Far-Seer (6 page)

“A hunter knows his or her course without mechanical aids.” The words were talon-sharp.

Afsan spluttered. “I… I’m sorry.” He tried to fathom her expression. “I meant no disrespect.” There was silence between them, silence except for the screaming wind. At last, Afsan said again, “Are you Dem-Pironto?”

The dark figure stepped sideways, blocking the exit arch. “Dem-Pironto is dead,” she said at last. “She died yestereven-day. She died so others could eat.”

Dem-Pironto, leader of the imperial hunt, dead? “How?” asked Afsan, curiosity getting the better of prudence.

“Gored, she was, by a triple hornface. An honorable passing for a hunter.”

“My gift…?”

“…is of little use to her now.”

Afsan sighed. He set the astrolabe on the rocky ground.

“Not there, eggling.” The female pointed, claw unsheathed, to the sphere of skulls. “Place it near her skull. Pironto’s is the white one, there, facing out from the middle.”

Afsan’s heart skipped a beat. The monstrous collection was wider than he was tall: two hundred skulls arranged in concentric spheres. Each skull was twice as long as it was high, with large eyeholes, gaping pre-orbital fenestrae halfway down the snout, and elliptical nares. The lower jaws consisted of separate left and right bones, able to split wide when swallowing. The muzzles were packed with serrated daggers.

Afsan always found skulls frightening: eyeless receptacles, the discarded canister of the mind. These skulls seemed to float a distance above the ground, each somehow not touching the ones near it. A support, then, he told himself, perhaps thin glass or crystal, invisible in this waning light. He reached a hand forward to feel the space between skulls, but jerked it back, deciding he’d rather not know if he was wrong.

“I’ve never seen such a place as this,” Afsan said aloud, his back to the stranger. He was grateful even for the sound of his own voice, something warm and alive interrupting the shrieking winds. “A structure made of bones.”

Skulls in the inner concentric spheres had darkened over great time to a deep brown, but the skull of the late Pironto was easy to spot: it was whiter than all the others.

Afsan stooped and placed the astrolabe on the ground beneath the overhanging bulge of the sphere of skulls, directly below Pironto’s snout. It disconcerted him as he rose to catch a glimpse of the brass rings of the astrolabe, an object he had cherished since childhood, through the gaping holes in her skull and the skulls beneath.

The stranger was silent for several heartbeats. “They are the bones of hunt leaders from the past,” she said at last. “Here rests the hunting spirit of each.”

He turned to face her. “Hunting spirits? I thought that was a myth.”

“You are so blind.” The stranger spread her,arms wide. “I hear them.” She closed her eyes. “Irb-Stark and Tol-Tipna. Sar-Klimsan the Scaly and Hoad-Malat. The smooth-skinned Klimsan and Tol-Catekt. And my predecessor, Dem-Pironto.”

Afsan swished his tail in comprehension. “You are the new hunt leader.”

“I am.” Her voice was pure glass. “Jal-Tetex is my name.”

“I cast a shadow in your presence.”

In the gathering darkness, that was far from literally true. Jal-Tetex’s black eyes did not betray where they were looking, but nonetheless Afsan had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being assessed from head to toeclaw, from the front of his muzzle to the tip of his tail. At last Jal-Tetex spoke again. “No doubt you do. What do you know of the hunt?”

Afsan couldn’t remember the exact words to the Scroll of the Hunt, but he came up with what he thought was a good paraphrase. “It is the ritual through which we purge emotions: hate and violence. It is the endeavor through which we gain self-sufficiency. It is the activity that brings us together in camaraderie and cooperation.”

“And who is the greatest hunter of all time?”

Afsan’s tail twitched. A trick question? There were
five
original hunters. To pick one as better than the others might be considered blasphemous. Even though the religion of the hunt was all but extinct, there was deep respect for all five. Lubal was the one whose cult still had the most adherents, and those who didn’t understand fine distinctions often referred to the Worship of the Five and the Lubalite Cult as one and the same. Still, to name only one — And then it hit Afsan: “Why, you, Jal-Tetex, as imperial hunt leader. You are the greatest hunter.”

