recorded proving the location of the Hall of the Sleepers. We intend to travel along the most favorable route, avoiding certain geographical features. . . .” He turned to the Royal Geographer and reached for her map.
The map cringed away from his grasp. Romney protectively closed it up with a snap of her wrist. It contracted into a fist-sized ball. She stowed it in her belt pouch. Insulted, Brom turned away, waving his hand in dismissal.
“No matter. I don’t actually need your antiquated representation. We have our own charts. The Freedom of Information Act gives me full access to the historical archives, and we have been making use of them. We are ready to leave at once.”
“No, you can’t!” “You madman, what do you think you’re doing?”
A dozen ministers pressed in toward Brom, but he held them back with one hand, his eyes glittering. Roan felt the oppression of many minds attempting to create an influence to change Brom’s mind. He didn’t know what that would do; the scientist had already made it up.
“Silence!” the king thundered, his face red with anger. “You will not leave at once! You are not going! Put an end to that notion at once, Carodil!”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Carodil said, rounding on Brom. “I order you to abandon this . . . this menace. It doesn’t meet with my approval. I forbid you to continue in this research. Destroy this . . . this monstrosity.”
Brom looked as if he was going to deflate.
“Your Excellency,” the scientist began, raising a hand in appeal. He let it drop. “Well, I should have foreseen this
possibility. Of course, I defer to your authority. And yours, Your Majesty,” he said, making a deep and respectful bow. “I apologize for any distress I must have caused you.”
“You are forgiven,” the king said, mollified. “But let’s have no more talk about waking the Sleepers. That thing,” he pointed at the Alarm Clock, “will be disassembled at once.”
“Of course, my liege,” Brom said. He signaled to his minions, who veiled the device once again. The hulking shape hovered over their heads like doom. Roan found he didn’t even like looking at it that way.
“Roan, my good friend,” the king said, beckoning him forward. “We haven’t heard from you yet. Pray tell us of your explorations.”
“Call Master Roan!” the herald bellowed unnecessarily.
Startled by the blast of sound, the king hastily rid himself of his ear trumpet. Roan stepped forward.
“Your Majesty, august members of this court, I am pleased to report that the threatened Changeover in Somnus was only a rumor.”
The king settled back in his cushions with a contented expression. Many of the courtiers pressed forward so they could hear more clearly. Now that the crisis was averted, the room seemed to relax. They were ready to listen to someone else. “Those of you here from Somnus will be pleased to know I made an exhaustive investigation, and there are no signs of mass alteration.”
“Excellent, my friend!” the king said. “Then, what caused us to believe that disaster was imminent?”
Roan bowed, and half-turned to address the room. “Earth tremors, my lords and ladies! The earth there seems to shift now and again under its own volition. It would appear that this Creative One believes all things have their own consciousness and motive force. This belief has informed the earth and many other inanimate objects with a certain amount of autonomy.”
“Hah!” sputtered Fodsak, one of the scientists huddled around Carodil. “Balderdock. Poppycash.”
Roan glanced past the bulk of the chief researcher at the small man, who glared at him.
“Not at all, Master Fodsak,” Roan said. “Your own principles demand accurate report—” Something about Brom caught his eye. Roan forgot what he was going to say next, as a sudden thought seized the cuff of his mental pants-leg and worried at it. He turned to the king.
“Forgive me for digressing, Your Majesty, but
The map cringed away from his grasp. Romney protectively closed it up with a snap of her wrist. It contracted into a fist-sized ball. She stowed it in her belt pouch. Insulted, Brom turned away, waving his hand in dismissal.
“No matter. I don’t actually need your antiquated representation. We have our own charts. The Freedom of Information Act gives me full access to the historical archives, and we have been making use of them. We are ready to leave at once.”
“No, you can’t!” “You madman, what do you think you’re doing?”
A dozen ministers pressed in toward Brom, but he held them back with one hand, his eyes glittering. Roan felt the oppression of many minds attempting to create an influence to change Brom’s mind. He didn’t know what that would do; the scientist had already made it up.
“Silence!” the king thundered, his face red with anger. “You will not leave at once! You are not going! Put an end to that notion at once, Carodil!”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Carodil said, rounding on Brom. “I order you to abandon this . . . this menace. It doesn’t meet with my approval. I forbid you to continue in this research. Destroy this . . . this monstrosity.”
Brom looked as if he was going to deflate.
“Your Excellency,” the scientist began, raising a hand in appeal. He let it drop. “Well, I should have foreseen this
possibility. Of course, I defer to your authority. And yours, Your Majesty,” he said, making a deep and respectful bow. “I apologize for any distress I must have caused you.”
“You are forgiven,” the king said, mollified. “But let’s have no more talk about waking the Sleepers. That thing,” he pointed at the Alarm Clock, “will be disassembled at once.”
“Of course, my liege,” Brom said. He signaled to his minions, who veiled the device once again. The hulking shape hovered over their heads like doom. Roan found he didn’t even like looking at it that way.
“Roan, my good friend,” the king said, beckoning him forward. “We haven’t heard from you yet. Pray tell us of your explorations.”
“Call Master Roan!” the herald bellowed unnecessarily.
Startled by the blast of sound, the king hastily rid himself of his ear trumpet. Roan stepped forward.
“Your Majesty, august members of this court, I am pleased to report that the threatened Changeover in Somnus was only a rumor.”
The king settled back in his cushions with a contented expression. Many of the courtiers pressed forward so they could hear more clearly. Now that the crisis was averted, the room seemed to relax. They were ready to listen to someone else. “Those of you here from Somnus will be pleased to know I made an exhaustive investigation, and there are no signs of mass alteration.”
“Excellent, my friend!” the king said. “Then, what caused us to believe that disaster was imminent?”
Roan bowed, and half-turned to address the room. “Earth tremors, my lords and ladies! The earth there seems to shift now and again under its own volition. It would appear that this Creative One believes all things have their own consciousness and motive force. This belief has informed the earth and many other inanimate objects with a certain amount of autonomy.”
“Hah!” sputtered Fodsak, one of the scientists huddled around Carodil. “Balderdock. Poppycash.”
Roan glanced past the bulk of the chief researcher at the small man, who glared at him.
“Not at all, Master Fodsak,” Roan said. “Your own principles demand accurate report—” Something about Brom caught his eye. Roan forgot what he was going to say next, as a sudden thought seized the cuff of his mental pants-leg and worried at it. He turned to the king.
“Forgive me for digressing, Your Majesty, but
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