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  "Name, rank, fealty, and business," he said, holding his hand out for our papers.

  "Inspector Danol Scryverin, Wayfarer Constables, delivery of dispatches from the Alberin Academy of Cold Sciences," I replied, saluting.

  "Constable Riellen Tallier, Wayfarer Constables, support for Inspector Scryverin," declared Riellen smartly.

  "Constable Roval Gravalios, Wayfarer Constables, support for Inspector Scryverin," said Roval in a flat voice.

  The guard began to search our packs and saddlebags, and before long he discovered Wallas.

  "What the— Blow me away! A cat?"

  "Special delivery for Stormegarde Garrison," I explained casually. "They've got a rat situation, like."

  "What's this tag on the collar? Ratsbane Pouncer Blackpaw the Seventh?"

  "That's his name. The Blackpaw family is highly regarded in ratting circles. He got the title Ratsbane after three hundred confirmed kills."

  "Looks a bit fat to be much of a ratter."

  "Oh it's all muscle," I assured him.

  The guard grunted as he lifted Wallas out to check the bottom of the saddlebag.

  "Well, mostly muscle," I added.

  "Aye, suppose he'll need some padding, 'cause it gets mighty cold over at Stormegarde," said the guard as he replaced Wallas. "Know the rules for crossing? One at a time, leading your horse. One false move, and a special mechanism releases the lip and hinges the neck to point straight into the chasm—" <

  "—and dumps me one mile down into the Glacienne River. Should I grab on to something, large rocks will be dropped down the throat of the bridge as an incentive to let go."

  "Aye, that's it. I see you've been briefed. I stays here with your weapons until you're all across, and under escort. Then I follows with the weapons, which will be impounded for the duration of your stay." Crossing the bridge was an anticlimax, because it was steady underfoot, and totally enclosed. Riellen followed me, then Roval. We had a short rest, during which Wallas dragged the sodden blanket out of his saddlebag, and Riellen, Roval, and I massaged, oiled, and rebandaged each other's feet. Then we shouldered our packs and began the climb to the palace at the summit. There were five thousand steps cut into the rock, zigzagging up the slope. Near the end of the climb my pack

  seemed to have tripled in weight, and we swapped the saddlebag containing Wallas nearly every minute.

  The sun was nearly on the horizon as we reached the landing in front of the palace gates, and we stopped to catch our breath as the guard went inside to present our papers. I gazed at the glorious splashes of color all across the western sky. Miral's immense green face and ring system had the classic shape of a giant crescent bow with an arrow, aimed to fire at the descending sun. The moonworld Dalsh was a bright mote a few degrees from the lordworld's rings, while Belvia was a tiny half disk near the Zenith, shining like a glowing sapphire. Between them was Lupan, a minute, bright crescent. Lupan was the trickster in sky lore, because it could be brilliant white or blood red. Tonight it shone red.

  "How are you doing, Ratsbane Pouncer Blackpaw the Seventh?" I asked.

  "Veteran of three hundred kills," sounded from the saddlebag.

  "Did he really ... kill three hundred rats ... sir?" wheezed Riellen between labored breaths.

  "No, sometimes one has to lie when duty to the service requires it."

  "I once killed a mouse," protested Wallas.

  "Aye, when you fell off a barrel while drunk and squashed it."

  "That took real skill, I'm famous around the Alberin taverns for it. You know that song, 'The Cat on the Barrel'?"

  "I think you are getting fame mixed up with infamy, Wallas. Now then, we're about to enter the palace, so do you need to step out for a kitty crappy?"

  "No, I'm busy licking my arse. It's the worst part of being a cat." I had actually meant for him to share the beautiful view of sunset, with Miral, Dalsh, Lupan, and Belvia strung out above it, but after that comment I decided not to risk further damage to my memories of the glorious vista of lights and colors. For a moment I wished so intensely that Lavenci were there that the feeling was a real ache; then I glanced over at Riellen, who was hugging her knees and breathing through her mouth.

  "Will you hear me play the sun down?" I asked.

