled broadly and moved onto the two fair-headed individuals to the Moraens’ left.

‘And Sessymir is represented by Ambassador Alberich Falskog and Lokasenna Hagen.’

The Sessymirian Ambassador, clearly annoyed at having to wait so long to be introduced, gave the other delegates a dismissive wave.  He was a self-absorbed, dim-witted man, elevated to his position by familial ties.  He was the type of person who spent most of his time wishing he were somewhere else.  Despite the fact he was, at heart, a rather unexciting individual, his eyes would often flick around a room during conversations looking for more interesting exchanges.  He did not have the ability to compromise on political matters which explained why Sessymir had so many ongoing disputes with other countries.

Despite the unity the Assembly of Nations encouraged, the Sessymrians were expansionist and in the past century had tried to graft land from Arnaksak, Morae, Tamu and Tuatha.  Ambassador Falskog had been unapologetic for the countless Sessymirian forays into other countries.  Anywhere a profit was to be made the Sessymrians would go, usually at the expense of other nations.  Once the profit was had the Sessymrians would inevitably depart without a second thought for the trail of destruction left behind.  If the role of the Ambassador was to accurately reflect the will of people they represented, then Ambassador Alberich Falskog was a perfect choice for the position.

Much more surprising was the Sessymirians’ recent choice of consul.  The previous consul had been killed during the battle with the Ghul at the bottom of Strom Mir.  Rather than choose a highly-regarded officer from the armed forces, the Sessymrians had appointed Lokasenna Hagen.  Her commitment to Strom Mir’s development had much impressed the merchants who bankrolled the Sessymirian government and it was these merchants’ belief that Lokasenna would be able to serve their interests effectively in the world of politics.  It was also rumoured that the Myr’s Minister for Justice had advocated Lokasenna’s appointment; after her posting had been ratified a number of crucial legal decisions regarding certain trade practices fell in favour of the Sessymirians.

As Lokasenna was being introduced, a koopoo walked by with a bloody staggorn steak that Sela Noye had sent back to the kitchens for not being cooked enough.  Lokasenna speared the slice of rare meat with the spike she bore in lieu of a left hand.  She gnashed at the steak, ignoring the gaze of the other Myrrans as the Chamberlain commented upon how she had fought so tenaciously against the Ghul invaders in Room 391.  The juice of bloody meat ran down the spike and stained the white sleeve of her Keelii fur coat. 

On the other side of the chamber Remiel Grayson leaned forward, staring intently at Lokasenna’s face.  It was not the distinctive dark brown birthmark that lay across her left eye like a patch that had caught his gaze.  It was something else.  He couldn’t nail it down but there was something compelling about her features, something familiar, as if he had met her before but could not put his finger on where.

 

 

 

 

‘My friends, we have a problem.  All of us.  I have asked Jehenna Canna to speak first as I believe what she will tell us will highlight the magnitude of this crisis that has recently come to light.’

       As the Chamberlain took his seat with a most austere expression on his face, Jehenna rose from her position in the ring and stepped forward, confident and purposeful.  She looked her audience directly, holding their gaze as she spoke.  She did not seem intimidated by the number of men who leaned forward to look upon her.  They would have argued that they were listening intently but each one of them let his eyes wander down her body at one point or another.  In Gunther’s case, it took all his will just to look at her face occasionally.

‘Thank-you, Your Grace,’ she said her voice as clear as a summer morning.  ‘It seems that almost all of us have been subjected to some form of incursion over recent times.  As many of you know, the bone-clad creatures are called the Ghul.  A few months ago, I led a party over the Acoran Ranges to Sarras.  For almost a year we had no contact from Camulos.’

‘So?’ Gunther asked, momentarily breaking from ogling Jehenna to interrupt her.  ‘Those damn Kobolds always keep to themselves.’

‘You really have a problem with whole brain-mouth relationship don’t you, Gunther?’ Bannick called across the chamber.

Gunther sneered back but said nothing.

Jehenna continued.  ‘We had been awaiting the delivery of shatterstone swords and arrowheads.  As is the Kobold way for large orders, payment had been made up front and –’

‘Ha!’ blurted Gunther, ignoring his place again.  ‘How like the Acora.  Travelling all the way to Sarras to make sure they got what they paid for!’

 ‘Gunther!’ shouted the Chamberlain.  ‘One more interruption and you will be asked to remove yourself from the chamber.’

Gunther put out his hands in a gesture suggesting he was innocent of any wrong-doing.  He opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped by Barbarossa who placed a firm hand on his compatriot’s forearm and squeezed.  Gunther took the hint and sulkily sat back on his bench and stared at the tiny ocean around his feet.  When he felt that all eyes were off him, he returned to staring lasciviously at Jehenna.

‘None of us were prepared for what we found in Sarras,’ she said plainly.  ‘The level of devastation was astounding.  Entire buildings were razed to the ground and the beautiful hollow of Mine One was a pit of destruction.  The bones of Kobolds and Spriggans littered the landscape.  We scoured Sarras looking for any survivors.  There were none save the Spriggan, Mulupo, and the Mabbit, Tagtug.

‘The Kobolds and Spriggans – they’re all dead?’ inquired Remiel Grayson.  The veil over his mouth was not enough to muffle his quavering voice.  His heart pounded so fiercely it felt as though it would break his chest.

‘No, Father Gideon,’ Jehenna answered respectfully, ‘we don’t think so.  We think the majority of Kobolds are still alive.  Although there were hundreds of Kobold bodies, thousands remain unaccounted for.  There are so many missing, we believe they have been relocated.’  In contrast to the rising emotion in the room, Jehenna spoke perfunctorily.  It was not that she did not care about the horrors she had witnessed, but like many of her race, she preferred formality and protocol to the chaotic swirls of emotional expression.  She had clung to the Acoran traditions of stoicism as she had waded through the slaughter in Sarras.  It was the only thing that had stopped her from succumbing to despair.

‘And the Spriggans?’ asked Remiel.

‘Apart from those who were abroad at the time of the attack, and Mulupo here, the Spriggans are all dead.’

Underneath his cowl and scarf, Remiel’s face lost its colour.  ‘But why would anyone want to wipe out the Spriggans of all races?’

‘We were in his way,’ said a slurred voice to Jehenna’s left.  It was Mulupo’s.

‘Whose way?’ asked Will Stoops, trying hard to stay on top of the information that was being delivered.

‘Caliban’s.’

 

 

 

 

 

It was a name a number of them had heard before. 

            Pylos and Pedaeus had heard it at the front gates of Sulis: ‘This is what becomes of all who defy Caliban!’

 

 Lara had heard it in the clearing in the middle of the grove where she lived: ‘Fail to comply and under our blades your wriggly offspring will go.  This is the word of Caliban.       

 Edgar  first heard the name on the landing at Simeon’s Reef: ‘Drabella said that Caliban wants us to redress the past.’

 Gerriod’s father had told him about Caliban in terrible detail: ‘Caliban is many things, but above all, he is my host.’

 

 

 

‘Allow me to elucidate and I will unfold to you the tragic tale of what happened that fateful day in Mine One,’ Mulupo said sombrely, the formality of his expression offset by a number of hiccoughs caused by consuming too much wine too quickly.

