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the periphery, which is fixed. That includes Mansanio there.”
    Tuom grinned, pacing to keep himself level with the countess. She giggled.
    “One would almost think that you had been within such an observatory before, Goodfellow Tuom.”
    “Oh no, this is my first time.” He said this with such licentious innuendo Mansanio’s blood boiled.
    “Is it now?” she said. She stopped the turning, glanced behind her to make sure the slot was lined up with the setting Twin, and hopped back onto the turntable. She declined the angle of the telescope, pressed her eye to the eyepiece, then beckoned to Tuom. He replaced her at the sight.
    “What do you see?”
    “Blackness. It’s the Twin. It is, as they say, the kingdom of shadow.”
    They both sniggered, sharing the mirth of drunkards. Mansanio felt deliberately slighted.
    “It is and it is not, Goodfellow Tuom. Look longer.”
    She rested a hand on his back. He accepted it. Mansanio seethed.
    Tuom gave a sharp intake of breath, and stood up.
    “You saw it?”
    He looked at her in wonderment, then bent back to the telescope. “A fire on the Twin!”
    “And how did it look?” she said.
    “A bright spark... A yellow lightning. It is gone. There it is again!” He was fascinated, and shifted himself so that he might be more comfortable at the eyepiece.
    “The Twin is retreating from the Earth for another month. The Great Tide will flow back. But it is getting closer. Mark my words. The orbit of the Twin and the White and Red Moons are not as Sastrin, Hessind and the others suggest, that is pure ellipses. There is variation in them, a grand cycle beyond that already described. Floster Hessind’s mathematical model well established that there is an influence of mass from one body upon the other. Hence, I believe, the fire you saw, a result of flexion in the surface of that world that reveals the fires beneath.”
    Tuom stood and smiled apologetically. “Flexion? Fires within worlds?”
    “And where do you think our own volcanoes spring from? The inferno? The throats of dragons, chained underground?”
    “You are rather leaving me behind with all this.”
    “No matter. Just know, the device you have delivered to me today will help me prove this.”
    “How?”
    “I am afraid you would not understand.”
    “What does it mean?”
    The countess smiled. “I have my ideas, but I would not like to speculate. You will know the rumours concerning me. I am mad! I am dissolute! I am a man! I am a whore!” A touch of sadness entered her smile. “Only one of these things is true, and then only from a very narrow view. My true crime is to challenge the established orthodoxy of my discipline, and far worse it is that I am a woman. No, I must keep some secrets. I think you will have quite enough to gossip about when you return to the capital.” She took a step closer to him, and placed her hands on his shoulders. He smiled back at her. “Here, I am sure you understand the mathematics of this kind of attraction better.”
    “Indeed I do,” he said.
    “Mansanio!” she called, not taking her eyes from Gorwyn. “I will be retiring for the night soon. Please close up the observatory shutters. Then you may go.”
    “Yes, goodlady,” he said reflexively. “Shall I prepare your room for you?”
    Her smile, lustful and teasing, quite transformed her features. “No, that will be all.”
    Mansanio closed the shutters, taking as long as he could. The countess’s whispers and giggles set a fire burning in him. Shame for her, and terrible jealousy for Gorwyn. Had he a knife, he fumed, he would smite him down, then we would see who laughed last.
    But there was no knife, there never was. He was weak as milk, and loathed himself for it.
    Their laughter tormented him as he descended the stairs.

 
     
    CHAPTER FOUR
    The God of Wine and Drama
     
     
    “D RINK ! D RINK ! D RINK !” The patrons of the Nelly Bold hammered their tankards down in time with their words.
    Eliturion, god, in