Robert S. J. Sawyer: Dinosaur Civilization Trilogy Part II: Fossil Hunter Chapter 4

A quinteglio's diary

Finally, we, the children of Aphsee and Nawato, no longer seem special. King Dibo, as a member of the royal family, of course knew who his parents were from beginning to end, but now it seems that he also has living brothers and sisters.

I guess no one ever noticed the similarities in appearance between Dibo and his siblings. After all, the apprentices of the governors are scattered around the world, and there is rarely a chance to stand shoulder to shoulder. Also, Dibo's obesity makes his resemblance to his siblings less obvious.

I don't know what Dibo thought when he learned he had siblings. I was sure he felt differently than mine. First, he has just discovered this fact (if it can be called a fact, because the matter still needs to be further clarified). He didn't grow up with them, and he didn't know anything about them except for the perfunctory of official occasions. It's terrible. I was eager to talk to someone older than me and more experienced than I had about what I had been through. But I'm just a small character, and I'm sure the king certainly didn't have time to talk to me.

Vlatural Province

Torreka is nestled in a rock crack nine-tenths of a cliff and painstakingly navigates along the bookmark layer, the first rock formation marked by chalk lines with evidence of life. He had always hoped to dig up the fragments of the Egg of Creation. What an astonishing discovery! Fragments of eggs laid by God Himself! So far, however, he has not made any similar discoveries. In fact, this layer bears a striking resemblance to the rock layer above it: it contains a large number of sea shells, fish bones, and occasionally even parts of the skeleton of a large marine reptile, a giant creature like the Carl-Tagguk that Afsé killed on the Daisiter.

A large crack like this through the rock is undoubtedly a masterpiece of earthquakes. In this small resting place, a person can reach the edge of the cliff and break off a large stone without much effort. This place is just below the bookmark layer, all gray shale. Torreka broke it with his hand, and a large stone broke neatly from the bottom of the rock, and Torreka broke it down piece by piece. Every rock was clean and there were no fossils found everywhere in the upper layers.

Torreka tapped the chisel again with the flat bottom of the hammer, and another piece of rock fell in response. Nothing. He picked up another piece next to him and tried to chisel it open. The rock weighed as much as he expected, and when he was not careful, he hit his finger. It was an occupational disease, and he didn't even feel any pain anymore. He placed the chisel and knocked it again. The rock cracked. The difference is that the cracks in this rock are not smooth, and its upper layers begin to crack, but when they are halfway through, they stop. odd! Torreka broke the rock with his fingers. A large piece of lower rock fell on it, revealing a round, strange thing inside.

A blue thing.

Sure, there are blue gemstones and some blue minerals, but it's often hard to find such things in the underlying rocks. This thing, whatever it was, was very pure blue, with a hint of shadow, like the eggshell of a wing finger.

He could only see a small part of it exposed. Torreka turned the shale upside down and gently tapped the shale with a hammer. The rock cracked a little, and he tried again to break it open with his fingers. It took a lot of effort this time, and finally, the upper rock with sharp edges finally peeled off. There, right in the middle of the shale, there was a blue hemisphere with a diameter about equal to the length of Torreka's longest finger.

In general, Torreka is thrilled with every new discovery, because each new discovery increases insight. But he was only puzzled by this discovery. He had always thought that the rocks were very old, and that it was still under the first layer of rock containing the remains of life, but the thing in his hand was obviously a man-made object, meaning that its age could not be very long: it might only be a few hundred thousand days, and looking at its smooth surface, Torreka even thought that its age might not be that long.

Torreka's mind suddenly had an idea, and his heart throbbed: Ebbo-Falbaum's elaborate principle of overlap might be completely destroyed by this discovery. The older rock is located below, and Falbaum's theory sounds so delicate, so reasonable, and a great discovery in geology! Although this theory has been considered a fact for thousands of days, Torreka's exploration was the first research project with a scope large enough to prove or refute this principle. So far, all the discoveries dovetail with this theory, but now, this object, whatever it is, has destroyed it all. Only a theory backed by data is a valid theory, but the overlap principle does not explain why a modern object is buried deep in an ancient rock formation.