Sumi leaned forward.  It had been three months since that fateful day on the Orani when she had lost her husband and so many others she cared about.  She had not seen a Spriggan since she had watched the Ryugin’s teeth slice down upon dear Kappo, and the sight of his brother Mulupo sent a sharp pain through her heart.

‘There is an irony to the fact that in one of the Myr’s most beauteous settings I witnessed the earth give birth to the least pulchritudinous individual I have had the misfortune to see.  And as repugnant as this man and his followers were in an ophthalmic sense, their physical attributes were but a precursor to something much uglier.  The minacious arrival of Caliban and his hordes –’

‘Whoa there, little fella!’ interjected Gunther once more.  ‘I’m trying to understand what you’re saying, but if I concentrate any harder, my head will burst.’

‘Captain Ross,’ Mulupo said between hiccoughs, ‘if first impressions are anything to go by, I would postulate that in the unlikely event of the disintegration your encephalon, the scope of your cognitive process would change little.’

Gunther eyed the Spriggan suspiciously.  He wasn’t sure, but something deep in his brain told him that Mulupo had just ridiculed him.  The smile on the face of the Chamberlain reinforced this suspicion.

‘For the benefit of the stupes and dullards among us, I will speak in less abstruse terms,’ Mulupo continued, caring little whether any offence was drawn from his comment.  ‘A year ago, the Kobolds of Sarras dug their way through the floor of their great mine and opened a breach to a subjacent realm from which eructed the chthonian creatures we have come to know as the Ghul.  Although they look bestial, these subterraneous reprobates are disciplined and well-organised.  Caliban has trained them well.’

‘Master Spriggan, did you see him, this man of whom you speak?’ asked Sir Edgar politely.

‘Yes.  He is Myrran, though his cinereous cutaneous condition would make him something of a pariah among us.’

‘You’re doing it again!’ groaned Gunther.

‘Caliban is a leper.’

Remiel Grayson sat forward as he asked, ‘Mulupo, could you tell us what happened that night in Mine One?’

‘That is my intention, Father,’ he answered whilst taking a glass of wine from a passing koopoo.  He drank the contents of the glass and wiped his hand on his sleeve.  ‘Caliban’s will was absolute.  We were attacked without mercy.  They were like a plague.  I escaped in my skyshop but was incapacitated in the process.  I imagine Sarras was overrun within hours.  It probably took them a few days to infest the entire country.  Caliban’s orders to his minions were very specific.  He wanted the Kobolds to be taken alive.’

‘Why?’ Gunther asked.

Maeldune waved the question away to put forward his own.  ‘What happened to the breach?’

Mulupo turned to the Maeldune and said, ‘A year after Caliban’s arrival, when your good wife came to rescue me, I returned to the site of the breach to pay my respects to a dear friend and associate who…’

For the first time in his life, Mulupo could not find the next word to say.  The alcohol had stirred up in him emotions that made him feel unwell.

Jehenna, realising the Spriggan’s difficulty to continue, interceded.  ‘The breach was completely filled in.  It looked as if it had been closed many months before we arrived.’

Pylos shook his head trying to make sense of all he was hearing.  ‘I don’t understand – why would they collapse the mine?’

‘Perhaps there was no need to keep it open,’ suggested the Chamberlain.  ‘It sounds as if Caliban got what he wanted from Camulos.’

‘And what is that, Your Grace?’ asked Pedaeus.

‘The Kobolds,’ replied the Chamberlain.  ‘It makes sense, doesn’t it?  Who better to open up other breaches than a race of miners?’

Remiel Grayson nodded.  The Chamberlain was right.  The unfortunate excavation of Mine One had presented his brother with a great opportunity and Caliban never squandered opportunities.  But how had he compelled so many Kobolds to do his bidding?  Remiel contemplated this as he watched a shatterbug flitter around the room before it eventually landed on his robe.  The tiny creature’s specular body shone in the warm light streaming in through the glass ceiling above.  Remiel let the pretty bug step onto his hand and perch itself upon his fingers.  The shatterbug seemed to enjoy sitting there and Remiel kept his hand very still to avoid scaring it.

 

 

 

 

The Cloud Chamber had gone uncharacteristically quiet as each delegate considered Mulupo’s story.  The Chamberlain stood, as if to make an important announcement.  All eyes fell upon him as he clutched his hands behind his back and cleared his throat to speak.

        ‘Mulupo, this egregious act will not go unpunished, but sadly there is no punishment that befits this attempted genocide.  We will do everything within our power to hunt down the perpetrators of this indescribable offence against your people.  It is our hope that the Spriggans may rise from the ashes.  I have heard reports that there are groups of Spriggan traders abroad who escaped Caliban’s heinous purge of Camulos.’

'That is my hope too Chamberlain,’ replied Mulupo, lifting his head to respond to the Chamberlain’s kind words.  ‘My cousin Camello once had a rather lucrative hold on the Helyan the market.  I do not believe he was in Camulos at the time of Caliban’s incursion.’

Pylos nodded, happy he could support Mulupo’s hope.  ‘A Spriggan caravan visited Sulis not two months ago.’

Mulupo’s face beamed.  ‘That sounds like my cousin!  He won’t abide tropospheric transportation so he rambles about in a train of grizzum-led wagons.’

Pedaeus seized the moment to present the Helyan’s official response to the Ghul attacks.  ‘Whether other Spriggans have survived or not should not alter how we attend to this matter.  The attempted genocide of the Spriggans must be repaid in kind.  It is the opinion of the Helyan Senate that we should not rest until every single Ghul is caught and killed.’

Next to Trypp, Ambassador Akampa Lodd stirred in his seat.  ‘Your philosophy is elegant in its simplicity Ambassador Rhodes, but it is not an ideal to which we all aspire.’

‘I recognise that, Ambassador Lodd, but these are difficult times and I am not sure we can cling to such lofty moral precepts when the enemy is at the door.’  Pedaeus spoke softly.  He had a great deal of respect for the Sapphyrran, even though in matters of warfare, they were diametrically opposed. 

‘It is in trying times that we must cling to our ethics more than ever.  They are a lifeline in the chaos that would set us adrift,’ Lodd rejoined.  ‘Whether it is in war or peace, life is sacred.’

‘But the sanctity of whose life are we talking about here, Ambassador?’ Pedaeus contended calmly.  ‘Surely you are not suggesting that the lives of the vermin Caliban has released upon our world are worth preserving? Caliban’s forces are willing to shed the blood of your people without hesitation.  Do they deserve to be the beneficiaries of your life-affirming ideal, when they so flagrantly flout it?’

Akampa’s sad brown eyes reflected his awareness that the gulf between them would never be bridged.  He had expected Pedaeus’ call to arms in response to the Ghul attacks and he also knew that ultimately, the Helyan’s stance would be the one the Assembly endorsed.  Curiously, he did not begrudge the other delegates their inevitable support of a military solution.  The Sapphyrro did not have any answers.  Akampa could not offer anything that would stop the Ghul from continuing their attacks.  All he could do was uphold the principles that had defined the Sapphyrro for thousands of years, and hope a day would not come when they had no choice but to compromise those values.  

