Land and Overland - Omnibus by Bob Shaw Page A

mouth and tried to speak, the brown pegs of his teeth working up and down, but was able to produce nothing more than clicking sounds in his throat.
    “Remove him from my sight,” Prad said, turning his hard eyes on the Lord Prelate. “As for you, Balountar, you are to be rebuked for mounting a physical attack on one of my ministers, no matter how great the provocation. For that reason, you have no redress against the young man who restrained you, though he does appear somewhat lacking in discretion. You will return to your place and remain there without speaking until the Lord Philosopher and his cortege of buffoons have withdrawn.”
    The King sat down and stared straight ahead while Lain and Borreat Hargeth closed upon Glo and led him away towards the hall’s main entrance. Toller walked around Vorndal Sisstt, who had knelt to wipe the floor with the hem of his own robe, and helped Lain’s two assistants to gather up the fallen easel and charts. As he stood up with the easel under his arm it occurred to him that Prince Leddravohr must have received an unusually powerful reprimand to induce him to remain so quiet. He glanced towards the dais and saw that Leddravohr, lounging in his throne, was staring at him with an intent unwavering gaze. Toller, oppressed by collective shame, looked elsewhere immediately, but not before he had seen Leddravohr’s smile twitch into existence.
    “What are you waiting for?” Sisstt mumbled. “Get that stuff out of here before the King decides to have us flayed.”
    The walk through the corridors and high chambers of the palace seemed twice as long as before. Even when Glo had recovered sufficiently to shake off helping hands, Toller felt that news of the philosophers’ disgrace had magically flown ahead of them and was being discussed by every low-voiced group they passed. From the start he had felt that Lord Glo was going to be unable to function well at the meeting, but he had not anticipated being drawn into a debacle of such magnitude. King Prad was famed for the informality and tolerance with which he conducted royal business, but Glo had managed to transgress to such an extent that the future of the entire order had been called into question. And furthermore, Toller’s embryonic plan to enter the army by someday finding favour with Leddravohr was no longer tenable—the military prince had a reputation for never forgetting, never forgiving.
    On reaching the principal courtyard Glo thrust out his stomach and marched jauntily to his phaeton. He paused beside it, turned to face the rest of the group and said, “Well, that didn’t go too badly, did it? I think I can truthfully say that I planted a seed in the King’s … hmm … mind. What do you say?”
    Lain, Hargeth and Duthoon exchanged stricken glances, but Sisstt spoke up at once. “You’re absolutely right, my lord.”
    Glo nodded approval at him. “That’s the only way to advance a radical new idea, you know. Plant a seed. Let it … hmm … germinate.”
    Toller turned away, suddenly in fresh danger of laughing aloud in spite of all that had happened to him, and carried the easel to his tethered bluehorn. He strapped the wooden framework across the beast’s haunches, retrieved the rolled charts from Quate and Locranan, and prepared to depart. The sun was little more than halfway between the eastern rim of Overland—the ordeal by humiliation had been mercifully brief—and there was time for him to claim a late breakfast as the first step in salvaging the rest of the day. He had placed one foot in the stirrup when his brother appeared at his side.
    “What is it that afflicts you?” Lain said. “Your behaviour in the palace was appalling—even by your own standards.”
    Toller was taken aback. “ My behaviour!”
    “Yes! Within the space of minutes you made enemies of two of the most dangerous men in the empire. How do you do it?”
    “It’s very simple,” Toller said stonily. “I comport myself as a