A Star Shall Fall

Saying that, however, was more than a little difficult. “Madam,” Galen began diffidently, then choked on the rest.

Lune’s lips pressed together again, before she turned her attention to him. “Yes?”

Now he had to say something. Holding his hands out in placation, Galen went on, “I know that Dame Irrith, as a faerie, falls under your authority instead of mine. But if I may… offer a suggestion…”

The Queen gestured him onward, with a hint of impatience.

He felt like a very sharp stone had lodged in his throat. Around that obstruction, Galen said, “It may be that in this instance, there is more to be gained by revelation than by secrecy. Not just as concerns Dame Irrith, but the court as a whole.”

Cuddy failed to repress a snort, and Lune’s eyebrows rose into two doubtful arches. “What gain do you see?”

Galen spent little time among the fae outside of the Queen’s company, but Edward Thorne heard things, and passed them on to his master. “There’s a great deal of fear in your realm that time is running out. We have a year—perhaps less, if an astronomer makes an early discovery. If your subjects were to know there’s more time—”

He stopped because he could see Lune working through the complications and counterarguments. “It hasn’t harmed the Hall,” she murmured, almost inaudibly. “Though some, of course, will try to say that it has. But if we leave unspecified the details of its operation—to silence, or at least confuse, those who would demand to know why we haven’t disposed of the cometary threat already—”

“They’re asking that anyway,” Galen reminded her. Then he wished he’d found a more tactful phrasing. “But this, at least, is a concrete step, something they can point to when they ask themselves whether—”

The rest of that sentence was swallowed, courtesy of more belated tact, but Lune finished it for him. “Whether we’ve accomplished anything at all.”

Everyone else had stayed well out of this exchange. Irrith looked to be holding her breath. Galen said, “If the question of secrecy is removed, then Dame Irrith has nothing to betray, whether by accident or design.”

Lune smiled. The sun might have risen in that small portico, by the warmth it gave him. And Irrith, too, was beaming at him with undisguised gratitude. This place keeps too many secrets, Galen thought, heaving an inward sigh of relief. I am glad to unveil at least one of them.

“I will draft an announcement,” Lune said. “In the meantime, Irrith, you might as well see what you came for. Galen, if you would be so kind as to show her the Calendar Room? I shall be in my chambers.” With a swirl of rich skirts, she was gone.

* * *

Irrith wasn’t entirely certain how pleased she was to see the pale figure of the Queen depart, leaving her with two crazy dwarves, one unfriendly-looking puck, and a very youthful Prince. But Galen stepped forward, all courtesy, to lift her to her feet, and though she didn’t physically need the aid, she accepted it gladly.

“This way,” the Prince said, and left the pillars for the broader space of the workshop beyond.

Remembering her previous experience, Irrith prodded the gap between the pillars with one finger. It encountered a familiar wall. “Er—Lord Galen—”

He turned, saw her still there, and flushed enchantingly. “Ah. Yes.” Galen came back and extended one hand, courteous as a dance. Irrith took it, and he led her into the chamber.

Peculiar equipment and half-finished projects crowded the space. Not just clocks and watches, either: she spotted the cousin of one of the objects Tom Toggin had brought to the Vale, that Galen had called an armillary sphere. This one, however, had far too many rings, set at cockeyed angles to one another, as if someone had tried to wrench the heavenly circuits they represented into a more useful configuration.

Perhaps they had. Like everything else that occupied the Queen’s attention nowadays, Irrith guessed this had to do with the return of the comet.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing past the armillary sphere to something even more peculiar.

“An orrery.” The answer came from the blond-bearded dwarf, who appeared to have discarded all animosity once the Queen was done with Irrith. His red-bearded friend, unfortunately, seemed less easily won over.

Irrith peered at the object. It had gears like a clock, and thin arms that held balls of various sizes. “And an orrery is…”

“A model of the heavens. It is more useful than an armillary sphere.” He came over to demonstrate, cranking the arms around so they circled the gold ball in the centre. Irrith guessed that represented the sun, but that was where her comprehension ended.

The dwarf smiled when she looked at him, though it was hard to find behind the beard. “I am Wilhas von das Ticken. This is my brother Niklas.” Beard or no beard, it was easy to tell when the other dwarf scowled.