Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 712
the north end, so that the very last towers hugged the cliff itself
with sheer rock below them. The stairway arrived midway
along the south edge of the plateau, where the monks had built
a garden around the front gates of the monastery.
"What lies that way?" asked Armiger, pointing to the
southerly curve of the narrow plateau.
"Habitations of the Winds," said the Abbot.
"Desal machines," added Galas. "There's bottomless pits,
waterfalls spouting out of the cliffs... it's hard to describe."
"And the distance to the southern peak?"
"About three-quarters of a kilometer at this point," said
the Abbot.
Armiger nodded. "Too narrow for a vagabond moon to
fit."
"What are you thinking?" she asked him.
"I'm satisfied about the stairs down," he said. "But I
somehow doubt that's where our threat will come from."
"Why do you say that?"
"Look." He pointed at the moons. As far as she could
tell, they hadn't moved. They hung over the far end of the
valley and the foothills, seemingly close enough to touch, but
in reality kilometers away.
Armiger must have seen her uncomprehending
expression. He said, "Count them."
She did so. There were eleven.
"An hour ago," said Armiger, "there were twelve."
A new sun came on, exactly at the zenith. It appeared
first as a sliver of brightness, then bloomed over a few seconds
into a square too bright to look at. In those few seconds, the
sky underwent a complete transformation from twilight to day;
every shade of blue flashed through the heavens as the stars