"Ah, okay," said Novato. "So the stress does not get evened out."

"No," said Afsan. "I guess not. Not really. Yes, over the whole sphere, the difference is split. But some parts are always rotating faster than they want to, and others are always rotating slower than they want to."

"Is this normal? For a moon to always keep the same side toward the planet it revolves around?"

"It’s normal for moons that are close to their planet, yes. In our system, nine of the thirteen moons seem to always keep the same side facing in. Excuse me: ten of the fourteen moons; I keep forgetting to count us."

Novato looked puzzled. "But the stress must be significant if you are close to your planet. I mean, we don’t take long at all to rotate around the Face of God."

"We take exactly one day, of course."

"Of course," she said. "That’s not long. And the world’s a big place."

"Indeed," said Afsan. "Based on how long it took the Dasheter to make its voyage, I’d say the world has a diameter of about ten or eleven thousand kilopaces."

"Well, doesn’t that mean that there’s a big difference between the speeds that the Land side and the pilgrimage-point side want to move at?"

"Yes, I guess it does." Silence for a few moments while both thought. Then Afsan continued. "In fact, I bet there’s a point at which a moon would be so close to the planet it revolves around that the stress between inside and outside would be too much. The difference in the desired speeds of movement would be enough to tear the moon apart."

"Leaving rubble," said Novato. "Wait a beat." She turned, staring off into space. "Wait a beat. How about this? The particles that make up a ring are the rubble left behind from a moon that moved too close to the planet it revolved around. What we see now as the ring around Kevpel might once have been the innermost moon of Kevpel. And the ring around Bripel might have once been the innermost moon of Bripel."

Afsan’s jaw dropped open; his tail swished in agitation. ’’But the Face of God has no ring around it."

"True."

"And we are the innermost moon of the Face of God."

"We are?"

"We are."

"Vegetables. That doesn’t sound good." But a moment later she brightened. "But look, not every planet has a ring. I’ve seen no signs of one around Davpel — and I can clearly see its phases — or around Gefpel. Now, Carpel and Patpel are too small and dim to show any detail, even in my big far-seer, but there’s no reason to think they might have rings, either."

"No."

"Besides, Afsan, Land isn’t breaking up. It’s as solid as can be."

Afsan gestured at the cracks in the temple walls. "Is it? The ancients used to find it worth their while to build temples such as this. Now we’re lucky if a building will stand for a few tens of kilodays."

"Yes, but…"

"And the volcanism, the landquakes, the riverquakes…"

"You’re jumping to conclusions, Afsan. Look, Land has been here since time began. It’ll be here for a long time to come. Besides, if we’re right about the origin of the rings around Kevpel and Bripel — if — well, then, there are moons that travel in tight circles around them, as well. I’m sure we could work out how close a moon has to be before it’s in danger of breaking up."

Afsan nodded mild concession. "You’re right, of course." The intellectual stimulation of being here with Novato had excited him. Such a lively mind she had! He looked at her and clicked his teeth in a good-natured gesture. She clicked back, and he realized that Novato must have been thinking much the same thing about him. For it was a heady atmosphere, full of startling revelations and incredible discoveries.

And in that moment, Afsan understood that although he’d already been through a series of rites of passage — leaving his home Pack of Carno, starting a profession, undertaking his first hunt, receiving his hunter’s tattoo, completing his pilgrimage to the Face of God — there was still one rite of passage he had not yet completed.

It was unusual for a female to go into estrus outside of the mating season, but great excitement could cause it. Afsan’s nostrils flared slightly at the first whiff of the scent coming off Novato, the chemical that unlocked the drive in the male. His claws extended in response to the unexpected stimulus, then slowly relaxed into their pockets at the tips of his fingers as his own body recognized what the pheromones were signaling.

His dewlap went from being a flaccid sack waggling beneath his muzzle to a puffed ruby balloon, almost as big as the dome of his cranium.

Novato turned and looked at Afsan, sitting closer than normal territorial instinct would allow.

Afsan was embarrassed. His body was reacting in unexpected and, he feared, inappropriate ways. But Novato, sweet, beautiful Novato, bobbed her head twice, slowly, deliberately, in concession.

Energy surged through Afsan and he rose. At the same ume, Novato fell to her knees, propping up her torso with her arms.

She lifted her tail…

And Afsan mounted her from the rear, his penis slipping out of the folds that normally protected it, feeling cool and hard in the open air.

He worked his hips, maneuvering by instinct.

She was perhaps as much as half again his age; half again his size, but the union worked — oh, how it worked! — as Afsan and she moved in a rhythm that matched the pounding of their hearts, the pulsing of his sex organ, the puffing of his dewlap…

Until…

Until…

Until his seed was released within her, his mind exploding with a delight only previously imagined, a delight held for heartbeat after heartbeat, Novato beneath him hissing quietly in pleasure…

And then, finally, he withdrew, his energy spent, her pheromones shifting to a more neutral character, his dewlap deflating, but hanging loosely open to help dissipate his body heat.

He climbed off her, stepped back into a relaxed tripod stance, catching his breath. She stretched out, belly down on the stone floor of her workshop, her eyes half closed, each breath taking longer to come than the one before.

Afsan slid to the floor beside her, his tail loosely wrapping around hers. He was exhausted; soon they both slept.

The world might be coming to an end.

But they’d worry about that tomorrow.

And, indeed, tomorrow did come — too soon for Afsan’s tastes, even though he woke well after dawn. Wab-Novato had already risen, apparently some time ago, and was hard at work adjusting the lenses on another far-seer.

He lay there, eyes open, watching her across the room. She was not that much older than him, really. Only a few kilodays. Still, she had her work here; Afsan’s job required him to return to Capital City.

Finally Afsan pushed off his belly, rising to his feet.

Novato dipped her muzzle in his direction. "Good morning."

Afsan returned the gesture. "Good morning."

And then there was silence. Did she know it had been his first coupling? Did she regret having done it? Think about it?

He swallowed. Did she want to do it again?

I’ll miss her, Afsan thought. And with that, he realized there was no need for discussion. Their roles — hers here, his there — were immutable.

"I’m expected back in Capital City," Afsan said. "I’ve got to head out this morning."

Novato looked up. "Of course."

Afsan started for the door. He hesitated, though, after a step or two. "Novato?"

"Yes?"

"I cast a shadow in your presence."

She looked up. "We cast shadows in each other’s presence, Afsan. And when we’re together, there is light everywhere and no shadows fall at all."

Afsan felt his heart soar. He bowed deeply, warmed to every corner of his body.

"I have a present for you," said Novato. She picked up the far-seer she’d been working on and brought it over to him.