Michael arrived with muddied boots and a pinkish glow to his already pinkish face. He nodded affably at his wife, who had stepped away from Tygo. But Alyson’s eyes were locked on her father’s, whose frown had transmuted into a grimace of distaste at the sight of her hands upon Tygo. “Daughter,” he said through a nearly closed mouth.
She threw her hair behind her shoulders and then gathered it into a bunch, which she fastened with a ribbon she’d withdrawn from her pocket. John watched with fascination. She was in her own way the most beautiful woman he had ever seen—this was a truth that now struck him with a wallop. Had it been Tygo’s appreciation of her that had made him aware of his own? His cheeks, now burning, embarrassed him; surely they were red. Michael noticed them too, and clapped him on the back and said, “Yes, it is an oddly nice day, all things considered, warm too! We won’t have many more of these before the rains come, and winter. You should be out and about more, Astronomer—you wouldn’t get such a shock from warm weather if you took more time outside. I’ll never understand how an Astronomer cannot like the outdoors.”
“I take my outdoor time at night when the stars are visible,” John sighed. “We are a fair race of people, the Sousas. And the data does take much sifting through, and that usually does entail … indoor time.”
Michael laughed. “Yes, yes! Of course so. Speaking of the stars. Astronomer, I have quite the task for you today. We are greatly in need of a very accurate horoscope about these outlaws. Marvel here is telling me we haven’t got time, but I say we can’t even consider things properly without one. How quickly could you make one? Would an hour suffice? We’ll go to my office to do it.” He began to steer John in the direction of his residence, which abutted the course.
Marvel Parsons regarded John narrowly, his arms limp at his side. His eyes were concentrated green gushes of level-headedness, his only visible resemblance to his daughter, although on her they were as unrevealing as if they’d been drawn there in chalk. John did not bow to him. Tygo had sense enough to. The Hierophant spoke in a clipped voice. “I received a letter late last night from their leader, a young executioner named Capulatio. He wishes to meet with the king, inside the gates. Without weapons, as an act of good faith. He claims an undeniable proposition concerning the…” He waved his hand toward the sky. “Stella novae?”
“We should meet with him,” broke in Michael. “Why not? He may know more than we do and they haven’t threatened us in any way.”
“There are many reasons not to,” replied Marvel. “You’re not swayed by his obvious breaking of the Law? By bringing several carnivals here at the wrong time of year? I’m very displeased by any act of open rebellion.”
Michael glanced at John encouragingly, indicating he should join the debate, then said, “I’ve prayed over it. I feel no conflict, personally. Things do happen to change the Law. Miracles. If we don’t pay attention at the right time we may miss them. What sign do you need beyond these two new lights in the sky? If a third appears we must have no doubt, I think. Something wondrous is happening, I feel it in every bone of my body. I’ve decided to be excited.”
Alyson twisted her mouth to the side. “Lord Astronomer was just telling us the lights were only comets.”
Michael peered at him, dismayed, youthful freckles standing out on his ruddy skin. “Really? How did you arrive at this very intriguing opinion?” he demanded.
Marvel smirked and John, pained, began, “Well, sire, I … you see I was merely attempting to make a point about basing conclusions on poor data. Which was only that we certainly haven’t yet given the lights the study they deserve, so any conclusion we draw now would not be even remotely sound—”
“But when there’s no time for study, what then? This could be the Return, whether you’ve studied it or not.”
Tygo bowed deeply, inserting himself between John and Michael. “Your Majesty, I am Lord Astronomer’s assistant, if I may explain? We have begun to study the lights in earnest, but the magic we’re using is complicated and difficult to interpret, so we haven’t drawn any conclusions—nor would we until we were completely sure that our observations are correct. This must take time. Until then I think a horoscope is a wonderful idea, if the Astronomer agrees?”
The king gripped the Hierophant’s shoulder and erupted in a merry laugh, which sounded like air blown over the neck of a bottle. “John, I think you cannot refuse. What a catastrophe if we went in blind and it ended horribly?” He eyed Tygo’s shackles. “Servant, have you done something wrong, to be chained up? Where are your ears?”
John watched as Marvel sank deeper into disapproval. The corners of his mouth formed a straight line—his face was a remarkable mask of restraint. “Excuse me,” Marvel coughed in a brittle voice. “But this is the man I told you about. The convict. Sousa believes he is a visionary.”
“Now see here. I don’t know what he is. I just don’t know.”
Marvel nodded. “One minute he’s a visionary and the next he’s a con-man. Or a Surgeon. Maybe he’s none of those things. Or maybe he is a spy as well. He comes from Kansas. That’s all we really know,” he said. He appeared on the verge of speaking again when Michael thrust his hand out and greeted Tygo as though he were a courtier—John knew this was Michael’s way; he would have done it for Alyson’s hairdresser or the court clown. “A visionary!”
“I would have him come
