Embruddock in its surrounding wilderness was a beached ship. It still gave the crew shelter, though it would never sail again.
So greatly had time dismantled a once proud city that its inhabitants did not realise that what they regarded as a town was nothing more than the remains of a palace, which had stood in the middle of a civilisation obliterated by climate, madness, and the ages.
As the weather improved, the hunters were forced to go in increasingly long expeditions in search of game. The slaves planted fields and dreamed of impossible liberty. The women stayed at home and grew neurotic.
While Shay Tal fasted and became more solitary, Vry became full of a repressed energy and developed her friendship with Oyre. With Oyre, she talked over all that Master Datnil had said, and found a sympathetic listener. They agreed that there were puzzling riddles in history, yet Oyre was lightly sceptical.
“Datnil Skar is old and a bit gaga—Father always says so,” she said, and limped round the room in parody of the Master’s gait exclaiming in a piping voice, ” ‘Our corps is so exclusive we didn’t even let King Denniss join… .’ ”
When Vry laughed, Oyre said, more seriously, “Master Datnil could be executed for showing his corps Master Book about—that’s proof he’s gaga.”
“And even then he wouldn’t let us look at it properly.” Vry was silent, and then burst out, “If only we could put all the facts together. Shay Tal just collects them, writes them down. There must be a way of making a—a structure from them. So much has been lost—Master Datnil is right there. The cold was so bitter, once on a time, that almost everything inflammable was burnt—wood, paper, all records. You realise we don’t even know what year it is?—Though the stars might tell us. Loil Bry’s calendar is stupid, calendars should be based on years, not people. People are so fallible … and so am I. Oh, I’ll go mad, I swear!”
Oyre burst out laughing and hugged Vry.
“You’re the sanest person I know, you idiot.” They fell to discussing the stars again, sitting on the bare floor close together. Oyre had been with Laintal Ay to look at the fresco in the old temple. “The sentinels are clearly depicted, with Batalix above Freyr as usual, but almost touching, above Wutra’s head.”
“Every year, the two suns get closer,” Vry said, decisively. “Last month, they virtually touched as Batalix overtook Freyr, and no one paid any notice. Next year, they will collide. What then? … Or maybe one passes behind the other.”
“Perhaps that’s what Master Datnil meant by a Blindness? It would suddenly be dimday, wouldn’t it, if one sentinel disappeared? Perhaps there will be Seven Blindnesses, as once before.” She looked frightened, and moved nearer her friend. “It will be the end of the world. Wutra will appear, looking furious, of course.”
Vry laughed and jumped to her feet. “The world didn’t end last time and won’t do so this time. No, perhaps it will mark a new beginning.” Her face became radiant. “That’s why the seasons are growing warmer. Once Shay Tal has done her ghastly pauk, we will tackle the question anew. I shall work at my mathematics. Let the Blindnesses come—I embrace them!”
They danced round the room, laughing wildly.
“How I long for some great experience!” Vry cried.
Shay Tal, meanwhile, showed more clearly than before the little bird bones below her flesh, and her dark skins hung more loosely about her body. Food was brought her by the women, but she would not eat.
“Fasting suits my ravenous soul,” she said, pacing about her chilly room, when Vry and Oyre remonstrated with her, and Amin Lim stood meekly by. “Tomorrow I will go into pauk. You three and Rol Sakil can be with me. I will dredge up ancient knowledge from the well of the past. Through the fessups I will reach to that generation which built our towers and corridors. I will descend centuries if necessary, and confront King Denniss himself.”
“How wonderful!” Amin Lim exclaimed.
Birds came to perch on her crumbling window sill and be fed the bread Shay Tal would not touch.