him right away.”
“Did she, now?” Damran began to chuckle. “It’s his astrolabe, of course. Captain Whiting wants his astrolabe.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“Come here, boy.” Damran rose from his seat and stepped to the big table in the center of the room, lifting a metal instrument from a pile of papers there. It was a flat circle of metal within a thin frame. The frame was ornate, almost delicate, over the platterlike base. Much of it had been cut through to show the etching on the plate below. A second, smaller inner circle perched on top of the other one, both bolted through the center to the circular base plate. “You’re new aboard ship, aren’t you?” The old pilot raised an eyebrow at Cobiah’s obvious interest.
“Not so new, sir. I’ve done three passages to Cantha.”
“Barely got your sea legs under you, then. Now, look at this. The astrolabe is the most important instrument on the ship. Do you know what it does?”
“No, sir.”
“It tells us what our eyes cannot. Namely . . .” Damran turned the brass frame, sending the circles spinning around and around over the etching of the under plate. “This little fellow can tell us where the ship is located even when it’s on the open sea.”
“It can?” Cobiah frowned. “But that’s impossible. The sea is featureless. You can’t tell where you are unless you can see the coast.” Even as he said it, he realized that it couldn’t be true. How did the ship find Kaineng City each time? It had to cross months of open ocean. The idea’d never occurred to Cobiah before, but now that he thought about it, he had no idea how the Indomitable found its way across the Sea of Sorrows.
“This instrument allows the captain to look at the stars and see our position—more or less.”
Feeling brave, Cobiah ventured to say, “He can tell by the stars?”
The pilot pushed his glasses up on his nose. He took the instrument in both hands and raised the frame off the bottom plate. “This is the mater.” He gestured to the solid brass platter, pronouncing the strange word “mayter.” “Look at those etchings. Do they seem familiar?”
Cobiah stared down at it, trying to place the odd shapes. When he shook his head no, Damran harrumphed. “The sky, my boy. These are the constellations of the stars above us, you see? This one is the Vizier’s Tower, and these are the four spokes of Grenth’s Eye.” Damran reached out and lightly rapped Cobiah’s head. “Pay more attention to the things around you, and you’ll solve half your problems.
“Now, this piece—it’s called the rete—goes over the mater and spins. Like so.” He placed the frame back on the mater and let it spin around.
“Why?”
“This lets you see how far apart the stars are, and how high over the horizon. With that, you can measure them against the height of the sun to tell your ship’s latitude . Latitude,” he said, noting Cobiah’s confused stare, “is the measurement of how far north or south you are at sea. To use the astrolabe, you must look along this line”—he indicated a straight slice of brass that spun through the center—“and sight either the sun or Dwayna’s Heart. That’s the one star in the sky that never wavers or alters its place. By finding the altitude of that star—how high it is in the sky in relation to the horizon—you can tell if you are north or south of center. Center being Arah, you see?”
“Arah?” Cobiah asked.
“Arah is the city at the heart of ancient Orr. The city that the gods themselves created, at the center of the world. We judge everything’s location by its distance north or south of Arah. When the astrolabe was invented, Arah was still alive and well, with a thriving society and a prominent armada of ships. The Orrian people were seafarers . . .” The old pilot cleared his throat and left off tale-telling to finish his thought. “Ahem, sorry, not important, not important.
“So, we find out how far
“Did she, now?” Damran began to chuckle. “It’s his astrolabe, of course. Captain Whiting wants his astrolabe.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“Come here, boy.” Damran rose from his seat and stepped to the big table in the center of the room, lifting a metal instrument from a pile of papers there. It was a flat circle of metal within a thin frame. The frame was ornate, almost delicate, over the platterlike base. Much of it had been cut through to show the etching on the plate below. A second, smaller inner circle perched on top of the other one, both bolted through the center to the circular base plate. “You’re new aboard ship, aren’t you?” The old pilot raised an eyebrow at Cobiah’s obvious interest.
“Not so new, sir. I’ve done three passages to Cantha.”
“Barely got your sea legs under you, then. Now, look at this. The astrolabe is the most important instrument on the ship. Do you know what it does?”
“No, sir.”
“It tells us what our eyes cannot. Namely . . .” Damran turned the brass frame, sending the circles spinning around and around over the etching of the under plate. “This little fellow can tell us where the ship is located even when it’s on the open sea.”
“It can?” Cobiah frowned. “But that’s impossible. The sea is featureless. You can’t tell where you are unless you can see the coast.” Even as he said it, he realized that it couldn’t be true. How did the ship find Kaineng City each time? It had to cross months of open ocean. The idea’d never occurred to Cobiah before, but now that he thought about it, he had no idea how the Indomitable found its way across the Sea of Sorrows.
“This instrument allows the captain to look at the stars and see our position—more or less.”
Feeling brave, Cobiah ventured to say, “He can tell by the stars?”
The pilot pushed his glasses up on his nose. He took the instrument in both hands and raised the frame off the bottom plate. “This is the mater.” He gestured to the solid brass platter, pronouncing the strange word “mayter.” “Look at those etchings. Do they seem familiar?”
Cobiah stared down at it, trying to place the odd shapes. When he shook his head no, Damran harrumphed. “The sky, my boy. These are the constellations of the stars above us, you see? This one is the Vizier’s Tower, and these are the four spokes of Grenth’s Eye.” Damran reached out and lightly rapped Cobiah’s head. “Pay more attention to the things around you, and you’ll solve half your problems.
“Now, this piece—it’s called the rete—goes over the mater and spins. Like so.” He placed the frame back on the mater and let it spin around.
“Why?”
“This lets you see how far apart the stars are, and how high over the horizon. With that, you can measure them against the height of the sun to tell your ship’s latitude . Latitude,” he said, noting Cobiah’s confused stare, “is the measurement of how far north or south you are at sea. To use the astrolabe, you must look along this line”—he indicated a straight slice of brass that spun through the center—“and sight either the sun or Dwayna’s Heart. That’s the one star in the sky that never wavers or alters its place. By finding the altitude of that star—how high it is in the sky in relation to the horizon—you can tell if you are north or south of center. Center being Arah, you see?”
“Arah?” Cobiah asked.
“Arah is the city at the heart of ancient Orr. The city that the gods themselves created, at the center of the world. We judge everything’s location by its distance north or south of Arah. When the astrolabe was invented, Arah was still alive and well, with a thriving society and a prominent armada of ships. The Orrian people were seafarers . . .” The old pilot cleared his throat and left off tale-telling to finish his thought. “Ahem, sorry, not important, not important.
“So, we find out how far
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