Peter Hamilton - The Dreaming Void

Ethan closed his mind to the gaiafield and strode off the balcony as the sun finally sank below the horizon. The others of the council followed respectfully, their scarlet cloaks fluttering in agitation as they hurried to keep up.

His personal secretary, Chief Cleric Phelim, was waiting at the top of the broad ebony stairs which curved down to the cavernous Malfit Hall on the ground level. The man was in the grey and blue robes which indicated a rank just below that of a full Councillor — a status which Ethan was going to elevate in the next couple of days. His hood was hanging down his back, allowing the soft orange lighting to glimmer off the black skin of his shaven scalp. It gave him a formidable skeletal appearance unusual amid Living Dream members who followed the fashion of long hair that was prevalent in Makkathran. When he fell in beside Ethan he was almost a head taller. That height along with a face that could remain unnervingly impassive had been useful for unsettling a great many people; he could talk to anyone with his mind fully open to the gaiafield, and yet his emotional tone was completely beyond reach. Again, not something the politely passive community of Living Dream were accustomed to. To the Council hierarchy, Phelim and his mannerisms were an uncomfortable intruder. Privately, Ethan rather enjoyed the consternation his utterly loyal deputy generated.

The giant Malfit Hall was full of Clerics who began applauding as soon as Ethan reached the bottom of the stairs. He took the time to bow at them as he made his way across the sheer black floor, smiling thanks and occasionally nodding in recognition. The images on the arching ceiling overhead mimicked the sky of Querencia; Malfit Hall was perpetually locked in dawn, producing a clear turquoise vault, with the ochre globe of the solid world Nikran circling gently around the edge, magnified to an extent where mountain ranges and a few scudding clouds were visible. Ethan's procession moved on into the Liliala Hall, where the ceiling hosted a perpetual storm, with its seething mantle of glowing clouds haloed in vivid purple lightning. Intermittent gaps allowed glimpses of the Mars Twins belonging to the Gicon's Bracelet formation, small featureless planets with a deep, dense red atmosphere that guarded whatever surface they might have from any enquiry. Senior Clerics were gathered beneath the flashing clouds. Ethan took longer here, muttering several words of thanks to those he knew, allowing his mind to radiate a gentle pride into the gaiafield.

At the arching door into the suite of rooms which the Mayor of Makkathran used to hold office, Ethan turned to the Councillors. 'I thank you once more for you confidence in me. Those who were reluctant in their endorsement, I promise to double my efforts to gain your support and trust in the years ahead.

If any of them were vexed with their dismissal they shielded such thoughts from the openness of the gaiafield. He and Phelim alone passed into the private quarters. Inside, there were a series of grand interconnecting chambers. The heavy wooden doors were as intrusive here as they were in Makkathran; whatever species designed and built the original city clearly didn't have the psychology for enclosing themselves. Through the gaiafield, he could sense his own staff moving about within the reception rooms around him. His predecessor's team were withdrawing, their frail emotions of disgruntlement leaking into the gaiafield. Handover was normally a leisurely good-spirited affair. Not this time. Ethan wanted his authority stamped on the Orchard Palace within hours. Before the conclave began, he'd prepared an inner circle of loyalists to take charge of the main administrative posts of Living Dream. And as Ellezelin was a hierocracy, he was also faced with endorsing a new cabinet for the planet's civil government as well.

His predecessor, Jalen, had furnished the Mayor's sanctum in paoviool blocks, resembling chunks of stone that shaped itself as required, a state intuited from the gaiafield. Ethan settled into the seat that formed behind the long rectangular slab of desk. Dissatisfaction manifested itself in small emerald sparkles erupting like an optical rash on the paoviool surfaces around him.

'I want this modern rubbish out of here by tomorrow, Ethan said.

'Of course, Phelim said. 'Do you want Inigo's furnishings restored?

'No. I want this as the Waterwalker showed us.

Phelim actually smiled. 'Much better.

Ethan glanced round the oval sanctum with its plain walls and high windows. Despite his familiarity with the chamber he felt as if he'd never seen it before. 'For Ozzie's sake, we did it! he exclaimed, letting out a long breath of astonishment. 'I'm sweating. Actually sweating. Can you believe that? When he brought his hand up to his brow, he realized he was trembling. For all the years he'd planned and worked and sacrificed for this moment, the reality of success had taken him completely by surprise. It had been a hundred and fifty years since he infused the gaiamotes in order to experience the gaiafield; and on his very first night of communion he'd witnessed Inigo's First Dream. A hundred and fifty years, and the reticent adolescent from the backwater External World of Oamaru had reached one of the most influential positions in the Greater Commonwealth still available to a simple Natural human.

'You were the one they all wanted, Phelim said; he stood slightly to one side of the desk, ignoring the big cubes of paoviool where he could have sat.

'We did it together.

'Let's not fool ourselves here. I would never be considered even for the Council.

'Ordinarily, no. Ethan looked round the sanctum again. The enormity was starting to sink in. He began to wonder what the Void would look like when he could see it with his own eyes.

Once, decades ago, he had met Inigo. He hadn't been disappointed, exactly, but the Dreamer hadn't quite been what he'd expected. Not that he was sure what the Dreamer should have been like — more forceful and dynamic, perhaps.

'You want to begin? Phelim asked.

'I think that's best. The Ellezelin cabinet are all faithful Living Dream members, so they can remain more or less as they are, with one exception. I want you as the Treasury Secretary.

'Me?

'We're going to build the starships for Pilgrimage. That isn't going to be cheap, we'll need the full financial resources of the whole Free Market Zone to fund construction. I need someone in the Treasury I can depend on.

'I thought I was going to join the Council.

'You are. I will elevate you tomorrow.

'Two senior posts. That should be interesting when it comes to juggling schedules. And the empty seat on the Council I shall be filling?

'I'm going to ask Corrie-Lyn to consider her position.

Phelim's face betrayed a hint of censure. 'She's hardly your greatest supporter on the Council, admittedly, but I think she'd actually welcome Pilgrimage. Perhaps one of our less progressive colleagues…? p

'It's to be Corrie-Lyn, Ethan said firmly. 'The remaining Councillors who oppose Pilgrimage are in a minority, and we can deal with them at our leisure. Nobody will be challenging my mandate. The faithful wouldn't tolerate it.

'Corrie-Lyn it is, then. Let's just hope Inigo doesn't come back before we launch the starships. You know they were lovers?

'It's the only reason she's a Councillor. Ethan narrowed his eyes. 'Are we still looking for Inigo?

'Our friends are, Phelim told him. 'We don't quite have those sort of resources. There's been no sign of him that they've reported. Realistically, if your succession to Conservator doesn't bring him back within the first month or so, I'd say we are in the clear.

'Badly phrased. That makes it sound like we've done something wrong.

'But we don't know why Inigo was reluctant to Pilgrimage.