The Sentimental Agents in the Volyen Empire by Doris Lessing Page A

these new arrangements. I think they are a mistake.’
    But it was no good: he, they all, had been subjected to burning sincerity from Incent for some hours.
    â€˜We’ll meet you in that Volyen place. Yes. We’ll meet you there, and let truth prevail,’ shouted Calder, bringing a great fist down on the table in an obvious ritual for putting an end to discussion.
    And so that is what is about to happen.
    Krolgul is keeping modestly out of sight. Incent is still asleep, but tossing and starting up, smiling and emitting fragmented oratory, and falling back, smiling, to dream of the ‘confrontation’ – which I am afraid is hardly likely to go well.
    And this is what happened.
    Towards the end of Incent’s long sleep, its quality changed and he became inert and heavy. He woke slowly, and was dazed for some minutes. Clearly, he could not remember at once what had happened. Where was the ‘dynamic,’ vibrant, passionate conspirator? At last he pulled himself up off the bed and muttered, ‘Krolgul, I must get to Krolgul.’
    â€˜Why?’
    He looked at me in amazement.
‘Why?’
    â€˜Yes, why? There is no need for you ever to have anything to do with Krolgul.’
    He subsided again on the bed, staring.
    â€˜In a few minutes we have to make our way to the Hall of Justice, room number three, in order to talk to Calder and his mates,’ I said.
    He shook his head, as if trying to dislodge buzzing thoughts.
    â€˜Arranged by you,’ I said.
    â€˜Klorathy,’ he asked from his old self, tentative, stubborn honest, ‘I have been a bit crazy, I think?’
    â€˜Yes, you have. But please try to hold on to what you are now, for we must go to this so-called trial or confrontation.’
    â€˜What are you going to do with me?’ he asked.
    â€˜Well, if you can maintain yourself as you are now – nothing. Otherwise, I’m afraid you must undergo Total Immersion.’
    â€˜But that’s terrible, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’
    The council chamber or judgment room of the Volyen administration is arranged to demonstrate the principles of justice: right and wrong; good and bad; punisher and punished. On one side of the circular chamber, which is panelled with some shiny brown stone so that the movements of the individuals inside the chamber are reflected in the gleams of dull colour, stands the apparatus of judgment itself: an imposing chair or throne, subsidiary but similar thronelike chairs, boxes for the accusers and witnesses – most of them bound to be hostile to the pitiful representatives of the natives on the other side of the court, where a dozen bare benches are ranged.
    Two focuses of opinion is what this Volyen court is designed to hold; if
opinion
can possibly be the word for what always ends in the imprisonment and torture or execution of the people on one side of the court, whereas those on the other side go off to their homes to be refreshed and made ready for another day of determining justice.
    But we were three focuses of opinion, and instinctively,without need for argument, we made our way to the area where the lowly benches stood, ignoring the pomp of the court itself, and arranged them into a rough triangle. Calder and those with him took their places on one side. Krolgul, though with hesitation that looked rather like an attractive diffidence, sat all by himself on another. As usual, he was wearing clothes assembled to seem like a uniform that summed up a situation: a sober tunic in grey, baggy service trousers, and a grey-green scarf around his neck, of the kind used by everyone here to shield his eyes from the glare that comes off the still-unmelted glaciers and snow fields. He looked the picture of responsible service.
    But really he was confused. That was because of his creature Incent, who was tagging along with me in a dulled, exhausted condition that made it seem as