“You were going to speak of mirrors,” Opal reminded him firmly. “That was what you said. Mirrors.”

“Yes, of course. And despite my seemingly wandering thoughts, that is the subject closest to my heart just now. The last of the gods’ great gifts—mirror-wisdom. Captromancy.

“I will not task you with listening to much mirror-lore. Much is what seems like mere folktales, fairy stories to help the initiated remember complicated rituals—or at least so I believe. But what cannot be argued is that with proper training and preparation mirrors can be used not for reflection of what is before them, but as portals—windows, certainly, and some even claim as doors—to other worlds.”

Chert shook his head. “What does that mean—other worlds? What other worlds?”

“In the old days,” the physician said, “men thought that the gods lived here beside them, on the earth. The peak of Mount Xandos was said to hold Perin’s great fortress, and Kernios was believed to live in the caverns of the south, although I believe there are other strains of wisdom that claim he dwelt somewhat closer, eh?” He gave Chert a significant gaze.

What does he mean? Does he know something of the Mysteries? Chert looked at Opal, but she was watching the physician with a speculation Chert found unsettling, as if her mind was awhirl with dangerous new thoughts. But why would Opal, Funderling Town’s least flighty person, the bedrock on which Chert had based his whole life, be so interested in this obscure study of Chaven’s?

“In later years,” Chaven went on, “when brave or sacreligious men at last climbed cloud-wreathed Xandos and found no trace of Perin’s stronghold, new ideas arose. A wise man named Phelsas in Hierosol began to talk of the Many Worlds, saying that the worlds of the gods are both connected to and separate from our own.”

“What does that mean?” Chert demanded. “Connected but separate? That makes no sense.”

“Don’t interrupt, old man,” said Opal. “He’s trying to explain if you’d just listen.”

Chaven Makaros looked a little shamefaced at being the cause of such discord. Despite living in the house for several days he had not yet realized that this was Chert and Opal’s way of speaking, especially Opal’s, a kind of mock harshness that did not disguise her true and much warmer feelings—did not disguise them from Chert, at least, though outsiders might not recognize them.

“Have I spoken too much?” the physician asked. “It is late…”

“No, no.” Chert waved for him to continue. “Opal is just reminding me that I’m a dunderhead. Continue—I am fascinated. It is certainly the first time any of these subjects have been discussed inside these walls.”

“I know it is hard to understand,” said Chaven. “I spent years with my master studying this and still do not altogether grasp it, and it is only one possible way of looking at the cosmos. The School of Phelsas says that the mistake is in thinking of our world or the world of the gods as solid things—as great masses of earth and stone. In truth, the Phelsaians suggest, the worlds—and there are more than two, they claim, far more—are closer to water.”