Now that they had a basic grasp of the principles of orbital dynamics, it took them just a couple of hours to speed past the smallest moon and take up position alongside the globe. As the Ship of Space nudged itself to within twenty feet of the object, Saturn and Thomas, floating above the equatorial walkway, could see how one side of it had been pitted and blasted by violent energies leaving it scorched and blackened, and there was no doubt in either of their minds that the outer shell of the object had been designed to protect something inside. Something that was still active. Both of them could feel the waves of magical force emanating from it, so powerful that Saturn considered moving the ship a little further away in case it interfered with any of the ship's magics.

     "Can we remove the outer shell?" asked Thomas across the Farspeaking link Saturn had created between them.

     "Possibly," replied the elder wizard, "but I would prefer to know what I can expect to find inside first. I precast a divination spell before coming out here and I want to see what it can tell us first."

     "Most divination spells need you to touch the object," pointed out Thomas.

     "Yes, and this one is no different." He produced a coiled length of light rope from inside his robes and tied one end of it to the railing. "It has been known for centuries that two magical objects feel a very slight attraction to each other. Down on Tharia this is too slight to be noticed, but up here it should be enough to hold me in contact with the globe." He tied the other end of the rope around his waist.

     Thomas felt a grudging admiration for his superior. That was not something he would have been happy to attempt, no matter what the reward in new knowledge. "Be careful," he said as Saturn gathered himself up into a ball and launched himself out into space.

     The first two times he missed the globe and Thomas had to pull him back to try again. The third time he touched the globe, but was unable to stop himself from bouncing off. Except for the scars of heat and meteorite impacts the globe was perfectly smooth. There was nothing for him to grab hold of. The fourth time, though, Saturn pushed himself away as gently as possible, with only the tiniest flexing of his feet against the railing, and although he was a little off course he was now moving slowly enough for the attractive force he'd mentioned to gather him in. He touched the globe as gently as a feather and was then held against it by a force so feeble that the slightest twitch of a muscle would have sent him drifting off again. Hardly daring to breathe, he made the tiny hand movement that triggered the precast divination spell.

     Thomas watched in breathless excitement as Saturn clung spread eagled to the globe like a spider on a tennis ball. Another man might have laughed aloud at the incongruous, rather undignified spectacle he made, but no such thought entered the younger wizard's head. To him, this was simply the only way to obtain essential information, and that was why Saturn had chosen him to assist him in this venture, forbidding anyone else from leaving the ship. Saturn had read Thomas's mind inside and out on many occasions and knew he didn't have a single derisive bone in his body. He could, without any fear of appearing foolish or ridiculous, do things in front of Thomas that fear of losing dignity would have prevented him from doing in front of anyone else.

     Saturn remained silent for several minutes, concentrating intently, before commanding Thomas to pull him back again. He looked thoughtful as he drifted back to the railing, and Thomas had to prompt him before he would share what he'd learned.

     "Very little," the elder wizard replied. "Only two things, really. First, it is indeed a protective shell, as we suspected. Designed to shield something inside. It has apparently served its purpose now, however. There appears to be no reason why it can't now be removed. Indeed, I seemed to sense that it should have been removed long ago. Whoever created it and placed it here has apparently never made use of it."

     "Any idea what it was designed to protect against?" asked Thomas.

     "No," replied Saturn. "Not as such. Except... The second thing I learned is that this object has travelled. Travelled far and fast. I had the impression that it was while it was travelling that it needed to be protected."

     "Far and fast," mused Thomas thoughtfully. "How far and how fast?"

     "Very far and very fast," replied Saturn. "Distances and speeds completely beyond our ability to imagine. And yet, I had no sense that any specific destination was intended. It seems to have just made a great loop around in space that brought it back to its starting point."

     "But what's the point in that? If there is indeed a teleporting ring inside it, you'd want to put it somewhere far away, somewhere you wanted to go. Where's the point in bringing it back again?"

     "If there is a teleporting ring inside it," replied the elder wizard. "But we don't know what it contains. It could be some kind of magical artifact that requires a long journey to make it functional. We'll know when we open the shell. A simple unlocking spell ought to be sufficient."

     He had to go back into the ship to precast the spell, as only one spell could be precast at a time and that could only be done in a pressurised area. A place with breathable air where he could speak the magic words. Thomas waited outside while he did this, admiring the view of his homeworld and feeling pity for all the people who would never see it like this. He wondered whether an illusion spell could recreate the scene well enough to do it justice and briefly considered attempting the feat himself, but he'd never been much good at illusions.

     He found himself thinking of Geremy Blumintop, a nomish illusionist who'd been one of his travelling companion back in the days of his youth. He'd have been able to do it, no trouble. He probably could have created a permanent illusion to recreate the experience of spacewalking for anyone who stepped into it. Have to track him down sometime, he thought with a smile of pleasant memories. Wonder where he's got to? Still out exploring the world, probably, unless he's found himself a wife to settle him down. Like me.

