Land and Overland Omnibus

CHAPTER 2



Lord Cassyll Maraquine breathed deeply and pleasurably as he came out to the front steps of his home on the north side of the city of Prad. There had been rain during the latter part of the night and as a result the air was sweet and invigorating, making him wish he did not have to spend the morning in the stuffy confines of the royal residence. The palace was little more than a mile away—visible as a gleam of rose-colored marble beyond serried trees. He would have enjoyed making the journey on foot, but he never seemed to have time for such simple pleasures these days. Queen Daseene had grown highly irritable in her old age, and he dared not risk annoying her by being late for his appointment.

He went to his waiting carriage, nodding to the driver as he climbed in. The vehicle moved off immediately, drawn by the four bluehorns which were a symbol of Cassyll's elevated status in Kolcorron. Until less than five years ago it had been forbidden by law to have a carriage which required more than one bluehorn, because the animals were so necessary to the developing economy of the planet, and even now teams of four were something of a rarity.

The equipage had been a gift from the Queen and it was politic for him to use it when going to visit her, even though his wife and son sometimes bantered with him about growing soft. He always took their criticism in good part, even though he had begun to suspect that he was indeed becoming too fond of luxury and pampered ways of living. The restlessness and craving for adventure which had characterized his father seemed to have skipped a generation and manifested themselves in the young Toller. On a number of occasions he had come close to falling out with the boy over his recklessness and his outmoded habit of wearing a sword, but he had never pressed matters too far. In the back of his mind there had always lurked the idea that he was acting out of jealousy of the hero worship Toller accorded his long-dead grandfather.

The thought of his son reminded Cassyll that the boy had been commander of the airship which had arrived only the previous aftday with advance dispatches from the Land expedition. In theory the contents of the dispatches were secret, but Cassyll's secretary had already been able to pass him the word that the Old World had been found to be uninhabited and free of the deadly strain of ptertha which had forced humanity to flee across the interplanetary void. Queen Daseene had been quick to call a meeting of selected advisers, and the fact that Cassyll was required to attend was an indication of the direction in which her thoughts were turning. Manufacture was his field of expertise, and in this context the concept of manufacturing led inexorably towards skyships—which implied that Daseene wanted to reclaim the Old World and thus become the first ruler in history to extend her sway to two planets.

Cassyll had an instinctive distaste for the notion of conquest, reinforced by the fact that his father had died in a monumentally futile attempt to claim the third planet of the local system, but in this case none of the usual philosophical or humanitarian restraints applied. Overland's sister world belonged to his people by right of birth, and if there was no indigenous population to be subjugated or slaughtered he could see no moral objection to a second interplanetary migration. As far as he was concerned, the only questions would relate to scale. How many skyships would Queen Daseene want, and how soon would she need them?

Toller will want to take part in the expedition, Cassyll thought. The crossing is bound to have its dangers, but that will only serve to make him more determined to go.

The carriage soon reached the river and turned west in the direction of the Lord Glo Bridge, which was the principal crossing for the palace. In the few minutes that he was on the curving boulevard Cassyll saw two steam-driven carriages, neither of which had been produced by his own factory, and again he found himself wishing he had more time for practical experimentation with that form of transport. There were many improvements yet to be made, particularly with regard to power transmission, but all his time seemed to be taken up with the administration of the Maraquine industrial empire.

As the carriage was crossing the ornate bridge the palace came into view directly ahead, a rectangular block which was rendered asymmetrical by the east wing and tower which Daseene had recently built as a memorial to her husband. The guards at the main gate saluted as Cassyll passed through. Only a few vehicles were waiting in the main forecourt at this early hour, and at once he noticed the official Sky Service coach which was used by Bartan Drumme, senior technical adviser to the Chief of Aerial Defence. To his surprise, he saw that Bartan himself was loitering by the coach. At the age of fifty, Drumme still retained a lean and wiry figure, and only a slight stiffness in his left shoulder—the result of an old battle wound—prevented him from moving like a young man. A whisper of intuition told Cassyll that Bartan was waiting to see him in advance of the official meeting.

"Good foreday!" Cassyll called out as he stepped down from his carriage. "I wish I could afford the time to dawdle around and take the air."

"Cassyll!" Bartan smiled as he came forward to shake hands. The years had scarcely altered the boyishness of his round face. Its permanent expression of humorous irreverence often deceived people who were meeting him for the first time into thinking he was an intellectual lightweight, but over the years Cassyll had learned to respect him for his mental agility and toughness.

"Are you waiting to see me?" Cassyll said.

"Very good!" Bartan replied, raising his eyebrows. "How did you know?"

