Traitor Angels by Anne Blankman Page A

discoloration around the edges of the moon,” he said, sounding calm, as though he held girls’ hands every day. Maybe he did. “I suspect this telescope’s concave lenses gather and diffuse light improperly. Longer telescopes lessen the distortion. Someday I hope to build a telescope that permits us to see the heavens plainly.”
    I glanced over my shoulder at him. His face was inches from mine, so close I could smell his scent of spiced wine andsandalwood. In the silvery darkness, I saw a vein pulsing in his throat, where he had undone his cravat. Hastily, I looked into the telescope, fumbling for something to say. “I thought you were a mathematician, not an astronomer.”
    “I am, but the natural world fascinates me, too.” His tone was easy. Obviously, our proximity wasn’t affecting him . At least only one of us was addle-brained tonight.
    Irritated with myself, I peered through the eyepiece. Then I gasped aloud. The moon looked as white and lustrous as a pearl, its curved shape blurred as though it were wrapped in fog. Dark shadows dotted its surface.
    “What are those specks on the moon?” I asked.
    “Valleys and craters. The moon’s surface isn’t smooth, as many believe, but pockmarked with valleys and mountains. By daylight I can show you something even more shocking. Have you heard of the phenomenon of sunspots?”
    I shook my head and, loath to blink, I continued staring at the moon. The dark specks were tinged with blue. From this distance, I couldn’t discern which were valleys and which mountains. It little mattered—this was still the most beautiful, awe-inspiring vision I’d ever beheld.
    “Sunspots are dark fumes or vapors that travel across the sun’s surface.” Viviani’s breath fluttered warmly on my neck. “They are proof that the sun rotates, stationary, on its axis.”
    I pulled away from the telescope so I could turn to look at him. “If the sun is stationary, how can it rise and set?”
    Viviani’s eyes held mine. There was something in his face I couldn’t make out—it might have been a challenge. “Because the earth moves around the sun.”
    I stared at him, my heart throbbing against my ribs. “That’s blasphemy! The Bible says all heavenly bodies revolve around the earth.”
    “You are holding the telescope of the man who discovered the sun’s true movements,” Viviani said fiercely. “Fifty years ago he published the work Letters on Sunspots , and instead of being hailed as the visionary he truly was, he was accused of heresy by the Inquisitors in Rome. We should be brave enough to seek the truth, even when it contradicts our beliefs! Yet everywhere I look, I see people wrapping themselves in darkness because they’d rather not upset the balance of their lives.”
    I hesitated, unsure what to say. Willful blindness was something I was all too familiar with. For years, I had heard others hurl insults at Father and Anne, saying their physical afflictions were God’s punishment for their sins. Deep in my bones, I had known they were wrong—I’d known that Father was a good person and Anne was the best, kindest girl I would ever meet. His blindness and her deformed limbs and simple mind must spring from another source, I was convinced. Yet Psalm 104 stated that the earth stands still and the Book of Joshua told us that the sun revolved around our motionless planet, unless it was paused in its journey by God’s hand. And I’d always been taught that the Bible contained unassailable truths.
    “You must be mistaken,” I said at last.
    “I’m not.” Viviani took the telescope from my limp fingers. “Some truths are inescapable, Miss Milton, whether or not you choose to believe them. Every night the stars will shine and rotate in their constellations, and continually our planet will revolve in its journey around the sun.”
    Pointedly, I looked at the ground. “The earth seems motionless to me.”
    “It’s an illusion. Our planet is in perpetual motion, and