‘Pedaeus,’ Akampa said, his voice tinged with sadness ‘I don’t think there will ever come a day when our way of thinking will be respected by a Helyan.’

‘On the contrary, Ambassador, we Helyans do respect your viewpoint absolutely.  But life is no less sacred to us. Indeed –’

The Chamberlain raised his hand to stop the current exchange from developing further.  ‘Ambassadors, forgive me my interruption, but we have much to cover and little time for the interesting debate you have begun.  However, I do agree with Ambassador Rhodes on one point – there must be an unequivocal response to the carnage witnessed in Camulos.’

Akampa nodded to himself and smiled as he heard the sounds of support for the unequivocal response echo around the chamber.

The Chamberlain noted the Sapphyrran’s reaction and tried to accommodate it.  ‘No-one here wants to mete out revenge but we must do what we can to bring an end to the slaughter that is taking place across the Myr.  I fear that the longer we delay our response, the more dangerous our enemy will become as he places more races under his thrall or damns them to oblivion.’

‘What I don’t understand,’ Pedaeus said looking around the chamber as if willing to receive an answer from anyone who had one, ‘is how Caliban could enslave so many Kobolds to his will.  They are a noble people.  I cannot believe they would agree to assisting this tyrant, even on pain of death.’

Gerriod Blake slid forward on his seat, and indicated his desire to speak.  ‘That I think I can answer,’ said the mariner.

‘Yes Master Blake,’ said the Chamberlain, ‘I believe the time has come for you to speak for your tale explains much.’

 

 

 

 

Although Gerriod was unaccustomed to public speaking, he held the delegates’ attention like a seasoned orator.  Although he could not remember the day upon the lake that set in motion the terrible events that led to Caliban’s ascension among the Ghul, his father had told him much and he had committed every detail of their discussion to memory.

He told them how his father had ended up in the Endless with Caliban.  He spoke of Remiel Grayson and how he had abandoned his own brother, along with Gerriod’s father, to the vortex at the heart of Lake Erras.  He also described the vicious serpent with countless fangs that kept Gamelyn fixed to a crucifix in his subterranean grotto.

Not a person spoke as Gerriod recounted Caliban’s rise to power in the Endless.  As he spoke, the delegates gradually realised what sort of man they faced in Caliban: cruel, methodical, obsessive and brilliant.  The Kobolds had been employed to unearth the monsters that lay incarcerated in the deepest parts of the world and these monsters – the Cabal, Gamelyn had called them – were but one weapon in Caliban’s arsenal.  Gerriod explained the role the creature called Succellos had played in the subjugation of the Kobolds.  He also mentioned things he didn’t understand such as the countless buzzing eggs that lined the path encircling the lake under the Worldpool.  By the time he had finished speaking, the entire Assembly was not only better informed – they were anxious.  They knew that Caliban would exact his revenge upon his brother at any cost, even if it meant the death of every single Myrran who stood in his way.

At the end of the tale, an uncomfortable silence lay across the chamber.  It was mid-afternoon and the sun had commenced it journey towards the shining white caps of the Acoran Ranges.  In an hour or two the shadows of those mountains would lengthen and slowly cover the brilliant garnet lake at their base.  Outside the dome of the tower a number of churchwrens ducked and swooped as they feasted on the shatterbugs flittering about the top of the tower.  Remiel Grayson looked down at the shatterbug sitting on his hand.  It slowly swept its fragile wings back and forth, content to stay where it was.  It looked so peaceful.  Remiel could not say the same about his heart which was beating like the drums of war.

Finally, when the Chamberlain felt that everyone had enough time to digest the mariner’s tale, he spoke.  ‘Gerriod, did you actually see anyone else in the Endless, apart from your father?’

‘I saw Caliban.  He had captives.  Not long after I had pulled myself out of the lake beneath the Worldpool, I saw two men the Ghul had captured.  One of them was made to kneel before Succellos and –’

‘You stupid animal!’ Maeldune suddenly bellowed.  He glared down at the red wine that was dripping from his expensive robes.  At his feet, Tagtug cowered, lifting his thin arms in a shaky defence against the Acoran's wrath.  ‘Tiberius, this Assembly is degenerating into a farce!’ Maeldune snarled, lifting his gaze to meet the Chamberlain’s.  ‘Look at what we have become!  A meeting place for drunken Spriggans and clumsy animals.’

‘Watch your tongue Maeldune,’ Pylos said shifting forward on the bench.  ‘From what I have heard, the Mabbit saved the Spriggan’s life.  He is deserving of your respect.’

‘Respect!  What about respect for the proud traditions we have maintained here for centuries?  Are we now to throw those all away and let this great Assembly be a forum for fisherman and merchants?’

The Chamberlain raised a hand to bring about an end to Maeldune’s uncharacteristic behaviour.  The Acoran had a reputation for having a cool, if not dispassionate temperament.  He was a subtle man and was known to work situations to his advantage with guile and tact.  His blunt attack upon the Mabbit, and his ensuing rant, took everyone by surprise.  Gunther Ross had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing at the Acoran’s tantrum.

‘Minister Maeldune,’ the Chamberlain said sternly, ‘all in attendance are here because I deem it necessary.  Is that understood?’

Maeldune bowed his chagrined face before the Chamberlain.  ‘I am sorry, Your Grace.  I am merely saying that we must be cautious.  Today, we have opened our doors to strangers.  We must be careful in whom we place our trust.  If this creature Succellos is what the mariner says, we must be cautious.  Caliban may have subjugated his father to his will.  Perhaps the mariner himself is –’

‘Very well Maeldune.  You have made your point and almost offended everyone here in the process.  Sit down, so that we may move the proceedings along.’  The Chamberlain turned back to Gerriod with an apologetic look upon his face.  ‘Gerriod, I have a question that I am sure is on the minds of others here.  In your tale, you mentioned Caliban was looking for the Ghaddar.  Did your father say what the Ghaddar actually was?’

‘He did not know, Your Grace.’

‘The Caquikki knows what the Ghaddar are!’ Sela exclaimed as she remembered what Lokota Fall had told them aboard The Broken Promise the day they left Terminus.

All eyes swivelled to the two large Caquikki lying on the floor with the tiny blue waves of the map quietly crashing upon them.  The Chamberlain’s piercing blue eyes joined the throng staring at the pair.  ‘Lokota?’ he said, inviting the Ambassador of Caquix to speak.

Lokota raised a large hand to his face and lifted his spectacles from the bridge of his aquiline nose.  His other hand reached into his waistcoat pocket and extracted a small white handkerchief which he used to wipe the spectacles’ round, glass lenses. 

‘What I am about to say,’ he said repeating the words he uttered that day back on The Broken Promise, ‘is not fact.  My reluctance to speak on it reflects the tenuous nature of the information.’

Sela, recognising the opening statements, groaned loudly and added, ‘We know all that Ambassador.  Perhaps we could skip the preamble and get to the action.’

