"What has this to do with astrology?" asked someone impatiently.
"I am coming to that," Schuster said. "What is the true purpose of your calculations? Is it not twofold? First, you wish to predict where the heavenly bodies will be with respect to each other at some given date, since this indicates what God desires you to do at that time. Second, you wish to uncover the grand plan of the heavens, since by studying God's works you may hope to learn more of His nature.
"Now as observations accumulated, your ancestors found it was not enough to assume that all the worlds, including this one, move in circles about the sun, and the moons in circles about this world, while the heavenly globe rotates around the whole. No, you had to picture these circles as having epicycles; and later it turned out that there must be epi-epicycles; and so on, until now for centuries the picture has been so complicated that the astrologers have given up hope of further progress."
"True," said one of them. "A hundred years ago, on just this account, Kurro the Wise suggested that God does not want us to understand the ultimate design of things too fully."
"Perhaps," Schuster said. "On the other hand, maybe God only wants you to use a different approach. A savage, trying to lift a heavy stone, might conclude that he is divinely forbidden to do so. But you lift it with a lever. In the same way, my people have discovered a sort of intellectual lever, by which we can pry more deeply into the motions of the heavenly bodies than we ever could by directly computing circles upon circles upon circles.
"The point is, however, that this requires us to employ a fiction. That is why I ask you not to be outraged when I lay that fiction before you. Granted, all motions in the sky are circular, since the circle is the token of God. But is it not permissible to assume, for purposes of calculation only, that they are not circular . . . and inquire into the consequences of that assumption?"
He started to blow a smoke ring but decided against it. "I must have a plain answer to that question," he said. "If such an approach is not permissible, then of course I shall speak no more."
But of course it was. After some argument and logic-chopping, Herktaskor ruled that it was not illegal to entertain a false hypothesis. Whereupon Schuster exposed his class to Kepler's laws and Newtonian gravitation.
That took hours. Once or twice Herktaskor had to roar down a Consecrate who felt the discussion was getting obscene. But on the whole, the class listened with admirable concentration and asked highly intelligent questions. This was a gifted species, Schuster decided; perhaps, intrinsically, more gifted than man. At least, he didn't know if any human audience, anywhere in space or time, would have grasped so revolutionary a notion so fast.
In the end, leaning wearily on the table, he tapped the papers before him and said from a roughened throat: "Let me summarize. I have shown you a fiction, that the heavenly bodies move in ellipses under an inverse square law of attraction. With the help of the calculus, I have proved that the elliptical paths are a direct consequence of that law. Now here, in these papers, is a summary of my calculations on the basis of our assumption, about the actual heavenly motions as recorded in the Book of Stars. If you check them for yourselves, you will find that the data are explained without recourse to any epicycles whatsoever.
"Mind you, I have never said that the paths are anything but circular. I have only said that they may be assumed to be, and that this assumption simplifies astrological computation so much that predictions of unprecedented accuracy can now be made. You will wish to verify my claims and consult your superiors about their theological significance. Far be it from me to broadcast anything blasphemous.
"I got troubles enough," he added in Anglic.
There was no uproar when he left. His students were as wrung out as he. But later, when the implications began to sink in—
He returned to the ship. Pasqual met him in the wardroom. "Where have you been so long?" the engineer asked. "I was getting worried."
"At the lodge." Schuster threw himself into a chair with a sigh. "Whoof! Sabotage is hard work."
"Oh . . . I was asleep when you came back here for noon, and so did not tell you. While you were out this morning, Davy called in. He is on his way back."
"He might as well return, I suppose. We can't do anything until we get an okay from on high, and that'll take time."
"Too much time, maybe."
"And maybe not." Schuster shrugged. "Don't be like the nasty old man in a boat."
"Eh?"
"Asked, 'How do you know it will float?' Whereupon he said, 'Boo!' to the terrified crew and retired to the cabin to gloat. Be a good unko and fetch me a drink, will you, and then I'm going to retire myself."
"No supper?"
"A sandwich will do. We have to start rationing—remember?"
IV
The scanner alarm roused Schuster. He groaned out of his bunk and fumbled his way to the nearest viewscreen. What he saw brought him bolt awake.
A dozen Sanctuary guards sat mounted below the gangway. The light of moon and Pleiades glimmered on their spears. A pair of acolytes were helping a tall shape, gaunt in its robes, to dismount. Schuster would have known that white mane and disc-topped staff anywhere this side of the Coal Sack.
"Oi, weh," he said. "Get your clothes on, chumlets. The local Pope wants an audience with us."
"Who?" Mukerji yawned.
"Sketulo, the Boss Consecrate, in person. Could be I've lit a bigger firecracker than I knew." Schuster scuttled back aft and threw on his own garments.
