The chattering of the massed Kessentai ceased as the cleric — the Rememberers were as near to a clergy as the Posleen had — rapped his skilled claw, twice, on the stone podium. Except for age and scarring, the Remember was — like Guanamarioch — an average looking Posleen, a crocodilian centauroid with yellow skin and eyes, standing about fifteen hands high, with rows of sharp ivory teeth and having a feathered crest (not dissimilar to a Sioux Indian war bonnet) that it could erect when it wished.

"Let us remember," the cleric called, laying its crest low in respect for the ceremony.

All the hundreds of Kessentai crossed their arms over their massive chests, looked upward, toward the apex of the pyramid, itself clad inside and out with a heavy layer of pure gold, and chanted together, "We remember. We remember."

The Rememberer held out one claw into which an underling placed a loosely rolled scroll. This was unrolled onto the stone podium, the underling placing "keeper stones," elaborately carved paperweights, on the corners to hold the scroll in place.

"From the Scroll of Flight and Settlement," the Rememberer announced.

"We remember," echoed the Kessentai, once again.

The pyramidal assembly hall shook with the nearby impact of a rival clan's hypervelocity missile, or HVM. Guanamarioch, young as he was, could barely restrain himself from leaving the hall and going forth with his underlings to do battle. The eager, enraged trembling and murmuring of the others told him they all felt much as he did.

The Rememberer calmed the hall with a sweeping glance. He was one of the eldest among them, a Kessentai turned Kenstain who, in his younger days, had been among the foremost warriors of the clan. None of the youngsters present wanted to find shame in the eyes of this old hero. They settled and quieted down.