  "Lower-middle-class male exclusionist ritual..." she managed, then lapsed into labored panting.

  Although she was wiry, tough, and determined, the thin air at seventeen thousand feet had Riellen close to her limits of endurance. I noticed that she was actually looking at the sky over her spectacles, however. This really did surprise me, until I realized that by now it was too dark for her to read her political book. She was looking up at Lupan.

  "When Lupan shines so deeply red there will be deaths," said Roval as he sat rubbing the cramps from his legs.

  "Mere superstition," Riellen panted, "from which common folk ... should be liberated."

  "It's nearing inferior conjunction, its closest approach to us," I said.

  "Sometimes I wonder if there are folk on Lupan, looking up at the night sky and wondering about our world."

  "Well / was wondering if there are downtrodden peasants there living under the yoke of an oppressive royal establishment," said Riellen, who then fainted with the effort of speaking such a long sentence in the rarefied air. The guard called out from the palace gate that our papers had been cleared. Thus it was that I entered Alpindrak Observatory, gasping like a landed fish, feeling so giddy that I could hardly walk in a straight line, my lungs burning like a smithy's forge, generally feeling as if I were eighty instead of eighteen and not wearing my years well... and carrying two backpacks, Wallas, and Riellen. The badly cramped Roval was also holding on to me for support. In spite of all that, there was one thing more that I had to do, one of those life's ambitions that has no foundation in common sense.

  Leaving my squad in an untidy pile just inside the gates, I took my pack and climbed the steps of the palace wall. There, working with great haste, I assembled my bagpipes. The three extended drones and their special reeds went into the stock within a couple of dozen heartbeats, and the custom-built chanter was already in place. The mountains were jagged on the sun's face as I propped Lavenci's sketch up with my ax, stood, and puffed into the bag. Now I pressed down hard with my left arm, spoke the drones, and began to play

  "Evening's All for Courting." Even customized, the pipes were not at their best in the thin air, but I did manage to play the sun down from the highest peak in all of Scalticar. With the sun down but the horizon still glowing, I played "Truelove's Fancy,"

  then finished with "Stars in My Lassie's Eyes." As I ended, there was a pattering of applause, and a few cheers came from some guards down on the battlements. Down in the courtyard I saw Roval saluting me.

  "Lass, if only you could have been here," I whispered to Lavenci's portrait.

  Chapter Two

  IN ALPINDRAK PALACE

  Half an hour after we arrived I was summoned to meet with Nortan, astronomer general of the Skep-ticals and head of Alpindrak Observatory. Announcements of great discoveries at Alpindrak were sent to the outside world via carrier pigeon, but most sketches, data tables, and suchlike were carried down annually by horse, in a large satchel. Observation requests were handled the same way. I presented a satchel of observation requests from the Skeptical Academy of Cold Sciences, and Nortan told me that a satchel of observations for the year past would be ready for me to collect the following morning. We Wayfarers were then invited to join him for what was for us dinner, but was breakfast for Nortan.

  "Your first time up here at the palace?" he asked as we sat down to bowls of leek, cabbage, and chicken soup, washed down with a light red wine.

  "Yes sir, I volunteered for the trip" was my reply. "I wanted to play the sun down with my bagpipes."

  "Oh I heard, I heard. You played 'Evening's All for Courting.' What's your set?"

  "Alberinese parade pipes, by Carrasen, modified by Duntrovey."

  "Won
derful. I'll add all that to the register."

  "You have a register?"

  "Oh yes, we keep a register of all who make the journey here, and of anything special that they do. Brilliant idea, playing the sun down on the summit of Alpindrak, well done!"

  j'Thank you."

  "Was that the only reason you volunteered to journey here?"

  "Not entirely. I am something of an amateur astronomer." r'Oh, very good!" he replied, clapping his hands with delight. "I am unused to meeting couriers who have not been given the trip up here as punishment. What do you think of breakfast?"

  "Delicious. You eat well."

  "The staff grow most of what we need in the palace greenhouses."

  "You do? But hardly anything grows outside," I pointed out. "Why is it different in the palace?"