"You were as furtive as an urchin dallying by the bakery window. What is it, Bartan?"

"Let's walk for a minute—there is time before the meeting." Bartan led the way into an empty quarter of the forecourt where they were partially screened from view by a bed of spearblooms.

Cassyll began to chuckle. "Are we going to conspire against the throne?"

"In a way it is almost as serious as that," Bartan said, coming to a halt. "Cassyll, you know that my position is officially described as scientific adviser to the head of the Sky Service. But you also know that—simply because I survived the Farland expedition—I'm somehow expected to have a magical awareness of all that goes on in the heavens and to advise her Majesty of anything of import, anything which might constitute a threat to the realm."

"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 splendours 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 colour, 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 defence, 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 armour, 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.

Cassyll responded to the dumb-show with an exaggerated shrug which mimed helplessness, and sat down on one of the curved benches which faced the high-backed royal chair. At once his thoughts were drawn back to the mystery of Bartan's blue planet. It occurred to him that he had been altogether too casual in his acceptance of the reported phenomenon. How could a world simply materialize in the nearby regions of space? New stars had been seen to appear in the sky, and that being the case one could assume that stars sometimes disappeared, perhaps through explosion, leaving their retinues of planets behind. Cassyll could imagine such worlds blundering through the darkness of the interstellar void, but the chances of one of them joining the local system seemed vanishingly small. Perhaps the reason he did not feel the proper degree of astonishment was that in his heart he simply did not believe in the blue planet. A cloud of gas could have the semblance of solid rock, after all…

Cassyll stood up as a tipstaff opened the door and pounded the floor with his metal-shod rod to announce the arrival of the Queen. Daseene came into the room, dismissed the two ladies-in-waiting who had accompanied her as far as the door, and went to her chair. She was thin and frail-looking, seemingly burdened by the weight of her green silk robes, but there was undiminished authority in the way in which she signalled for the others to be seated.

"Thank you for your attendance here this foreday," she said in a reedy but firm voice. "I know you have many demands upon your time, so we will go straight to the business of the meeting. As you are already aware, I have received an advance dispatch from the Land expedition. Its contents may be summarized as follows." Daseene went on to describe the expedition's findings in detail, doing so without hesitation or reference to notes. When she had finished she surveyed the group, eyes intent beneath the pearl-beaded coif without which she never appeared in public. As had happened before, it occurred to Cassyll that Daseene could if required have taken over the rulership of Kolcorron at any stage in her husband's career and coped well with the task. It was perhaps surprising that she had usually chosen to remain in the background, except in a few cases where women's rights had been concerned.

"I think you have already divined my purpose in calling this meeting," she went on, speaking in formal High Kolcorronian. "In view of the fact that I shall have a full report from the expedition commanders in only three days from now, you may consider my actions precipitate—but I have reached a stage in life at which I am loathe to waste so much as a single hour.

"I intend to send a fleet to Land without delay.

"It is my intention to establish Ro-Atabri as a living capital again before I die; therefore I require decisions from you this very foreday. I also expect the practical work of implementing those decisions to begin as soon as the coming littlenight has ended. So let us be about our work, gentlemen! My first question for you is: how large should the fleet be? You first, Lord Cassyll—what are your views?"

Cassyll blinked as he rose to his feet. This was the style of rulership developed by the late King Chakkell to suit the needs of pioneers on a new world, and he was not at all sure that it was apposite in the present situation.

"Your Majesty, as loyal subjects we all share your views about reclaiming the Old World, but may I respectfully point out that we are not in a state of dire emergency such as prevailed at the time of the Migration? As yet, we have no proof that the whole of Land is available to us, so the prudent course would be to follow up the first expedition with a primarily military force equipped with airships which could be reassembled on Land and used to circumnavigate and survey the planet."

Daseene shook her head. "That course is too prudent for me, and I have no time for it—your father would not have counselled me thus."

"My father's day has passed, Majesty," Cassyll said.

"Perhaps it has, perhaps it hasn't, but I take your point about the airships. I propose to send … four. How does that number sound to you?"

Cassyll gave a slight bow, expressing irony. "That number sounds very good to me, Majesty."

Daseene gave him a faint twisted smile to show that she had not missed the nuance, then addressed herself to Bartan Drumme. "Do you foresee any great difficulty in transporting airships to Land aboard skyships?"

"No, Majesty," Bartan said, standing up. "We could adapt small airship gondolas to serve as skyship gondolas for the single crossing. On arrival on Land it would simply be a matter of disconnecting the balloons and replacing them with airship gasbags."