For a moment, Torreka wondered if he had simply tossed the new discovery aside. After all, the theory was so perfect that it was about the reputation of his mentor and friend Falbaum. But he couldn't do that. He was a scholar, and this little blue hemisphere was a fact, a fact that had to be explained.

It is strange that this object, whatever it is, has been preserved so perfectly after being buried deeply. Whatever the final theoretical explanation, in short, this little blue creature had been buried in this place for a while, just below these layers of rock, bearing the weight of the part of the cliff above it. It wasn't crushed and there weren't even scratches on the surface. Torreka was puzzled.

He held out a claw finger and tapped on its hard surface. It sounds like it's empty. Torreka retracted his paws, his fingers flicking over the object. Very smooth and feels warmer than glass. Torreka speculates that there may be more similar things buried beneath the shale. Maybe this thing is used in some kind of game ball.

Torreka tried to continue chiseling the rock, but the rest seemed reluctant to crack. After several failed attempts, he used brute force. He propped the rock on a spire, exposed one end of the rock, and pressed the exposed one. It cracked at the edge of the blue object. The object suddenly jumped out of the rock that surrounded it and rolled down the hillside.

Torreka hurriedly climbed down, and the rubble under his feet "crackled" and crashed together. It's easy to look for blue objects on brown sandstone. But it was bouncing toward another crack, and if it fell into that place, it would never be able to find it again. Fortunately, it rolled to one side and hit a section of raised rock. During the chase, Torreka wore out his knees and tail, but fortunately he eventually caught up and caught it. It weighs surprisingly heavily, especially for an object that may be hollow.

It's not a ball.

It's more like some kind of complex device. Its upper surface is indeed a smooth hemispherical surface, but the lower surface is shaped into a strange streamline, with a row of hollow rings on the top. The shape of the ring reminded Torreka of the finger hole, and he tried to put the device on his left hand—

He immediately realized that the rings could not have been pointing to the holes, for there were six rings on top of them, not five.

Although the device did not fit into a hand the size of his, if he curled up his fist, it did seem to fit on the hand, acting as an arc extension of the knuckles. It could be some sort of hard glove, or it could be a protective device for rock climbing, or it could be to prevent someone's claws from sticking out to do something bad. Torreka had heard that some poor fellows would suffer from a disease that could not control the expansion and contraction of their paws.

But its use is clearly not these, as it has six finger holes.

Unless, of course, it's left-right and designed to work with both hands. The first five finger holes are worn on the left hand, and the second to sixth finger holes are prepared for the right hand. But this speculation is also untenable: the size of the first finger hole and the sixth finger hole are not the same, and the six finger holes are increased sequentially.

What the hell is it?

He fiddled with his fingers, trying to make them more comfortable in the holes. His middle finger appeared to be pushed upwards into the hemisphere. Torreka took the thing off and looked at the ring on top. Their structure is much more complex than it seems at first glance. There appears to be small objects moving on the ring that can be pushed into the body of the object. The third ring can be easily pulled out of the body or pushed in, and the rest is blocked by mud. With a good cleaning, maybe all the rings can be easily pulled out and pushed in. Torreka guessed that it might also be some kind of instrument, but he couldn't find any holes to blow or make sounds.

The afternoon sun was getting hotter. He washed the object with the water from the kettle, knowing that for a while he would surely regret this reckless act. After flushing it with water, two more finger holes loosened; the remaining finger holes seemed to be blocked.

The temperature of the surface of the object has risen to a temperature close to that of Torreka's palm. It's not fragile, so it's certainly not made of glass or crystal. Although it appears to be heavier than lead, it is not metallic either: first, its color is not metallic; second, its thermal conductivity is not much like metal; and third, although it has been buried for a long time, there is no trace of rust on its surface.

Torreka held out his claw finger again and tapped the surface. It's definitely empty. He took the object to his ear and shook it, there was no "clicking" sound, and it seemed that there were no loose parts in it. He stroked the curved surface with his claws, which were gentle at first, and then became more and more forceful. Not a single scratch was left. It was dirty, but there wasn't any damage other than that. Torreka didn't know how old the thing really was: it looked like it had just been built. But he knew that this remote place had not been visited for a long time except for his own expedition team members and the recently visited Delio tribe. But, on the other hand, it can only be said that this thing is a modern object: its surface is so smooth, and it does not have the ornate decorations that usually exist on the surface of ancient products.

