A Dream of the Heaven

Chapter 25 (Part 2 of 2)

"I'll come with you tonight," he said later to his brother.

"To what?"

"To look at the stars."

Imlon stared at him over the dining table, his next mouthful hovering at his lips.  "Why?"

"A constellation's falling to pieces.  It's not just astronomers who are interested in it."

"I know.  I didn't think it concerned you."

"Of course it concerns me.  It must mean something.  It must be telling us something.  Look, I'm not Temith."  Isendrin glared at the Erluethan sat further along the table.  "I don't think that God is talking to you by moving bits of the sky around.  But it must mean something.  Maybe the world will fall to pieces or maybe it will become one with Heaven.  I don't know.  But it means something, and I want to look at it tonight."  He could hear himself rambling on.  It was foolishness.

"Are you well?"

"Yes," said Isendrin, thrusting down his knife.  "Yes.  Why wouldn't I be?  Is it so strange that I want to have a proper look at it?"

"No.  But we'll manage to make it tedious.  Groups of scholars do that."

"I'll bear it."

"Then come, by all means.  We're gathering in an hour."

Imlon knew him too well, thought Isendrin, chewing at the lamb.  He was aware of his own strange behaviour.  Until a few days ago, he had not cared a whit for the changes in the heavens.  The sight had startled him, but not the implications.  Looking back, he felt not a little ignorant, but that did not make his new interest comfortable.  He pictured himself staring up at the clashing Anvil, his face lit by the omens of fate, omens that would propel him back to Emmares.  He saw himself in his hall at Temenesta, cheered by his company as they raised their goblets to his return.

The food in his mouth turned bitter.  So some part of him wanted a sign; the foolish part, the pathetic part, the disempowered part.  It was abhorrent to him.  Better to fall having first risen by merit, by his own will, than to rise higher by luck.  That was all fate was.

He still went to meet Imlon at the appointed time, with night closing in.  They walked together up the terraces until they came to the wild, grassy heathland at the very top of the hill, above the uppermost halls of the Night Caste.  Theano was waiting for them, a thick shawl around her shoulders. 

"Welcome," she said, gesturing to a lonely round temple a short distance away.  "Imlon, the astronomers are gathering in the Tholos.  I'll be with you shortly.  Might I speak with you, Lord Held?"

"Of course," he replied.  His brother paused a moment, before walking away.

"I hadn't taken you for an astronomer," said Theano.  Her tone said more than her words.

"I'm not here to stop you talking to him," said Isendrin.  "If you want him to stay, tell him.  I won't interfere."

Theano looked away.  "Thank you."

A harsh, cold wind picked up on the hilltop, causing them both to clutch at their billowing clothes.  For the first time, as they stared out over the vast country now revealed to them, Isendrin took in her figure, or what he could see of it through her thick robe.  She looked younger than he had thought her in Pekderzhun.  He glanced away, checking his wandering eyes.

"You see those stones, over there," said Theano, gesturing towards the eastern edge of the hill.

"Yes." 

There were thirteen of them, dark, straight towers of rock, like the spine of an immense beast.

"We don't know how old they are," said Theano.  "Over a thousand years at least, well before there was any such thing as the Night Caste.  They mark the rising point of the sun throughout the year.  At the winter solstice, the sun rises behind the leftmost tower.  Six months later it is at the right.  They used these stones to measure the year."  She turned to him, and he was amazed to see a pleading look on her features.  "That is our tradition.  The sky, the stars, they've been studied here for millennia.  This is the best place for him."