"Excellent! That is the sort of positive attitude I like in my advisers." Daseene looked meaningfully at Cassyll. "Now, my lord, how many skyships can be made ready for the crossing within, say, fifty days?"

Before Cassyll could speak Bartan coughed and said, "Forgive me, Majesty, I have something to report … a new development … something I feel should be brought to your attention at this point."

"Has it any bearing on the discussions in hand?"

Bartan shot Cassyll a worried glance. "It probably has, Majesty."

"In that case," Daseene said impatiently, "you had better speak, but do it quickly."

"Majesty, I… A new world has been discovered in our own planetary system."

"A new world?" Daseene frowned. "What are you prattling about, Mister Drumme? There can't be a new world."

"I have observed it with my own eyes, Majesty. A blue planet … a fourth world in our local system…" The normally fluent Bartan was floundering as Cassyll had never seen him do before.

"How big is it?"

"We cannot decide that until we are sure how far away it is."

"Very well then." Daseene sighed. "How far away is this infant world of yours?"

Bartan looked deeply unhappy. "We cannot calculate that until we—"

"Until you know its size," the Queen cut in. "Mister Drumme! We are all indebted to you for that little excursion into the marvellously exact science of astronomy, but it is my earnest wish that you should confine your remarks to the subject already in hand. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Majesty," Bartan mumbled, sinking down on to the bench.

"Now…" Daseene suddenly shivered, drew her robes closer together at her throat and looked about the room. "No wonder we freeze to death in here! Who opened that window? Close it immediately before we perish from the cold."

Lord Sectar, lips moving silently, got up and closed the window. His embroidered jacket was heavily stained with sweat and he was ostentatiously mopping his brow as he returned to his place.

"You don't look well," Daseene told him tersely. "You should see a doctor." She returned her attention to Cassyll and repeated her question about the number of skyships that could be available within fifty days.

"Twenty," Cassyll said at once, deciding that an optimistic estimate was called for while the Queen was in her present mood. As head of the Sky Service Supplies Board he was in a good position to judge the quantity of ships and associated materiel which could be made ready for an interplanetary crossing as well as being spared from normal function. Ever since the discovery that Farland was inhabited a number of defensive stations had been maintained in the weightless zone midway between the two sister worlds. For some years the great wooden structures had been manned, but as public fears of an attack from Farland had gradually abated the crews had been withdrawn. Now the stations and their attendant groups of fighter jets were maintained by means of regular balloon ascents to the weightless zone. The schedule of flights was undemanding, and Cassyll estimated that about half the ships in the Sky Service fleet were available for extraordinary duties.

"Twenty ships," Daseene said, looking slightly disappointed. "Still, I suppose that's enough to be getting on with."

"Yes, Majesty—especially as we are not obliged to think in terms of an invasion fleet. One can foresee continuous traffic between Overland and Land, sparse at first, but gradually building up until—"

"It's no use, Lord Cassyll," the Queen interrupted. "Again you are advocating a sedate approach to this enterprise, and again I say to you I have no time for that. The return to Land has to be decisive, forceful, triumphant … a clear-cut statement which posterity cannot misread…

"It may help you to gauge the strength of my feelings in the matter if I tell you that I have just given one of my granddaughters—the Countess Vantara—permission to take part in the reclamation. She is an experienced airship captain, and will be able to play a useful role in the initial survey of the planet."

Cassyll bowed in acquiescence, and there followed an intensive planning session which—in the space of a single hour—was intended to shape the future of two worlds.

On quitting the overheated atmosphere of the palace Cassyll decided against returning home immediately. A glance at the sky showed him that he had some thirty minutes in hand before the sun would slide behind the eastern rim of Land. He had time for a quiet walk in the tree-lined avenues of the city's administrative area. It would be good to get some fresh air into his system before he responded to the ever-present call of his business commitments.

Accordingly, he dismissed his coachman, strolled down to the Lord Glo Bridge and turned east along the bank of the river, a route which would take him past several governmental buildings. The streets were busy with the flurry of activity which usually preceded the littlenight meal and the daily change of tempo in human affairs. Now that the city was half-a-century old it appeared mature to Cassyll's eyes, with a permanence which was part of his life, and he wondered if he would ever make the journey to Land to view the results of millennia of civilization. She had not said as much, but he suspected it was in Queen Daseene's heart—age-weakened though she was—to return to the world of her birth and perhaps end her days there. Cassyll could empathize with such feelings, but Overland was the only home he had ever known and he had no desire to leave it, especially as so much work remained to be done in so many different spheres. Perhaps, also, he lacked the spirit or courage to face that awesome journey.

