by Alma Boykin
One of the females working in the orchard caught sight of him and she waved her tail. Tarkeela waved in return, watching as she returned to work. As a rule he did not bed his employees and they knew it, never moving beyond a little flirtation now and then. He had offspring, one of whom served in the Imperial forces, the other a female still in the youngest of the junior packs, but no heirs. When he died, or decided he’d had enough, Three Trees would become a chartered settlement, a town with an elected council. But for now the reptile had an appointment to attend and a role to play, and Tarkeela shook himself, then went inside for a bath before leaving for a pre-hunt dinner at his cousin’s estate.
I wonder what will have Kirlin’s tail in a knot this evening, Tarkeela mused as he rinsed off. Probably nothing as important as what his cousin and a lowly out-Clan story-catcher had tumbled onto. Too bad Kirlin wasted his brain on noble matters rather than the real world, Tarkeela sighed briefly. He could have been a useful tracker in this latest data hunt.
3. Signs and Portents
Lone God’s Temple, West New Southdown, Sseekhala
“Grant mercy to this junior, o Lord of all Lives, great Clan Lord, opener of the Gates, thou who drives all prey to its end,” Roshee chanted as he lit the memorial incense. Behind him a female and her dam wailed in quiet harmony, calling on the Lone God to witness their sorrow and to have pity on the dead male.
The priest backed away from the altar and bowed twice, then clopped twice against a hollow wooden tube. None of the new-style callers, no bells or electronic clappers, intruded on his temple. Roshee kept the old ways with utter devotion and scrupulous detail, including permitting females to wail the dead. He waited patiently, directing his thoughts to plead for mercy for the small junior, only two moons old when he died of the black disease. The females’ voices faded away and the priest bowed again, then turned to face them. He rose onto his hind legs and spread his forelegs, talons spread wide, and intoned, “The Great Pack Leader hears and answers; hear the words of the final hunt: ‘all who come to me with their hunts unfinished shall rest and return, returning to the hunt that is life, stronger and keener for their prey’. Go now, you who mourn the little hunter, and take comfort in his return to the Great Pack Leader’s lair, where he rests before the next hunt of life.” The females bowed, backed, and then turned, departing in silence. The older draped her tail over the younger, comforting and encouraging her. Roshee watched with approval before dropping onto his forefeet. He too bowed once more, departing the worship area by a side entrance.
The reptile took off his memorial robe and hung the pale pink garment by itself, allowing the incense scent to fade for a few hours. Memorials came so frequently these days that he no longer stored the robe away after conducting a service. Roshee shook himself, making a warding sign before walking slowly out of the robing and preparation area and into the courtyard, with its basking rocks and small garden. Most temples included a replica of the Lone God’s lair, but Roshee’s Faith-keepers, as they called themselves, preferred the garden as their symbol. The pale gray, brown, and green striped reptile stretched out on the blessedly hot rock and breathed a prayer of thanks as the heat seeped into his muscles and bones and a hot breeze carried away the last of the memorial incense from his nostrils. He needed to look into several matters affecting his small worship-pack, but for now the no-longer-young reptile soaked up his god’s blessings of heat and light.
Later that day, all the sunlight in the galaxy could not have thawed Roshee’s spirit after he finished reading the files Tareshah had given him. It was Tareshah, a member of one of the worship-pack’s founding lineages and secretary to the Chief Maker, who had first drawn his priest’s attention to the strangely high number of junior deaths. Roshee studied the long list of dead juniors in his temple’s district and felt his spines rising with fear and faint anticipation. Could this be a sign from the Lone God?
He recited the litany of calming, settling himself before he considered the faint track appearing before him. Roshee could not let himself see things that did not exist. Signs came rarely and demanded great discernment and contemplation to confirm; that, all priests of the Lone God agreed upon. Roshee repeated the calming litany before returning to the data. Recognizing the Signs of the Final Hunt required even more care and the priest had no desire to add his name to the long list of those who thought they scented the final Prey only to be proven wrong.