Is it really a modern object?

The answer given by stratigraphic rocks is no. They say the object is very old, existing before life began.

However, it is clearly a man-made object.

Is it? There are no traces of processing on the surface, and there are no symbols or words. There is only a pair of simple geometric patterns on the lower surface. Could it be some kind of bizarre shell? Many shells are made of shiny substance that looks like they have been processed.

He scratched the surface again. Nothing was left. Well, it's hollow, and if it's a shell, it might still have traces of life in it.

He rested the object on a rock, grasped it firmly with his right hand, and gently smashed it with the tip of the hammer with his left hand. The hammer bounced back, almost hitting Torreka's nose. He increased his strength and tried again. There are no traces – not a single crack or scratch. He tried it a third time and smashed it with all his strength. The tip suddenly slid away from the curved surface, and Torreka staggered and lost his balance.

He hurriedly braced himself. The enigmatic object captivated him so much that Torreka completely forgot that he was still high on the cliff. He crawled into the crack and found a solid foothold for himself.

What a magical object. Torreka is a geologist who is familiar with metal casting, alloys, and any kind of mineral and volcanic glass. But he had never seen anything resembling this object.

Who made this thing?

when?

The maker—or at least the user of this thing—apparently has six fingers, not five.

Six.

The geologist's frieze where Torreka hung was covered with pockets along the longitudinal direction. One of them contained a tool box containing ten mineral specimens marked with numbers to detect the relative hardness of the substance. He took out the box.

The softest sample, Number One, was a piece of graphite. The hardest, number ten, is a dazzling crystal of diamond. When working in the field, when he encountered an unknown object, he used these samples to scratch the object in turn. If an object is able to scrape off debris from a low-label sample, it indicates that the object is harder than a low-label sample, but it may be scratched by a high-label sample. For example, a piece of milling can scratch graphite (sample one) and plaster (sample two), but will be scratched by copper (sample three), meaning that the hardness of milling is a little more than two. When distinguishing minerals, hardness values, such as pyrite and gold, can be used to distinguish between them.

There is a rectangular protrusion on the lower surface of the device, just a point past the sixth finger hole. The blue guy was obviously hard, so he skipped samples number one through six and started directly from number seven, a normal type of hexagonal quartz. He clutched the quartz and pressed it across a protruding corner of the rectangle. White powder appeared on the horns. It is a powder of quartz, and the blue object is harder than specimen seven.

He tried it with sample number eight. A yellow powder appeared on the horns, and a short straight line was drawn on the sample body. Harder than topaz. Sample Nine is a star-shaped sapphire that the gem dealer accidentally destroyed, leaving it worthless. Torreka pressed it tightly against the surface of the blue object and rubbed it back and forth several times. The surface of the gemstone hexagonal type leaves deep scratches.

It's really hard. He took out the final sample. Diamonds sparkle in the harsh sunlight. At least this sample can scratch that weird guy. Torreka muttered. The blue object was definitely going to be scratched at this point, and he was a little secretly happy.

He pressed the diamond against one of the protruding corners of the rectangle and rubbed it back and forth carefully and vigorously four or five times. Then he took the diamond away, and the white powder covered the horn, and he used his fingers to clean the powder off.

The horns were not damaged.

He looked at the diamond.

A deep scratch appeared on the diamond.

Harder than sample ten.

Harder than the hardest substance known.

Harder than a diamond.

Torreka almost lost his foot again.

Observer's meditation

Jejazzi's reaction was different from what I had imagined.

How much do I know about psychology – especially the psychology of primitive races? After all, I have been lonely for countless generations.

I could always watch Jejazy at all times, and after they started broadcasting electromagnetic signals, it became easier to get close to them. I spent years in their world sorting out the vast amount of information leaking out of their world. But without the key, I couldn't open their language forbidden place. Eventually, a key was placed in front of me. They have an audio-visual program, an educational series aimed at Little Jegazi, in which the people who appear in the program clearly deviate from the demographic average and focus on small children. Most of the show is two-dimensional animation, and a big part, I finally realized, is the song. I wasn't interested, though, in the way Jegazi sang—the tentacles at the tip of the long nose covered the triangular breathing holes, while at the same time forcing air out of them.