Tawhawki fired the Tamuan a resentful look but said nothing, knowing that the Cloud Chamber was not the place to voice his dislike of the Tamuan Consul.

 Many millennia ago,’ Lokota began, ‘long before the discovery of Cold, or the founding of Cessair, many cultures reported the appearance of a new star that had appeared in the skies. It grew and grew until it could be seen by day.  The Myrrans of that time worshipped this celestial object and even today there remains evidence of this event across our world.  The reliefs in Johannan, the faded murals in the temples of Copacati, even engravings in great bones found in Arnaksak, they all tell the same story.  The star fell to earth, exploding as it entered the skies. The largest segment punched into the Lake Erras.  We believe that this falling aerolith created the phenomenon we know as the Worldpool… although I believe that the locals know the vortex by a more pertinent name – Caliban’s End.

 ‘As a professor of history, this event has been something that has fascinated me for decades.  I have gathered scrolls and carvings that have enabled me to piece together clues about the significance of the aerolith.’

 ‘Significance, Ambassador?  What mean you?  How does this rock from the sky relate to the matters we are exploring here?  We were speaking about the Ghaddar.’

 ‘Your Grace, please indulge me,’ Lokota replied.

 ‘I had more success following the Spriggan,’ grumbled Gunther whose brain was so overwhelmed with information, he believed he had a migraine.

 ‘I postulate that the falling rock was not a rock at all, but an egg of sorts,’ Lokota continued, ‘and from this egg hatched the Ghul, Cabal and hundreds of other things we haven’t encountered yet.’

 ‘Such as the Ghaddar,’ the Chamberlain said triumphantly, happy that he had made the connection.

 ‘No, not quite, Your Grace,’ Lokota corrected him.  ‘We have encountered the Ghaddar before.  Thousands of years ago, when the Morgai helped the peoples of the Myr imprison these monsters back in the deepest parts of the world, they were assisted by a race of subterranean beings known as the Ghaddar.  There are ancient writings that document this.  Perhaps Caliban seeks the Ghaddar because he knows they will oppose the Ghul, a race they resemble in everything but their allegiance.’

 ‘It is a pity that we cannot call upon the Morgai for help once more,’ the Chamberlain mused.  ‘They could do much to help us in this fight.’

  ‘My father mentioned the Morgai,’ said Gerriod.  ‘He said they placed the mystical seals upon the breaches.’

 ‘Yes and now it seems their magick has faded,’ replied the Chamberlain.  ‘Caliban knows this and his soldiers rise up through these holes like rattu.’

 ‘But why?’ Sela exclaimed.

       ‘Justice.  Revenge.  Retribution.  Call it what you will,’ Gerriod said sombrely.

       ‘Revenge?’ Sela cried.  ‘We haven’t done anything to him!  Why does he hate us so?’

          Maeldune Canna risked a look at Lokasenna Hagen. 

She gave no indication of the storm of emotions that whirled about inside her.  So many times during the Assembly she had wanted to run across the room and plant her spike in the face of anyone who had spoken ill of her father. 

          But she had controlled herself.  It was not yet time to make her move – that would come in the days to follow.

 

 

 

 Sir Edgar Worseley raised his hand, like a schoolboy wanting to say something.  His golden vambraces shone brilliantly in the sun.  ‘I have something to add to the mariner’s story, something that may help grant some insight into Caliban’s oppressed state of mind.  Three months ago I was journeying through the swampland of Mag Mel in the land of Tuatha.  In the village of Marshmead I met an apothecary who played a part in the tragic events that have led us here.’

 ‘An apothecary?’ said Maeldune, his thin, angular eyebrows raised in surprise.

 ‘His name was Garnett Shaw.  He claims responsibility for making Caliban the monster he is today.’

 Remiel Grayson lifted his eyes from the shatterbug and stared intently at the knight.

 ‘Go on, Sir Edgar,’ said the Chamberlain.

 ‘Shaw informed me that Caliban’s condition is not leprosy.  He told me that it is a result of a potion he was commissioned to create.’

 ‘But who would commission such a poison?’

 ‘His twin brother.  Remiel Grayson.’

 A collective gasp resounded through the chamber.

 Edgar continued.  ‘There’s more to it.  Shaw added something to the potion that would stop Caliban from ever trying to escape the leper colony he was to be sent to.  Caliban cannot walk in daylight.  It seems he has more in common with the Ghul than many of you knew.  His skin burns in the sun.’

 ‘That explains why he has not left the underground realm he now calls home,’ Pylos reasoned.  ‘But what had he done to deserve such despicable treatment.’

 ‘As far as I can tell, nothing,’ answered the knight.

 Behind the scarf wrapping his face, Remiel Grayson went to speak, but forced himself to stay silent.  He had spent months considering his next move.  He had put aside daily prayer and fixed his mind upon the dire situation at hand.  Whilst the easiest thing to do was to declare himself, and have the Myrrans hand him over to Caliban, he knew his brother and knew that it would not stop the carnage for a single day.  He was convinced that he could stop Caliban, but it would require keeping his identity to himself for a little while longer.  It sickened him to sit there and pretend he was just a priest, but many things sickened him now.  He could hardly look in a mirror without feeling nauseated.

 ‘Well he has more than made up for it!’ observed Ana Carrucan, the Queen of Acoran.  ‘I do not believe the wrongs that have been perpetrated against his person can justify the thousands of Acora who now lie dead at the hands of the Ghul.’  Although she spoke with great intensity, her voice had a soothing, almost lyrical quality.

 ‘We agree with Her Highness,’ said Emperor Kimura, his voice a harsh croak when compared to the mellifluent voice of the Acoran Queen.

 ‘But who is the real villain here?’ boomed the Kheperan Ambassador, Hafaza Habid.  He turned to the other delegates and invited their reactions.  ‘I agree that Caliban must atone for his crimes, but what of his twin?   I must know what motivated him to do such a thing?  I say this because if Caliban was innocent before he was poisoned…  Well, who knows what evil any of us may be capable of if wronged in such a way.’

 ‘I can answer that,’ said the knight.  As the sun outside moved down the sky, his golden armour became more and more radiant.  He seemed to glow, and it gave his words a similar shine.  As dark as his contributions were, they had the feeling of truth and that was comforting to most people in the chamber.  ‘Shaw told me why he had acquiesced to such a dreadful commission.  Remiel Grayson had been haunted by dreams and visions and sought answers from a seer in Pelinore.  Her name was Lilith Cortese and –’

 ‘She is Morgai,’ interrupted the Chamberlain.  ‘Her name is known to me although I have not heard it spoken for many years.’

 ‘Apparently she foretold of a future that was so desolate and frightening that Remiel Grayson felt compelled to act.’

 ‘But poisoning his brother was a poor solution, wasn’t it?’ sneered Lokasenna.  It was the first time she had spoken and her words were so embittered, they fell upon the chamber like sleet.

 Bormanus Cole, the white-haired representative from Cephalonia agreed with her.  ‘Yes indeed.  All because of a few bad dreams,’ he said in his foppish way.  'It’s indefensible.  Surely, there was more to it than that.’

 Sir Edgar nodded.  ‘There was one other complicating factor.  The twins’ father was Gideon Grayson.  He was one of the Morgai.’