Even if this was not a true Sign, Tareshah’s observation and information boded ill for Roshee and many, many other Azdhagi. “Blasphemy,” the priest snarled, slapping his tail against the bench. “To try and manipulate the Great Hunt is forbidden.” Oh, the other priests disagreed, Roshee knew, but the Faith-keepers followed the old, narrow, faint trail, tracking close to the original, pure teachings and customs of the Lone God. The others preferred a wider path and spoke of “improving” Azdhagi, claiming powers that no Azdhag born had ever possessed. The writings left by the Lone God’s scouts warned of such false guides.
Tareshah had asked to meet with his priest that evening, and Roshee agreed. The later hour gave him room for his twilight devotions as well as time to meditate and rest his eyes. Roshee’s spells of twist-sight came more frequently when he grew tired and the reptile winced as he remembered the last one. The pain and visions had prevented him from fulfilling his duties for two days.
Tareshah tapped diffidently at Roshee’s door just after sunset. “Enter, please, and have the Lone God’s blessing,” the priest invited. Tareshah dipped his head and walked into the meeting chamber, closing the outer door behind him. “Please, be seated,” Roshee told his guest as he settled onto a blue-padded bench. Tareshah heaved himself onto a sturdy brown bench, his posture radiating unhappiness. “You seek council, packmate?”
“Yes, wise guide. I have found things that worry me, more than what I sent you yesterday,” the heavy male began, his tail tip thrashing. “You know that my work includes searching for old data, trying to find lost tracks and faint trails of earlier Makers?”
Roshee swept his forefoot in affirmation. “Yes, Tareshah. Have you found a troublesome trail?”
The other reptile’s voice dropped to a hissed whisper and Roshee dipped his head, trying to hear better. “I found destruction of all Azdhagi, wise guide. I… I am not sure what to do. It was encrypted and hidden in other data, in an old harvest report from Clan Raetee. The Makers committed blasphemy and more, and the tracks remain clear for someone to do it again. And the tracks lead to the black death, or what that story-catcher calls ‘death touch.’ It… could it be a sign?” Tareshah’s green eyes glowed and Roshee could almost smell the other male’s eagerness and desperate hope.
Roshee raised his forefoot, curling it in caution. “We do not ask for signs, Tareshah. The Lone God gives them in his time to those who hunt diligently, but we do not presume to have found the Lone God’s prey before his time,” the priest reminded the secretary. Tareshah drooped on his bench at the correction. Roshee continued, “Tell me what you have found, simply and clearly, packmate.”
Dark tan Tareshah began. “Tsae asked me four years ago, when we began converting and saving the bits and fragments of files, to pay special attention to anything labeled ‘Star-Strong.’ He did not say why, and I assumed that it was a military project, one of those lost in the great floods.” Tareshah’s tail swung and rumpled into a shrug. “I found nothing except small reports, tables of numbers, a few report summaries, that sort of thing, wise guide. Last sixt a letter to the plant breeders entered the data recovery system, dating to 2569 and describing the tree-fluff and sour-tongue harvests at Raetee’s primary village. But a separate attached data file described a special Azdhagi breeding program, wise guide.”
“Raetee is known for pushing the limits of plant and livestock breeding,” Roshee agreed, pushing his follower to continue.
Tareshah made a negation with his strong-side forefoot. “This is breeding Azdhagi. It is worse, wise guide, it was tampering with Azdh
agi yet to be born, trying to give them the powers of a True-dragon and the size of Sidaran strikers.”
Roshee’s neck spines trembled at the sheer blasphemy of the idea and he drew the warding mark with a forefoot. “How? And was it truly done, or just speculated?”
“They tampered with the genes of not-born, trying to manipulate how we use energy and even how we make energy, wise guide. The so-called death touch is related to incorrect energy use by the body of the new-hatched, or so Tsae’s observers think. They are not sure.” The reptile swept his tail up over his back, eyes wide, spines rising slightly with intensity. “Wise one,” he breathed, whole body trembling, “What if this is the first Sign, the warning?”
“If it is, or it is not, we proceed with great care,” the priest replied, body relaxed and voice calm. “Have you shown Tsae your findings?”