Before the start of each episode, the name of the show is played, Jejachita Tower - Jack Tower. One episode is broadcast on each planetary day and discontinued every four days. Each episode is equivalent to one-twentieth the length of a planetary day. The show provided the most basic knowledge I needed and allowed me to eventually decipher their broadcast language (or at least one of their multiple languages, as I found that their language varied from region to region). It introduces not only the letters in the Jejaqi alphabet, but also the pronunciation of each letter, and also gives illustrations of the meaning of each word.

Direct contact seems to be the best way. I collected hydrogen gas between the Jejazy Sun and its nearest star, using a beam of dark matter to build letters on the hydrogen background, trying to make the hydrogen background fluorescent. In Jayatchita-Jack Tower, there is an animated character called Tek, whose color is bright pink, which is different from Jejaqi's dark white complexion. His eye handles can be very wide open and he can make very strange movements. As far as I know, this animal does not exist in the animal series of that world. In each episode, each appearance of Iron begins with a simple, apparently colloquial greeting. I lit up the words in the air: "Hello boys, girls, and neutral little ones!" ”

This phrase is not visible on the surface of the planet. But I knew Thatjazi had an optical telescope, so I waited patiently for their greeting to find me. After the planet had completed three-quarters of its orbital cycle, they discovered it. Suddenly all the broadcasts were talking about it, and even stopped playing Jejachita-Jackta because they were discussing my greeting.

Apparently, Jejazy thought it was a deliberate prank by someone inside them, but the astronauts who lifted off quickly confirmed that the sentence did exist and floated in the air. Jejazy had just started flying in low orbit, and they knew that this was not a masterpiece of insiders.

Suddenly, all the broadcasts stopped except for the encrypted channels. I was shocked. Jejazy seemed to know I was listening, but they didn't want anything to do with me.

From the very beginning of the universe, I had been expecting these creatures to arise, but now they were shut out — and it was unbearable for me. It was only because of my intervention that they survived. For a while, I even wanted to throw an asteroid at their world. But that idea was quickly abandoned by me, and I formed another sentence in the sky, which took me almost a whole jejazy year. "Please talk to me."

Finally, they did. Broadcasting resumed, and all the major transmitters on land sent the same message. Most of the answers were in the same language as my question, but some of the answers were clearly in a different language form, and perhaps its users felt that their language should be taken equally. "Who are you?" They said.

I told them. There are many kinds of reactions, and it took me a while to figure it out. They specifically allocated a communication channel for a religion. I later figured out that the content of this religion was originally an expression of worship for me. Others were talking to me, showing me how to transmit image signals more efficiently—using a simpler binary signal that was much faster than spelling in the air. Eventually, ordinary broadcasting resumed, even including Jejachita-Jack's Tower. It didn't take long for the general public to lose most of their interest in me.

But I'm going to be on a mission for my Jajaqi soon.

Back at the camp tent, Torreka thoroughly cleaned the strange blue object by the beach. Along the widest part of the object there is a seam, and at four points, there are small gray protrusions. The object seems to be able to split into two parts, joined together by these small protrusions. Torreka stretched out his claws to press those protrusions, one at a time. The protrusions did indeed concave downwards a little, but as soon as he stopped exerting the force, they immediately bounced back again. Next, he tried to press these protrusions at the same time. It was a little difficult to do so, and there was a protrusion that just couldn't press, but at least the shell was opened.

Torreka was disappointed. He had expected to see an unusually complex gear structure under the smooth blue shell, but it didn't have even a moving part. It was packed with a pile of solid cubes, a cylinder made of some kind of metal, and two plates perpendicular to each other, covered in red, black, and gold geometry, and densely packed with strings of thin lines made of glass-like objects.

But there is no activity section.

The function of the object remains a mystery, and it is impossible to figure out how it will behave. But gradually, Torreka realized that this was not a disappointing discovery—not at all. He learned something that had never been thought of before, and arguably no one had thought of: a device that could accomplish complex tasks without the need for a mechanical device. What a solid cube could do—he didn't know. But they can certainly do something. Engineers at Quintglio were eventually able to figure out what they did and how they fulfilled it. Knowing that such a form of apparatus existed—or at least sowing the seeds of this kind of thinking in their minds—might have prompted them to invent a similar apparatus many thousand days earlier than spontaneously generating inspiration.