He was drawing close to the Neldeever Plaza, which housed the headquarters of the four branches of the armed services, when he espied a familiar blond head projecting above the stream of pedestrians coming towards him. Cassyll had not seen his son for perhaps a hundred days, and he felt a pang of affection and pride as—almost with the eyes of a stranger—he noted the clear-eyed good looks, splendid physique and the easy confidence with which the young man wore his skycaptain's blue uniform.

"Toller!" he called out as their courses brought them together.

"Father!" Toller's expression had been abstracted and stern, as though something weighed heavily on his mind, but his face lit up with recognition. He extended his arms and the two men embraced while the flow of pedestrians parted around them.

"This is a happy coincidence," Cassyll said as they drew apart. "Were you on your way home?"

Toller nodded. "I'm sorry I couldn't get home last night, but it was very late before I got my ship safely berthed, and there were certain problems…"

"What manner of problems?"

"Nothing to cloud a sunny day like this," Toller said with a smile. "Let's hasten homewards. I can't tell you how much I look forward to one of mother's littlenight spreads after an eternity of shipboard rations."

"You appear to thrive on those selfsame rations."

"Not as well as you on proper food," Toller said, trying to pinch a roll of fat at Cassyll's waist as they began to walk in the direction of the family home. The two men exchanged the kind of inconsequential family talk which, better than deliberated speeches, restores a relationship after a long separation. They were nearing the Square House, named after the Maraquine residence in old Ro-Atabri, before the conversation came round to weightier affairs.

"I've just been to the palace," Cassyll said, "and have come away with news which should interest you—we are to send a twenty-strong fleet to Land."

"Yes, we're entering a truly wondrous era—two worlds, but one nation."

Cassyll glanced at his son's nearer shoulder flash, the saffron-and-blue emblem which showed that he was qualified to pilot both skyships and airships. "There'll be a deal of work for you there."

"For me?" Toller gave a humourless chuckle. "No thank you, father. I admit I'd like to see the Old World some day, but at present it is one great enamel house and I don't relish the prospect of clearing away millions of skeletons."

"But the journey! The adventure! I thought you'd jump at the chance."

"I have quite enough to occupy me right here on Overland for the time being," Toller said, and for a moment the sombre expression Cassyll had noted earlier returned to his face.

"Something is troubling you," he said. "Are you going to keep it to yourself?"

"Have I that option?"

"No."

Toller shook his head in mock despair. "I thought not. You know, of course, that it was I who picked up the advance messenger from Land. Well, another ship appeared on the scene at the last moment—unwarranted—and tried to scoop up the prize from under my very nose. Naturally I refused to give way…"

"Naturally!"

"…and there was a minor collision. As there was no damage to my ship I forbore making an official entry in the log—even though the other commander was entirely to blame—but this morning I was informed that an incident report had been filed against me. I have to face Sky-commodore Tresse tomorrow."

"There's no cause for you to worry," Cassyll said, relieved to hear that nothing more serious was afoot. "I will speak to Tresse this aftday and acquaint him with the real facts."

"Thanks, but I think I am obliged to deal with this kind of thing by myself. I should have covered my flank by making an entry in the flight log, but I can call on enough witnesses to prove my case. The whole thing is really very trivial. A flea-bite…"

"But one you continue to scratch!"

"It's the sheer deceitfulness involved," Toller said angrily. "1 trusted that woman, father. I trusted her, and this is how she repays me."

"Aha!" Cassyll almost smiled as he began to plumb beneath the surface of what he had heard. "You didn't say that this unprincipled commander was a woman."

"Didn't I?" Toller replied, his voice now casual. "It has no relevance to anything, but it so happens that she was one of the Queen's brood of granddaughters—the Countess Vantara."

"Handsome woman, is she?"

"It is possible that some men might… What are you trying to say, father?"

"Nothing, nothing at all. Perhaps I'm a little curious about the lady because this is the second time within the span of a couple of hours that her name has been mentioned to me." From the corner of his eye Cassyll saw Toller give him a surprised glance, but—unable to resist tantalizing his son—he volunteered no further information. He walked in silence, shading his eyes from the sun in order to get a better view of a large group of ptertha which were following the course of the river. The near-invisible spheres were swooping and bounding just above the surface of the water, buoyed up by a slight breeze.

"That's quite a coincidence," Toller finally said. "What was said to you?"

"About what?"

"About Vantara. Who spoke of her?"

"No less a person than the Queen," Cassyll said, watching his son carefully. "It appears that Vantara has volunteered to serve with the fleet we are sending to Land, and it is an indication of the strength of the Queen's feelings towards the enterprise that she is giving the young woman her blessing."