Tareshah’s emphatic whole-body negation answered the question and Roshee’s forefoot flickered in a blessing.
“Keep them from his ken. Sequester all that you find about this ‘Star-Strong’ thing and bring it to me. If it is the first sign then we will be prepared and ready. If it is not, then we will not have ventured down a false trail. The Lone God rewards those who search diligently, trusting in his scouts and guides to read the correct trail.” Roshee could not permit himself to even hope that Tareshah’s discovery heralded the first sign of the Final Hunt. Too many other Azdhagi had wandered onto false paths following such traces and hints in the past.
The secretary gestured his agreement. “Tsae trusts me to report only the important items to him. Most go directly into storage. I will continue as I have, wise guide, but will set aside any further ‘Star-Strong’ fragments for you.”
“Do that. You have shown great discernment, packmate, and the Lone God blesses such careful trackers of his chosen prey. Go to your home with his blessing.” Tareshah basked in the priest’s praise, and bowed his head and tail as Roshee intoned, “Clear trails, strong scents, and a healthy litter be all on your hunt, pack mate.”
“All thanks to the Lone God who guards our trail,” Tareshah recited.
Roshee let the other reptile out and saw him to his vehicle, then returned to the small dwelling and locked the door before retiring to the family quarters. His mate now hunted with the Lone God and Roshee looked at her picture as he lit a small incense stick at the household altar. She’d been a good mate, steady and undemanding, understanding of the matters that preyed on her mate’s time. Once again Roshee wished that Bees had spoken to him about her illness, but she’d kept her own counsel and had not sought medical treatment until after their second son’s mate-taking. By then the cancer had spread from her bones and lungs to her spine and all the physicians could do was help with the pain. Great Pack Leader, the male recited, grant her spirit rest and prosperity, for she was faithful to your commands and a good dam to her clutches.
Two sixts of days later, Roshee swallowed a dose of his anti-headache medicine, noting with a ghost of a smile that the flavor had improved over the years. Well, it would be hard for the pharmacists to have made it much worse than when he first began taking the noxious brew. Others might speculate about visiting the distant past to see their ancestors or to watch great events, but Roshee had decided that he would tell his just-past-junior self that medicines tasted better in the future. He closed his eyes and let the medicine do its work, slowing the muscle spasms around his ear-holes and eyes that led to the twist-vision and crippling headaches.
He’d been reading Tareshah’s latest find when the headache began. Roshee knew a little about Azdhagi medicine from Bees’s experience but not enough to truly understand what Tareshah found. The Lone God often required his priests to gain extra knowledge, and Roshee had bowed to the command and read or watched everything that he could find about genetics, animal breeding, and genetic modification. Then, and only then, once he’d come to truly understand Tareshah’s findings and the limited information available about death touch, did Roshee turn to the holy texts. In his close study he’d ignored the warnings of a twist-vision attack until it struck as strong and fast as a fire-snake.
Beside the computer Roshee set up a display so that he could compare Tareshah’s “Star-Strong” material with Master Silkee’s commentary on Raknak’s vision of the Three Signs of the Lone God. Only the Faith-keepers gave any credence to Raknak’s writings; the other groups eliminated Raknak from the canon after the death of the false guide in the Stub Tail Uprising in 2510. Roshee listed the three signs again in his mind as he waited for the pain to ebb and his vision to settle down.
First would come tampering with and poisoning the power of life in an attempt to track and hunt down the Great Prey unaided. Because of that tampering, flames would emerge from the sea, forming the second sign as the twisted power tore into the world. And then the Lone God would send the Great Hunt running through the skies, a last warning to prepare before He stepped from his lair and entered the world, chasing the Great Prey on the final Hunt. From the Prey’s body a new, better and richer world would spring up, clean and prosperous, all for the Lone God’s faithful pack.