Layer by layer.

Layer upon layer of rock.

Layer upon layer of mystery.

Standing on the beach in the setting sun, Torreka's eyes wandered over the cliff surface, searching.

The Holy Scrolls were written two thousand days ago.

The Scrolls say that the world was created in five thousand thousand days before they came into being.

But here erosion– after careful consideration, there are many other places on land that will take much longer than seven thousand thousand days. Much bigger. Jodo's big tree, clinging to the cliff—

Symbolizes Torreka's false stereotypes.

A Quintglio can live about seventy thousand days or so. It would take far more time than a hundred generations to deposit into what he was now looking at. In fact, just accumulating the fifty-step vertical distance from the bookmark layer to the top of the cliff takes longer than that—

- Plus the time it takes for these rock formations to be squeezed into the air...

Looking upward at the cliff surface, Torreka felt a dizziness.

The world is very old, unimaginably ancient.

Even life itself, though more recent in its geological record, must have appeared long before seven thousand days.

Mysterious rock layers. Torreka sighed deeply.

The Scrolls depict a gradual process of creation. First plants, then herbivores, then carnivores.

What is shown in the rocks is completely different, where all forms of life appear at the same time.

All forms of life.

The Scrolls must have been wrong, not only misleading the age of the world, but also confusing the order in which events occurred.

Torreka thought again that the cliffs made up of sedimentary layers looked like a huge book. How nice it would be if he could open the book. Browse through the pages, take a look, and take a good look at what's going on.

In his hands was a heavy, indescribable... The blue object is a device designed for the six-fingered person.

He knew where it was hidden: just near the top, below the bookmark layer.

But I don't know how it could have been hidden in that place.

But he'll find the answer, he'll dig through those rocky layers, and he'll find the truth.

The bitter cold wind stung him. As usual, night soon fell.

But the night cannot last forever.

Today, I feel a strange urge that I've never felt before, as if I've been influenced by pheromones while hunting. But I'm not hunting. No, I was just waiting in a reception room, waiting to be met. The only other person in the room was my sister, Haldan.

It's because of her. I was reacting to her.

She was sure it was mating season. I thought she was still young. After all, she only has sixteen thousand days, and the estrus period usually occurs after eighteen thousand days. But, as the old saying goes, rules are not carved into stone.

My reaction was milder, as if she was still not fully mature and was just getting ready to enter estrus. Maybe even she didn't realize it.

I don't like my reactions. This kind of thing is a bit unreasonable. Yes, I myself desperately want to mate. But for some reason, mating with my sister seemed unreasonable.

I didn't say a word, quickly stood up, and hurried out of the room. I was worried that the extra flesh of my throat would swell up in front of her.

The Tabro tribe on the outskirts of the province of Aztural

By the last days of the life of the Blood Priest of the Tabro tribe, Mike Rattu, fate mercilessly mocked him. Oh, and things themselves may not have changed dramatically. Here is a mob chasing an adult— himself, who used to be dressed in priestly robes, chasing screaming babies. It's all chase anyway.

And the ending is all the same.

Rastu continued to run forward, his three-toed feet throwing out a lump of mud, his back almost parallel to the ground, his thick, muscular tail flying behind him.

He was surprised that he could still think soberly. Of course, the guys who chased him were already deeply immersed in the "Dagamonte", and the desire to kill blinded their minds. But all Rastour could feel was fear, naked fear.

Soon after the sun—a bright white disk not much larger than a speck of spots—rose to the eastern volcanic cone, they came to the nursery. Rattu was suddenly alert: something was wrong with the pheromones secreted by their bodies. He hid his hands in the sleeves of his robes. A priest should never show his outstretched claws to any member of the tribe.

Eight adults formed a semicircle around him, like a crescent moon. "How's the hatching going?" Jele-Gassub asked suddenly, without bowing to him. She was a middle-aged woman, the captain of a tribal hunting party. Her status was as revered as that of the Blood Priest.

"Gassub," replied Rastu, indebted, "it is an honor to meet you. "He looked into her black eyes to find out why the other side had invaded the territory." The incubation is well underway. They started eating fresh meat instead of semi-digested meat. ”

"How many?" Bon-Katako asked. He stood on the right side of Gassub, his strong green arms crossed over his chest.

"How many?" Rastu repeated, "Why ask? Six — six clutches of eggs were laid in this thousand days, and one was left for each clutch. ”

"How many were there before?" The leader of the hunting team, Gassub, said.

"What was it before?" Rastu asked.

"How many were there?" How many children crawled out of eggs and fell on the hatching sand? ”

Rastu bowed his head in confusion. "There should be no mention of the children who were disposed of, Gassub. The Eighteenth Book of the Holy Scrolls says—"

"I know what the Scrolls say, priest." Gassub's right hand reached out in front of his eyes. Her paws were already stretched out.

Rastu was silent for a moment, looking at the claws that shone in the sunlight. "There are six clutches of eggs, eight eggs in each litter," he concluded, "and it is not uncommon for one of the eggs to never hatch." So, there were originally forty-seven babies in total. ”

"And now there are only six left." Gasu Sermon.

"What happened to the other forty-one?"

"There's nothing to say, it's been that way since ancient times." Rastu said, "I killed them. ”

"You ate them."

Rastu didn't like Gassub's tone. "Hunter, why is it so harsh? The next time the high priest of the province visits our tribe, perhaps you can discuss theological issues with her. I think, in a thousand days, she will come—"

"You ate them." Gassub said again.

Rastu turned his head to the side so that everyone could know that he had avoided the other's direct gaze. "That's the prescribed ritual."

"You ate forty-one of the tribe's children."

"Babies cannot be counted as children of the tribe until they are screened. I killed the extra offspring. He paused, "It's my job. ”

"Kill seven out of every eight babies?" Gassub asked.

"Of course."

"All fifty tribes have blood priests like you?"

"Yes, there is one in every tribe, plus one apprentice, and he will take over my job when I die." Rastu looked up, "I haven't seen Kafid this morning, and he usually doesn't come so late. ”

"Your Kafider won't be coming to the Nursery today." Someone in the crowd said. It was Carter-Meadow, and the voice was very soft, as if it was making a "sizzling" sound.

"Is it?" Rastu said.

"You kill seven out of every eight." Gassub repeated.

"Yes."

"Your companion is doing the same thing elsewhere."

"Yes, each of the fifty tribes in the eight provinces on land."

"No exceptions?" Gassub asked, her words as sharp as claws.

"Of course not."

"No exceptions?"

"Gassub, I don't understand what you mean."

"Who is the governor of this province?" Gassub asked.

"Do you still need to ask?" De Rodrox, of course. Rastu said.

"So, who is his brother?" Gassub then asked.

Rastu felt a tingling pain in his nose. "I don't—"

"Who's his brother?"

"How would I know?"

"You just know," said Gassup, "answer quickly." ”

"I don't..."

"Answer! Answer, either taste my paws! ”

"Gassub, will you attack people from the same tribe as you?"

Gassub took a step closer. "Answer! Who is Rodrox's brother? ”

The Blood Priest was silent.

Gassub raised his hand. "Answer!"

Rastu looked at every face, trying to figure out how to escape the place. Finally, in a very low voice, he said, "He has no brothers. ”

Gassub stretched out his claws and pointed straight at Rastu. "His nose turned blue."

"You're lying." Gassub said.

"Please, Captain of the Hunting Squad, it is better to have this matter or not to know. I'm sure you can appreciate that—"

"Who is the brother of Governor Rodrox?"

Rastour wrapped his arms across his chest, his robe hanging down from his hands. "I can't answer your question."

"It's King Dibo," said Gassub, "really?" ”

"Gassub, please—"

"If that's not true, Blood Priest, please deny it. At this very moment, take advantage of the sun shining on your nose and mouth, deny it. ”

Of course, denial is pointless. If he had done what Gassub said, his nose would have taken on the color of a liar. He looked at the ground, the damp ground with his footprints, and he swept the footprints with his tail.

