Free Land and Overland - Omnibus by Bob Shaw

and the black wood had been in short supply, and the cost kept rising, but new reserves had always been found. Try as he might, Toller could not imagine the natural storehouse of an entire world failing to meet his people’s needs.
    As the philosophy delegation reached the elevated ground on which the palace itself was situated he saw that many carriages were gathered on the principal forecourt. Among them was the flamboyant red-and-orange phaeton of Lord Glo. Three men in philosophy greys were standing beside it, and when they noticed Lain’s carriage they advanced to intercept it. Toller identified the stunted figure of Vorndal Sisstt first; then Duthoon, leader of the halvell section; and the angular outline of Borreat Hargeth, chief of weapons research. All three appeared nervous and unhappy, and they closed on Lain as soon as he had stepped down from his carriage.
    “We’re in trouble, Lain,” Hargeth said, nodding in the direction of Glo’s phaeton. “You’d better take a look at our esteemed leader.”
    Lain frowned. “Is he ill?”
    “No, he isn’t ill—I’d say he never felt better in his life.”
    “Don’t tell me he’s been…” Lain went to the phaeton and wrenched open the door. Lord Glo, who had been slumped with his head on his chest, jerked upright and looked about him with a startled expression. He brought his pale blue eyes to focus on Lain, then showed the pegs of his lower teeth in a smile.
    “Good to see you, my boy,” he said. “I tell you this is going to be our … hmm … day. We’re going to carry all before us.”
    Toller swung himself down from his mount and tethered it to the rear of the carriage, keeping his back to the others to conceal his amusement. He had seen Glo the worse for wine several times before, but never so obviously, so comically incapable. The contrast between Glo’s ruddy-cheeked euphoria and the scandalised, ashen countenances of his aides made the situation even funnier. Any notions they had about making a good showing at the meeting were being swiftly and painfully revised. Toller could not help but enjoy another person attracting the kind of censure which so often was reserved for him, especially when the offender was the Lord Philosopher himself.
    “My lord, the meeting is due to begin soon,” Lain said. “But if you are indisposed perhaps we could…”
    “Indisposed! What manner of talk is that?” Glo ducked his head and emerged from his vehicle to stand with unnatural steadiness. “What are we waiting for? Let’s take our places.”
    “Very well, my lord.” Lain came to Toller with a hag-ridden expression. “Quate and Locranan will take the charts and easel. I want you to stay here by the carriage and keep an… What do you find so amusing?”
    “Nothing,” Toller said quickly. “Nothing at all.”
    “You have no idea of what’s at stake today, have you?”
    “Conservation is important to me, too,” Toller replied, making his voice as sincere as possible. “I was only…”
    “Toller Maraquine!” Lord Glo came towards Toller with arms outstretched, his eyes bulging with pleasurable excitement. “I didn’t know you were here! How are you, my boy?”
    Toller was mildly surprised at even being recognised by Glo, let alone being greeted so effusively. “I’m in good health, my lord.”
    “You look it.” Glo reached up and put an arm around Toller’s shoulders and swung to face the others. “Look at this fine figure of a man—he reminds me of myself when I was … hmm … young.”
    “We should take our places right away,” Lain said. “I don’t want to hurry you, but…”
    “You’re quite right—we shouldn’t delay our moment of … hmm … glory.” Glo gave Toller an affectionate squeeze, exhaling the reek of wine as he did so. “Come on, Toller—you can tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself out in Haffanger.”
    Lain stepped forward, looking anxious. “My brother isn’t part of the delegation, my lord.