The novel that will never be written...

Syaoran gazed up at the pillars of the Great Hall that reached up to the domed roof. The complex arrangements of windows allowed the sun to shine through and reflect off the sides to scatter across the vast space. Some rays fell on the ground as pools of light to brighten the demi dark of the hall. Others on the pillars so that their ornate bass reliefs were legible. Even though he’d seen the sight many times before, it always awed him to see the repeated pattern of Dhuze sigils between the pictograms of the empire’s history. It showed how the influence of the Dhuze had grown from its humble origins within the present capital to an empire that now most of the known world was now under its sway. Only a few outposts, the distant Thorn Islands and beyond the Great Wasteland, the trader cities of Calphram, remained independent. Only their remoteness had preserved them from being absorbed by the empire.

His footsteps sounded hollow in the vastness as he made his way to the Conclave. The call to meet had caught him at rest after a late night. Even so, he’d dressed and come as soon as the messenger had informed him. Assemblies were few and far between and so the sudden request had surprised him and piqued his interest.

Out of the gloom, he spotted Thalan. Or rather, he’d been spotted for the man made to intercept his path. Syaoran slowed to make the man wait for him. It would set the tone for their discussion.

Thalan smiled as if understanding the subtle message in his behaviour. While they spoke on occasion, it was unlike the man to seek him out. It intrigued him as to why he’d want to talk to a rival ahead of the Conclave.

Syaoran bowed slightly. “Thalan, I would have thought you had more pressing work than coming to this meeting.”

Thalan chuckled, “It is so rare we meet in Conclave I felt I might be present to see what the Circle wishes to impart to us.” Syaoran full well knew those of the Circle only communicated with Throns and Arcts such as he when they considered their visions of the future to be important enough for the empire to act.

He took Syaoran’s arm. “Let us go together.” It would have been impolite and created more enmity than already existed if he’d objected, so he let Tholan lead him on.

Out of curiosity, Syaoran asked, “Have you discerned the purpose of the meeting, then?”

“Why perceive this when I’ll know soon enough?” Thalan wagged a finger in his direction. “You’d be foolish to become a dreamer before your day by such behaviour.”

It was true. Syaoran had no intention of speeding his descent into the mindlessness that was the eventual fate of all dhurze. Despite the ever-present lure of wanting to know what was to happen, only the most important of reasons would get him to read the future paths. Even so, he was already feeling the way present and future paths were merging as what he saw in front of him meshed with what might be. “We all dream, Thalan.”

“Ah, of course, as an Arcts you consider it is our destiny to dream and to change the direction of this world as you see fit. It is arrogance, of course.”

Syaoran dismissed his comment with a gesture. “And I suppose you Throns would nothing in the face of fortune and just watch as the empire fractured.”

“You malign us. We are all for the empire and its success. But what you’re doing to the world is perilous.”

Syaoran put up a hand to stop him continuing. “No. It is what you won’t do that is dangerous.”

“And the rift that occurred this very day here in the square?”

The idea that the very fabric of reality might somehow come asunder was crazy. He’d witnessed the execution and apart from a roar from the crowd, the event had passed like all such others. The idea that reality might rift and reset which underpinned the Thron reluctance to manipulate events was the product of an over-active imagination and a misreading of what dreamers perceived. “Ah, the rift. I wondered how long before you brought it up.”

“You don’t deny it is somewhere there in the future.”

They’d had this argument before, only it had become more heated over time. Now Thalon was pushing the dangers of interfering with the future by acting on its future paths to move reality in the desired direction citing the risk of a rift as the reason. Thus, those like Thalon were advocating a period of abstinence from foretelling to allow reality to consolidate. Fortunately amongst the Conclave only a few leant towards this surrendering of dhurze power. But they were vocal and questioned every move by those, such as he, who saw the ability to foresee as their right to rule and better the world.

Syaoran couldn’t stop himself puncturing the man’s ego. “Some say they’ve sensed it. But they’ve been saying that for generations. My teacher said it was a weakness in the diviner.”

“Of course, blame the messenger.”

“You can believe what you wish, of course.”

“I will.”

Their conversation had brought them to the entrance to the Conclave. Other dhurze appeared out of the shadows. The call to meet had brought them from their various tasks. Undoubtedly, like he was, they were curious as to the reasons.

The Conclave meeting hall was round with tiered seats and a central open circle where speakers could address the assembly. Like the Great Hall, the walls had been decorated with brightly painted bass reliefs such that it appeared as if one stood in the middle of a frozen crowd of the empire’s greatest heroes.

He followed Thalan and found a place behind the first row which would be occupied by the Circle and beside other Arcts. By some tacit understanding each group would sit together. He noticed Thalan take a place near the leader of the Throns.

A gong announced the arrival of the Circle. Syaoran examined the seven of them as they entered. He’d not seen them in a long time, these Dhruze leaders. Two seemed bewildered by the assembly. Syaoran knew the signs; these two would soon join the dreamers. He smiled. It meant, they’d be some jostling to see who’d replace them. Worthy successors who’d used their talent to the point where they could read years ahead the future’s many paths.

The Circle took their places.

