“Majesty,” Lord Glo called out, lurching to his feet, looking ghastly but speaking in surprisingly fluent and resonant tones. “I beg you — for the sake of our beloved Kolcorron — to listen to the proposal of which I spoke earlier. Please do not let my brief indisposition stand in the way of your hearing of a scheme whose implications go far beyond the present and near future, and in the long run will concern the very existence of our great nation.”

“Hold still, Glo.” King Prad also rose to his feet and pointed at Leddravohr with the index fingers of both hands, triangulating on him with all the force of his authority. “Leddravohr, you will now resume your seat.”

Leddravohr eyed the King for a few seconds, his face impassive, then he turned away from Toller and walked slowly to the dais. Toller was startled as he felt his brother grip his arm.

“What are you trying to do?” Lain whispered, his frightened gaze hunting over Toller’s face. “Leddravohr has killed people for less.”

Toller shrugged his arm free. “I’m still alive.”

“And you had no right to step in like that.”

“I apologise for the insult,” Toller said. “I didn’t think one more would make any difference.”

“You know what I think of your childish…” Lain broke off as Lord Glo came to stand close beside him.

“The boy can’t help being impetuous — I was the same at his age,” Glo said. The brilliance from above showed that every pore on his forehead was separately domed with sweat. Beneath the ample folds of his robe his chest swelled and contracted with disturbing rapidity, pumping out the smell of wine.

“My lord, I think you should sit down and compose yourself,” Lain said quietly. “There is no need for you to be subjected to any more of…”

“No! You’re the one who must sit down.” Glo indicated two nearby seats and waited until Lain and Toller had sunk into them. “You’re a good man, Lain, but it was very wrong of me to burden you with a task for which you are constitutionally… hmm… unsuited. This is a time for boldness. Boldness of vision. That is what earned us the respect of the ancient kings.”

Toller, rendered morbidly sensitive to Leddravohr’s every movement, noticed that on the dais the prince was concluding a whispered conversation with his father. Both men sat down, and Leddravohr immediately turned his brooding gaze in Toller’s direction. At a barely perceptible nod from the King an official pounded the floor with his staff to quell the low-key murmurings throughout the hall.

“Lord Glo!” Prad’s voice was now ominously calm. “I apologise for the discourtesy shown to members of your delegation, but I also add that the council’s time should not be wasted on frivolous suggestions. Now, if I grant you permission to lay before us the essentials of your grand scheme, will you undertake to do so quickly and succinctly, without adding to my tribulations on a day which has already seen too many?”

“Gladly!”

“Then proceed.”

“I am about to do so, Majesty.” Glo half turned to look at Lain, gave him a prolonged wink and began to whisper. “Remember what you said about my flying higher and seeing farther? You’re going to have cause to reflect on those words, my boy. Your graphs were telling a story that even you didn’t understand, but I.…”

“Lord Glo,” Prad said, “I am waiting.”

Glo gave him an elaborate bow, complete with the hand flourishes appropriate to the use of the high tongue. “Majesty, the philosopher has many duties, many responsibilities. Not only must his mind encompass the past and the present, it must illuminate the multiple pathways of the future. The darker and more… hmm… hazardous those pathways may be, the higher.…”

“Get on with it, Glo!”

“Very well, Majesty. My analysis of the situation in which Kolcorron finds itself today shows that the difficulties of obtaining brakka and power crystals are going to increase until… hmm… only the most vigorous and far-sighted measures will avert national disaster.” Glo’s voice shook with fervour.

“It is my considered opinion that, as the problems which beset us grow and multiply, we must expand our capabilities accordingly. If we are to maintain our premier position on Land we must turn our eyes — not towards the petty nations on our borders, with their meagre resources — but towards the sky!

“The entire planet of Overland hangs above us, waiting, like a luscious fruit ready for the picking. It is within our powers to develop the means to go there and to.…” The rest of Glo’s sentence was drowned in a swelling tide of laughter.

Toller, whose gaze had been locked with Leddravohr’s, turned his head as he heard angry shouts from his right. He saw that, beyond Tunsfo’s medical delegation, Lord Prelate Balountar had risen to his feet and was pointing at Glo in accusation, his small mouth distorted and dragged to one side with intensity of emotion.

Borreat Hargeth leaned over from the row behind Toller and gripped Lain’s shoulder. “Make the old fool sit down,” he urged in a scandalised whisper. “Did you know he was going to do this?”

“Of course not!” Lain’s narrow face was haggard. “And how can I stop him?”

“You’d better do something before we’re all made to look like idiots.”

“…long been known that Land and Overland share a common atmosphere,” Glo was declaiming, seemingly oblivious to the commotion he had caused. “The Greenmount archives contain detailed drawings for hot air balloons capable of ascending to…”

“In the name of the Church I command you to cease this blasphemy,” Lord Prelate Balountar shouted, leaving his place to advance on Glo, head thrust forward and tilting from side to side like that of a wading bird. Toller, who was irreligious by instinct, deduced from the violence of Balountar’s reaction that the churchman was a strict Alternationist. Unlike many senior clerics, who paid lip service to their creed in order to collect large stipends, Balountar really did believe that after death the spirit migrated to Overland, was reincarnated as a newborn infant and eventually returned to Land in the same way, part of a neverending cycle of existence.

Glo made a dismissive gesture in Balountar’s direction. “The main difficulty lies with the region of neutral… hmm… gravity at the midpoint of the flight where, of course, the density differential between hot and cold air can have no effect. That problem can be solved by fitting each craft with reaction tubes which.…”

Glo was abruptly silenced when Balountar closed the distance between them in a sudden rush, black vestments flapping, and clamped a hand over Glo’s mouth. Toller, who had not expected the cleric to use force, sprang from his chair. He grabbed both of Balountar’s bony wrists and brought his arms down to his sides. Glo clutched at his own throat, gagging. Balountar tried to break free, but Toller lifted him as easily as he would have moved a straw dummy and set him down several paces away, becoming aware as he did so that the King had again risen to his feet. The laughter in the hall died away to be replaced by a taut silence.

“You!” Balountar’s mouth worked spasmodically as he glared up at Toller. “You touched me!”

“I was acting in defence of my master,” Toller said, realising that his reflex action had been a major breach of protocol. He heard a muffled retching sound and turned to see that Glo was being sick with both hands cupped over his mouth. Black wine was gouting through his fingers, disfiguring his robe and spattering on the floor.

The King spoke loudly and clearly, each word like the snapping of a blade. “Lord Glo, I don’t know which I find more offensive — the contents of your stomach or the contents of your mind. You and your party will leave my presence immediately, and I warn you here and now that — as soon as more pressing matters have been dealt with — I am going to think long and hard about your future.”