Afsan saw Telex’s jaw work, but he couldn’t tell over the howling wind whether she was clicking her teeth in amusement. “You’ll go far at the palace,” she said at last. “But you’re wrong. The greatest hunter of all is The One yet to come. the one foretold by Lubal: ’A hunter will come greater than myself, and this hunter will be a male — yes, a male — and he shall lead you on the greatest hunt of all.’ “

Afsan had heard the story before, and mentally whipped himself with his tail for not remembering it in time. “Of course,” he said. “The One.”

Tetex seemed satisfied. She nodded slightly at Afsan. “And you are?”

“Afsan, from Carno Pack, part of Arj’toolar province. I am a student astrologer, apprenticed to Tak-Saleed.”

“Why do you climb the rocks of the Five? Why do you come here?”

“I wish to join the next hunting pack.”

“Afsan, did you say?” Her face was impassive. “You’re a friend of Prince Dybo, aren’t you?”

“That’s right.”

“Dybo climbed the rocks earlier today. He brought a gift of precious stones.”

Afsan was delighted that his friend had made it. “Dybo has access to great wealth.”

“Not to mention influence,” said Tetex. “You used that influence to get bumped to the front of the queue.”

“Well…”

The wind whipped, but it was her voice that stung. “Eggling, do you seriously believe that princely influence will save you should something go wrong on the hunt?” Afsan said nothing. “Look there!” She pointed at the floating skulls. “Those were all great hunters, with kilodays of experience. Every one of them killed on the hunt. There are others who were swallowed whole, for whom we don’t even have a skull by which to remember them.”

Afsan stood tall. “I am not afraid.”

“Fear is important, young one. Fear is the counselor. Those who don’t know when to fear wind up dead.”

Afsan was confused. “I am not afraid,” he said again.

“You lie!” Tetex’s voice cut across the shrieking wind. It was now dark enough that the color of Afsan’s muzzle would not have betrayed him if he were telling a falsehood.

“I am not afraid of the hunt,” said Afsan quietly, his tail twitching uncomfortably among the ragged gray rocks.

“Are you afraid of me?” Tetex demanded.

Afsan was defiant. “No.”

Suddenly Tetex was moving, a black blur against the gathering night. Afsan’s claws sprang from their sheaths: she was charging at him, attacking another Quintaglio. He didn’t know what to do; one does not attack one’s own kind. But instinct, mighty instinct, took command in his hesitation. He dived to the left, avoiding the impact of her body, twice his own bulk. But Tetex pivoted, her tail slicing the air as she wheeled around. She caught Afsan’s arm and flipped him, sending him sailing. He crashed into the gridwork of bones that made up the nearest wall and tasted salt blood in his mouth. Penned, no way to resolve the territorial ambiguity, he leapt forward, arms up, claws out, jaws agape. Tetex ran directly into his leap, muscular legs propelling her. They smashed together. Afsan landed on his back, an agonizing position, his tail bent aside. Tetex’s triple-clawed foot slammed into his chest above his heart, pinning him. She flexed her toes, the claws sending sharp pains into his chest.

The tableau held for a semi-ten of heartbeats, wind whipping around them. Finally Tetex spoke again. “Do you fear me now, astrologer?”

Afsan’s eyes narrowed in shame. He spoke in a whisper rarely audible above the wind. “Yes.”

Tetex pulled her foot from his chest, and then, to Afsan’s amazement, stooped to offer him a hand in getting back on his feet. “Good,” she said. “Learn to listen to your fear. Perhaps then you will survive.” Tetex nodded concession to Afsan, and he felt the instinctive reflexes drain from within him. She looked up at the stars, at the rising constellation of the Prophet/Hunter. “We leave at first light tomorrow.”

Up ahead, Jal-Tetex had stopped moving. The grass came to the middle of her chest. Afsan, ten paces behind, immediately stopped as well. Dybo, just behind Afsan, continued ahead for a step or so before he realized what was going on, then he, too, came to a halt.

Tetex held up her right arm, the five fingers splayed, the claws sheathed. A symbol in the hunter’s sign language: she had again detected the trail of their quarry.

What, wondered Afsan, had given away the beast they were tracking? A footprint? Trampled vegetation? The animal’s pungent wind? Whatever it was, the discovery made his heart pound.