From close by him, Eland stood up and moved into the centre of the hall. While not the most senior Dhruze, he was in practice due to the way members of the Circle would drift in and out of the present; he was to all intents and purpose, the senior Conclave member present.

Eland turned a full circle examining those present. He then bowed to the Circle. “The Conclave is in session,” Eland said. And to the Conclave, he intoned, “I speak for the Circle.”

In echo, Syaoran and those present chanted back, “You speak for the Circle.”

Eland called out, “Let it be unbroken.”

“The Circle is complete.”

“Indeed, it is complete,” Eland replied.

The preliminaries over, he raised both hands. “We meet but seldom, so you’re wondering why we are assembled at this early hour. Only the direst contingency would call for that. And we face the biggest challenge we’ve ever faced.” Syaoran noted his words had captured everyone’s attention—including his own. How could there be an emergency?

“This very night, brother Alund was assassinated.”

If Eland’s words had been designed to create an uproar, they succeeded. All around Syaoran, people began shouting questions. Syaoran managed to restrain himself from adding to the clamour. Eland would explain soon enough. But the reason for the Conclave was now clear. The murder of one of their own. It was an impossibility. Dhurze read the future and feared nothing since they could avoid it. There was no possibility Alund could have missed such a threat. As those about him were bellowing, there had to be some mistake. But he knew Eland, the man didn’t make mistakes and inventing stories just to create a disturbance wasn’t like him.

“Silence. Silence. Let us hear what Eland has to say.” Somehow, Thalan had been able to cut through the uproar.

The noise subsided to a rumble and then silence.

Eland swept his hand at those facing him. “You see the import of this. But there is more. As you know, Alund took charge of the safety of the Citadel. Two nights ago, a thief was caught prowling these very halls. Alund interrogated him personally. The prisoner claimed simply to be a burglar. Given his willingness to confess, he wasn’t put to the torture. Alund scanned what the man said in futures when tortured, and these agreed with his story. Consequently, he was simply condemned and subsequently publicly executed this afternoon for his crime.”

Thalan got to his feet. “Are you saying this thief and Alund’s death are linked?”

“I do, brother Thalan,” Eland said. He waved the man down. “Please be seated. All will be revealed in a moment.” He checked to see no one else was going to interrupt. “We now know that Alund’s assassin is the thief’s associate. She followed him and stabbed him to death whilst he was eating his supper.”

“Have you caught her, then?”

Eland frowned at the speaker. “Don’t interrupt. I said I’d explain. Her actions were witnessed by other dinners. A young officer there even chased her. Unfortunately, she managed to evade him. Since then, we’ve been able to track her whereabouts to some extent. She escaped the capital and is heading in the direction of the Great Wasteland.”

Thalan was on his feet again. “That means it’s Calphram’s doing. What did they hope to achieve sending agents against us?”

“Our very question. Since the murder, many hours have gone into seeing what this portends.” Eland gestured at the two Circle members Syaoran had considered earlier. “Consequently, we have learned much. You’re right in thinking it’s Calphram’s handiwork. For as long as we’ve known about them, they’ve led us to believe they’re at the end of the world and that all beyond their far border is more wasteland. Given our preoccupations and their evident weakness, we readily swallowed their lies. But it’s all lies. Lies they’ve been spinning to us for generations. What we’ve discovered this very night is, there’s a country beyond Calphram! A country that threatens us, for it’s from there that our thief and assassin come.”

The Conclave burst into uproar again. Syaoran tried to ignore the noise as he digested the import of what Eland had just told them. Like all Dhurze he occasionally checked his futures for his own safety. Given what Eland had said, those benign paths he’d seen were possibly fraught with peril if agents from this other land were able to move through the empire without leaving any traces. For that, and that only, explained the ability of the intruder to secretly penetrate the Citadel and his companion to approach and kill Alund. Agents sent in secret to find out about the empire and attack the Dhruze.

To his surprise, Thalon got up, marched down and confronted Eland. Syaoran rushed down to support his leader. He heard the end of Thalon’s words to Eland. “…ignoring the rift will lead to more such surprises.”

“Know your place, Thalon,” Eland said. “The Circle decides, and they side with me.”

Thalon raised his voice. “You mean, you decide.” He gestured at the members of the Circle. “Look at them, they don’t know why we’re arguing.”

Eland fingered the Thron’s chest several times. “No, you listen. We are at war. A deadly enemy lies beyond the Great Wasteland. We must root out their agents in the empire and take the fight to them before more die like Alund. The Circle has decided.”

Syaoran echoed the closing words of a Conclave used by Eland. “The Circle has decided.”

Thalon sighed. “If that’s the decision then.” He pointed a finger at Eland and then Syaoran. “Remember the rift.”

Thalon turned away and strode off.

Syaoran felt a hand upon his arm. “I wish to speak to you in my chambers. Meet me there in half an hour.”

There was no question of disagreeing and returning to bed regardless of the late hour. “Of course,” Syaoran said. He didn’t ask for the reason; he’d learn it soon enough. Though from what he’d learned, it would involve this unrivalled threat to the empire. He had just enough time to break his fast before the meeting.