The Vulpirans' Honor: The Soul-Linked Saga (44 page)

“Before I do that, I need to tell you something else.  Some of you may have known
Karma Baraka.  She had the ability to speak with the dead.  One day, while I was working
on the translation of the oraculum, she told me that a small being was standing beside
me, and that he wanted Karma to speak to me on his behalf.  After I got over the shock
of it, I agreed. 

“The being said that he was a member of a race who called themselves the Arkandu. 
The Arkandu were an advanced technological race that have not existed for seven thousand
years, so if you’ve never heard of them, and I’m sure you haven’t, that’s why. 

“They were the first civilization in our galaxy to leave their own world and explore
the stars.  In time they attracted the notice of the Xanti, who were just beginning
to venture into our galaxy from their own.  The Xanti had technology that was far
beyond that of the Arkandu, and because the Xanti seemed friendly enough, they began
to trade with them. 

“Many of the Arkandu were psychic, and eventually they discerned the Xanti’s true
nature.  They learned that the Xanti were predators who could mimic any race using
technology stolen from enslaved races from within their own galaxy.  They did not
know the Xanti’s true form, but they knew enough to know that they wanted nothing
further to do with them.  The Arkandu tried to distance themselves from the Xanti
in a peaceful manner, but that only made the Xanti suspicious.  Eventually the Xanti
decided that the Arkandu knew too much about them.  They decided to destroy the Arkandu
so that they could not spread their knowledge among the other worlds.

“Knowing that their end was coming, the greatest seer of the Arkandu delivered an
oraculum, a foretelling, to the Xanti.  Please keep in mind that the Xanti have never
forgotten this oraculum.  The data I translated stated that every Xanti was required,
by law, to read it every day.

“The Arkandu begged me not to give up on my efforts to translate the oraculum.  I
promised him that I wouldn’t.  Now that I know what it says, I beg you to listen to
it, and to take it very seriously.

“You have our word that we will take each word with the utmost seriousness,” Garen
said.

Aisling nodded.  “Thank you, Prince Garen.  Okay, here goes.”  She held up her hand
terminal and began to read.

Oh Black Deceivers, you have come, on the day and hour foreseen and appointed.

We have seen our death, and accept with grim sadness our passing into the realm which
lies beyond.

Before you do the evil deed you have come to carry out, know this;

You are allotted a span of time for your webs of evil to endure, and when that span
is done, so are you.

Across the Wide Deep, the eggs of your destruction are already hatched.

In the fullness of time, you and all your broods shall be devoured.

In the Veil of Stars, nestled in the crook of the Great Hunter's Arm, lie the peoples
of a Thousand Worlds, all woven from the same Fabric of Life, and thus connected one
to the other in spite of the differences they perceive of themselves.

Beware, oh, Black Deceivers,

For when the shifters who emerge singly from eggs, and the shifters who emerge in
threes covered with the blood of their mothers, discover that they are brothers, they
will bind the Thousand Worlds with eternal bonds of blood.

Thus shall they destroy you.

Utterly.

And none shall mourn your passing.

Aisling lowered her hand terminal to complete silence.  She wasn’t surprised.  She
had a better understanding now of the depth of the Jasani’s hatred of the Narrasti
than she’d had when she’d first translated it. 

“According to this oraculum, we are supposed to accept the Narrasti as our brothers,
is that correct?” Garen asked.

“That’s what it says, yes,” Aisling said.  “What that means, exactly, I cannot say. 
It may mean simply that you do not kill them.”

“Or it may mean that we must join forces with them,” Olaf Gryphon said.

“How are we to join forces with the very beings who destroyed our world and annihilated
our people?” Tristan Falcoran asked.  “I know of Arima Summer’s theory, and I have
seen the data from Sheara 3.  I am not convinced that a third party was involved.”

“May I speak?” Hope Bearen asked, surprising everyone in the room.  Hope rarely spoke
in gatherings such as this.

“Of course you may,” Prince Garen replied.  “We would hear everyone’s opinion on this
matter.”

“Thank you,” she said.  “Rob, would you please bring me the chalice?”