"In this thousand days, you killed forty-one babies." Gassub said, "You probably killed the same number of babies in the last thousand days, and in the previous thousand days. ”

"It is necessary," Said Rastu, "to control the number of people." This is the divine duty of the Blood Priesthood. My divine denomination—"

"Your sect is rotten!" Gassoub said urgently, "You devour our children, you are a group of criminals who have targeted our entire race." The king's children all survived, didn't they? ”

"Where did you hear that?"

"A messenger from the capital." Gassub said, "She brought the news that Governor Rodrox had publicly announced the secret. You blood priests deceive us ordinary people. All you offer is royal power, but the secrets have been revealed. Di-Rodroques of the province of Eztural, as well as the apprentices of the governors of the other provinces, were brothers and sisters of the fat Dibo sitting on the throne of the capital. Dibo is not qualified and does not have the ability to occupy that position. ”

Katako spoke again: "Why do the children of the royal family survive and ours not?" ”

"You misunderstand, Cartaco, it's just—"

"Your nose and mouth betrayed you, priest."

"No, please, you don't understand. My work is sacred. ”

"Your job is to deceive," said Gassub, "in an attempt to control fifty tribes." This attempt dates back to the time of the pseudo-prophet Lasker. That control would have belonged to the people. ”

"But the population — it has to be controlled."

"Then," said Gassup, her mouth "sizzling," "we'll start by removing a useless mouth so as not to waste food." ”

The following things are as fast as lightning stone fire. Gassoub pounced forward, but Rastu had already begun to move, running away at the maximum speed his legs could reach. He was much older than the captain of the hunting party, and twice as tall as she was, and it was not easy to move quickly with such a large mass, but fortunately his pace was correspondingly much larger. However, Gassub and her hunting party brought with them thunder beasts, horned faces, carapace backs, and shovels. His speed was only a temporary delay to the inevitable end.

The Nursery is located in the middle of town. Rastu fled north of the town, hoping to escape into the Galamaga Forest.

The others chased after him, forming a wall of people formed by eight Quintglio. After just a few heartbeats, they formed a straight line behind Rastu, arranged in order of age, body type, and pace. Rastu rushed forward, only to feel his heart beating out of his chest.

There was a rain last night and there are still puddles all over the ground. Rastu's feet made a loud inhalation sound as they pulled out of the mire. Behind him, he could hear the others wading through the water. Footprints revealed his tracks. Rastu's robe was stained, the bottom was soaked with water, and the purple robe was stained with a little mud.

Where are the others? Although it was still early in the morning, and last night was an odd night, and most people had gone to sleep, there should have been a few Quenteglio who had gotten up and moved around. Could it be that Gassoub and her men drove everyone else away, just as they drove away his apprentice Kafid?

Rastu ran like crazy. The sound of "tom-tom" footsteps and the sound of splashing water startled a small nest of wing fingers. Wing fingers screamed in unison, as if to replace Rastu with the cry for help that he had always wanted to make, but was unable to make because he did not have enough air.

The soles of his feet slapped the ground, mud splashed around, and the forest was still about fifty paces ahead—

And then --

He stumbled and fell into a pool of mud, making a splash. He dropped his mouth and nibbled on the mud —

He desperately tried to get back on his feet, his claws kicking in vain in the brown mud, unable to find a support point—

Finally, he stood up and wanted to keep running.

But it was too late.

A sharp pain came from the spine. Rastu looked back, and Gassub stood behind him, holding a large chunk in his mouth.

It was a section of Rastu's tail.

It was ripped off by a powerful bite.

Rastu wanted to continue running, but he felt dizzy and his pace slowed down due to the loss of balance.

Others are rapidly approaching.

Gassupt probed forward again, only to find himself once again head-down and drowned in the mire. The leader of the hunting party rode on top of him, and Rastu rolled his eyes at her. Gassub's left arm swept down, its claws exposed. Rastu felt a sharp pain on the side of his body, followed by an extreme cold. He struggled to throw her off. During the struggle, he saw his intestines fall out of his body and land in the mud.

The others arrived, their mouths full of sharp teeth constantly tearing at his arms, his thighs, his tail and his hips. As he lay dying, the last sight Rastu saw was that Gassub's large mouth reached forward and ripped off a large piece of flesh from his body.

There was blood everywhere, and soon it turned dark red.

Life was slipping away from his fingers, slowly sinking into the mire. Rastu came up with the last thought of his life.