     A wash of nostalgia for the old days suddenly washed over him, scaring him with its power. Gods, but he missed that life! The six of them, roaming the world on one hopeless quest after another. Sleeping out under the stars. Cooking their meals over a small campfire and complaining about the tough meat and the bitter tea. The occasional terrifying moments of danger when they came face to face with outlaws or scavenging humanoids, and the moments of exhilaration when they (sometimes) achieved their objective and went home in triumph.

     Tears of emotion filled his eyes as he remembered it, and he wished hopelessly that he could go back and live that way again, except that this time, of course, they'd have to have Derry with them, his son. His son. The dream vanished like a soap bubble as he remembered their little cottage in Haven. The circle of friends he'd made there and the work he did for the Queen. That was his life now and it was a good life. A better life than he'd ever thought possible. He wouldn't change it for anything. He knew then that he wouldn't go back to the old days even if he could, but it was okay to remember them once in a while.

     A tap on the shoulder made him jump in surprise, and he had to grab hold of the railing with his other hand to get himself back under control. "Daydreaming is a bad habit for a wizard," scolded Saturn over the Farspeaking link. "You may lose concentration at a crucial moment and get yourself or your companions killed. See it doesn't happen again, or I may have to reconsider your position on my staff."

     "Yes, Master," replied Thomas contritely, knowing the older wizard was right. He'd always been a daydreamer. It was part of who he was, but he resolved to try to keep it under control in future. Of course, he'd made that resolution many times before. "Are you going to try to open the globe now?"

     "Yes," replied the older wizard, tying the rope around his waist again. "Stand by to render me such assistance as I may need."

     He pushed himself off towards the globe again, and this time he made it first time, having learned from his previous experience. Instead of letting the mutual attraction gather him in as he had before, though, he waited until he was close enough to touch it and then slapped it hard, at the same time making the finger movement with his other hand that activated the unlocking spell. The slap pushed him away from the globe, away from any unexpected effects that might occur, while at the same time providing the physical contact the spell required.

     Both globe and wizard began tumbling as they parted, Saturn becoming tangled up in his safety rope and being reeled in by it like a yo-yo. Thomas hurriedly began pulling him in, but part of his attention was held by a nimbus of light that had appeared around the globe. It increased in brilliance, and a crack appeared around its equator, lined with incandescent fire. The younger wizard froze in fascination, completely forgetting his older colleague as he watched the two halves separate, slowly pulled apart by the tumble Saturn had given them and drifting away from the object revealed inside.

     One half of the shell was heading in their direction and Thomas gasped in alarm as it headed for a collision with the ship, but it was moving very slowly and the tiles of anti-meteorite cladding absorbed the impact with what was heard inside the ship as a soft crunch. The railing lurched under Thomas's hand and fragments of the highly friable cladding were thrown out in a cloud of glittering motes. The rope jerked taut in his other hand, and he remembered Saturn with a guilty start.

     A few moments later both wizards were floating together by the railing, staring in wonder at the newly revealed object. It was another ring. Identical in design to the first except that, instead of being pitted and scarred by micrometeorite impacts it was pristine and new, gleaming like polished silver in the light of the two suns. Another difference with the first ring was that this one was not dead, but almost humming with power and vitality. They could feel it on their faces like warm sunlight. Thomas looked at the stars visible through the hole in the centre of the ring and felt a thrill of excitement when he saw that they belonged to a different starfield. A different sky! But where? Where did the ring lead? His excitement deepened as he realised that there was only one way to find out...

     "It must be one of the Alba rings," he babbled excitedly. "It must have been made by Salammis as well. The similarity is simply too great to be otherwise. I suppose there's no way we can take it aboard the ship, its magic would interfere with all the ship's magics. There's no telling what would happen. We can't just leave it floating out here, though. There has to be some way to get it back to Kronos. Perhaps we can tow it somehow. Figure out some way to make sure it doesn't...

     "Silence!" snapped Saturn, driven to distraction by Thomas's prattling. "I am trying to think. Go back inside. I have no further use for you here."

     "Yes, Master," replied Thomas, and he made his way back to the airlock, leaving the senior wizard to stare at the artifact thoughtfully. He hurried back to the bridge, and arrived to find the others staring raptly at the image of the ring in the scrying mirror.

     "Unbelievable," said Prup Chull as he took his seat. "It's identical to the first in every respect. You say it can't be the twin of the first ring?"

     "Not if this one's working and the other's not, and this one is definitely working. I wish we could tell where it leads."

     "Perhaps a parallax comparison between the starfield visible in the ring and the real starfield around us," suggested the moon trog. "If we could find a star or a planet we recognised..."

     "Is that not the constellation of the weaver?" said Rin Wellin, leaning forward in his seat. "It is hard to tell, with so many more stars visible up here."

     It occurred to Thomas that the shae, with his far superior eyesight, must be seeing far more faint stars than even they were seeing, up above the eternal light pollution that the two suns, three moons and an assortment of comets caused in Tharia's crowded sky. What must he be seeing? he wondered. So many stars that there's virtually no black between them? It's a wonder he can bear to open his eyes!

