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.