"What are the chances of the therapy being successful in the next five days?"

"We’ve had, ah, a major breakthrough. But I still cannot see."

"Then perhaps you will risk coming with me to try to meet with the Others."

"What could I do?"

"Your whole life has been devoted to championing reason over emotion. It is irrational for us to be at war. There is an old proverb: only a fool fights in a building that’s on fire. By working with the Others, we can perhaps save both our peoples. I have some vague ideas about how some of their technology could be adapted to spaceflight. But by wasting time on a conflict with them, none of us may get off this world. If they see that more Quintaglios than just myself want peace, perhaps we can convince them to turn back."

"And you think these … these Others will be receptive to an envoy of peace?"

"I don’t know for sure. There is one Other who would be — Jawn is his name — but I’m not even sure if he’s on board one of the boats coming this way. I thought I caught a glimpse of him once through your far-seer, but I can’t be sure."

"And what will happen to us if the Others are not receptive?"

Toroca’s voice did not waver. "They may kill us."

"You have never had much stomach for killing, my son," said Afsan. "I, on the other hand, have been revered as a great hunter."

"Of animals, Afsan. The Others are not animals."

"I suppose not."

"I can’t believe you don’t share my view that peace is the way. Dolgar said it: ’The intelligent person must abhor violence.’ If there’s any chance for peace, I must pursue it."

Afsan was quiet for a time. "What do you propose?"

Toroca’s tail swished. "That we take a small boat out to meet the Others. If my friend Jawn is among them, he will come to talk with us. I know it."

"The chances of success are slim," said Afsan.

"I know that, too. But I must pursue the possibility."

"Nav-Mokleb, the savant helping me with my therapy, believes that anyone who did not undergo the culling of the bloodpriests might be able to interact with Others without falling into dagamant. That would mean your siblings, as well as the Emperor, and his sister Spenress, could have contact with them, too."

"What?" said Toroca. Then: "Hmm, an interesting suggestion. But we can’t risk testing it aboard a boat. I’m positive you will be immune because you are blind. And besides, none of those people you mentioned could convince the Others of the danger facing the world. You’ve convinced the Quintaglio population of this; surely you can convince them, too."

"All right," said Afsan slowly. "All right. I will go with you."

Toroca had an urge to surge forward and touch Afsan. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you, Father."

*27*

After his meeting with Toroca, Afsan went to find Pal-Cadool, who, much to Afsan’s surprise, was just returning from his own meeting with Emperor Dybo. Afsan asked Cadool to take him to the Hall of Worship.

"You? To the Hall of Worship?" Cadool was incredulous.

"Yes," said Afsan. "I, ah, have need of a priest."

It was quite a distance to the Holy Quarter, and Afsan, as always, walked slowly, feeling his way with his stick. At last they entered the small antechamber of the temple, Gork waiting outside.

Det-Bogkash, the old Master of the Faith, had been fired by Dy-Dybo in 7128: as part of restoring order after the scandal involving the bloodpriests, Dybo had dismissed all senior clergy serving in the capital. Standing in the antechamber, Afsan called out the name of Bogkash’s successor. "Edklark! Det-Edklark!"

A heavy, jovial priest, clad in plain white robes, came through a small doorway to greet them. "Do my eyes deceive me," said Edklark, "or has a miracle occurred right here in my Hall? Has Afsan come to church?"

Afsan ignored that. "Twenty kilodays ago," he said, "when I was held prisoner in the palace basement, I was visited by Det-Yenalb, who was Master of the Faith back then."

Edklark still seemed bemused. "Yes?"

"He strongly implied something that shocked me, something I’d never suspected."

"And what was that?" said Edklark.

"Yenalb implied that some priests, including himself, could lie in the light of day — that their muzzles did not flush blue with the liar’s tint."

Edklark looked startled. "Yenalb said that?"

"Not in so many words, but, yes, he did imply it. I still remember exactly what he said: ’Not every person can be a priest. It takes a special disposition, special talents, special ways.’"

"And did you believe him?" said Edklark.

"At the time, my immediate reaction was that he was trying to frighten me, but now I must know the truth about this. Tell me, Edklark, can you lie openly?"

"Why, no, Afsan. Of course not."

"Cadool?"

"His muzzle remains green," said Cadool.

"Unfortunately, that proves nothing, since if you were capable of lying, you could be lying now."

Edklark clicked his teeth in what seemed to Afsan to be forced laughter. "Well, then you’ll have to take my word for it."

"That is the one thing I cannot do," said Afsan. "Tell me a lie."

"Oh, be serious, Afsan. I…"

"Tell me a lie."

"Afsan, I cannot lie inside the Hall of Worship. That would be sacrilege."

"Then step outside."

"It would be sacrilege there, too, I’m afraid. Once ordained, a priest promises never to speak anything but God’s own truth, even in the depths of night."

Afsan pushed his claws out of their sheaths and held his hand in plain sight. "Tell me a lie, you worthless plant, or I will rip your throat out."

Cadool’s jaw dropped. "Afsan…"

"Shut up, Cadool. Priest, I will hear you lie. Don’t provoke me further; three of us here in this confined space is enough to drive anyone to dagamant."

"Afsan," said Edklark, "I cannot lie…"

Afsan tipped forward from the waist and bobbed his torso, slowly, deliberately. It was clearly a mockery of the instinctual movements, but it was also well known that such play-acting often erupted into the real thing without warning.

"Lie, priest. The very future of our people is at stake."

"You have no authority to give me orders," said Edklark.

"I have all the authority I need," said Afsan, stepping closer to the priest. "You will do as I say."

The part of Edklark’s tail visible beyond the hem of his robe was swishing in naked fear. "I have every wish to cooperate," he said.

"Then lie, animal dropping! Tell me — tell me that you are the Emperor."

"His Luminance Dy-Dybo is Emperor," said Edklark. "It is my honor to serve…"

Afsan stepped forward again, encroaching further on the priest’s territory. "Claim," he said, "to be the Emperor yourself." Afsan left his mouth open after speaking the words, showing serrated teeth.

"Afsan, I…"

"Claim it! Claim it right now or die!"

"I…" Edklark’s voice was attenuated by fear. "I am the Emperor," he said tremulously.

"Say it forcefully. Assert it loudly."

Edklark swallowed. "I, Det-Edklark, am the Emperor."

"Again! With full titles!"

"I, Det-Edklark, am the Emperor of all the Fifty Packs and the eight provinces of Land."

Afsan swung around. "Cadool?"

Cadool’s voice was full of wonder. "I’ve never seen anything like it," he said.

"What happened?" demanded Afsan. "Exactly what happened?"

"Nothing," said Cadool. "His muzzle didn’t show even a hint of blush. It’s as green as yours or mine."

Afsan slapped his tail hard against the marble floor, releasing pent-up energy through the blow, the sound of the impact reverberating throughout the antechamber. "Excellent! Edklark, come with us. There’s a job only you can do!"

Later that day, Toroca caught sight of Cadool in the Plaza of Belkom, Cadool’s long legs carrying him quickly over the paving stones. "Ho, Cadool!"