Far-Seer

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.”

“Dybo would never permit that.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’d be found out. The first time he, or someone else, asked you what had happened to me, you’d be discovered.”

“Would I?”

“Of course! Your face would flush blue.”

“Would it?” Yenalb’s teeth clicked. “Not every person can be a priest, you know. It takes a special disposition, special talents, special ways. Have you ever seen a priest’s muzzle show the liar’s tint?”

Afsan stepped backwards quickly, widening the space between them. “No… you’re saying that you can lie openly? No. It can’t be. You’re just trying to make me nervous, trying to frighten me into agreeing to recant.”

“Am I? Do you wish to put the issue to a test?” Yenalb stepped closer again. “Agree to the words on that piece of leather, Afsan. Save yourself.”

“I am trying to save myself. And all of us. Even you.”

Yenalb’s tail swished. “You are so young. And, except for your current delusion, so bright. Recant, Afsan.”