“There wouldn’t be much point. You wouldn’t understand it.”
“Still we’d have been talking,” Toller said, rising to his feet and returning the old book to the stacks. He was walking to the door when his brother spoke.
“I’m sorry, Toller — you’re quite right.” Lain smiled an apology. “You see, I started this essay more than a year ago, and I want to finish it before I get diverted to other matters. But perhaps it isn’t all that important.”
“It must be important if you’ve been working on it all that time. I’ll leave you in peace.”
“Please don’t go,” Lain said quickly. “Would you like to see something truly wonderful? Watch this!” He picked up a small wooden disk, laid it flat on a sheet of paper and traced a circle around it. He slid the disk sideways, drew another circle which kissed the first and then repeated the process, ending with three circles in a line. Placing a finger at each end of the row, he said, “From here to here is exactly three diameters, right?”
“That’s right,” Toller said uneasily, wondering if he had missed something.
“Now we come to the amazing part.” Lain made an ink mark on the edge of the disk and placed it vertically on the paper, carefully ensuring that the mark was at an outermost edge of the three circles. After glancing up at Toller to make sure he was paying proper attention, Lain slowly rolled the disk straight across frie row. The mark on its rim described a lazy curve and came down precisely on the outermost edge of the last circle.
“Demonstration ended,” Lain announced. “And that’s part of what I’m writing about.”
Toller blinked at him. “The circumference of a wheel being equal to three diameters?”
“The fact that it is exactly equal to three diameters. That demonstration was quite crude, but even when we go to the limits of measurement the ratio is exactly three. Does that not strike you as being rather astonishing?”
“Why should it?” Toller said, his puzzlement growing. “If that’s the way it is, that’s the way it is.”
“Yes, but why should it be exactly three? That and things like the fact that we have twelve fingers make whole areas of calculation absurdly easy. It’s almost like an unwarranted gift from nature.”
“But…But that’s the way it is. What else could it be?”
“Now you’re approaching the theme of the essay. There may be some other… place… where the ratio is three-and-a-quarter, or perhaps only two-and-a-half. In fact, there’s no reason why it shouldn’t be some completely irrational number which would give mathematicians headaches.”
“Some other place,” Toller said. “You mean another world? LikeFarland?”
“No.” Lain gave him a look which was both frank and enigmatic. “I mean another totality — where physical laws and constants differ from those we know.”
Toller stared back at his brother as he strove to penetrate the barrier which had slid into place between them. “It is all very interesting,” he said. “I can see why the essay has taken you so long.”
Lain laughed aloud and came round the desk to embrace Toller. “I love you, little brother.”
“I love you.”
“Good! I want you to keep that in mind when Leddravohr arrives. I’m a committed pacifist, Toller, and I eschew all violence. The fact that I am no match for Leddravo.hr is an irrelevance — I would behave towards him in exactly the same way were our social status and physiques transposed. Leddravohr and his kind are part of the past, whereas we represent the future. So I want you to swear that no matter what insult Leddravohr offers me, you will stay apart and leave the conduct of my affairs strictly to me.”
“I’m a different person now,” Toller said, stepping back. “Besides, Leddravohr might be in a good mood.”
“I want your word, Toller.”
“You have it. Besides, it’s in my own interests to keep on the right side of Leddravohr if I want to be a skyship pilot.” Toller was belatedly shocked by the content of his own words. “Lain, why are we taking all this so calmly? We have just been told that the world as we know it is coming to an end…and that some of us have to try reaching another planet… yet we’re all going about our ordinary business as though everything was normal. It doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s a more natural reaction than you might think. And don’t forget the migration flight is only a contingency at this stage — it might never happen.”
“The war with Chamteth is going to happen.”
“That is the King’s responsibility,” Lain said, his voice suddenly brusque. “It can’t be laid at my door. I have to get on with my work now.”
“I should see how my lord is faring.” As Toller walked along the corridor to the main stair he again wondered why Leddravohr had chosen to come to the Square House instead of visiting Glo at the much larger Greenmount Peel. The sunwriter message from the palace had baldly stated that the Princes Leddravohr and Chakkell would arrive at the house before littlenight for initial technical briefings, and the infirm Glo had been obliged to journey out to meet them. It was now well into aftday and Glo would be growing tired, his strength further sapped by the effort of trying to hide his disability.
Toller descended to the entrance hall and turned left into the dayroom where he had left Glo in the temporary care of Fera. The two had a very comfortable relationship because of — Toller suspected — rather than in spite of her lowly origin and unpolished manner. It was another of Glo’s little affectations, a way of reminding those around him that there was more to him than the cloistered philosopher. He was seated at a table reading a small book, and Fera was standing by a window gazing out at the mesh-mosaic of the sky. She was wearing a simple one piece garment of pale green cambric which showed off her statuesque form.
She turned on hearing Toller enter the room and said, “This is boring. I want to go home.”
“I thought you wanted to see a real live prince at close quarters.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“They’re bound to be here soon,” Toller said. “Why don’t you be like my lord and pass the time by reading?”
Fera mouthed silently, carefully forming the swear words so that there would be no doubt about what she thought of the idea. “It wouldn’t be so bad if there was even some food.”
“But you ate less than an hour ago!” Toller ran a humorously critical eye over his gradewife’s figure. “No wonder you’re getting fat.”
“I’m not!” Fera slapped her belly inwards and contracted her stomach, an action which caused a voluptuous ballooning of her breasts. Toller viewed the display with affectionate appreciation. It was a frequent source of wonder to him that Fera, in spite of her appetite and habit of spending entire days lolling in bed, looked almost exactly as she had done two years earlier. The only noticeable change was that her chipped tooth had begun to turn grey. She devoted much time to rubbing it with white powders, supposed to contain crushed pearls, which she obtained from the Samlue market.
Lord Glo looked up from his book, his clapped-in face momentarily enlivened. “Take the woman upstairs,” he said to Toller. “That’s what I’d do were I five years younger.”
Fera correctly assessed his mood and produced the expected ribaldry, “ I wish you were five years younger, my lord — merely mounting the stairs would be enough to finish my husband.”
Glo gave a gratified whinny.
“In that case, we’ll do it right here,” Toller said. He darted forward, put his arms around Fera and drew her close to him, half-seriously simulating passion. There was an undeniable element of providing sexual titillation for Glo in what he and Fera were doing, but such was the relationship the three had built up that the overriding motif was one of companionship and friendly clowning. After a few seconds of intimate contact, however, Toller felt Fera move against him with a hint of genuine purpose.