     He concentrated on the stars visible through the ring and found himself agreeing with the shae. Yes, there were the eyes of the maiden. Two bright blue stars side by side, beloved by shae folk all over the world. And the big red star a little below could only be Lonoros, the lady's brooch. It had to be the maiden! Was Lonoros a little further from the eyes of the maiden than was normal, though? Could that mean they were seeing the stars from a slightly different point in space?

     Most educated people on Tharia knew that the stars were scattered through space, some nearer to Tharia, others further away, and it was known that they were suns, appearing smaller and fainter than Derro and Tharsol because of their much greater distance. No-one knew how or by whom these things had first been discovered. It was just part of the 'knowledge of the ancients' that had been passed down from one generation to the next from before the dawn of recorded history. It was suggested by some that this indicated the existence of a primal civilisation, more advanced and accomplished even than the Agglemonians, that had fallen more than fourteen thousand years before, that being as far back as recorded history went.

     "If we assume that it is the weaver," said Prup Chull, madly scribbling calculations on a pad, "and if that other star is Morla, the drop of blood, and if we assume that Aklid's estimate of the distance to the stars is correct..." He stared at the result of his calculations with a frown. "Hmm. If this is anything like close to the truth, then it is quite extraordinary. I must confirm it with observations of other stars. It's lucky that I know the relative positions of the stars in our sky. I memorised them some time ago."

     "Why'd you do that?" asked Timothy curiously. "What practical value does such knowledge have?"

     "No practical value," replied the moon trog with a grin. "I did it for a bet. I won a five hundred year old bottle of klagh for correctly reciting the exact angular separation between thirty two pairs of stars. The things you do when you're young..." He was continuing to scribble calculations as he spoke and the smile turned to a frown. "That can't be right."

     "What can't?" asked Timothy as the moon trog went over his calculations again, looking for his mistake. "What is it?"

     Prup ignored him, though, continuing to scribble madly, cursing softly under his breath. He copied the results of his calculations, the results he found so confusing, into the corner of his pad, erased the rest of the writing area and began again, this time using different stars that had drifted in from the edge as the ring's distant twin, wherever it was, slowly turned in space, much more slowly than the dead ring had.

     "Would you say that was Kalazar, Rin? The spark from the smith's anvil?"

     "We call it Listana, the ring on the Queen's finger," the shae replied, "but I believe it is the same star that you call Kalazar."

     "And that must be Nassar beside it. I estimate the separation to be one and a half degrees. One thirty. What do you say?"

     "I would say it is closer to one degree twenty, my friend."

     "I'll go with your figure, in case the trouble's caused by my old eyes playing tricks on me. The separation is one degree forty three in our sky. Kalazar is a hundred thousand times further from Tharia than Tharsol..."

     "How far!" cried Thomas and Timothy together, thinking they must have misheard him.

     The moon trog paid them no attention. "...and Nassar is two hundred thousand times further, so..."

     The others watched anxiously as his stylus squeaked its way across the smooth, shiny surface of the pad, hoping the difficulty would resolve itself and he would reach a result that made sense. Instead, he just cursed loudly and threw his pen across the room. "Drass! Now I have three different solutions, all different. Aklid's figures must be wrong, but he used parallax to obtain them, the same calculations I'm using, so any error he made would be cancelled out... Drass! Drass drass drass!"

     He ignored every attempt by the others to find out what he was talking about and just sat there muttering to himself under his breath, occasionally swearing again. Eventually he took a spare pen from a pocket of his robes and scribbled some more calculations, but no-one tried to ask him what he was doing.

     "It would help if we could see through the ring in another direction," mused Timothy to himself. "We might see a planet or something. The place Salammis wanted to go to. It might be a planet we recognised. Sereena, for instance, or Lamon."

     "Those worlds are not far enough away for the stars to look different," said Prup distractedly, not looking up. "You have to go a long, long way out to do that, if Aklid's right, the Gods curse his name. Any world we saw would not be one we recognised."

     "Oh," said the cleric, chastened. "We still might learn something if we could see it, though. What do you think?"

     Thomas nodded. "Perhaps if I took the mirror's point of view through the ring to its other side..."

     The cleric stared at him in amazement. "Can you do that?"

     "I don't see why not." The wizard glanced at the moon trog to make sure he wasn't looking at the scrying mirror, but he was totally engrossed in his calculations so Thomas gave the mirror a string of commands. The image of the ring began to swell obediently, showing a wider patch of alien starfield, and as it began to slip out of view Thomas had a brief glimpse of the stylised hermit crab, the symbol of Salammis, confirming what he had already guessed. And there beside it…

     He gasped in shock and gave a hurried command to the mirror, making it close in on the two symbols instead. He quickly saw that his first impression had been correct. The second symbol, beside the hermit crab, the symbol that should have been an alba, the first letter of the old Garonian alphabet, was nothing of the sort. It was a bayta. An exact copy of the symbol on the dead ring. The ring they were even now carrying in their hanger deck.

     "I thought you said that was impossible," said Timothy, staring at him in confusion.

     "It is," replied Thomas in a numb state of shock. "Completely, absolutely impossible."