“Why is it nonsense?” Bartan said with some heat.
“Because, my old friend, there has to be a natural harmony in the world of numbers. Three-and-a-seventh would work in with nothing. I have no doubt at all that when the measurements are made with proper accuracy we will find that the new ratio is amenable to…”
Toller allowed his attention to wander away from what promised to be a lengthy argument of the type from which his father and Bartan Drumme had always derived great satisfaction. He wished that Jerene was by his side, but she had gone to visit her family in the village of Divarl and was not expected back until the morrow. Tired of standing by the balustrade, he made his way to a couch, lowered himself on to it and set his crutches aside. His leg, now that the process of healing was well under way, had become stiff and capable of producing excruciating pain when subjected to any degree of stress. Simply living with such a leg, continually devising strategies to prevent it unleashing bolts of agony, was an experience which Toller found enervating and exhausting, and he was glad to lie down.
“Son, perhaps you should go off to your room and take your night’s sleep,” Cassyll Maraquine said gently, coming to stand by the couch. “The wound was more severe than you seem to think.”
“Not yet—I’d rather stay here for a while.” Toller smiled up at his father. “I seem to remember us exchanging similar words many times in the past, when I was a child. Are you about to pack me off to bed whether I like it or not?”
“You are too big for that kind of treatment. Besides, I am busy and I do not want to be plagued with calls for glasses of water.”
“And honey straws,” Bartan Drumme bantered from farther along the balcony. “Don’t forget the honey straws.”
“Honey straws!” Toller rose on one elbow. “Is that what I… ?”
“Yes, even though it might seem a strange weaning for the one they have begun to call the Godslayer,” Cassyll said to Toller. “You didn’t know that, did you? One can only guess at what kind of stories your friend Steenameert is noising abroad, but I’m told that every tavern in the realm is ringing with tales of how you flew to a land far beyond the heavens and slew a thousand gods … or demons … or a promiscuous mixture of both in order to save Overland from being swallowed by a great crystal dragon.”
Cassyll paused, looking rueful. “Now that I weigh the matter up, I suspect that the average ale-fuddled ploughman’s understanding of what happened is equal to or better than mine. Toller, all those things that were explained to you when mind addressed mind without recourse to speech… Have you no recollection at all, not even a trace, of what was meant by the term ‘space-time’? I would dearly love to know why two words which can have no logical connection came to be joined together in that particular way.”
“I am unable to help you,” Toller said with a sigh. “When Divivvidiv was speaking within my head I seemed to have a full understanding of what he meant, but the messages were written in smoke. Everything has faded. I reach for meanings, only to find emptiness. Not a true emptiness—but one which is haunted by echoes, a poignant feeling of massive doors having just closed for ever, of my being too slow and too late. I am sorry, father—I wish it were otherwise.”
“Never mind—we will make the journey unaided.” Cassyll brought a thick blanket to the couch and draped it over Toller. “The nights are colder here.”
Toller nodded and made himself comfortable, yielding to the luxurious feeling of being well cared for and of having no immediate responsibilities. His leg was throbbing warmly, and the physicians had predicted that he would henceforth walk with a limp, but that gave him even more entitlement to bask like a child in snug warmth, secure like a child beneath a blanket which—better than the stoutest armor—gave protection against all those elements of the outside world which might bring harm.
Safely cocooned, his mind misting with drowsiness, Toller tried to define his position in an unfamiliar universe. So much had been lost. The Queen was dying, unable to face or even comprehend a reality in which the planet of her birth—to which she had longed to return—no longer existed. Her dream of a single nation encompassing two worlds had been shattered in an instant. It had been a good dream, one with which Toller had instinctively sympathized, but now there would be no mile-high columns of skyships, commercially and culturally laden, plying the invisible trade lanes between Land and Overland. Instead, there would be… what?
More tired than he had realized, Toller found himself quite unable to deal with the sly and shifting enigmas of the future. He began slipping in and out of consciousness, and with each return to lucidity the sky was darker and the stars were more numerous, looking brighter than he had expected. The balcony was dark also, because his father and Bartan Drumme were using the telescopes, busily making and comparing notes.
Toller listened to the murmurous activity for an indeterminate time… dozing and drifting… half-comprehending the stray wisps of conversation that came his way… and gradually his mood began to change. He could see now that he had allowed himself, possibly through battle shock and extreme weariness, to be intimidated by the new sky, to become downcast and despondent in the face of it. He had asked if Kolcorron would ever find champions worthy of challenging that inimical black void, and at the very time of posing the question had been too blinkered by pessimism to realize that he was already in the company of such heroes.
Cassyll and Bartan were two middle-aged men whose investment in the old order of things had been much greater than his, and whose stake in a vexed future had to be correspondingly less—but had they slumped down to indulge in self-pity? No! Their reaction had been to take up their swords—swords of the mind—and at that very moment, quietly and without fanfare, they were engaged in no less an undertaking than laying the foundations of a new astronomy!
Halfway between wakefulness and sleep, Toller smiled.
His father and Bartan Drumme were speaking in low voices to avoid disturbing Toller’s rest, but whispers insinuate themselves into the quasi-realities of the drowsing mind more readily than shouts… five planets observed in the local system so far, Bartan… counting the double world as one, that is… if we have logged five in such a short time, it is only reasonable—don’t you think?—to assume that there must be others… I should rise to my feet in this very instant and take part in what is going on … it scarcely seems possible—a cream-colored planet girdled by a great ring—but perhaps I have done enough for the day… confirm your initial calculations, Cassyll… something very close to an inclination of twenty degrees, which means that Overland will have seasons from now on… Jerene will be with me in the morning, and with her help I’ll soon be able to work… the people, especially the farmers, must prepare to cope with the great changes brought about by the seasons… seasons and reasons, reasons and seasons … I have a curious premonition about that ringed planet, Bartan—it is so exceptional, so portentous in its aspect, that it must be destined to play a major role in our future affairs… Toller lapsed easily into a profound and healing sleep.
When he awoke the balcony was silent and deserted, an indication that the night was now well advanced. He found he had been covered with extra blankets which had protected him against the growing coldness of the air. The sky looked just as it had done when he first saw it. Unfamiliar constellations were poised overhead, and a tinge of nacreous light on the eastern horizon was beginning to overpaint the faintest of the meager stars.