He was ready to receive the guest by the time that one had climbed to the air lock. "My master, you honor us beyond our worth," he unctuated. "Had we only known, we would have prepared a fitting—"
"Let us waste no time on hypocrisies," said the Larsan curtly. "I came so that we could talk in private, without fear of being overheard by underlings or fools." He gestured at Pasqual to close the inner door. "Dim your cursed lights."
Mukerji obeyed. Sketulo's huge eyes opened wide and smoldered on Schuster. "You being the captain here," he said, "I will see you alone."
The merchant lifted his shoulders and spread his palms at his shipmates but obediently led the way—in Larsum the place of honor was behind—to that cabin which served as his office on happier occasions. When its door had also been shut, he faced the other and waited.
Sketulo sat stiffly down on the edge of a lounger that had been adjusted to accommodate Ivanhoan bodies. His staff remained upright in one hand, its golden circle ashimmer in the wan light. Schuster lowered himself to a chair, crossed his legs, and continued to wait.
The old voice finally clipped: "When I gave you permission to instruct the young astrologers, I did not think even you would dare sow the seeds of heresy."
"My master!" Schuster protested in what he hoped would be interpreted as a shocked tone. "I did nothing of the sort."
"Oh, you covered yourself shrewdly, by your chatter of a fiction. But I have seldom seen anyone so agitated as those several Consecrates who came to me after you had left."
"Naturally the thought I presented was exciting—"
"Tell me." Sketulo pursed his wrinkled lips. "We will need considerable time to check your claims, of course; but does your hypothesis in truth work as well as you said?"
"Yes. Why should I discredit myself with boasts that can readily be disproven?"
"Thus I thought. Clever, clever . . ." The haggard head shook. "Anti-God has many ways of luring souls astray."
"But, my master, I distinctly told them this was a statement false to fact."
"So you did. You are reported to have said that it might, at best, be mathematically true, but this does not make it philosophically true." Sketulo leaned forward. Fiercely: "You must have known, however, that the question would soon arise whether there can be two kinds of truth, and that in any such contest, those whose lives are spent with observations and numbers will decide in the end that the mathematical truth is the only one."
I certainly did, Schuster though
t. It's exactly the point that got Galileo into trouble with the Inquisition, way back when on Earth. A chill went through him. I didn't expect you to see it this fast, though, you old devil.
"By undermining the Faith thus subtly, you have confirmed my opinion that your kind are the agents of Anti-God," Sketulo declared. "You must not remain here."
Hope flared in Schuster. "Believe me, my master, we have no wish to do so! The sooner we can get what we need from our warehouse and be off, the happier we will be."
"Ah. But the others. When can we expect a third visit, a fourth, fleet after fleet?"
"Never, God willing. You were told by the first crew that arrived, we have no interest in trade—"
"So they said. And yet it was only a few short years before this vessel came. How do we know you tell the truth?"
You can't argue with a fanatic, Schuster thought, and kept silence. Sketulo surprised him again by changing the topic and asking in a nearly normal tone:
"How do you propose to move that great object hither?"
"Well, now, that is a good question, my master." Schuster's forehead went wet. He mopped it with his sleeve. "We have a way, but, uh, we have hesitated to suggest it—"
"I commanded that we be alone in order that we might both speak frankly."
Schuster sucked in a lungful of air, reached for a pad and penstyl, and explained about wagons.
Sketulo didn't move a muscle. When at length he spoke, it was only to say: "At certain most holy and secret rites, deep within the Sanctuary, there is that which is moved from one room to another by such means."
"We need not shock the populace," Schuster said. "Look, we can have sideboards, or curtains hanging down, or something like that, to hide the wheels."
Sketulo shook his head. "No. Almost everyone, as an unwitting child, has played with a round stick or stone. The barbarians beyond the Kasunian Range employ rollers. No doubt some of our own peasants do, furtively, when a heavy load must be moved and no one is watching. You could not deceive the more intelligent observers about what was beneath those covers; and they would tell the rest."
"But with official permission—"
"It may not be granted. God's law is plain. Even if you were given leave by the Sanctuary, most of the commoners would fear a curse. They would destroy you despite any injunctions of ours."
Since that was what Falkayn had quoted Rebo as saying, Schuster felt that perhaps Sketulo was telling the truth. Not that it mattered if he wasn't; he was obviously determined not to allow this thing.
The merchant sighed. "Well, then, my master, have you any other suggestion? Perhaps, if you would furnish enough laborers from the Consecrate estates, we could drag the workmaker here."
"This is the planting and cultivating season. We cannot spare so many hands, lest we have a famine later."
"Oh, now, my master, you and I have an identical interest: to get this ship off the ground. My associates at home can send you payment in metals, fabrics, and, yes, artificial food nourishing to your type of life."
Sketulo stamped the deck with his staff so it rang. His tone became a snarl: "We do not want your wares! We do not want you! The trouble you started today has snapped the last thread of my patience. If you perish here, despite that accursed rescue station, then God may well persuade your fellows that this is not a good place for such a station after all. At least, come what may, we will have done God's will here in Larsum . . . by giving not a finger's length of help to the agents of Anti-God!"