There was another protracted silence from Toller before he said, "Vantara is an airship pilot—what work is there for her on the Old World?"

"Rather a lot, I'd say. We're sending four airships whose task it will be to circle the entire globe and prove there are no disputants to Queen Daseene's sovereignty. It sounds quite an adventure to me, but of course there will be all the privations of shipboard life—and you've had your fill of service rations."

"I don't care about that," Toller exclaimed. "I want to go!"

"To Land! But only a moment ago…"

Toller halted Cassyll by catching his arm and turning to face him. "No more play-acting, father, please! I want to take a ship to Land. You will see to it that my application is successful, won't you?"

"I'm not at all sure that I can," Cassyll said, suddenly uneasy at the prospect of his only son—who was still a boy in spite of all his pretensions to manhood—setting off across the perilous bridge of thin air which linked the two worlds.

Toller produced a broad smile. "Don't be so modest, father of mine. You're on so many committees, boards, tribunals, councils and panels that—in your own quiet way, of course—you practically run Kolcorron. Now, tell me that I'm going to Land."

"You're going to Land," Cassyll said compliantly.

That night, while he was waiting for Bartan Drumme to arrive with a telescope, Cassyll thought he could identify the true cause of his misgivings about Toller's proposed flight to the Old World. Toller and he had a harmonious and satisfying relationship, but there was no denying the fact that the boy had always been unduly influenced by the stories and legends surrounding his paternal grandfather. Apart from the striking physical resemblance, the two had many mental attributes in common—impatience, courage, idealism and quickness of temper among them—but Cassyll suspected that the similarities were not as great as the younger Toller pretended. His grandfather had been much harder, capable of total ruthlessness when he deemed it necessary, possessed of an obduracy which would lead him to choose certain death rather than betray a principle.

Cassyll was glad that Kolcorronian society was gentler and safer than it had been even a few decades ago, that the world in general offered fewer chances for young Toller to get himself into the kind of situation where—simply through trying to live up to self-imposed standards—he might forfeit his life. But now that he was committing himself to fly to the Old World those chances were bound to increase, and it seemed to Cassyll that the ghost of the long-dead Toller was stirring into life, stimulated by the scent of dangerous adventure, preparing to exert its influence on a vulnerable young man. And even though he was thinking about his own father, Cassyll Maraquine devoutly wished that that restless spirit would confine itself to the grave, and to the past…

The welcome sounds of Bartan Drumme being admitted by a servant at the front entrance roused Cassyll from his chair. He went down the broad staircase and greeted his friend, who was carrying a wooden-tubed telescope and tripod. The servant offered to take the telescope, but Cassyll dismissed him, and he and Bartan carried the heavy instrument up to a balcony which afforded a good view to the west. The light reflected from Land was strong enough for reading, but nevertheless the dome of the sky was thronged with countless bright stars and hundreds of spirals of varying sizes and shapes, ranging from circular whirlpools to the narrowest of ellipses. No less than six major comets were visible that night, splaying fingers of radiance across the heavens, and meteors darted almost continuously, briefly linking one celestial feature to another.

"You surprised me this foreday, you know," Cassyll said. "Nobody I know can talk like you, regardless of the audience and circumstances, but you seemed flummoxed for some reason. What was the matter with you?"

"Guilt," Bartan said simply, raising his head from the task of setting up the tripod.

"Guilt!"

"Yes. It's this damned fourth planet, Cassyll. Every instinct I have tells me that it does not bode well for us. It shouldn't be there. Its presence is an affront to our understanding of nature, a sign that something is going terribly amiss, and yet I am unable to convince anyone—not even you—that we have cause for alarm. I feel that I have betrayed my Queen and country through my sheer ineptness with words, and I don't know what to do about it."

Cassyll gave a reassuring chuckle. "Let me see for myself this harbinger which troubles you so much—anything which stills the famous Drumme tongue must be worthy of careful perusal."

He was still in a mood of comparative levity when, having prepared and aligned the telescope for him, Bartan stepped aside and invited him to look into the eyepiece. The first thing to meet Cassyll's gaze was a fuzzy disk of bluish brilliance which resembled a soap bubble filled with sparkling gas, but one touch on the focusing lever achieved a remarkable result.

There before him, suddenly, swimming in the indigo depths of the universe, was a world—complete with polar snow caps, oceans, land masses and the white curlicues of weather systems.

It had no right to exist, but it did exist, and in that moment of visual and intellectual confrontation Cassyll's first thought—with no justification he could understand—was for the future safety of his son.