The Days of Peleg by Jon Saboe

Mentor Thaxad had brought a large trunk full of strange devices which he claimed, “…reflected the supremacy of ancient wisdom” and periodically pulled something out that was unlike anything anyone had ever seen. Most suspected they were his own inventions, but it was clear that his Castor disciplines held many mysteries beyond those contained in the teachings of the City-run Citadel .
    Thaxad had immigrated to the colony of Knossos along the shore of the Great Sea along with other settlers just twelve years after the Great Awakening. There he had been trained in mechanical engineering and drafting. Later, upon his initiation into the Order of Buzur , he had apprenticed in Kemet and studied the latest in Geopolymeric Procedures and Formulae from some of their greatest Castors.
    When he arrived on board the Urbat , the first thing the crew noticed about him (after his height) was a prominent teardrop tattoo on his right cheek. Instead of a light blue, however, it was reddish brown, but no matter how curious the crew was, no one had yet mustered enough courage to ask him about it—and Thaxad never offered.
    Once when Peleg was complaining about the inadequacies of his sextant, Thaxad had interrupted him with a finger to his lips and nodded that he would return immediately.
    He re-entered Peleg’s cabin shortly with two items—a medium sized box, and an object which looked disappointingly like any other sextant—simply darker than Peleg’s.
    He offered this to Peleg, saying, “You may use mine.”
    Peleg had studied the object briefly and noted that it was slightly larger—a pentant—which marked off a fifth of a circle. The only other difference he noticed was a simple mirror in place of his mercury box. He shook his head.
    “I don’t need a mirror,” he said, trying not to sound too unthankful. “At least mercury maintains a level surface. I don’t think…”
    Thaxad interrupted him with a wave and approached him with small leather bag that had a tube attached to it. He fixed the tube to a small port on the side which Peleg had failed to notice.
    Thaxad squeezed the leather bag repeatedly, revealing its function as a bellows, forcing air into the side of the unit. Peleg watched as the mirror began to turn slowly, and then rotate faster and faster.
    The spinning mirror was apparently attached on a floating pivot and mounted to a circular weight.
    “A horizon-wheel,” said Thaxad. “This will maintain your mirror at whatever level you set it. Once spinning, it resists change or deviation caused by the ship’s movement. Simply adjust the two spirit-levels and you will have no more problems.”
    Peleg stared in astonishment at the evidenced simplicity. No more smoothing tiny puddles of mercury with his camelhair brush. He couldn’t wait to try it out.
    “Just make sure you store it in sunlight during the day,” the Mentor admonished.
    Peleg looked at him for an explanation, but none was forthcoming.
    He turned his attention to the box, and inquired about it with his eyebrows. Thaxad retrieved it and handed it to Peleg, who set it on the table in front of him.
    On the side of the box facing Peleg was a large circle marked off by layered inscriptions. Within the circle were three metal arrows of differing lengths which pointed to the layers from the center.
    A small wooden knob protruded from the top, and Peleg saw that it was actually a crank which moved a small disk embedded in the surface. He turned the handle and was astonished to see the small arrows move within the front circle.
    As the crank slowly moved, Thaxad silently pointed to the back of the box. Peleg looked behind and saw two more circles; each with several arrows, and inside the left one was a second, tiny circle with an arrow of its own.
    Thaxad came forward and reached for the box. He released a clamp of some kind and the top of the box lifted, revealing the interior workings.
    Inside was something beyond Peleg’s wildest imagination. A