Read Online Nightfall by Isaac Asimov, Robert Silverberg - Free Book Online Page B

city. The lights of downtown sparkled gaily. Onos had set an hour or two ago, and only Trey and Patru were in the sky, burning brightly in the east, casting harsh twin shadows as they made their descent toward morning.
    Looking at them, Theremon wondered which suns would be in the sky tomorrow. It was different all the time, a brilliant ever changing display. Onos, certainly—you could always be sure of seeing Onos at least part of the time every day of the year, even he knew that—and then what? Dovim, Tano, and Sitha, to make it a four-sun day? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was supposed to be just Tano and Sitha, with Onos visible only for a few hours at midday. That would be gloomy. But then, after a second sip, he reminded himself that this wasn’t the season for short Onos-rises. So it would be a three-sun day, most likely, unless it was going to be just Onos and Dovim tomorrow.
    It was so hard to keep it all straight—
    Well, he could ask to see an almanac, if he really cared. But he didn’t. Some people always seemed to know what tomorrow’s suns would be like—Beenay was one, naturally—but Theremon took a more happy-go-lucky approach to it all. So long as
some
sun was going to be up there the next day, Theremon didn’t especially care which one it was. And there always was one—two or three, actually, or sometimes four. You could count on that. Even five, once in a while.
    His drink arrived. He took a deep gulp and exhaled in pleasure. What a delightful thing a Tano Special was! The good strong white rum of the Velkareen Islands, mixed with a shot of the even stronger product, clear and tangy, that they distilled on the coast of Bagilar, and just a dab of sgarrino juice to take the edge off—ah, magnificent! Theremon wasn’t a particularly heavy drinker, certainly not the way newspapermen were legendarily supposed to be, but he counted it a shabby day when he couldn’t find time for one or two Tano Specials in those quiet dusky hours after Onos had set.
    “You look like you’re enjoying that, Theremon,” a familiar voice said behind him.
    “Beenay! You’re early!”
    “Ten minutes. What are you drinking?”
    “The usual. A Tano Special.”
    “Good. I think I’ll have one too.”
    “
You
?” Theremon stared at his friend. Fruit juice was about Beenay’s speed, so far as he knew. He couldn’t recall ever having seen the astronomer drink anything stronger.
    But Beenay looked strange this evening—haggard, weary, worn. His eyes had an almost feverish glow to them.
    “Waiter!” Theremon called.
    It was alarming to see Beenay gulp his drink. He gasped after the first slug, as though the impact was a lot greater than he’d been expecting, but then he went back to it quickly for a second deep pull, and a third.
    “Easy,” Theremon urged. “Your head’ll be swimming in five minutes.”
    “It’s swimming already.”
    “You had a drink before you came here?”
    “No, not a drink,” Beenay said. “A shock. An upset.” He put his drink down and peered balefully at the city lights. After a moment he picked it up again, almost absent-mindedly, and drained what was left. —“I shouldn’t have another one so soon, should I, Theremon?”
    “I doubt it very much.” Theremon reached out and let his hand rest lightly on the astronomer’s wrist. “What’s going on, fellow? Tell me about it.”
    “It’s—hard to explain.”
    “Come on. I’ve been around the track a little, you know. You and Raissta—”
    “
No!
I told you before, this has nothing to do with her. Nothing.”
    “All right. I believe you.”
    Beenay said, “Maybe I should have that second drink.”
    “In a little while. Come on, Beenay. What is it?”
    Beenay sighed. “You know what the Theory of Universal Gravitation is, don’t you, Theremon?”
    “Of course I do. I mean, I couldn’t tell you what it
means
, exactly—there are only twelve people on Kalgash who truly understand it, isn’t that so?—but I can