“I suspected it,” said Afsan softly.
“Why?”
Afsan said nothing.
“You suspected it because you could not see how one such as me could be the best of a clutch of hatchlings,” Dybo said flatly.
In the light of day, there was nothing for Afsan to say.
“I may not be physically strong, Afsan, but I try as best I can. I put the interests of the people before my own interests, and it’s not every leader who can say that when the sun is shining.”
“That is true.”
“But there was a time when even you wished for a different ruler?”
“There was a time,” Afsan said softly, “when I had eyes.”
Dybo was silent awhile. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” The silence between them protracted to an awkward length. Afsan pressed on. “You cannot rule under these conditions. We don’t have time for dissent.” He gestured expansively, taking in all of Rockscape and everything beyond. “The world is coming to an end. We must have unchallenged leadership. We must have an Emperor who can take us to the stars.”
“But it’s not just me personally who’s being challenged,” said Dybo.
“Oh?”
“The newsriders and sailing ships are carrying Rodlox’s story to all points of Land.”
“So I would imagine.”
“Bloodpriests are being banished from their Packs. In some instances, they’re even being killed.”
Afsan’s voice was soft. “That is unfortunate.”
“I have reports that in many Packs all egglings are being allowed to live.”
Afsan looked thoughtful. “I suspect the people feel it’s unfair for only the egglings of The Family to go unculled.”
“But the population—?”
“Will swell. By eightfold.”
“We are creatures of instinct, Afsan. Even you, even the most rational of us. I remember Nor-Gampar, the way you tore his throat out aboard the Dasheter—”
“Yes,” said Afsan sadly. “We are creatures of instinct.”
“Right now, with the egglings confined to the creches, the matter is in hand. But when they venture out into the world—”
“They will seek to establish their own territories. And there won’t be enough space for each of them. The territorial imperative will drive them, and everyone, into dagamant.”
“That is my fear, too.” Dybo spread his arms. “What can I do?”
Afsan tilted his head slightly upward, thinking. “It’s difficult. Obviously we as a people simply can’t allow all of our offspring to live—we’re much too fecund for that. Since the hatching of time, the bloodpriests have taken care of weeding the population. But now those priests are in disrepute. Their respectability must be restored.”
“How?” Dybo got up off the rock he had been straddling and began to pace. “When I father hatchlings, I will gladly submit them to dispatch.”
Afsan shook his head. “You will not be believed.”
“But they’ll know I’m not lying.”
“Not intentionally, no. But you might be misinformed or misled by your advisors, as, apparently, you and perhaps your predecessors have been in the past.”
“I’ll submit my egglings to public dispatch, then, so that there can be no doubt.”
“Public dispatch.” said Afsan, the idea evidently intriguing him. “You know, I once saw a litter dispatched.”
“What—when?”
“When I stopped in my home Pack of Carno, venturing back from the Dasheter’s landing after we circumnavigated the world. I stumbled into the creche at the wrong time. It’s a sight I’ve never forgotten. Public dispatch—yes, people would flock to watch that.” He scratched the underside of his muzzle. “But even that would leave all eight of your mother’s children alive.”
Dybo flicked his tail. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”
“Perhaps there is,” said Afsan slowly.
Dybo stopped pacing directly abreast of Afsan. “What do you mean?”
“You have been challenged by your brother. He claims he would have been chosen as best, had the imperial bloodpriest performed his job properly.”
“That’s what he says.”
“What has become of that bloodpriest?”
“You mean the one who held the job when I hatched?” said Dybo. “Mek-Maliden is his name. He’s still alive. He’s very old, of course, but in theory he’s still the imperial bloodpriest.”
“Have you asked this Maliden whether Rodlox’s claim is true?”
Dybo looked away. “Maliden has gone missing. No one has seen him since the day Rodlox made his challenge.”
“Are you sure that he, too, as a bloodpriest, hasn’t fallen prey to an angry mob?”
Dybo shook his head. “I don’t think so. Maliden’s personal effects are missing, too.”
Afsan nodded slowly. “That he’s run away is strong evidence that Rodlox’s claim is true, I’m afraid. Have you searched the documents at the imperial Hall of Worship?”
“Not personally, of course. But I’ve ordered it done. Nothing has been found to either corroborate or refute Rodlox’s claim.” Dybo sighed. “Of course, if I were involved in such a monumental deception, I doubt I’d write anything down, either.”
“No. Nor would I. So the truth has fled the city with Maliden.”
“Apparently.”
Silence, except for the calls of wingfingers and the drums and bells from a ship sailing by far below. Then: “There are two thrusts to Rodlox’s claim,” said Afsan. The first, that all eight of Lends’s children got to live, seems verified, if we take Maliden’s disappearance as an admission of guilt. But that, in and of itself, is not so damaging. After all, all eight of Novato and my children were allowed to live, too.”
“Indeed.”
“But the second part of the claim, that the wrong eggling was designated as Emperor-to-be, is very bad indeed, and it hasn’t been proven. Maliden could tell us.”
“If we could find him,” said the Emperor. “I’ve sent out riders with orders for his arrest.”
“I doubt you’ll locate him soon enough,” said Afsan.
“Frankly, I doubt it, too,” agreed Dybo. “If the other bloodpriests are in cahoots with him, he’ll have an ally in every Pack. Without Maliden, there’s no one who can categorically refute Rodlox.” Dybo slapped his tail against the ground in frustration. “Regardless, the people have made up their minds already. They believe that everything Rodlox said is true.”
“And that hampers your ability to lead,” said Afsan.
“Yes.”
“The question of who rightfully belongs on the ruling slab must be resolved.”
“But how? I suppose, if the overwhelming opinion is that I’m not the rightful heir, then I could step down and let Rodlox take my place.”
“No!” said Afsan. “No. You can’t do that. Rodlox would abandon the exodus. No, a way must be found to prove that you are the correct leader.”
“And how can we do that?”
Wingfingers careened overhead. Nearby, insects buzzed in low shrubs.
“A replay,” said Afsan simply. “You and your siblings must face the culling of the bloodpriest again.”
Dybo was silent for a long time, then his teeth began to click. “Afsan, you’re yanking my tail. Do you know who becomes imperial bloodpriest in Maliden’s absence? His apprentice, Dagtool. He’s not that formidable. Chances are I could take him in a fight, and if I couldn’t alone, certainly my siblings and I together could.”
“Of course,” said Afsan. “To set eight adults against one would be silly. When the bloodpriest does his culling, it’s eight tiny hatchlings he must deal with.” He looked up, blind eyes on Dybo. “What we need is an appropriately scaled-up bloodpriest.”