On either side of him Trypp heard numerous delegates breathe in deeply as they considered  the  significance of Edgar's last statement.  ‘I do not understand,’ he said to Akampa.  ‘Why is that important?’

 Akampa’s keen mind put the puzzle pieces together for his young companion. Upon the moment of a Morgai’s death, a child is chosen to inherit the great powers wielded by the parent.  It would seem that Remiel Grayson feared what would come should his brother gain possession of powers that he could use for great evil.’

‘Or great good,’ noted Arinna Brine.

Edgar nodded.  ‘I agree that what Remiel Grayson did was unconscionable, I really do, but I must add that Shaw informed me that he inflicted leprosy upon his brother because he could not bring himself to kill him.  He considered it the lesser of two evils.  It could be argued that he did what he did out of love.’

‘Well I hope no-one ever loves me that much!’ scoffed Gunther.

‘Relax Captain,’ jeered Bannick.  ‘I can’t see anyone loving you that much… or at all for that matter.’ 

His comment earned him a few laughs around the chamber, but Gunther’s eyes burned with fury.  ‘Oh, you’re quite the witling, aren’t you Bannick!’ he sneered across the room at the gloating Arnakki.

 ‘Enough!’ snapped the Chamberlain.  ‘This is not the time for levity!  In light of what he had seen, Remiel Grayson was faced with a choice,’ the Chamberlain said, trying to draw the many threads together. ‘Whether we agree with this choice or not is now inconsequential.  We cannot change what has been done.  The task before us is not to judge Remiel Grayson’s actions.  Remember this was a deed that was committed over thirty years ago.  We are here to decide what must be done now, to stop the barbarity that makes our lands bleed.’

‘Some bleed more than others, Your Grace,’ Lara said pointedly.  Until now, she had been unwilling to speak in front of so many accomplished communicators, but as she had been listening, a feeling of dread had grown within her – the fate of the Pryderi children would be ignored if she stayed silent.  ‘There are few Pryderi babies left in Morae.’

‘Babies?’ said Edgar, articulating the ignorance most of the delegates had regarding the situation in Morae.  Lara could sense a kindness in the gleaming knight and his brief but genuine show of concern gave her enough confidence to continue.

‘For almost a year, the Pryderi have been held hostage by the Ghul.  Our babies have been stolen from us.  Those of us who have opposed the Ghul have either lost our lives or the lives of our children.  We have been incarcerated within our own woods.  Arinna and I risk the very lives of our babes by coming here.’

‘Your children?’ Edgar asked, obviously shaken by this news.  ‘Where are they?’

‘Caliban has them,’ Arinna said unemotionally.  Her face was a blank canvas.  Lara had expected her to be a lot more vocal, but she had hardly moved throughout the proceedings.  She seemed preoccupied.  Lara made a note to herself to question her friend about this after the Assembly.

‘Why?’ Edgar persisted.  ‘I can see why Caliban enslaved the Kobolds, but what reason could he have for the deplorable act of abducting babies.’

‘What reason did he have for killing all the Spriggans, or the people of Marshmead, or the –’

‘I beg your pardon, Your Grace?’ Edgar gasped.  The Chamberlain’s statement was like a blow to the head.  ‘With all due respect, the people of Marshmead live.’

‘I’m afraid I have dreadful news Sir Edgar.  Three days ago we received word that the village of Marshmead stands no more.  All its people have been slain.  By the reports we have received it has been that way for a long time.’

‘How long?’ asked the knight, his voice devoid of the assuredness it usually conveyed.

‘Months.’

‘How can this be?  When I left Marshmead…’  His voice trailed off to a whisper.  Although his armour still glowed in the afternoon light, it seemed a shadow had fallen over Sir Edgar.  His proud body sagged a little and he dropped his gaze to a point on the map where grey clouds had formed over Tuatha.

 

 

 

 

‘Exactly how many breaches are we talking about Tiberius?’ Will Stoops asked.

‘It’s a good question Will,’ replied the Chamberlain.  ‘So far we have breaches in Morae, Nilfheim, Sessymir, Sulis, Acoran and Tuatha as well as a possible breach in the cliffs above Skyfall Town.  There must also be a breach through which the sea-creature known as the Ryugin escaped; our learned Caquikki colleagues tell me that this hole in the ocean lies somewhere among the reefs off the coast of Helyas, in the Sea of Telamon.  Bormanus has informed me of a breach hidden somewhere in the hills of Cephalonia and the Ankarans believe there to be a breach in the thick jungles to the north-east of the city of Copacati.  Add to this the collapsed Sarras breach and the one the Tamuans brought down in the mountains to the west of their plains and the total comes to eleven.  If you count Caliban’s End we have twelve breaches, but most of these are either inaccessible to us or the exact location is not known.’

Lara Brand’s scaly tail swished across the floor in an agitated fashion, sending the Morgai citadel atop the Isle of Grisandole into the grey ocean at the edge of the map.  ‘You’re not looking hard enough!  Morae is still under siege.  We need support.’

With raised eyebrows, the Chamberlain turned to Lara.  ‘Miss Brand, in recent weeks we have commissioned a regiment of Pelinore’s best soldiers to investigate matters in Morae.  It is not easy.  The Ghul just keep pouring into the land.  We have lost over a hundred men in the Bregon Woods alone and not just to the Ghul.  The number of marroks patrolling your borders has swelled over recent times.  It seems every evil thing in the Myr is aware of the Ghul incursions and is ready to take full advantage of it.’

‘Well, you must send more men!’ Lara remonstrated.

Arinna put a hand on Lara’s lap.  They shared an exchange of glances and Lara knew that her adoptive sister wanted to speak.

‘Lord Chamberlain,’ Arinna began, ‘perhaps you do not realise the peril of ignoring the signs of trouble in Morae.  Since Lara escaped the Ghul on the Isle of Grisandole, the number of Pryderi has fallen dramatically.  I expect that by the time we return home, the witches of Morae will be all but gone.’

Arinna felt everyone in the chamber think the same thing at once.  ‘Killed?’

‘They are not dead,’ she continued.  ‘They have gone willingly into the Endless, at the behest of Caliban Grayson.  Weakened by the loss of their children, many Pryderi have accepted Caliban’s offer to reunite mother and daughter in exchange for their fealty.’

Arinna braced for the reaction.  After a second of stunned silence had passed, a psychic barrage of criticisms and condemnation filled her head.  The outcry that issued from the minds of the other delegates was brutal and uncompromising.  Old prejudices were quickly revealed. 

 ‘Traitors!’ 

 ‘Damned witches!’

 ‘Pryderi filth!’

She said nothing in response to these harsh judgements.  There was nothing to say.  In the absence of other options, her people had chosen a side.

Outside her head, the chamber was silent as they waited for the Chamberlain’s response.  He was a lot more measured than most.

‘Arinna Brine, Lara Brand,’ he began formally, ‘we cannot pretend to understand the pain the loss of your children has caused you and your people.  And whilst we appreciate that those Pryderi who have joined with Caliban have done so out of desperation, they have by their decision made themselves enemies of the state.  We cannot guarantee they will not be harmed should this conflict continue to escalate.  To those who have remained in Morae, we say this – we will protect your people as best we can.’

