He yawned the question more than spoke it.
She pointed, realized it had grown too dark for him to see her. “Zenith is straight above us. At that place, where you would stand right under the pole, the axis of the world is perpendicular. And the horizon then must coincide exactly with the circle of the celestial equator.” The misery of the evening slid off of her as she stared at the stars. Their mysteries never failed to catch hold in her spirit and set her free to wonder. “But then daylight would be almost six months long. Well, as long as the sun remains in the northern signs. Because the sun would always be above the horizon. And night would be almost six months long when the sun was in the southern signs, because the sun would always be below the horizon. So it must also be true at the southern pole, only day and night would be the opposite of that which held at the northern pole. Isn’t that elegant?” Now she yawned, the spell of the night wearing even on her. “Sanglant?”
He had fallen asleep.
o;Is that the only reason you asked me to marry you, then,” she asked harshly, “because of a spell? And if the biscops so choose, can they can condemn me for something I had no part in?”
He shook his head, having come to a decision. “You will not appear before the biscops. We will ride out with Conrad.”
“Conrad was the worst of them!”
“We can’t stay at court! Not after the king—my own holy father—tried to take you away from me!” Then he paused, made certain hesitant gestures as a prelude to speaking so that she knew what was coming next. “Were you tempted?”
Because he asked so timidly, the question made her laugh. “Of course I was tempted. The king’s bed. The king’s protection! I’d be a fool to cast that aside, wouldn’t I? But I swore before God that I would never love any man but you.”
“Ai, Lady, Liath.” He embraced her, although he was unsteady. “We will make many strong children together, each one a blessing on our house.” He pulled her gently toward the bed, but she slid out of his arms.
“Let me just stand here for a while,” she said, going back to the window. “I’m dizzy.” She had drunk so much wine that her head still spun with it. He only smiled and went to sit on the bed, content to watch her.
She leaned out for a draught of air. She could see stars now in the vault of heaven: the Queen’s Sword stood at zenith, but from this angle she could not see it. The River of Heaven poured westward, and the Guivre rose from its waters with stars streaming off its back. Like Judith’s eye, turned on her with malice. So many stars, a thousand at least, as numerous as the courtiers and servants and hangers-on who followed the king.
“Da and I were always alone. Even at the court in Qurtubah where everything was rich and crowded, we stayed hidden on the fringe, mostly. We were always alone.”
“Qurtubah,” murmured Sanglant from the bed, a soft echo. “I saw a sword from Qurtubah once, light but strong. It had a curve to it.”
Directly north she saw Kokab, the north star, and below it the Ladle, forever poised to catch the heavenly waters and bring them to the mouths of the gods should the gods thirst for such nectar. That was the story the old Dariyans told, but it was not the explanation which the Jinna astronomers, beholden to the great Gyptian philosopher Ptolomaia, set down in their books.
“‘The highest sphere encompasses all existing things,’” she said softly. The Book of Secrets lay so close behind her that she could feel its quiescent presence; she did not need to open its pages to quote from the text of the Jinna scholar al-Haytham whom she and Da had once met. “‘It surrounds the sphere of the fixed stars and touches it. It moves with a swift motion from east to west on two fixed poles and makes one revolution in every day and night. All the orbs which it surrounds move with its motion.’”
“Does this mean something I ought to understand?” Lounging on the bed, he yawned.
“We call Kokab the north star because it marks the north pole. There must be a south pole, too, which I haven’t seen.”
“Has someone seen it?”
“I don’t know if any of the Jinna astronomers traveled so far. I don’t know if there’s any land in the south. They say it’s all a desert, baked to sand under the sun’s heat.” Out among the palace buildings, people filtered away in ripples made of laughter and song and movement as hall and courtyard emptied. “Al Haytham says that day and night increase the closer you are to the place where you would stand under the pole. It would be a zenith—”
He yawned the question more than spoke it.
She pointed, realized it had grown too dark for him to see her. “Zenith is straight above us. At that place, where you would stand right under the pole, the axis of the world is perpendicular. And the horizon then must coincide exactly with the circle of the celestial equator.” The misery of the evening slid off of her as she stared at the stars. Their mysteries never failed to catch hold in her spirit and set her free to wonder. “But then daylight would be almost six months long. Well, as long as the sun remains in the northern signs. Because the sun would always be above the horizon. And night would be almost six months long when the sun was in the southern signs, because the sun would always be below the horizon. So it must also be true at the southern pole, only day and night would be the opposite of that which held at the northern pole. Isn’t that elegant?” Now she yawned, the spell of the night wearing even on her. “Sanglant?”
He had fallen asleep.
All at once she realized how an unnatural quiet had spread like a cloud creeping out from the horizon to blanket the sky. She yawned again, shook it off.
“Sanglant?”
He grunted softly, but only to turn over. He was still fully clothed.
She leaned farther out the window, but only wind crackled in the branches. No sign of life stirred, not hounds sniffing after scraps, not an owl spying for mice, not even servants or rats picking clean platters left half full by drunken nobles. It was as if everyone had fallen abruptly into a profound sleep. The stars shimmered under a veil of haze, sundered from her who was trapped here in the mortal plane.
“Da?” If his soul streamed above her in the River of Heaven, pouring toward the Chamber of Light with the thousands of others released from the flesh, she could not see it.
Nervous, she crossed to the door and peeked out. Four Lions lay slumped, asleep, by the threshold. In the great courtyard, no living thing moved; dust swirled around abandoned tables.
The terror hit so hard that she could barely get the door closed, she began to shake so violently; she could barely hoist the bar and wedge it down in its place, barring them in. She turned to go to the window, but it was too late.
A shadow moved at the open window. A leg thrown over. The glint of gold hair by candlelight. His face, bruised but still beautiful. He set the candle down on the table. The Eika dog whined a warning and he kicked it as he strode past, crossing the chamber to her. He slapped her, hard, before she could even think to defend herself, then shoved her up against the door. With his body pressed against her she could feel his arousal, and, God help her, for an instant a spike of lust coursed through her only because her body was so alive to desire, made so by Sanglant’s presence.