"Bingo."
"Yes. It would seem that whoever carved the inscription was familiar with Quraquat mythology. Incidentally, the various sources aren't consistent as to the number of eyes the creature actually had. Anyhow, Urik's boyhood friend Calipon went with him, and the two planned to distract the horgon by giving it a meal."
"A cow?"
"The horgon's diet was apparently limited to people."
"Oh."
"Or the hero's imagination was. Calipon volunteered. The strategy they settled on was that he would deliver a frontal attack. Urik was to stay back until the attack failed, and the creature was half-gorged."
Hutch tilted her head. "Did this seem like strange behavior to the Quraquat? They weren't suicidal, were they?"
"Keep in mind, Hutch, that you're talking as if there were only a single culture. The Quraquat, like us, had a wide range of codes of behavior. Some embraced suicide as a reasonable action. But we know almost nothing about the period that gave rise to the Urik tales. For that matter, we don't know much about the later civilization that built the Temple of the Winds. So I can't really answer your question. Calipon, incidentally, was a hero in his own right, but he achieved his immortality through his sacrifice. Eventually, a nation was named for him."
Her eyebrows rose. "The second-banana hero."
"Yes. And selfless. Still another universal, Hutch. You see it everywhere. Nok has several variations. So do we. Patroclus, for example."
"Why didn't the other guy, what's his name, Urik, offer to be the main course? After all, it's his girlfriend they're after."
"Well, it wouldn't be decent to rescue the lady by throwing her lover to the wolves. No, Calipon is in the narrative for the specific purpose of serving as the sacrifice. And doing it willingly. That's what gives meaning to the tale. It's the point of the story. Everyone has an obligation to the greater good."
"It worked, of course, right?"
"Yes, Hutch. It worked. Calipon died, Urik finished off the horgon, and retrieved one of its eyes. Eventually, with the help of a sacred sea bird, a diver, he also retrieved the lovely Lisandra. In celebration of the manner of her freedom, she placed the eye on a gold chain and wore it ever after at her throat. And, in representations, she is said always to have been accompanied by a diver." He propped his chin on his hand and studied her. "So the question is, where does all this leave us?"
"That's itT she asked.
"That's it" Carson lifted his glass. The electric candles glittered in the Chianti.
"He rescued her, and they lived happily ever after," she said.
"No." He shook his head. "That isn't the end. It never is. Not for epic heroes. There has to be a final validation of the myth, a recognition by a divinity, and by the community, of the significance of the heroic acts. And it has to be set up. The setup is that, while the hero is away on a quest, raiders attack his home. Lisandra dies protecting their son.
Urik catches up with the bandits, and does them in, although he is mortally wounded in the encounter. And the gods have their opportunity to bestow divine honors. The reward for Urik—Calipon is not mentioned—is to be accepted into the company of God's warriors, a deathless squadron to be called on in time of great need. The members were memorialized by being placed in the sky."
"That's interesting," said Hutch. "Seek us by the light of the horgon's eye. Are the Monument-Makers showing us where they live?"
"Maybe."
"If so, the horgon's eye is a star. Possibly the home star."
"That's exactly what I thought," said Carson.
Hutch disposed of some spaghetti. "Could we be looking for a constellation?"
"I would think so."
"Which one? Do we know the Quraquat constellations?"
"Not from that era."
She sighed. "We're still at sea. How do we find one that looks like a big Quraquat with a spear? And then, how do we narrow it down to an individual star?"
"I don't think we're looking for Urik. He's not the one who's associated with the horgon's eye. It's Lisandra. She carried it."
"Whatever," said Hutch. "Did Lisandra get a constellation, too?"
"Urik and Lisandra were lovers. In mythical systems, lovers, if they are of sufficient stature, are never separated beyond the physical realm. These two would be closely associated throughout the mythic cycle, and so we should expect to find them together in the heavens."
"It's still hopeless." Hutch threw up her hands. "Have you ever been able to make pictures out of the stars? How would we ever recognize her?"
"Good question. If you have a suggestion, I'd be happy to hear it."
"I have no idea."
"Maybe it's not that hopeless. We've got a hole card: the horgon's eye is red."
LIBRARY ENTRY
They drink my deeds in the halls of the Ka, And bless their arms with my name. Yet I, riding through deep snow, In the dark of the moon, Do not pause.
Where, now, is Calipon my comrade?
The pennants ripple atop Master's outpost,
Brave colors, gray and blue, rock and sea,
My colors,
Bright still in the fading light;
I nod, but do not stop.
And where, at last, Lisandra?
— from Urik at Sunset (Translated by Philip Marcotti)
16
The Academy of Science and Technology, Washington, D.C. Friday, December 10, 2202; 1545 EST
Professor Emeritus Eric Kofton of Georgetown was visiting the Quraquat display at the Ivers Museum when he noticed a zodiac carved in a three-legged table. It didn't take him long to learn he had made a discovery, but he had no idea of its importance. The Academy awarded him a certificate.
The images were idealizations, giving no hint what the constellations might look like. But there were inscriptions identifying the figures. "I don't know whether it'll help us," said Carson, unrolling a poster reproduction. "The table is from the same part of the world as the Casumel culture. Unfortunately, it's only a few hundred years old. So maybe it's the same zodiac, and maybe it isn't. But look at this." He pointed at a snouted Quraquat with spear, shield, and war helmet. "It's called the Warrior."
"Urik, do you think?"
Carson looked hopeful. "We need to stay objective. But he comes complete with a female."
"The female's a separate constellation? Or part of the same one?"
"Separate. Its name doesn't have an English equivalent, but it would translate to the 'Beautiful Woman Virgin-Mother. »
Hutch grinned. "That's Lisandra. I'd recognize her anywhere."
He looked down at a notebook. "The constellations are listed by occupation. Or function. There's a woodsman. A fisherman with a net. A soronghilia plant."
"A what?"
"The Tree of Life. Symbol of immortality. There's an axe. Even a strider."
"We could have used a few pictures of the constellations."
"They would help." They were in Carson's office on the fifth floor. It was filled with memorabilia from both his military and archeological careers. She counted three models of combat aircraft, and the Temple shuttle. Awards and photos covered the walls. A young Carson in Air Force gray posed beside a black Labrador retriever. An older version stood beside a striking brunette.
"Who is she?" Hutch asked.
"Just a friend." His face clouded briefly. "Used to be."
Fearing she had intruded, Hutch retreated to the subject at hand. "What are the other.constellations?"
"A bucket, a shield, a couple of animals—"
"No horgon's eye?"
"No. And something we think was a scales."
"It's interesting. But it's hard to see that we've made any progress."