Roshee rolled onto his back, wrestling with his thoughts and wishes, trying to discern the Lone God’s true trail. He wanted to believe and yet feared to believe. Star-Strong, according to the bits and fragments Taershah had collected, altered the very life-energy of Azdhagi, removing their dependence on the sun’s heat and making them like True-dragons, Rowfow, and other alien species. Although the fragments did not say why, Taershah wondered if it had to do with the colony worlds and Azdhagi expansion beyond Drakon IV. The Azdhagi excelled at improving technology and crops, so why not improve their own species as well? Roshee’s forefoot flowed in a warding-off sign at the very thought. If the Makers truly believed that they could make Azdhagi speak silently, as True-dragons did… He shuddered.
As he considered and meditated, a new path appeared in Roshee’s musings. The sun powered life by giving Azdhagi the energy that their metabolisms did not create. Life-energy came from outside, from the sun, from the efforts of the pack and Clan in their hunts, from food and from other Azdhagi, or so the oldest beliefs and writings proclaimed. For someone to dare to separate Azdhagi from that source in the hope of making them independent, well, Roshee knew what he would call that sort of thinking: blasphemy. The black juniors, victims of metabolic disorders, died because something had warped and poisoned their life energy, just as Raknak foresaw so many centuries before. But was this a true Sign?
Roshee did not know. He dared not act in case he was wrong. Great Pack Leader, sole source of prey and life and light, show me the trail lest I lead your pack members astray, he prayed. A sense of certainty washed over the tired priest as the medicine took effect and he slept without dreams.
That evening, Roshee led mid-sixt worship. Two twelves of Azdhagi gathered at the small temple, more than usual for a non-festival day, and the priest had to gently remind one of the older congregants that no one held pride of place forever in the Lone God’s lair, at least not in this hunt. As the last arc of the sun’s disk dropped below the horizon, Roshee knocked four times on hollow wood, stilling the rustling reptiles and beginning the worship. “Oh Great Pack leader, master of the Hunt in this world and the next, sire of the true Clan, we thank you for this day’s hunt.”
“Thank you for this hunt, great lord,” the worshippers chorused behind him. Roshee knocked twice more, then walked to the altar and lit two sticks of evening incense. Threads of soft, calming smoke rose from the altar and flowed back among the congregants as the priest continued the evening litany. He noted a few ragged responses and a little hesitation but said nothing. The shortest of the day’s services, twilight worship attracted the fewest participants, or had until today, and so the priest expected some stumbling. He bowed to the altar and backed away as Shahkay, Tareshah’s mate, led the worshippers in the hymn “Praise for the moons that light our Trail.”
Roshee rose onto his hindlegs for the sending for
th. “Members of the true pack, may the Lone God’s light guide your path, may His scouts lead you to the true trail, and may you know the True Prey when it comes, keeping you safe until day’s return,” he intoned.
“For the clear trail, thanks; for the time of rest, praise; for the new day, grateful hearts and true hunting,” came the ritual reply. The worshippers parted, carefully stepping sideways to clear a path for the priest to depart, then filing out by age: young males first, then juniors and their dams, then older males, and finally the oldest pack members. Should something or someone be waiting in the shadows for the Azdhagi, their best fighters led the way, ready to protect the pack’s juniors from harm. It was another old tradition that the Faith-keepers maintained, and one that had saved several of them during the rebellion on Sidara, Roshee thought with a touch of pride.
Most of the worshippers hurried to their vehicles, in order to get home while a bit of light remained in the sky. A few Azdhagi remained on the temple’s porch, chatting, flirting, and waiting to have a word with their spiritual leader. Roshee greeted a few, complimented the size of one couple’s junior, and watched as an unfamiliar pair talked quietly with Tareshah. Roshee confirmed the date of a mate-taking blessing and sent the family on their way. Only then did Tareshah and the strangers approach. “Wise guide, Kleet and Shu-kara wish to speak with you about joining our pack.”
Roshee studied the pair. The male kept his tail over his mate’s back, protecting the green blotched female from someone or something. She in turn watched him, ready to flee or fight at his word. Their robes, while not fancy, seemed to be well made. “The Lone God welcomes all to his pack who are willing to take up the Hunt,” Roshee told them. “Are you new to these grounds?”
