Before he could reply, however, Twig had charged on, plainly bursting to impart information. “Take a look at this!” he exclaimed, proffering something in his left claw. Jing complied, hoping it was not something as irrelevant as Twig’s last “great discovery”: a new kind of metal, grayish and cold, which broke when it was dropped. This one, however, he thought he recognized.
“Ah! You found another magnifying drop. It’s especially clear and fine, I must say.”
“Not found,” Twig announced solemnly. “Made.”
“How? Out of what?”
“Sand, would you believe? Yes, the same sand you find beside the hot marsh! Keepfire’s flames are getting better and hotter—oh, I know people are complaining about the smell, but that’s a small price to pay!—and this time he’s excelled himself! And there’s more. Look at this!”
He produced what he had in his other claw. It was of similar material, equally clear, but twice the size.
“Hold them up together—no, I don’t mean together. I mean—Oh, like this!” Twig laid claws on Jing in a way the latter would never normally have tolerated, but it was certainly quicker than explaining. “Now look at something through both of them, and move them apart or together until you see it clearly. Got it?”
Jing grew instantly calm. There presented to his eye was an image of Twig, albeit upside-down … but larger, and amazingly sharp except around the edges.
Very slowly, he lowered and examined the two pieces of glass. They were not, as he had first assumed, in the regular half-droplet shape; they were like two of the natural kind pressed together, but considerably flatter.
“You made these?” he said slowly.
“Yes, yes!” And then, with a tinge of embarrassment: “Well—Keepfire made them, under Bush’s supervision. All I was hoping for was better magnifying drops. I never expected that when you put one behind another you’d get even more enlargement the wrong way up! At first I thought I was in a dream, you know? But you agree it works?”
“Yes—yes, no doubt of it!”
“Right! Let’s go and look at stars!”
“It’s snowing. That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh, is it? Oh. Then—”
“Then we’ll just have to force ourselves to wait until it blows over. But I promise you, friend Twig, I’m as anxious as you are to inspect the heavens with such amazing aids!”
The moment the weather cleared, he and Twig and Rainbow and Shine—for the secret was so explosive, it had to be shared—along with Sturdy, who hated coming here in the cold and dark, plodded to the observatory, forcing themselves not to make a premature test. Then it turned out that the lenses had misted over, and they had to find something dry enough to wipe them with, and…
“Jing first,” Twig said. “You’re the most knowledgeable.”
“But surely you as the discoverer—”
“The credit is more Keepfire’s than mine! Besides”—in a near-whisper—”my eye’s not keen enough.”
“My lady—” Jing began. Rainbow snapped at him.
“Do as Twig says!”
“Very well. Where shall I look first?” He was shaking, not from cold, but because excitement threatened to release wild dreams to haunt his mind like savage canifangs.
“At Steadyman,” she said, pointing where the gaps in the cloud were largest. “If there’s a reason why some stars are wanderers, it may be they are specially close to us. You’ve taught me that our own world whirls in space. Maybe that’s another world like ours.”
It was a good, bright and altogether ideal target. Jing leaned on the walbush stems, which were frozen stiff enough to support him. It took a while to find the proper position for the lenses, and then it took longer still for his sight to adjust to the low light-level—particularly since there were curious faint colored halos everywhere except at the dead center of the field. Eventually, however, he worked out all the variables, so he had a clear view. At last he said:
“Whether it’s a world like ours, I cannot say. But I do see two stars where I never saw any before.”
“Incredible!” breathed Twig, and Jing let go pressure from his limbs with a painful gasp and passed the lenses on. In a while: