Tetex had been leaning back on her tail. She turned now, and Cadool saw in her hand a leather-bound volume. Embossed on its cover was the cartouche of Lubaclass="underline" this was one of the forbidden books of Lubalite rites, a new edition, apparently, made possible by the recent introduction of printing presses. Still, no government-authorized press had produced that book.
“Hahat dan, Cadool,” said Tetex, making no effort to hide the book. “You’re late.”
“My duties at the palace interfered, I’m afraid.” He clicked his teeth. “When Emperor Dybo calls for something to eat, all other business must be put aside.”
Tetex nodded. “Before stuffing Dybo, did you get a chance to see The One?”
“Yes. I took him food.”
“He is well?”
“He’s frightened and confused, but holding up.”
“Fear is the counselor,” said Tetex. “He is wise.” She looked across Land, spreading out far below. “Now that you’ve spoken with him, have you any doubts?”
“None. Keenir was right. And so were you. He must be The One. He told me something today, something only The One would know.”
“What?”
“He said the world is coming to an end.”
Tetex’s head snapped around to look Cadool dead on. “Are you sure?”
“He was quite plain. In three hundred kilodays or so, the world will end.”
“Still that far away? But it is as the Book of Lubal said: ‘will come among you to herald the end; heed him, for those who do not are doomed.’ ”
Cadool made the ceremonial sign of acquiescence at the mention of Lubal’s name. “It was all I could do to keep from touching him when he said it. I had my doubts until then, but no more.”
“Does he know that you know who he is?”
“Tetex, I don’t think he knows who he is. But I didn’t give anything away. Of his own volition, he pledged his life to the cause.”
Silence, save for the shrieking wind. Then Tetex spoke: “When I saw him on that first hunt, I knew he was special. I’d never seen a novice hunter with such skill, such determination.”
“That thunderbeast he brought down was a giant indeed.”
“A giant? Cadool, for the first time, I thought I was going to die. There was no way we could defeat that monster—none! But Afsan succeeded. He saved us all. When Keenir returned with his stories about Afsan killing a serpent that attacked the Dasheter, and that fellow Drawo from Carno told us about Afsan bringing down a fangjaw on his own, I was sure. ‘And The One will defeat demons of the land and of the water; blood from his kills will soak the soil and stain the River.’ ”
“But now they call Afsan himself a demon,” said Cadool. “He was almost killed in the ruling room yesterday. Dybo’s feelings are the only thing keeping Afsan alive, and who knows how long it will be before the imperial advisors convince Dybo to put him to death.”
“But to kill a Quintaglio…”
“It’s been done before, Tetex. In Larsk’s time, the hunters who didn’t accept his claims were executed.”
Tetex nodded solemnly. “You’re right. We must act quickly.”
“Has word gone out with our newsriders?”
“They leave tonight.”
“And Keenir?”
“He’s loading provisions aboard the Dasheter now. At dawn, he’ll set sail for the west coast to fetch Lubalites from there. When he landed there with Afsan, he told many hunters the story of Afsan killing the great serpent. He’s sure that most will agree to come back here with him.”
“That’s still fifty days or so, round trip, even for the Dasheter.” said Cadool.
“That it is. But it’ll take at least that long for any of those who the newsriders contact to assemble here. Everyone who knows the hand sign will receive the special call.”
“Where will we gather?”
“At the ruins of the temple of Lubal, on the far side of the Ch’mar peaks.”
Cadool’s tail swept in a wide arc. “I hate that place—buildings half buried under lava flows.”
“But no one goes there anymore; it’s an ideal spot to wait for the others.”
Cadool nodded. “I suppose.” He looked back at the floating sphere of skulls. “Afsan himself did not know the hand sign.”
Tetex blinked. “He didn’t?”
“Not really.”
“Did you show it to him?”
“Of course.”
“Well, he knows it now,” said Tetex.
“And that’s enough?”
“We must pray that it is. There’s little we can do for him without greater numbers. He has to hold on for sixty-one days.”
Cadool looked puzzled. “Sixty-one?”
Tetex patted the cover of the book she held. “That will bring us to the traditional date of the feast of Lubal. At the fifth daytenth, we’ll march into the Capital.”
*32*
Except for Cadool, who came once more with food, Afsan had no visitors for the next fourteen days. It was clear what was being done. Those who held sway with Dybo hoped the isolation would make him more willing to accede to their wishes. But a Quintaglio could take a lot of isolation before being disturbed by it. In fact, after the confines of the Dasheter, and the continual company of the delegation from Carno on his trip here, Afsan found being left alone with his thoughts a welcome change.
When he did at last have a visitor, it wasn’t who he had hoped for. The door to the storage room burst open. Afsan leapt to his feet. Standing in the entryway, robes swirling, was Det-Yenalb, Master of the Faith.
Afsan did not bow. “I didn’t expect to see you,” he said.
“And I prayed my whole life never to see the likes of you,” hissed Yenalb. “But now you are here, and you must be dealt with.” He handed a piece of writing leather to Afsan. “I want you to draw your cartouche on this. I’ll witness it with my own.”
Afsan read the page. I, Afsan, formerly apprentice to the Chief Court Astrologer, before that a member of Pack Carno of Arj’toolar province, hereby affirm without reservation the existence of the Divine, that She is the one true God, that She created all life, and that the Face of God is her true countenance and Larsk is a true prophet. I disavow any claims to the contrary, and renounce and rescind any statements I may have made in the past that disagree with the content of this declaration. I have placed my mark below voluntarily, without coercion, and of my own free will. May God have mercy upon me.
Afsan handed it back to Yenalb. “I can’t agree to that.”
“You must.”
“Or?”
“Or suffer the consequences.”
“I’ve already lost my job and my freedom. What else can you do to me?”
“Believe me, child, you do not wish to know.”
“You can’t have me killed. That’s against the teachings.”
“A demon may be disposed of.”
“If Dybo agreed with you that I was a demon, I would be dead already. Therefore, he doesn’t.”
Yenalb made an unpleasant sound. “It’ll take more than sophistry to save you. The sacred scrolls confer extraordinary powers upon my office. I can select any fate I wish for you.”
“You threaten me with death? You would commit murder?”
“You yourself dispatched a crewmember aboard the Dasheter, so I’m told. A fellow named Nor-Gampar, wasn’t it?”
“That was different. He had gone into dagamant; he was crazed.”
“And perhaps you are becoming crazed even as we speak. Perhaps I will have no choice but to rip your throat out.”
“I am as calm as one could be, under the circumstances.”
“Are you, now?” Yenalb stepped closer to Afsan. “I am a priest. It’s my job to whip individuals or groups into a frenzy. I could set you off with a few choice words, or incite those guards standing out in the hall.”