There were six others in the hunting party besides Afsan, Dybo, and Tetex. Three were veterans, each half again as big as Afsan. The other three were also on the hunt for the first time. Afsan had not discussed with Dybo his meeting with Tetex at the Shrine, but his respect for the rotund prince had increased, knowing that he had endured the cruel climb and the sight of the bones of dead hunters.

Tetex clenched her middle digits, leaving only her first and fifth fingers exposed, and these she extended as far as she could. The sign meant
thunderbeast
.

Thunderbeast!
There was no tastier prey. Next, Tetex rotated her hand at the wrist, then turned it back. Once.

Twice. Three times. Each twist signified a gradation in size: small, medium, large. The animal that Tetex had detected would be food enough for the entire palace to have a feast. Afsan could hear Dybo clicking his teeth in delight.

Tetex turned to the right and began moving through the high grass. The three other experienced hunters moved as one to keep pace with her. Afsan, Dybo, and the trio of tyros were momentarily confused, then, one by one, they followed the rest in stalking the great beast.

The terrain here, like most places on Land save the Mar’-toolar plains, was mountainous. Banded patterns of buckled rock were exposed everywhere. The pack was heading uphill, and soon Afsan himself could see some of the signs that Tetex was following. The long grasses were not just compressed; in many places they were pulverized. Smashed groundfruits could be seen here and there.

Excitement mounted within them. Afsan realized that the same pheromone he had detected yesterday radiating from Tetex was the cause. Those rare females who were in perpetual heat made the ideal hunt leaders, their scent arousing normally dormant instincts within the pack. It affected males and females the same way, sharpening their senses, readying them for battle.

The sun, tiny and brilliantly white, beat down upon them. The experienced hunters moved with great stealth, making no more sound in the grass than did the rustling of the constant east-to-west wind. Afsan and the other young ones made more noise, but their kilodays of training playing the stalking game were paying off. The sound still wasn’t enough to herald their arrival.

Afsan could feel the sack of his dewlap waggling in the breeze, dissipating heat. He held his tail slightly aloft, exposing its entire surface to the air. Onward, onward, up one side of a hill and down the other, again and again, following the signs of the thunderbeast’s passage.

Throughout it all, Tetex kept the lead. At last, she held up her hand again. This time, claws were unsheathed. Afsan searched his memories for the significance of that signal, but, glancing down, he saw that his own claws had slipped out into the light of day, as well. The excitement of the hunt, he thought. Instinct at work.

Tetex waited several heartbeats, perhaps to be sure she had everyone’s attention. She then touched her middle finger to her thumb, creating a circle.
I see it
.

Afsan heard Dybo behind him surge forward a step, and then immediately come to a halt. He’d wanted to rush up and view their intended prey, but, thankfully, his training came into play before his action could have alerted it.

Tetex now held up both arms, showing both hands. Each member of the hunting pack was represented by a finger on those hands: the experienced hunters by those on the left hand, the neophytes by those on the right. By extending the appropriate finger, Tetex was able to indicate a specific hunter. She held up the first finger on her left hand, then pointed to a spot perhaps thirty paces from where she was now standing. The largest of the experienced hunters moved to that position. Using similar signals, she deployed her other two practiced killers.

She then held up the first finger on her right hand, indicating Dybo, and pointed to a position far to the east. Dybo bobbed concession and moved off in that direction. Next, she positioned two more of the first-timers, both females, at points midway along the crest of the hill. Then came Afsan’s turn. He was delighted that Tetex motioned for him to stand near her.

Afsan moved through the tall grass to his assigned position. At last he could see into the valley, see what they had come to kill.

Thunderbeast
: a four-footed mountain of flesh; brown, with blue mottling on the massive back; an enormously long neck; ridiculously small head; pillar-like legs; a great whip of a tail.

And this one was a giant! To the thing’s shoulder, it was eight times Afsan’s height; to the top of its neck, now extended to browse leaves from the
hamadaja
trees around it, the beast stood fully twenty times as tall as Afsan. To walk the length of its tail would take forty paces.

The thunderbeast had not yet seen them. The neck was poking into the topmost part of one tree, defoliating it rapidly. These beasts spent most of their waking time eating, moving huge quantities of vegetation past their peg-like teeth, through their narrow throats, down those long, long necks, and into their rumbling guts.