The available maps were very old and of doubtful accuracy, but they showed that Chamteth was as large as the Kolcorronian empire and equally populous. Few travellers had penetrated to its interior and returned, but their accounts had been unanimous in the descriptions of the vast brakka forests. The reserves had never been depleted because the Chamtethans regarded it as the ultimate sin to interrupt the life cycle of the brakka tree. They drew off limited quantities of crystals by drilling small holes into the combustion chambers, and restricted their use of the black wood to what could be obtained from trees which had died naturally.

The existence of such a fabulous treasurehouse had attracted the interest of Kolcorronian rulers in the past, but no real acquisitive action had ever been taken. One factor was the sheer remoteness of the country; the other was the Chamtethans’ reputation as fierce, tenacious and gifted fighters. It was thought that their army was the sole user of the country’s supply of crystals, and certainly the Chamtethans were well known for their extensive use of cannon — one of the most extravagant ways ever devised for the expending of crystals. They were also totally insular in their outlook, rejecting all commercial and cultural contact with other nations.

The cost, one way or another, of trying to exploit Chamteth had always been recognised as being too great, and Toller had taken it for granted that the situation was a permanent part of the natural order of things. But he had just heard talk of change — and he had a deep personal interest in that possibility.

The social divisions in Kolcorron were such that in normal circumstances a member of one of the great vocational family of families was not permitted to cross the barriers. Toller, restless and resentful over having been born into the philosophy order, had made many futile attempts to get himself accepted for military service. His lack of success had been made all the more galling by the knowledge that there would have been no obstacle to his joining the army had he been part of the proletarian masses. He would have been prepared to serve as a line soldier in the most inhospitable outpost of the empire, but one of his social rank could be accorded nothing less than officer status — an honour which was jealously guarded by the military caste.

All that, Toller now realised, was concomitant on the affairs of the country following the familiar centuries-old course. A war with Chamteth would force profound changes on Kolcorron, however, and King Prad would not be on the throne for ever. He was likely to be succeeded by Leddravohr in the not-too-distant future — and when that happened the old order would be swept away. It looked to Toller as though his fortunes could be directly affected by those of Leddravohr, and the mere prospect was enough to produce an undertow of dark excitement in his consciousness. The council meeting, which he had expected to be routine and dull, was proving to be one of the most significant occasions of his life.

On the dais the swarthy, balding and paunchy Prince Chakkell was concluding his opening remarks with a statement that he needed twice his present supply of pikon and halvell for quarrying purposes if essential building projects were to continue.

“You appear not to be in sympathy with the stated aims of this gathering,” Prad commented, beginning to show some exasperation. “May I remind you that I was awaiting your thoughts on how to reduce requirements?”

“My apologies, Majesty,” Chakkell said, the stubbornness of his tone contradicting the words. The son of an obscure nobleman, he had earned his rank through a combination of energy, guile and driving ambition, and it was no secret in the upper echelons of Kolcorronian society that he nursed hopes of seeing a change in the rules of succession which would allow one of his children to ascend the throne. Those aspirations, coupled with the fact that he was Leddravohr’s main competitor for brakka products, meant that there was a smouldering antagonism between them, but on this occasion both men were in accord. Chakkell sat down and folded his arms, making it clear that any thoughts he had on the subject of conservation would not be to the King’s liking.

“There appears to be a lack of understanding of an extremely serious problem,” Prad said severely. “I must emphasise that the country is facing several years of acute shortages of a vital commodity, and that I expect a more positive attitude from my administrators and advisors for the remainder of this meeting. Perhaps the gravity of the situation will be borne home to you if I call upon Lord Glo to report on the progress which has been made thus far with the attempts to produce pikon and halvell by artificial means. Although our expectations are high in this regard, there is — as you will hear — a considerable way to go, and it behoves us to plan accordingly.

“Let us hear what you have to say, Lord Glo.”

There was an extended silence during which nothing happened, then Boreatt Hargeth — in the philosophy sector’s second row — was seen to lean forward and tap Glo’s shoulder. Glo jumped to his feet immediately, obviously startled, and somebody across the aisle on Toller’s right gave a low chuckle.

“Pardon me, Majesty, I was collecting my thoughts,” Glo said, his voice unnecessarily loud. “What was your… hmm… question?”

On the dais Prince Leddravohr covered his face with one splayed hand to mime embarrassment and the same man on Toller’s right, encouraged, chuckled louder. Toller turned in his direction, scowling, and the man — an official in Lord Tunsfo’s medical delegation — glanced at him and abruptly ceased looking amused.

The King gave a tolerant sigh. “My question, if you will honour us by bringing your mind to bear on it, was a general one concerning the experiments with pikon and halvell. Where do we stand?”

“Ah! Yes, Majesty, the situation is indeed as I… hmm… reported to you at our last meeting. We have made great strides… unprecedented strides… in the extraction and purification of both the green and the purple. We have much to be proud of. AH that remains for us to do at this… hmm… stage is to perfect a way of removing the contaminants which inhibit the crystals from reacting with each other. That is proving…hmm… difficult.”

“You’re contradicting yourself, Glo. Are you making progress with purification or are you not?”

“Our progress has been excellent, Majesty. As far as it goes, that is. It’s all a question of solvents and temperatures and… um… complex chemical reactions. We are handicapped by not having the proper solvent.”

“Perhaps the old fool drank it all,” Leddravohr said to Chakkell, making no attempt to modulate his voice. The laughter which followed his words was accompanied by a frisson of unease — most of those present had never seen a man of Glo’s rank so directly insulted.

“Enough!” Prad’s milk-white eye narrowed and widened several times, a warning beacon. “Lord Glo, when I spoke to you ten days ago you gave me the impression that you could begin to produce pure crystals within two or three years. Are you now saying differently?”

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Leddravohr put in, grinning, his contemptuous stare raking the philosophy sector. Toller, unable to react in any other way, spread his shoulders to make himself as conspicuous as possible and sought to hold Leddravohr’s gaze, and all the while an inner voice was pleading with him to remember his new vows, to use his brains and stay out of trouble.

“Majesty, this is a matter of great…hmm… complexity,” Glo said, ignoring Leddravohr. “We cannot consider the subject of power crystals in isolation. Even if we had an unlimited supply of crystals this very day… There is the brakka tree itself, you see. Our plantations. It takes six centuries for the seedlings to mature and.…”