Page 7

“You could say, ‘Pheasant is such a delicacy,’ or some other dull, memorized horseshit.”

I sat up straighter and stared at him.

“Gods, I have no patience for tirae. Forget about the conversation you’ve rehearsed, just for a few minutes. You can practice it on the next man. Tell me something I haven’t heard before.”

For a moment, I was completely at a loss. I felt like I was being tested on something I hadn’t studied. He had seen far more of the world, knew more than I did about dinner at the very place where I lived. He knew nothing about me, though. I could tell him something about myself.

I took a deep breath and said the first thing that came into my mind. “I’ve been reading a book about astronomy, which is the study of the movement of the stars.”

The eyebrow over his good eye arched.

The waiter set a plate of pheasant in front of each of us. I poked at the crisp skin with my knife.

Sebastianus took a gulp of wine and wiped his mouth. “You can read a book like that?”

“Of course I can read.” My temples reddened again. Surely my color rose so often that he would think I had a fever.

“I’ve offended you. I’m sure you can read. I just didn’t realize your lessons would include that type of material.”

“Our lessons at the training school did not. But since I arrived here at Casa Caligine, I have been studying on my own.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I also have some familiarity with astronomy.”

I relaxed a little, discomfort nudged aside by curiosity. I’d never been able to discuss a topic like this with anyone before. “I’m trying to memorize the constellations noted in the book, but it is very old, and the letters are unfamiliar.”

“What’s the name of the book you are reading?” he asked.

“It is called Astrolabe.” I took a bite.

“You have a copy of Astrolabe here? Where?”

“There’s a small library here for our private use. I’ve been passing the time there, learning what I can.”

He chewed a bit of pheasant.

“But what I can’t figure out,” I continued, “is why some stars are not fixed, but move in a predictable way across the sky. Why is that? It may be explained somewhere in the book, but I cannot make out the text at all, because as I said, I am not familiar with the letters.”

He put down his knife. “Astrolabe is one of the finest studies of astronomy ever written. It was written by a man called Semiarchus, who lived centuries ago in the city of Panpirion, before it was the capital of the Empire—long before there even was an Empire. I suspect that you can’t read it because it is written in Kish, the language of the ancient scholars. It is a masterwork. I’m stunned to hear that you have a copy here.”

It felt like a lamp wick had been turned up in my mind. My face must have revealed this illumination, because the corners of his mouth moved in the barest hint of a smile.

“I’ve long suspected that there must be a collection of books here,” he continued, “given how old the house is, and how many learned guests have spent time here, but I never imagined it would contain such a treasure. What other manuscripts have you found there?”

I thought for a minute. “There are books of lyric love poetry.”

“Which ones?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I haven’t looked at them closely because they don’t hold my interest.”

“It’s better when read aloud.” He took a big gulp of wine. “What else?”

“Old records having to do with the house. A few other volumes.”

“Anything related to history?”

I thought for a minute. “No, although today I found something called Geographica, but I cannot read that either, or the letter tucked into the front, apart from the signature. Perhaps it, too, is written in Kish.”

“A letter?”