‘What’s going on?’ asked George, as soon as Queen
Sophia and her treacherous consort had left.
‘Bloody elves’
John muttered, ‘they’ve always thought that they rule the place’
‘Not that…’
John made a sour
face.
‘Huw? Oh – he’s a
fool, a stupid fool’
George considered
this.
‘Possibly, but we
don’t know the full story…’
‘He’s betrayed us;
there’s no excuse for that’
George frowned.
‘What did he mean
by “the voice”?’
John shook his
head.
‘I have no idea…’
he said
‘Well, we need to
find out’ said George, ‘There was
something going on. I knew that, I’m afraid; I just didn’t pursue it far
enough’
John pushed his
extreme irritation as deep inside himself as it would go.
‘Too late for
regrets now – we’ll just have to deal with it’
George stopped
talking for a second. John looked over at the mages. They seemed to be having a
far more fractious conversation.
‘Oh well’
whispered John, ‘at least they seem to have more problems than even we have…’
George smiled.
‘Also – we need to
find out what our new Queen is up to…’ he said
‘Too many questions…’ muttered John.
The mages turned
to address them again, and then the talk lumbered discontentedly on. John was finding it hard to summon up much
enthusiasm, now that he knew that the mages didn’t really want to help and that
they were all under acting under duress. They spent a lot of time huddled
together in their separate groups, whispering.
John knew that the
mages would talk for as long as it took to buy them time. They had no intention
of helping. It was clear that at the moment the agora broke up they would run
for Oikonde and from there flee to Helios. The only reason that they didn’t go
immediately was the threat of their new mistress. This was a waste of
everyone’s time. As much as the mages, John was looking for a way out.
Hours on, a mail
paper phutted into existence and dropped into his lap. He picked it up eagerly
and read it.
Dear President Ismay,
I have had an indirect message from Rem, via Proconsul Marthian. It
seems that I am needed in Ortia as soon as is possible. I have made the
decision to take Dr Fielding and Major Viola there by the most direct route
that I could think of. This meant using the Council’s beacon, for which I
apologise.
I appreciate that you may well have a myriad of problems yourself, but
I am convinced that a threat to Ortia is a threat to us all. I will keep you
informed, but I regret that you may have to come to the city at some point in
the near future.
Despite protocol I will set up a beacon in Ortia with my trace signature.
I will use the usual procedure and not activate my trace until I know that you
are definitely needed.
Your servant,
Laurence Hardacre
There was nothing else that John could do now
but wait for more information. The mages droned on and on and time dragged; he
was certain they were making no progress. George did most of the talking – he
had extraordinary reserves of patience and his Elven was exemplary. However,
every step forward he took was accompanied by at least three steps beack – they
would have to check the facts, consult an expert, run a feasibility study. It
all added up to no progress at all.
A few hours later, when even George began to
tire, the second, and completely unexpected, mail paper dropped from the
sky.
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