  "I concede that the air is thin, but cold and lack of rich soil is most of the problem outside. Our greenhouses are warm and, er, well manured, if you catch my meaning. There are only two dozen of us here, so they produce more than we need. We also grow grapes and make Senderialvin Royal, our famous heaven wine."

  "I once met a man whose commander had tasted it," I said suavely.

  "Try some?"

  I very nearly fell from my chair. Senderialvin Royal sold for eleven gold crowns ajar in Alberin, and the jars were very small. I nodded my head, my mouth hanging open. Roval shook his head, but to my surprise, Riellen nodded also. Must have decided that this is a case of the delights of rich oppressors being shared among common people, I thought as the astronomer general left the table. He returned with three tiny crystal goblets and ajar about as long and thick as my thumb. There was a splash of golden stars across the label, which bore the year 3140. The wine had a distinctly golden color, and although I am no wine fancier, I sniffed the bouquet and examined the color in the lamplight before taking my first sip.

  "What do you think?" asked Nortan.

  "It's liquid enchantment," I said softly, although the words did not even come close to defining the experience of drinking Senderialvin Royal.

  "You have just drunk the value of at least half a year of your wages," he laughed. "A reward for coming all the way up here."

  "But surely it will be missed," I replied.

  "No, we are allowed ajar or two in return for helping with the cultivation. I am not much of a drinker, so I share my ration with the few fellow lovers of celestial beauty who manage the long and difficult trip up here. Constable Riellen, what do you think?"

  "Riellen?" I prompted, but she was asleep, still sitting up. I now realized that her earlier nod was actually her nodding off to sleep. "I'll carry him to bed once we've eaten."

  I reached out and shook Roval, but he too was asleep.

  "Your men have had a hard day of it," observed the astronomer general.

  "Rovel takes a few drops of sleeping draught when the opportunity to drink is upon him. He was sent with me to reform his drinking habits, and it is his last chance with the Wayfarers. As for Riellen, don't ask."

  "Well then, best not waste any."

  With steady hands and great care, Nortan poured Riellen's share back into the jar, then corked it and handed it to me.

  "Surprise him with this later," he said genially.

  "It will be greatly appreciated," I replied, but thought, Mind you, I'm not going to say just who will do the appreciating.

  "Is not Riellen a girl's name?" he now asked.

  "He is from Alberin. Stress the second syllable and it is a girl's name. Emphasize the first, and it names a boy."

  "But she—er, he has a Sargolan accent."

  "He was a student there."

  "I see, I see. Well, you two have come a very long way, so I should not keep you from your beds," he said, ringing a small bell for the table maid. "I, on the other hand, must get to work."

  "With Your Lordship's permission, I would like to take my own little farsight out onto the battlements. It's only a Cassen-tron Brothers foldaway with a two-inch objective, but I have had a brass stand made for viewing the heavens."

  "Of course, why not?" he said expansively. "King Sender-ial would have been proud of you—but what am I thinking? Come to the main dome once you have put your men to bed. I shall give you an entire hour; I'll show you the lordworld and moonworlds through our giant fourteen-inch reflector."

  # 'M #

  My cunning plan had fallen flat on its face. Rather than have an excuse to go prowling the palace grounds and battlements for the whole night, I would now have to spend at least an hour with the astronomer general. I dumped Riellen onto her bed and flung a quilt over her without even bothering to remove her trail boots, then fetched Roval to his own bedchamber. Back in my own room at last, I dragged Wallas out of the saddlebag by the scruff of the neck and held him up.

  j"It's night," he mumbled peevishly.

  "Cats are nocturnal," I pointed out. "I brought you a chicken wing."

  "Probably cooked with no great skill, but leave it in my dish, I shall consider it presently."

  | "I also brought half ajar of Senderialvin Royal."

  | Wallas suddenly became a large, furry ball of thrashing, frantic limbs and tail. I dropped him on the bed, but he immediately bounded off and sat beside his bowl looking expectandy up at me.

  "Well don't just stand there, pour it out!" he demanded. "Have you tried any yet?"