He stood up. His breath rasped harshly in the narrow metal space. Schuster rose, too, regarded him with a self-astonishing steadiness, and asked low: "Do I understand you rightly, then, my master, that you wish us to die?"
The unhuman head lifted stiffly over his. "Yes."
"Will your guard corps attack us, or would you rather stir mobs against us?"
Sketulo stood silent awhile. His eventual answer was reluctant: "Neither, unless you force our hand. The situation is complex. You know how certain elements of the Warden and trader classes, not without influence, have been seduced into favoring somewhat your cause. Besides, although we could overcome you with sheer numbers, I am well aware that your weapons would cost us grievous losses—which might invite a barbarian invasion. So you may abide in peace awhile."
"Until you think of a safe way to cut our throats, hm?"
"Or until you starve. But from this moment you are forbidden to enter Aesca."
"Nu?" That would not be so good an idea anyway, with all those rooftops and alleys for an archer to snipe from. "Well—" Schuster's words trailed off. He wondered, momentarily frantic, if this mess was his fault, going so boldly forward, fatally misjudging the situation. . . . No. He hadn't foreseen Sketulo's precise reaction, but it was better to have everything out in the open. Had he known before what he did now, he wouldn't have sent Davy off alone. Got to warn the kid to look out for assassins. . . . He grinned one-sidedly. "At least we understand each other. Thanks for that."
For an instant more he toyed with the idea of taking the Larsan prisoner, a hostage. He dismissed it. That would be a sure way to provoke attack. Sketulo was quite willing to die for his faith. Schuster was equally willing to let him do so, but didn't want to be included in the deal. A wife and kids were waiting for him, very far away on Earth.
He led the old one to the air lock and watched him ride off. The sound of hooves fell hollow beneath the moon and the clustered stars.
V
It seemed to Falkayn that he had been riding through his whole life. Whatever might have happened before was a dream, a vapor somewhere in his emptied skull, unreal . . . reality was the ache in every cell of him, saddle sores, hunger, tongue gone wooden with thirst and eyelids sandpapery with sleeplessness, the fear of death battered out of him and nothing left but a sort of stupid animal determination to reach Gilrigor Castle, he couldn't always remember why.
He had made stops during the night, of course. A fastiga was tougher than a mule and swifter than a horse, but it must rest occasionally. Falkayn himself hadn't dared sleep, though, and saddled up again as soon as possible. Now his beasts were lurching along the road like drunks.
He turned his head—the neckbones creaked—and looked behind. His pursuers had been in sight ever since the first predawn paling of the sky made them visible. When was that—a century ago?—no, must be less than an hour, the sun wasn't aloft yet, though the blackness overhead had turned plum color and the Sisters were sunken below Kasunia's wall. There were four or five of them—hard to be sure in this twilight—only two kilometers behind him and closing the gap. Their spears made points of brightness among the shadows.
So close?
The knowledge rammed home. Energy spurted from some ultimate source, cleared his mind and whetted his senses. He felt the dawn wind on his cheeks, heard it sough in the wiry brush along the roadside and around the staggering hoofbeats of his mount, saw how the snow peaks in the west were reddening as they caught the first sunrays; he yanked the little transceiver from his pocket and slapped the switch over. "Hello!"
"Davy!" yelled Schuster's voice. "What's happened? You okay?"
"So far," Falkayn stammered. "N-not for long, I'm afraid."
"We been trying for hours to raise you."
He'd called the ship while he fled, to relate the circumstances, and contact was maintained until—"Guess I, I got so tired I just put the box away for a minute and then forgot about it. My animals are about to keel over. And . . . the Sanctuary boys are overhauling me."
"Any chance you can reach the castle before they get in bowshot?"
Falkayn bit his lip. "I doubt it. Can't be very far to go, a few kilometers, but—What can I do? Try to make a run for it on foot?"
"No, you'd be ridden down, shot in the back. I'd say make a stand."
"One of those bows, God, they've got almost the range of my gun, and they can attack me from every side at once. There's no cover here. Not even a clump of trees in sight."
"
I know an old frontier stunt. Shoot your animals and use them for barricades."
"That won't protect me long."
"It may not have to. If you're as near the castle as you say, Ivanhoan eyes ought to spot flashes in the air from your shots. Anyhow, it's the only thing I can suggest."
"V-v-v—" Falkayn snapped his teeth together and held them that way for a second. "Very well."
Schuster's own voice turned uneven. "I wish to God I could be there to help you, Davy."
"I wouldn't mind if you were," Falkayn surprised himself by answering. Now that was more like how a man facing terrible odds ought to talk! "Uh, I'll have to pocket this radio again, but I'll leave the switch open. Maybe you can hear. Root for me, will you?"
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