“Suddenly you make me uneasy,” Cassyll said. “Is this anything to do with Land?”
“No—another planet.”
“Farland! Say what you’ve got to say, man! Out with it!” Cassyll felt a coolness on his brow as the dread thought heaved in his mind. Farland was the third planet of the local system, orbiting at roughly twice the distance from the sun as the Land-Overland pair, and throughout most of Kolcorron’s history it had been nothing more than an insignificant green speck amid the splendors of the night sky. Then, twenty-six years ago, a bizarre set of circumstances had led to a single ship venturing out from Overland and crossing millions of miles of hostile vacuum to reach the outer world. The expedition had been ill-fated—Cassyll’s father had not been the only one to die on that dank, rainy planet—and three of its members had returned to the home world with disturbing news.
Farland was inhabited by a race of humanoids whose technology was so advanced that they had the capability of annihilating the Overlanders’ civilization at a stroke. It was fortunate indeed for the humans that the Farlanders were an insular, inward-looking race with no interest in anything beyond the perpetual cloud-cover of their own world. That attitude of mind had been difficult for the territorially acquisitive humans to comprehend. Even after years had merged into decades with no sign of aggression from the enigmatic third planet, the fear of a sudden devastating attack from the skies had continued to lurk in some Overlanders’ minds. It was, as Cassyll Maraquine had just discovered, never far beneath the surface of their thoughts…
“Farland?” Bartan gave him a strange smile. “No—I’m talking of yet another planet. A fourth planet.”
In the silence that followed, Cassyll studied his friend’s face as though it were a puzzle to be solved. “This isn’t some manner of jest, is it? Are you claiming to have discovered a new planet?”
Bartan nodded unhappily. “I didn’t discover it personally. It wasn’t even one of my technicians. It was a woman—a copyist in the records office at the Grain Quay—who pointed it out to me.”
“What does it matter who actually saw it first?” Cassyll said. “The point is that you have a really interesting scientific discovery to—” He broke off as he realized he had not yet been told the whole story. “Why do you look so glum, old friend?”
“When Divare told me about the planet she said it was blue in color, and that made me think she could have made a mistake. You know how many blue stars there are in the sky—hundreds of them. So I asked her what size of telescope was needed to see it properly, and she said a very small one would do. In fact, she said it could be seen well with the naked eye.
“And she was right, Cassyll. She pointed it out to me last night… a blue planet… quite easy to see without optical aid… low in the west soon after sunset…”
Cassyll frowned. “And you checked it with a telescope?”
“Yes. It showed an appreciable disk even with an ordinary nautical instrument. It’s a planet, all right.”
“But…” Cassyll’s bafflement increased. “Why has it not been noticed before now?”
Bartan’s strange smile returned. “The only answer I can think of is that it wasn’t there to be observed before now.”
“That goes against everything we know about astronomy, doesn’t it? I have heard that new stars appear now and then, even if they don’t last very long, but how can another world simply materialize in our skies?”
“Queen Daseene is bound to ask me that selfsame question,” Bartan said. “She will also ask me how long it has been there, and I’ll have to say I don’t know; and she will then ask me what should be done about it, and I’ll have to say I don’t know that either; and then she will start wondering about the value of a scientific adviser who doesn’t know anything…”
“I think you’re fretting too much on that score,” Cassyll said. “The Queen is quite likely to regard it as nothing more than a mildly interesting astronomical phenomenon. What makes you think the blue planet poses any threat to us?”
Bartan blinked several times. “It’s a feeling I have. An instinct. Don’t tell me you’re not disturbed by this thing.”
“I’m deeply interested in it—and I want you to show the planet to me tonight—but why should I feel any sense of alarm?”
“Because …” Bartan glanced at the sky as though seeking inspiration. “Cassyll, it isn’t right! It’s unnatural … an omen… There is something afoot.”
Cassyll began to laugh. “But you’re the least superstitious person I know! Now you are talking as though this errant world has appeared in the firmament for the sole purpose of persecuting you.”
“Well …” Bartan gave a reluctant smile, reclaiming his youthful appearance. “Perhaps you’re right. I suppose I should have gone to you immediately. It wasn’t until Berise died that I realized how much I depended on her to keep me on an even keel.”
Cassyll nodded sympathetically, as always finding it difficult to accept that Berise Drumme had been dead for four years. Black-haired, vivacious, indomitable, Berise had given the impression that she would live forever, but she had been swept away within hours by one of those mysterious, sourceless ailments which brought it home to medical practitioners just how little they knew.
“It was a big blow to all of us,” Cassyll said. “Are you drinking?”
“Yes.” Bartan detected the concern in Cassyll’s eyes and touched his arm. “But not the way I was doing when I first met your father. I wouldn’t betray Berise in that way. A glass or two of wryberry in the evening is enough for me these days.”
“Come to my house tonight and bring a good telescope with you. We’ll have a beaker of something warming and take a look at it… There’s another job for you—we’ll need a name for this mysterious world.” Cassyll slapped his friend on the back and nodded towards the arched entrance of the palace, signifying that it was time to go in for their meeting with the Queen.
Once inside the shady building they went straight to the audience chamber through corridors which were almost empty. In King Chakkell’s day the palace had been very much the seat of government, and it had usually been thronged with officials, but Daseene’s policy had been to disperse general administration into separate buildings and to treat the palace as her private residence. Only matters such as aerial defense, in which she took a special interest, were considered important enough to merit her personal attention.
At the door to the chamber two ostiaries, sweating under the weight of their traditional brakka armor, recognized both men and admitted them without delay. The air in the room was so hot that Cassyll had to snatch for breath. In her old age Queen Daseene continually complained of being cold, and the quarters she used were kept at a temperature which most others found unbearable.
The only person in the room was Lord Sectar, the fiscal chancellor, whose job it was to control state spending. His presence was another indication that the Queen had plans to reclaim the Old World. He was a large and top-heavy man in his sixties, with a jowled face which was florid in normal conditions and in the excessive heat of the room had turned bright crimson. He nodded at the newcomers, pointed mutely at the floor and its buried heating pipes, rolled his eyes to express consternation, dabbed perspiration from his brow and went to stand by a partially-open window.