  "Only after you have searched the palace for the empress," I said sternly.

  "What? That will take all night! We don't even know she's here, and, and ... what heartless, cruel torturer could make me wait all night for a taste of Senderialvin Royal? Er, what year did you say it was?" ,„

  "I didn't, but it's 3140."

  "Oh yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! A classic, from before the Torean Storms."

  "But as the great Captain Gilvray once said, Victory first, victory feast second."

  "I don't believe you really have ajar of Senderialvin Royal at all!" Wallas suddenly exclaimed.

  I took the jar from my pocket and held it out for him to see.

  "Bastard," he muttered, with a very feline scowl.

  "I saw the duty-roster board when I called in at the kitchen to collect your chicken wing. There are twenty-eight people in the palace: Riellen, Roval, me, the two dozen who live here, and one other guest."

  "A visiting astronomer, no doubt," he grumbled.

  "I wonder. For the past three nights Riellen has noticed magical activity in the area when she goes into her darkwalk-ing trances. There is a powerful sorcery initiate nearby, and there is one extra person in the palace. Find that person, Wallas, and a generous measure of what is left in the jar is yours."

  I shook the jar, to show that some was left.

  "Don't, you'll bruise the wine!" he yowled.

  "Rendezvous with me every hour at the north tower," I said as I put the jar away. "There's a little courtyard at its base. I shall be with the astronomer general for the first hour, and when I have escaped his tour of the skies, I shall want a full report on likely places to hide in the palace."

  >: v

  Although the buildings of the original palace were fashioned from thick, finely wrought blocks of granite faced with marble, the domes housing the farsights were merely of lacquered wood painted white on the outside. The brass and crystal instruments and their clockwork drive engines had been far more costly to build than the domes, yet they crowned the palace beautifully, and gave it the aspect of a temple.

  It was two hours past sunset when the astronomer general finally sent for me. He was in the main observation dome, which was lit dimly by a single lamp with a red shade.

  "Come in, Danol, come in," he said without looking up from the farsight's eyepiece as I entered. "You are just in time. Miral is on the horizon, but you can still see a lot."

  Through the eyepiece I saw on the lordworld's surface great swirls of green in many different shades. The simple bands that the naked eye can make out on our lordworld are actually made up of an intricate embroidery of whorls,
eddies, swirls, and spirals. The rings were nearly edge-on at this time of the month, and when the astronomer general trained the farsight on them and put a more powerful eyepiece at the focus hole in

  •the main mirror, I could see tiny twinkles. There was perhaps one flash every two or three seconds.

  "They sparkle and glitter," I breathed in heartfelt wonder. "We think the rings are made of tumbling blocks of ice, some the size of this palace. Every so often one catches the sun, and you see a little flash." We continued our celestial tour. Dalsh, the closest moon-world to the lordworld, was no more than a mottled crescent of gray, white, orange, green, and blue.

  "We think Dalsh is more similar to our own moonworld than any other," said the astronomer general. "You are seeing forests, seas, and clouds. Now let us swing right up past Lupan to Belvia."

  Belvia was mostly covered in oceans; in fact, its entire land area was less than that of our continent of Scalticar. I saw a half disk of dark blue, with white caps of ice at the poles, greenish splashes that were its islands, and vast, ragged cloud systems.

  "Last of all, I give you Lupan," said my host as he moved the farsight again. At this time Lupan presented itself as a thick crescent. Most of the sunlit part was reddish orange, with smears of white at the poles. Its seas were no bigger than Belvia's islands, and there were the famous canals, of course. Some meandered like rivers, but others were quite straight, and there were thickenings where they intersected.

  "I see the canals," I said slowly.

  "Ah no, that is vegetation spreading out in their vicinity— and they are not really canals, they are channels. Scribe's error in the original pronouncement of discovery, you see."

  "How could such straight, regular features not be artificial?" I asked.

  "They might be great earthquake cracks filled with water, perhaps. One must keep an open mind, else we would return to magic and all be mere sorcerers."

  "I defer to your scholarship, my lord," I said, reminding myself of my place.