Far-Seer

“I’ve never seen the Face of God,” she said, and Afsan realized that she was indeed much too young to have taken the pilgrimage. “But I’ve seen paintings of it. My class went to see the Tapestries of the Prophet once. It doesn’t look anything like a planet.”

Afsan bent low, his tail lifting into the air as he did so. He scooped up a handful of black sand.

“See this sand?” he said, letting it sift between his fingers, falling back to the ground.

“Of course.”

“It’s basalt; ground volcanic rock.” He pointed over his shoulder. “See the Ch’mar peaks there, off in the distance?”

“Yes.”

“They’re covered with the same sand. Can you see it?”

“Don’t be silly,” said the girl. “The peaks are too far away.”

“Exactly. And the other planets are too far away to be seen in detail. But when seen close up, they would appear as great spheres, just as the Face of God does. And our world revolves around the Face of God.”

Palsab made a hissing sound. The girl looked intrigued though. “But I thought the world sails down the great River.”

“No, it doesn’t. That’s just a story. I’ve sailed clear around the world—”

Palsab made another hissing sound. “You’ve seen this! You’ve done that! Pah!”

“The entire crew of the Dasheter sailed around the world,” said Afsan, trying not to become angry. “And all its passengers, too.”

The crowd had continued to grow. Each member was standing a polite distance from the next, so Afsan could easily see to the outmost circle of watchers, where Yenalb now stood. “Did you really sail around the world?” asked the young female.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

She shook her head. “Someday, I’d like to sail around the world, too.”

“Don’t talk nonsense!” Palsab spat in the youngster’s direction. “The world is flat.”

The youngster looked at the ground, but muttered, “He says there are many witnesses.”

Afsan was pleased to have found an ally. “That’s right. Many witnesses.” He looked at the crowd. Some, like Palsab, were openly hostile, claws exposed, mouth open to show teeth. Others seemed merely curious. He thought of Saleed, of what Saleed had asked him to do. Perhaps now was the time to begin; perhaps this was the place to start. Perhaps…

“But there’s more,” he said, the words tumbling out, his decision made for him. “So much more. That we’re on a moon revolving around a planet—” He heard a sharp intake of breath from several people and realized he’d just laid another explosive egg. “Yes, that’s right, our world is itself a moon, just like Swift Runner or Slowpoke or Sprinter. But that we’re on a moon, and that this moon revolves around a planet, is perhaps only of academic interest. It excites me, and I hope that knowledge for knowledge’s sake excites most of you. But I grant that the reality of the way the universe works is mostly of no consequence.” He nodded at faces in turn, trying to connect individually with each member of the crowd. “You still have to sleep, you have to toil at your tasks, you must hunt, you must eat. None of what I’ve said affects any of that.” He saw a few heads return his nods and felt encouraged to continue. “But I have discovered one fact that is of dire urgency, that will change everything.”

A roll of thunder sounded from above. Afsan looked up at the leaden sky.

Palsab grunted. “I take it you’re about to blaspheme again,” but even she recognized that the sound from the sky was coincidence. Teeth clicked around the circle.

But Afsan swallowed hard. This was important, vital. Those who hadn’t believed what he’d told them so far certainly wouldn’t accept what he was about to say. The weight upon him was almost palpable. At last, he forced out the words. “The world is coming to an end.”

The reaction was as he’d expected: expressions of disbelief or derision, and, on a few faces, of fear. Afsan raised a hand, careful, despite his excitement, to keep his claws sheathed. “What I say is true. It’s a consequence of the other discoveries I made. We’re too close to the Face of God; our path around it is not stable. Our world will be torn apart.”

“Nonsense!” shouted one voice.

“You’re wrong!” called another.

“The eggling’s insane,” muttered a third.

“I am not insane. I am not imagining things.” Afsan fought to keep his voice calm. “What I’m saying is the absolute truth—the demonstrable truth.”

Palsab’s claws extended. “You cannot prove what cannot be.”

“No,” said Afsan, “I cannot. But I can prove this.”

Palsab wiggled her fingers, but the onlooker next to her—the same fellow who had taken offense when Afsan suggested that Palsab read his paper—spoke quietly to her. “Let him talk, Palsab. He’ll put a knot in his tail, I’m sure.”