Far-Seer

Capital City

Afsan—apprentice astrologer

Dar-Mondark—doctor

Dy-Dybo—prince

Det-Yenalb—chief priest

Gerth-Palsab—citizen

Irb-Falpom—land surveyor

Jal-Tetex—hunt leader

Len-Lends—Empress

Pal-Cadool—butcher

Tak-Saleed—master astrologer

The Crew of the Dasheter

Bog-Tardlo—sailor

Dath-Katood—sailor

Det-Bleen—priest

Irb-Hadzig—sailor

Mar-Biltog—sailor

Nor-Gampar—sailor

Paldook—sailor

Var-Keenir—captain

Pack Gelbo

Lub-Kaden—leader of a hunting pack

Val-Toron—rider

Wab-Novato—maker of far-seers

Pack Carno

Cat-Julor—creche mother

Det-Zamar—senior priest

Pahs-Drawo—likely Afsan’s father

Pal-Donat—bloodpriest

Tar-Dordool—leader

Afsan often escaped to this place. He remembered the first time he had run up this hillside, half a kiloday ago, after his original encounter with the formidable Tak-Saleed.

Formidable? Afsan clicked his teeth in humor, figuring that the choice of adjective was a sign that he must be getting accustomed to all this. Back then, after his introduction to the master astrologer, the word he’d used was “monstrous.”

That first time he’d run up here his only thought had been to get out of the city, get back to his distant home Pack of Carno, back to the simple life of a country boy. He was sure he’d never get used to this dizzying, terrifying world of apprenticeship, of scowling imperial guards, of hundreds of people—ten or more gathered together in the same place at once! Afsan hadn’t experienced crowds like that before, never felt such a wash of pheromones over him. He couldn’t stand the tension, the constant fear that he was encroaching on another’s territory or otherwise breaching protocol. He had found himself tipping from the waist so often it made his head spin.

But on that day, as on this, Afsan had been calmed by the magnificent view from here, tension slipping from his body, claws retracting so far that Afsan thought he’d never see them again, tail swishing back and forth in leisurely, contented movements.

The sun had set a short time ago. It had swollen to a bloated egg, changing from its normal white to a deep violet, before dropping behind the ragged cones of the Ch’mar volcanoes to the west of the city. A beautiful sunset, Afsan had thought, the wispy clouds a veil across the dimming disk, tinged with purple, with red, with deepest blue. But then Afsan found all sunsets beautiful, and not just because of the play of color across the clouds, although this evening that was indeed spectacular. No, Afsan welcomed sunsets because he preferred the night, craved the stars.

This will be a grand night for observing, he thought. The only clouds were around the volcanoes, and those rarely lifted. Overhead, the vast dome of the sky was immaculate.

Tonight was odd-night. Most adults slept on odd-nights. For that very reason, Afsan did not. He preferred the peace and tranquillity of the hillsides on those nights when—the thought came unbidden—it was as if they were his own territory.

Of course, Afsan owned nothing of value, and, having entered a life of quiet study, his chances of acquiring land were—how did the old joke go?—about as likely as one of the Empress’s eggs being used as a game ball.

But even if he couldn’t own land, he would always have the stars. The sky was darkening quickly, as it always did, and there would only be a short time of real night before even-day broke.

Afsan inhaled deeply. The air was as clear as the waters of spring-fed Lake Doognar back home, the smells of—he flexed his nostrils, wrinkled his muzzle—of wildflowers; the scent of a large animal, perhaps an armorback (although how one of those would get this high up a mountain he didn’t know): urine on those rocks, likely from a much smaller critter; and, underneath it all, faint, but more prominent than when he’d first arrived in Capital City, the sulfurous tinge of volcanic gases.

He had been straddling a boulder, his tail hanging over it, to watch the sun go down. Now it was time to climb higher up the hillside. He did so, the three broad toes on each foot giving him excellent traction. Upon reaching the crest, he clicked his teeth in satisfaction, then continued partway down the other side, placing the bulk of the hill between himself and the torch-lit glow of Capital City. Afsan lowered himself to the ground, and lay on his side to look up at the panorama of the night sky.

As usual, Afsan found it uncomfortable with all his weight on his right shoulder and hip, but what alternative was there? Once he had tried lying on his belly in the sleeping position and had craned his neck to look up instead of forward, but that had given him a stinging crick.