Letting the comments settle on the minds of the delegates, the Chamberlain said nothing as he stood and slowly made his way to the centre of the room.  He clasped his hands behind his back and scanned the faces of those present, like a charismatic schoolmaster about to deliver a speech.  He stood in the waters of Lake Erras with the tiny swirling vortex of Caliban’s End at his knees.

‘Let us revisit what we know,’ he said, his voice like the plangent pealing of a bell, signalling the significance of the moment.  ‘It is time to plot our course.’

All heads nodded.

‘Fearing a lifetime imprisoned on the leper colony of Sanctuary, Caliban Grayson escaped into the realm known as the Endless via the vortex in the centre of Lake Erras and has remained there ever since.  From his seat of power underground, he has coordinated attacks upon the Myr.  His motivation is unclear but seems it is bound up in his search for the brother who had damned him to this fate.  I know some among you would suggest our first course of action should be to find this brother, but for all we know Remiel Grayson is dead.  We do not have the time or resources to trawl the Myr to find him.  It would seem that Caliban’s attempts to draw him out of hiding have failed.’

‘What sort of man could possibly sit back and allow for this situation to continue?’ Pylos snarled.

Remiel sat stiffly as the Archbishop next to him ventured a response.  ‘Things are rarely so simple, General,’ he said, his wide smile and beaming white teeth at odds with the solemnity of his comment.  ‘Perhaps Remiel knows that Caliban, a man willing to abduct babies and wipe out entire races, would not stop once his revenge is achieved.  It would seem the Ghul enjoy the opportunities Caliban has given them.  I cannot see them giving up this bloodletting when their master gains his prize.’

‘I agree,’ said the Chamberlain quickly, unwilling to let the rest of the chamber involve themselves in more rhetorical discussion.  ‘We could talk for hours.  Let me express my thoughts in the most basic way possible.  Caliban Grayson must die.  I realise that some of you seek open war, but I do not believe this is an option we can pursue at this time.  The Ghul attacks occur under darkness and we would be at a severe disadvantage should we commit our forces to night-time warfare.  Should we send our forces into the Endless, we would lose the only advantage we seem to have over the Ghul and that is the protection of daylight.  There are other problems associated with a direct assault upon the Endless: it would also be extremely difficult to lead an army through the subterranean labyrinth from which the mariner Gerriod Blake has returned.  Also, it would mean killing the Kobolds.  I have no doubt Caliban would place them in our way should we attempt a full scale attack.

‘What I am about to propose is audacious and those who are willing to accept my challenge will do so at great risk.  But I also believe that you who are gathered here in this chamber are the Myr’s greatest hope.  You are the elite, those who dare to do where others wonder.  You understand that in order to achieve the impossible, one must be willing to lose sight of the shore.

‘I am suggesting the formation of three companies – assassination squads, if you will – that will journey into the Endless to locate and kill the architect of the miseries we have endured this past year.  The squads will take three different roads to avoid detection.  If one fails, the other two may succeed.  The companies will move in secrecy, avoiding Myrran contact where possible.  If this creature Succellos does indeed have the power to subjugate others to her will, we cannot entreat the help of anyone outside this Assembly.  We must mobilise quickly.  I am proposing that these teams leave no later than tomorrow morning.  If news of this plan found its way back to Caliban, all our efforts would be undone.  We cannot allow failure – too much depends upon the success of this mission.

‘The first company will take the most dangerous route to our enemy.  This squad is to travel to Brigantia, from there across the sea to Garlot and from there over the mountains through Madron’s Pass to Caliban’s End.’

The delegates gasped.  It was a bold stroke and in one as temperate as the Chamberlain it seemed like madness. 

Gunther Ross could not contain himself.  ‘You’re sending a team through the Worldpool!’ he bellowed, his voice a mixture of incredulity and poorly-suppressed laughter.  ‘I pity the fools who sign up for that expedition!’

‘Then pity yourself, Captain Ross, as you’re one of them.  The first squad, the team to be sent down the Worldpool will be led by the Minister for Justice, Maeldune Canna.  He will represent me, and the peoples of Cessair.’

Pylos’ long-standing dislike of Maeldune rose up and before he could stop himself, he gave voice to his thoughts.  ‘But he’s not a soldier!  He has no military experience!’

‘And that, my dear Helyan, is why you will be accompanying him.  Your prowess in the field will more than make up for Maeldune’s rawness.  Also accompanying the first team will be the Consul for Khepera, Sefar Hadith.’

All eyes swung onto the tall Kheperan who seemed to enjoy the gaze of all upon him.  He smiled in acknowledgement revealing a glimmering gold tooth.

‘The other places in the first team will be given to those possessing knowledge rather than strength.  Mulupo the Spriggan will represent the peoples of Camulos.  He will be placed under the care of Father Gideon who will represent Nessa.’

Gunther put his metal-plated head in his hands and muttered, ‘A merchant and a priest!  What hope do we have?’

It was a comment he intended to be heard.  Whilst Gunther was relieved to have the armed might of Pylos and Sefar on his team, it seemed farcical that an Acoran politician, a Spriggan trader and a Nessan holy man had been placed in a military operation.

Surprisingly, it was not the Chamberlain who responded to Gunther’s provocative comment – it was Remiel Grayson.  ‘I am more than able to defend myself… or do I have to ask you outside to prove myself?’

‘Last of all,’ the Chamberlain continued before Gunther could respond, ‘representing the country of Tuatha will be Gerriod Blake.  He has seen more than any of us and will provide invaluable insight regarding Caliban’s whereabouts should the company be successful in its attempts to make its way into the Endless.  As you know Gerriod’s father is Caliban’s captive and it is my hope that this mission will also secure his release.’

Gunther bit down noisily on a sugar-apple.  ‘What, no women on the trip?  It’s a long way to Caliban’s End.  Perhaps the Acoran Consul could accompany us?  Or maybe the Kompiran?  Give us at least one nice piece of fruit to  –’

The word fruit was still hanging in the air when it was split by three missiles.  Jehenna Canna had raised a spring-mounted crossbow mounted on her forearm and dispatched a bolt taking the apple from Gunther’s hand and spearing it to the wooden beam behind him.  In the same instant Sumi Kimura let fly with a flying star which bounced off the metal plate covering the Tethran’s forehead.  The third missile came from Bannick, a half-eaten carpu egg, which hit Gunther square in the face.

The Tethran was so stunned by this reaction his mouth was still ajar and his hand open as if unaware it  no longer held the apple.

Maeldune smiled slyly at his wife who was on her feet ready for any form of reprisal Gunther may offer.  ‘Dear me, Jehenna,’ he said, ‘what has happened to your aim?  You missed his heart.’

She smiled boldly across at Gunther and then glanced back at Maeldune.  ‘My husband, a Tethran has no heart.’

Her eyes shone with defiance.  She was indeed a magnificent woman to behold.  Her pride was displayed like a coat of arms.

‘Enough!’

