“Indeed?” said Afsan, grateful that Keenir had been curious enough to make some observations himself. “I think it’s significant.”
“Well,” said Keenir, his voice a low rumble, “I did wonder how what previously had seemed only a point of light could show phases.”
“I’m sure you saw through the far-seer that some of the planets show visible disks, Captain. They appear as points of light only because they are so far away.”
“Far away? The planets are no more distant than the stars, no farther than the moons. All the objects in the sky move across the same celestial sphere, just sliding along it at different rates.”
“Uh, no, sir, they don’t. I’ve made models and I’ve done figuring on writing sheets.” Afsan paused, took a deep breath. “Captain, my observations lead me to propose a pre-fact: the world is spherical, just as the moons are spherical, just as the sun is spherical, just as the Face of God is spherical.”
“The world spherical? How can that be?”
“Well, sir, surely you have stood on the docks at Capital City and seen the tops of masts of ships appear at the horizon before the rest of the ship does.” Afsan held up his right fist and moved a finger of his left hand over its curving surface. “That’s the ship coming over the curve of the world.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, boy. There are waves in the great River—you can feel them tossing this boat right now. Well, some waves are so big and so gentle that ships move over the crests and troughs without us being aware of it. That’s what causes the effect you’ve described.”
Can he really believe that? thought Afsan. Does he accept everything he reads so easily, without question? “Sir, there’s a lot of evidence to make me believe that the world is round. It must be! A sphere, a ball, whatever you want to call it.” Keenir’s tail was swishing in disbelief, but Afsan pressed on. “Further, this round world is mostly covered with water. We, here in the Dasheter, are sailing not on a River but rather on the watery surface of our spherical world, as if almost the entire surface was a—a—super-lake.”
“You’re saying we’re a ball of water?”
“No, I’m sure the rocky floor we see beneath the coastal waters continues all the way around, even here, out where it’s far too deep for us to see the bottom. No, our world is a sphere of rock, but mostly covered by water.”
“Like a raloodoo?”
“Like a what?”
“Eggling, they don’t feed you apprentices well enough at the palace. A raloodoo is a delicacy from Chu’toolar province. You take the eye of a shovelmouth, remove it carefully, and dip it in the sugary sap of a mladaja tree. The sugar hardens into a crunchy coating over the surface of the eyeball.”
“Yes, then, you’re right. Except that the eyeball is the rocky sphere of our world, and the thin coat of sugar is the water that covers almost all of the surface.”
“All right,” said Keenir. “I don’t accept this for an instant, you understand, but at least I can picture what you’re talking about.”
Afsan nodded concession, then went on. “Now, then, how big is our world?”
“Surely that’s impossible to tell.”
“No, Captain. Forgive me, but we have all the information we need to make the calculation. As you remarked earlier, we are sitting still beneath the Face of God. If we don’t move the ship, the Face doesn’t appear to move at all. It is only the movement of this vessel that causes the Face to apparently rise or set. Therefore, we can use the speed of the Dasheter as our measuring stick to calculate how far we’ve sailed around the world. You yourself told us it was a four-thousand-kilopace journey from the point at which the Face of God was just below the horizon to when it was just above.”
“Aye, I did say that. Thirty-two days sailing.”
“Well, if it takes thirty-two days for the Face to rise by its own height, we must in those thirty-two days have sailed one-eighth of the circumference of the world.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Well, the Face covers a quarter of the sky, and the sky is a hemisphere—a half circle.”
“Oh, right. Of course. If the Face covers a quarter of a half, it therefore covers an eighth of the whole. Yes, I see that.”
“And the angles subtended by the Face—”
“I said I saw it, eggling. I’m a mariner; I know all about measuring sky angles for navigation.”
Afsan cringed, bowed quickly, then pressed on. “Now, it took thirty-two days to sail the four thousand kilopaces needed for the Face to rise by its own height. Thus, in thirty-two days we sailed one-eighth of the way around the world. Therefore the circumference of the world is eight times four thousand kilopaces, or thirty-two thousand kilopaces.”
Keenir nodded dubiously.
Afsan continued. “And it took us 113 days to get from Capital City to the point at which we first saw the leading edge of the Face on the horizon.” Afsan blinked once, doing the math. “That’s 3.53 times as long as it took to sail one-eighth of the world’s circumference. So, in that part of the voyage, we must have sailed 3.53 times one-eighth of the way around the world.” Afsan blinked again. “That’s just under halfway around; 44.125 percent, to be precise.” He clicked his teeth lightly. “Of course, that’s too many places of accuracy.”
Keenir was deadpan. “Of course.”
“And we’ve sailed even farther now—enough to let the Face rise all the way to the zenith.”
“So you would have me believe that we’ve sailed about halfway around the world,” said Keenir.
“Just about halfway, yes. Land is on the other side of the world from here, permanently facing away from the Face of God.”
“The other side of the world,” Keenir said slowly.
“That’s right. And, good Captain, consider this: we could continue sailing eastward from here and reach Land again by coming right around the world, in no more time than it took to get here in the first place.”
Afsan beamed triumphantly, but Keenir just shook his head. “What nonsense.”
Afsan forgot his manners. “It is not nonsense! It is the only answer that fits the observations!”
“A pre-fact? Is that what you called it? Your pre-fact is that the world is round, and that we’ve sailed halfway around it?”
“Yes! Exactly!”
“And you now want to test your pre-fact by having me order us to continue on to the east?”
“Yes!”
Keenir shook his head again. “Lad, first, I don’t agree with your interpretation. Second, the journey out is hard; we’ve been constantly sailing into the wind. It will be a lot easier going home by simply turning around and scooting directly back, so, even if you are right—and I don’t believe you are— we gain nothing by going your way. Third, we don’t have enough supplies to last for more than a few extra days. We can’t risk that you are wrong.”
“Ah, but if I am right, we do gain, Captain. We gain knowledge—
Keenir made an unpleasant sound.
“And—” Suddenly Afsan saw a new angle. “And we vastly simplify future pilgrimages. For if the world is round, and the winds run in the same direction around the entire sphere, as I suspect they do, at least here in the band farthest from the sphere’s northern and southern poles, then one could sail to the west to reach the Face, with the wind at your back the entire way. And, to return, one could continue on to the west, again with the wind at your back. Think of the savings!”
“A pilgrimage is not about saving time, eggling. Our goal is to retrace the prophet’s journey, to see the spectacle as he saw it. And, beyond that, consider what you’re asking, lad! God lives upriver from Land, watching out for obstacles and dangers ahead. She protects us. You’re suggesting that we sail ahead, moving in front of God, into waters that She has not first observed. We’d be without Her protection, without Her blessing.”