Eifelheim

“The three-dimensional surface of a very weird balloon. I call it the ‘perceived universe’.”

“And your ‘polyverse’ includes the inside of the balloon.”

“Right. Quantum dimensions, they’re called. They’re literally inside the perceived universe. I’ve been studying their orthogonality under Janatpour’s hypothesis.”

“And the speed of light?”

“Right.” She set the salt cellar next to the pepper mill. “Mark off a kilometer on the surface of the balloon. Light will take, oh, maybe a third of a microsecond to cross it. The kilometer fixed to the balloon’s surface and a kilometer stick inside the balloon are the same. Blow up the balloon and what happens?”

“Umh. The distance on the balloon gets longer but the distance inside doesn’t.”

“And if light speed is constant in the polyverse, how far does the light get in a third of a microsecond?”

“As far as the original kilometer… Which falls short of your kilometer mark.”

“Right. So a beam of light takes longer to cover the ‘same’ distance than it did before.”

Tom pulled on his lower lip and studied the lamp again. “Cute,” he said.

She leaned farther across the table. “It gets cuter.”

“How?”

“I can only account for half the estimated decrease in light speed.”

He looked at her and blinked. “Where’d the other half go?”

She gri

Tom shook his head. “I always thought the years went faster as I got older.”

Sharon woke up with a headache and a warm, fuzzy feeling. She wanted to lie in bed. She liked the feel of Tom’s arm across her. It made her feel safe. But the headache won. She slipped out from under him — not that anything short of Krakatoa would wake him — and tip-toed to the bathroom, where she shook two aspirin into her palm.

“Newton,” she said to the tablets. She rattled them like dice, as she studied her reflection. “What are you smiling about?” She was a woman who put great store in her dignity, and she had behaved the night before in a decidedly undignified ma

Of course, you knew, her image smirked. That’s why you did it.

“Nonsense. You’ve got the causal arrows backward. I wanted to celebrate my discovery. What happened afterward was spin-off.”

Yeah, right. She swallowed the aspirin, washed them down. Then, because she was already up, she went to the living room and began gathering her clothes. The dishes in the dining alcove reproached her for the food hardened upon them. Now she remembered why she didn’t cook more often. She hated disorder. She’d spend all day cleaning now, instead of doing physics.

“Newton…” Now why on Earth was Sir Isaac on her mind? He was passé, the old clockwork physics. Einstein had made him a special case, just as she would make Einstein a special case. But Newton had said that a change in velocity requires a force to explain it.

So, if time were accelerating…

She straightened abruptly, scattering all her clothes. “Why, what a very peculiar place this universe is!”

IX. October, 1348

The Freiburg Markets

During the two weeks that followed Hans’ terrifying revelation, Dietrich again avoided the krenkish encampment; nor did Hans call him over the far-speaker, so at times, he could almost forget that the beasts were there. He tried even to dissuade Hilde from visiting them, but the woman, taking by now an unseemly pride in her ministry, refused. “Their alchemist desires I bring more divers foods, to find those more to their taste. Besides, they are mortal beings, however repulsive.”

Mortal, yes; but wolves and bears were mortal, and one did not approach them lightly. He did not think Max could protect her should the Krenken turn and bite.

Yet, the Krenken spoke, and devised clever tools, so they clearly owned an intellect. Could there be a soul with intellect, but no will? These questions perplexed him, and he wrote an inquiry for Gregor to take to archdeacon in Freiburg.

The Herr had a

Dietrich found the mason in the green, seeing to the stowage of the wagons. “Be sure that barrel is tied tight,” Gregor warned his son. “Good day, pastor. Have something for the markets?”

Dietrich handed him the letter he had written. “Not to sell, but give this to Archdeacon Willi”

The mason studied the packet and the red wax seal into which Dietrich had set his signet. “This looks official,” he said.

“Only some questions I have.”

Gregor laughed. “I thought you were the one with answers! You never go into town with us, pastor. A learned man like yourself would find much interest there.”

“Perhaps too much,” Dietrich answered. “Do you know what Friar Peter of Apulia once answered when asked what he thought of Joachim of Flora’s teaching?”

Gregor had ducked under the wagon bed and began greasing the axles. “No, what?”

“He said, ‘I care as little for Joachim as for the fifth wheel of a wagon.’ ”

“What? A fifth wheel? Haha! Ay, thunder-weather!” Gregor had banged his head on the cart’s underside. “A fifth wheel!” he said, sliding out from under. “That’s fu

Dietrich turned to see Brother Joachim stalking off. He started after him, but Everard, who had been overseeing the estate wagons, took Dietrich by the arm. “The Herr has summoned three of his knights to serve as guards,” he said, “but he wants Max to lead a troop of armsmen. Falkenstein won’t plunder the train going down. What does he need with honey — save to sweeten his disposition? But the return might prove too tempting. All that silver would jingle like the preparation bell at Mass and his greed may overcome his prudence. Max is gone to the lazaretto. Take one of the Herr’s palefridi and go fetch him back.”

Dietrich gestured toward his departing houseguest. “I must speak to…”

“The word the Herr used was ‘now.’ Discuss it with him, not me.”

Dietrich did not want to visit the talking animals. Who knew to what acts their instict would drive them? He glanced at the sun. “Max is likely returning even now.”

Everard twisted his mouth. “Or else he’s not. Those were the Herr’s instructions. No one else has his leave to go there, God be thanked, to deal with… them.”