Tiberius Llyr’s blue eyes flared as if they were at the heart of a brightly burning flame.  He glared across the chamber to where Gunther Ross was rubbing his forehead, feeling the dent Sumi’s throwing star had made in the metal.  ‘Captain Ross, you will keep you unsavoury comments to yourself.  May I also remind the Acoran and Kompiran consuls that weapons are not to be used inside the Cloud Chamber.  May I continue, or does anyone have anything else to add before I detail the memberships of the other two companies?’

Tawhawki Fall lifted his hand into the air.  The Chamberlain nodded, reluctantly giving him permission to speak.

‘Your Grace, with all due respect, I must voice my concerns over the constitution of the first squad.  You say that you are trusting some positions to knowledge and expertise.  I apologise for being blunt, but what knowledge does a Spriggan have other than how to contort our language into shapes that no-one else can recognise?  Your Grace, they are not as learned as they appear.’

Mulupo stood up and staggered across numerous countries to stand before the hulking Caquikki.  ‘We are clever enough to have discovered how to build airships that stay aloft, something for all your books and your study, you have been unable to achieve.’

Tawhawki’s face reddened.  There were many Caquikki who saw past the ages-old rivalries that had existed between the Spriggans and the Caquikki, but he was not one of them.  ‘Had your people been more willing to share their knowledge, perhaps they would have received help when they needed it.’

Gunther raised as much of an eyebrow as the dented metal plate in his forehead would allow.  ‘Well that’s rich, coming from the Caquikki!’

‘Yes,’ added Sela Noye before Tawhawki could respond.  ‘You are just as guilty of feathering your own nest.  You have hoarded up all the world’s literature, artwork and research in your precious universities.  You arrogantly assume the role of the intellectual masters of the Myr, but you have done nothing to show any concern for nations other than your own.’

‘That is not true!  Our universities are open to all.  It is the tyranny of distance that has isolated us, nothing more.’

‘You should be the last to speak here,’ Sela spat back, pleased that after an hour of listening, she had an argument to participate in.  ‘You have no understanding of our trials.  Correct me if I’m wrong but the island of Caquix has not seen a single Ghul on its soil.  You have not endured any hardships.’

‘Bunch of prissy dandies,’ sneered Gunther.  ‘Clip-clopping around as if you owned the place.’

Mulupo stuck out a finger and pointed it at Tawhawki.  ‘The Caquikki are mere sciolists.  Real knowledge does not come from books.  It comes from experience.  From living with the thing being studied.  From being.  The Nessans know this.  The Sapphyrro know this.  Even the brutish Sessymirians know this.’  Lokasenna Hagen and Ambassador Alberich Falskog stared sternly at Mulupo but said nothing.  ‘You may criticise our sesquipedalian ways, but at least we communicate with our fellow Myrrans.’

The Chamberlain led Mulupo’s small, swaggering figure back to his seat before rounding on the delegates.  ‘Everyone, I fear this discussion is degenerating into personal and pointless attacks.  Everyone has a place here.  The squad memberships I am putting forward have been comprehensively considered.  My advisors and I have spent many hours on these lists.  What we require from you is not discussion of the applicability of individuals involved, but whether you endorse the plan at all.’  He spoke with such clarity and conviction, even Gunther Ross felt a little chastened by his involvement in the argument with Tawhawki Fall.

        The Chamberlain extended a hand and placed it on the Lokasenna Hagen’s shoulder.  The Sessymirian did not move.  She just looked out at the other delegates with a dispassionate stare.  She knew what Llyr was going to say next.  Maeldune had told her it would be so.

        ‘The second squad will be led by the newly-appointed Sessymirian Consul Lokasenna Hagen.’

       Lokasenna gave a stretch, lifting her spiked arm for all to see.  It was a deliberate gesture to which she added, ‘If anyone doubts my suitability to the position or would like to see how I measure up in battle, step forward now and speak your mind.’

        No-one moved.

‘I didn’t think so,’ she said quietly.

The Chamberlain was unprepared for Lokasenna’s belligerent tone and blushed slightly as he divulged the other members of this squad.  ‘Sir Edgar Worseley will represent the people of Scoriath.’

Edgar’s face shone almost as brightly as his armour.  ‘It is an honour that I will –’

‘Thank-you Sir Edgar,’ the Chamberlain said before the knight could get out another word.  ‘Time is of the essence but your sentiments are appreciated.’  He looked across the room to where the diminutive Sumi Kimura sat beside her father.  ‘The nations of Kompira and Susano will be represented by Sumi Kimura.  From the other end of the world, we look to Bannick Landen to represent Arnaksak.  The last two positions of this squad I am giving to individuals who have already had a part to play in this tale.  Both Lara Brand and the Mabbit Tagtug have already encountered the Ghul and survived.  I do not doubt that their contributions will be significant.’

The faces around the room suggested otherwise, but no-one said a word.  The colour running out of Lara’s face did not echo the Chamberlain’s confidence.  By contrast, the expression on Tagtug’s face did not change.  It did not seem he understood what he had just been signed up for.

        ‘This squad will travel north, through Scoriath and across the Oshalla Ocean to the breach under Nilfheim.’

‘But isn’t that way blocked?’ Lara asked.  ‘I thought the mine had collapsed.’

The Chamberlain turned to the young witch and nodded.  ‘We do not believe it will stay that way.  On the day our Sessymirian delegates left Nilfheim, they received reports from the mine that suggested Caliban’s forces were trying to reopen the breach.  They will not take long to break through.  They may have done so already.

‘We had planned for the third squad to journey to the breach outside Lucien in Acoran but this morning we received news of the great losses the Acora have suffered there.’  He turned to Jehenna and asked, ‘What think you, Consul?  In light of the massing of Ghul troops in this region do you think this a route we should take?’

‘It would seem that we cannot find or access the other breaches, Your Grace.  I see no other option but Lucien.  But it will not be easy.  Our archers have killed many Ghul but the vermin replenish their numbers faster than we can take them down.’

‘If anyone can find a way in, you can, Jehenna,’ the Chamberlain said confidently.  ‘It will come as no surprise to you all that I have appointed Jehenna Canna to lead the third company.  I have asked Bormanus Cole to accompany this expedition.  His homeland of Cephalonia has suffered greatly at the hands of the Ghul and I believe it should have representation upon the mission.  Similarly, I am hoping that Kali of Kolpia will also agree to take up a position on this squad.  The last three positions will go to the consuls from Ankara, the Tamu Plains and the Isle of Caquix, respectively, Rama Ta, Sela Noye and Tawhawki Fall.’

 

 

 

 

And so it was that the companies were formed.  The Chamberlain stood at the northernmost point of the map and spread his hands wide, inviting responses.  ‘Delegates, your thoughts?’

It was Pylos who spoke first.  He stood up and bowed in a show of courtesy that the Chamberlain read as a prologue to a criticism.  ‘Your Grace, I cannot help but think that this is a job for the Cessair Guard.  You are sending many untried individuals on a mission that would fill even our bravest soldiers’ hearts with fear.’

