ean told me to calibrate the starscopes this morning.

A thrill ran up my spine and I sprinted to the north tower. I rushed through the empty courtyard. The kennel flew by and I played my hand across its old fencework, the dogs barking and howling in greeting. I took the footworn steps of the tower two and three at a time, and when I reached the top of that old, leaning tower, my breath had left me.

I took a few minutes to recover my wind and my wits. The starscopes are delicate and complex, and important to Kean’s astrological research. I knew better than to rush this task, or to take it on with shaky hands or scattered thoughts.

The starscopes whirred and clicked. Gears ticked in parallel and succession, interspersed with a clunk and a rapid series of heavy tocks. Metallic cylinders, the starscopes, pointed into the sky in a multitude of directions. Over the course of the night most would follow the rotation of the heavens. Some would move in other directions, following some errant celestial body or a mysterious moving point that Kean had mapped out. Some pointed at the horizon, or not at the sky at all. I was most curious about these land-oriented scopes. What was Kean studying? Or was he spying?

I tried not to let the question distract me as I reset the little brass switches and rewound the cranks that powered the massive contraption that would move the starscopes throughout the night. I oiled the many joints and placed charms on each one. I replaced the wooden sundial switch and its partnered sun magnifier, so the machine would start back into motion when the sun met the horizon. I polished the array of mirrors that would direct the sunlight onto the magnifier, and enchanted them so that neither dust nor a lone cloud would prevent them from setting fire to the sundial switch. Finally, I precisely calibrated the focus and direction of each scope using a chart that Kean had given me for the task.

The last scope pointed at Castle Cannaghdown’s eastern wall. My curiosity got the best of me and I put my eye to it. I saw a window, and through it an ornate mirror. A dress and some flowers hung beside the mirror. Suddenly, a woman—Fina!—stepped into view. She brushed her hair before the mirror, unclothed, and her lovely body captured my attention. My eyes stroked her exposed skin, and I could feel my cheeks redden. So enchanting, so immaculate a woman….

Then she left the mirror, and I pulled myself hastily away from the scope. I tried to calm myself and finish my task, but I could not help but wonder, why was one of the scopes set for Fina’s window?