“Who has the best claim to rule if Aoz Roon is dead? You, Laintal Ay. And you, Oyre. Loilanun’s son and Aoz Roon’s daughter. This infant of Dors is a dangerous counterargument that the council could seize on. Laintal Ay, you and Oyre must become united at once. Enough shilly-shallying. We’ll command a dozen priests from Borlien for the ceremony, and you will make the announcement that the old Lord is dead, so the two of you will rule in his stead. You’ll be accepted.”
“And Faralin Ferd and Tanth Ein?”
“We can look after Faralin Ferd and Tanth Ein,” said Dathka, grimly. “And Raynil Layan. They have no general support, as you do.”
They all regarded each other soberly. Finally, Laintal Ay spoke.
“I am not going to usurp Aoz Roon’s title while he is still alive. I appreciate your cunning, Dathka, but I will not carry out your plan.”
Dathka put his hands on his hips and sneered. “I see. So you don’t care if the lieutenants do take over? They’ll kill you if they do—and me.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Believe what you wish, they’ll certainly kill you. And Oyre, and Dol and this kid. Probably Vry too. Come out of your dreams. They are tough men, and they have to act soon. The blindnesses, rumours of bone fever—they’ll act while you sit and mope.”
“It would be better to get my father back,” Oyre said, deliberately looking not at Laintal Ay but Dathka. “Things are in flux—we need a really strong ruler.”
Dathka laughed sourly at her remark and watched its effect on Laintal Ay without replying.
A heavy silence fell in the room. Laintal Ay broke it by saying awkwardly, “Whatever the lieutenants may or may not do, I am not going to bid for power. It would only be divisive.”
“Divisive?” Dathka said. “The place is divided, it’s sliding into chaos with all the foreigners here. You’re a fool if you ever believed Aoz Roon’s nonsense about unity.”
During this argument Vry had remained unobtrusively by the trapdoor, and was leaning with arms folded against the wall. She came forward now and said, “You make a mistake by thinking only of earthly things.
Pointing towards the baby, she said, “When Rastil Roon was born, his father had just disappeared. That is three quarters ago. The time of double sunset is past. So it is three quarters since the last eclipse, I will remind you. Or the last blindness, if you prefer the old term.
“I must warn you that another eclipse is approaching. Oyre and I have done our calculations—”
Dol’s aged mother set up a wail. “We never had these afflictions in the old days—what have we done to deserve them now? One more will finish everybody off.”
“I can’t explain the why; I’m only just learning to explain the how,” Vry said, casting a sympathetic glance at the old woman. “And if I’m correct, the next eclipse will be of much greater duration than the last, with Freyr totally concealed for over five and a half hours, and most of the day filled with the event, which will have begun when the suns rise. You can imagine the kind of panic that may ensue.”
Rol Sakil and Dol started to howl. Dathka ordered them abruptly to be quiet, and said, “A day-long eclipse? In a few years, we’ll have nothing but eclipse and no Freyr at all, if you’re right. Why do you make such claims, Vry?”
She faced him, looking seekingly at his dark countenance. Fearing what she saw, she answered deliberately in terms she knew he could not accept. “Because the universe is not random. It is a machine. Therefore one can know its movements.”
Such a deeply revolutionary statement had not been heard in Oldorando for centuries. It went entirely over Dathka’s head.
“If you are sure, we must try to protect ourselves with sacrifices.”
Without bothering to argue, Vry turned to the others, saying, “The eclipses will not last for ever. They will go on for twenty years, getting shorter after the first eleven. After number twenty, they will not return.”
Her words were meant to reassure. The expression on their faces showed the pain of their inward thought: in twenty years, none of them was likely to be alive.
“How can you know what’s going to happen in the future, Vry? Even Shay Tal couldn’t do that,” Laintal Ay said heavily.
She wanted to touch him, but was too shy. “It’s a matter of observation and gathering old facts, putting everything together. It’s a matter of understanding what we know, of seeing what we see. Freyr and Batalix are far apart, even when they appear close to us. Each balances on the edge of a great round plate. The plates are tipped at an angle. Where they intersect, there eclipses happen, because our world is in line with Freyr, with Batalix between. Do you understand that?”
Dathka strode up and down. He said impatiently, “Listen, Vry, I forbid you to speak of such mad notions in public. The people will kill you. This is what the academy has led you to. I’m not going to listen to any more.”
He gave her a dark look, bitter, yet oddly imploring. She was transfixed. Dathka left the room without further word. Silence was what he left behind.
He had been gone only a couple of minutes when there was a commotion in the street outside. Laintal Ay ran down immediately to see what was happening. He suspected Dathka’s intervention, but his friend had disappeared. A man had fallen from his mount and was crying for help—a foreigner by his garb. A crowd gathered round him, among them faces Laintal Ay knew, although none went to help the traveller.
“It’s the plague,” a man told Laintal Ay. “Anyone who aided this knave would be sick himself by Freyr-fall.”
Two slaves were brought up, and the sufferer was dragged towards the hospice.
This was the first public appearance of the bone fever in Oldorando.
When Laintal Ay returned to Oyre’s room, she had removed her hoxneys and was washing herself over a bowl, calling out from behind a curtain to Dol and Vry.
Dol’s dimpled face was for once registering expression. She uncoupled Rastil Roon from her breast and passed him to her mother, saying, “Listen, my friend, you must act. Call the people together and speak to them. Explain. Never mind Dathka.”
“You should do that, Laintal Ay,” Oyre called. “Remind everyone of how Aoz Roon built Oldorando, and how you were his faithful lieutenant. Don’t follow Dathka’s plan. Assure everyone that Aoz Roon is not dead, and will return soon.”
“That’s right,” Dol said. “Remind people how they fear him, and how he built the bridge. They’ll listen to you.”
“You’ve sorted out our troubles between you,” said Laintal Ay. “But you are mistaken. Aoz Roon has been gone too long. Half the people here scarcely know his name. They’re strangers, traders passing through. Go to the Pauk and ask the first man you meet who Aoz Roon is—he won’t be able to tell you. That’s why the question of power is open.” He stood solid before them.
Dol shook her fist at him. “You dare say that! It’s lies. If—when he comes back, he’ll rule as before. I’ll see that he kicks out Faralin Ferd and Tanth Ein, too. Not to forget that reptile, Raynil Layan.”
“Maybe go, maybe not, Dol. The point is, he is not here. What about Shay Tal? She’s been gone just as long. Who speaks of her nowadays? You may still miss her, Vry, but others don’t.”
Vry shook her head. She said quietly, “If you want the truth, I miss neither Shay Tal nor Aoz Roon. I think they blighted our lives. I believe she blighted mine—oh, it was my fault, I know, and I owe her much, I being the daughter of a mere slave woman. But I followed Shay Tal too slavishly.”
“That’s right,” old Rol Sakil piped, bouncing the baby. “She was a bad example to you, Vry—too virginal by half, was our Shay Tal. You’ve gone the same way. You must be fifteen now, near middle age, and still not laid. Get on with it, afore it’s too late.”