The Chamberlain nodded.  It was a reasonable comment to make.  ‘General Castalia, the twelve members of the Cessair Guard will not be enough to do this.  As you have seen, four members of the Guard have been placed into the squads – you, Sefar Hadith, Bannick Landen and Jehenna Canna – but I can spare no more.  I have already deployed the others to various parts of the Myr to deal with the Cabal.  I cannot wait for them to return.’

‘Your Grace, I have a question,’ said a quiet voice from the far side of the chamber.  It was Sumi Kimura.  ‘What do we know of the Cabal?  As you are aware, one of them, the beast called the Ryugin, took my husband from me.  It is likely we will encounter other monsters.’

 ‘After consultation with ancient texts, the scholars of Caquix have provided us with the names of other monsters.  Reports suggest the Ryugin continues to lurk about the Sea of Telamon, just as the Morrigu continues to wreak havoc upon the towns and cities lying on the shores of Lake Erras.  The Ankarans have suffered repeated assaults by a shadowy creature once known as Katkochila.  Our brave knight Sir Edgar slew Abaddon in the swamps of Marshmead.  The name of the beast that helped round up the Kobolds with its webbing was Fulgora and it now lies dead outside the town of Kishe.  The tentacled beast that was eventually killed in the breach under Nilfheim was the Kaggen.  Both Lara Brand and Kali of Kolpia have encountered Kleesto.  We know there are more to come.  Though it is not our intention to have the companies engage with the Cabal, it is likely that they will not have a choice.’

 ‘That’s wonderfully encouraging,’ noted Sela Noye with unbridled sarcasm.

The Chamberlain ignored the comment.  ‘May I emphasize the fact that the companies have one primary goal – the death of Caliban.  They are not to engage the enemy unless it is absolutely necessary.  The removal of Caliban from his sphere of influence is crucial.  If we cut off the head, the body should die.  We believe the Ghul and Cabal threats will be easier to manage once we take out Caliban.’

‘But how will we find him?’ asked Edgar.

‘The mariner’s tale suggests that he will be found in the region of the Endless that lies under Lake Erras.  That is where you will go.  I know I have placed you directly in the path of danger but the truth is that we are all endangered these days.’

 

 

 

 

The Assembly was concluded.  The sun in the western sky sat upon the mighty Acoran Ranges where the stubborn snows of last winter clung tenaciously to the backs of the mountains.  Half of Lake Cessair rested in the mountains’ shadow, but upon that part of the lake that lay closest to Cessair, the sun’s warm light sparkled like a thousand sequins rippling across a brilliant red dress.  A flock of Kolpian cranes took flight, their gigantic wings silhouetted against the kaleidoscopic light that coruscated off the lake.

 

 

 

 

Almost everyone had left the Cloud Chamber, making their way down the broad steps that encircled the outside of the tower.  Pylos lingered on the landing outside the chamber, deep in thought over something Jehenna Canna had said.

‘Our archers have killed many Ghul but the vermin replenish their numbers faster than we can take them down.’

Pylos’ men had struggled to kill a single Ghul at Sulis, yet he had slain many.  Likewise, the Acoran archers.  There was something significant about this.

 

He turned to make his way back into the Cloud Chamber but was cut off by the tall figure of Maeldune blocking his way.  ‘Minister Canna, there is something else.  I forgot to mention it in the Assembly but it may be important.’

‘General Castalia,’ replied Maeldune coldly, ‘we cannot reconvene because you are forgetful.’

‘No, I do not expect you to, but there is something Chamberlain Llyr should know.’

‘General, you can tell me.  As you well know, when the Assembly is not in session, I am the conduit to the Chamberlain.  You can trust me to pass on your cerebrations.’

The Acora were known for being sticklers for protocol so Pylos swallowed hard and spoke his thoughts.  ‘Minister, when Sulis was attacked I was able to slay countless Ghul, but most of my men could not.’

‘You are truly an astounding warrior, General.  I will be sure to tell the Chamberlain of your successes.’ 

Pylos was a little stunned by the tone Maeldune had taken with him, but he decided to think on it at another time.  The important thing was to get his message to the Chamberlain.

‘You don’t understand.  I am not trying to impress the Chamberlain.  For some reason, I was able to do what others could not.  I don’t have any explanation for it but it must be important.’

‘Well Pylos,’ sneered Maeldune, ‘I am so glad you are on my team.  We are guaranteed of success.’  The comment was so overtly sarcastic Pylos was dumbstruck.  He wanted to strike back but the sight of Maeldune’s wife approaching the pair made him reconsider his desire to reply in kind.

 

 

 

 

Tiberius Llyr clapped his hands once and the map dissolved through the paved floor of the Cloud Chamber like sand through one’s fingers.  A large trap door lay in the centre of the chamber floor.  He clapped again and the door swung aside revealing a dark vertical passageway beyond.

‘Stairs!  You have stairs inside the tower!’ Sela Noye exclaimed.  She had hung back to ask the Chamberlain whether he could place Tawhawki Fall upon another team – the thought of spending countless days with the arrogant Caquikki made her queasy – and had stood to one side as everyone filed out of chamber.  It had been a long day.  Her characteristic fractious state was frayed more than normal.  The sight of the Chamberlain revealing a hidden passageway was the straw that broke the calumpf's back.  ‘I can’t believe what I’m seeing,’ she scolded.  ‘I crawled for five hours up the outside steps, terrified out of my wits that I would fall off the side and you have stairs inside the tower!’

Her murderous look did not seem to be recognised by Chamberlain Llyr who seemed happy to show off his private route to the Cloud Chamber.  ‘Actually,’ he remarked proudly, ‘it’s better than stairs.’ 

Sela peered into the darkness.  The Chamberlain clapped his hands a third time and hundreds of lights appeared lining a shaft that went thousands of yards down the centre of the citadel.  The stairs before her led to a small landing ten feet below the trapdoor.  Sela could see a wooden platform hanging over the shaft.  The platform was connected to a pulley system via a thick, yellow rope.  ‘It really is quite remarkable.  It’s powered by Cold.  With a pull of that lever over there, the pulley starts turning and the platform goes down as another comes up the other side.  I don’t fully understand the mechanics of it, but I love it.  I always hated the thought of climbing the stairs.’

Sela gritted her teeth.  Behind her colourful mask her eyes narrowed.  In her mind’s eye she could see the Chamberlain speeding to the top of the tower whilst she slowly crawled up the outsides, her knees shaking as vertigo pulled at her insides.

He glanced at her.  ‘Oh please don’t be angry, my girl.  Everyone climbs the stairs.  Well, everyone, but me that is.’

Sela could not find the words to express her choler.

He could feel her tension.  He smiled and placed a hand on her bristling shoulder.  ‘I think we can break with tradition just this once, Consul Noye.’

Her eyes lit up.  ‘Yes, Your Grace.’

 

 

 

 

The pair of them made their way down the short flight of steps and walked onto the platform.  A railing was closed, a lever drawn and within moments they left the Cloud Chamber behind.  All was quiet except for the creak of the rope, and the popping hiss of Cold in the engine above.

‘By the way please don’t mention this to anyone,’ said the Chamberlain.  ‘It would get awfully crowded in here if word of this got out.’