This first entry in Melissa Scott's highly-regarded Roads of Heaven trilogy is an unusual SF novel in that it treats indistinguishable-from-magic science pretty much as if they were magic. It's the sort of thing that makes scientific purists (and guys like me) roll our eyes most of the time. If there's one thing I can't stand it's a "science" fiction story that's really about paranormal concepts; if that's what you want to write, then just write paranormal fiction. Scott avoids the claptrap trap, however, by defining her ground rules — precisely how these arcane concepts work within her milieu — early on in her story and then assiduously following them. The end result is an imaginative, compelling story for which even hard SF devotees shouldn't have trouble suspending disbelief. Throw in a believable trio of protagonists, some solid space opera action, and some surprising social relevance many years after its original publication, and you have a book, and a trilogy, worthy of rediscovery.
We open many centuries into the future. Humanity has spread out to the stars and lost touch with legendary old Earth. A new "physics" has been discovered by the mages of the oppresive Hegemony, which allows for faster-than-light travel by use of manipulating "harmonics" — spaceships are literally powered by sound. Silence Leigh, a rarity as a female pilot, navigates her ships not by plotting mathematical coordinates, but through interpreting symbols and "tuning" her vessel accordingly so that it passes successfully into "purgatory" (hyperspace) in an attempt to reach "heaven." "Heaven" and "hell" are terms that refer to other, non-material planes. The book's title actually refers to the velocity of the Sun-Treader, the ship Silence pilots early in the book.
For those who might be wondering why Scott would bother making up something like this and if it is all, in fact, a self-indulgent storytelling conceit, the answer is: who cares? If SF isn't a literature that allows for even the most outlandish flights of imagination, then nothing is. And as long as you obey your own story's rules, you're gold. Doubts about the story are assuaged as the novel progresses and the power of the magi plays an integral role in the storyline. Ultimately, it's all kind of neat: an effective way of blending SF and fantasy elements in the kind of space opera setting where hard science might clash too greatly. Still, Scott does tend to write her passages concerning the magecraft with a hard SF writer's slavish attention to detail, and this kind of prolixity makes some of the novel's early chapters slow going.
The tale begins as Silence is on the planet of Secasia, being defrauded of her inheritance following the death of her grandfather. Under the Hegemony, women have few rights (and on Secasia, even have to go veiled, an element that caught me as suprisingly relevant, as I began reading this book late in 2001 following the U.S. strikes against the Taliban in Afghanistan). But Silence is saved from her legal problems by an off-worlder named Denis Balthasar and his crewman, Chase Mago. Balthasar offers Silence an arrangement: Chase cannot get the proper documentation to travel deeply within Hegemon space. But, under the laws of Balthasar's home world of Delos, Silence can marry both men, enabling Chase to get his papers. In return for this purely-business arrangement, Silence gets the chance to leave her dead-end life on Secasia (as well as her irresponsible and devious uncle) and find whatever pilot's work she can on Delos, where they're more open to women pilots in general.
Silence agrees, but is promptly surprised to learn that Balthasar and Chase are affiliated with a massive pirate consortium called Wrath-of-God, rebelling against the Hegemony. A failed raid upon a Hegemon world leads to the trio's capture, where they are placed under a geas (a spell of mind control) that compels them to work for the Hegemony. During this ordeal, Silence learns a surprising thing or two about her own ability to control the magecraft, as she and her two companions are swept up in interplanetary conflict — and the possibility of recovering the route to old Earth itself.
Scott's quasi-mystical concepts do invite comparison to, say, the Jedi Knights and other fantastical concepts of Lucas. Of course, Scott's interstellar adventure has a level of adult sophistication that Lucas's tales, fun as they are, haven't attained. The strongest element here: a trio of excellent protagonists, none of whom is too arch, and all of whom, especially Silence, ring true as flawed but sympathetic and convincing people (though of the three Balthasar could have used much stronger development). Scott's storytelling is dense and rich in detail. Its main flaw is her aforementioned tendency toward heavy exposition. The tale is generally humorless, too — not that I would have wanted obligatory scenes of inane comic relief, but it's all quite serious going and Scott doesn't allow us much in the way of lighthearted moments.
Still, Five-Twelfths of Heaven is a rewarding story, and an impressive and cliché-free opener for what promises to be a first-rate trilogy. Space opera for grown-ups...give me more!