“Of course,” he replied.  “I’ll be right back.”  After he disappeared, Hope faced
the rest of the people at the table. 

“As most of you know, one of my gifts is reading objects,” she said. 

“Yes, we do know,” Trey Dracon said  “It is only thanks to you that we now know the
location of the Xanti home world.”

“I have another gift that I knew nothing about until a few months ago,” Hope continued. 
“I am able to discern important or powerful objects, and who they must be given to
in order to fulfill their power.  The Council learned of this and asked that I go
through the ancient artifacts from Ugaztun and select those that had some importance,
and needed to be given to those men or women who could use them.

“We went through the vault twice.  On the second trip, I came across a chalice of
red gold with strange markings on it.”  Hope paused when Rob reappeared carrying the
chalice.  He set it on the table before Hope and sat back down.

“When I saw this, I knew that I was meant to read it, but I also knew that the time
was not yet right.  As Aisling read the oraculum, I realized that now is the time
I must read it.”

“Are you certain of this,
niha
?” Jackson asked worriedly.  “Reading objects is very stressful for you.”

“I’ll be all right,” Hope said.  “If there is a problem, Honey will know it.”

“I will keep close watch on the babies,” Honey promised.

“Hope, may I see that for a moment?” Aisling asked.

“Yes, of course,” Hope replied, sliding the cup over to Jackson, who passed it to
Faron and so on until it reached Aisling.  She picked it up and turned it in her hands,
her brows rising in obvious surprise.

“What does it say?” Garen asked.

“When I look at this, or any foreign language, I see Standard,” she said.  “But the
words aren’t rearranged for me to match Standard’s syntax, so this will sound a bit
garbled.  What it says word for word is:

Narrasti we, honor in friendship of peace gift this cup we drink, binding brotherhood
of eternal Narrasti with Ugaztun.  Our bonds of blood may last eternally strong.

“Do you want me to translate it into a sentence construction more common for Standard?”
she asked.

“No, thank you, Arima Aisling,” Prince Garen said.  “I think we all got the gist of
it.”

“What language is the writing?” Faron asked.

“I don’t know, since I see it as Standard,” Aisling replied.  “From what it says,
I’m guessing Narrasti.”

“We have Narrasti writings,” Faron said.  “Eldar Hamat is able to read Narrasti, and
others have learned it.  Why would no one have ever read this?”

“May I see it?” Vikter asked.  Aisling nodded and slid the cup over.  It was passed
down the table to Vikter, who picked it up and studied the writing carefully before
setting it down.  “I am one of those that can read the old Narrasti script.  Yet I
cannot read this.  There does seem to be a faint similarity between this script and
the Narrasti script I’m familiar with, but that’s the best I can say of it.”

“I think this proves that the Narrasti and the Jasani were, at some time in the distant
past, at peace with one another,” Garen said.  “Eldar Hamat?  What do you think?”

“Even at the height of my strength as a Past Seer, I saw only a thousand years of
our history,” Eldar Hamat said.  “Everything else I learned through stories or the
writings of others, and even then, my knowledge spans perhaps two thousand years,
maybe a little more.  If this cup can be age dated, and if it is in excess of five
or six thousand years old, then I cannot argue against it.”

Vikter stood up.  “Olaf, if you will be so kind as to speed-travel me to the Council
Complex with the chalice, I will age date it right now.”

Eldar Hamat passed the cup back as Olaf stood and walked around the table.  A moment
later they were gone.  Lariah got up, opened a door and stuck her head out.  A few
moments later several young Clan Jasani carried in trays of food and pitchers of drink. 

“If the chalice is dated far enough back to indicate it’s valid, I see no reason for
you to read it,” Jackson said.

“I wish I could agree,” Hope said.  “But I know that I’m supposed to read it.  That
doesn’t mean I
must
do it.  But it does mean that I
should
do it.”

Jackson sighed.  If Hope felt she was supposed to read it, there was no arguing with
her.  She would do what she felt was right.

Olaf and Vikter reappeared, Vikter carrying the chalice with a grim expression on
his face.  “This thing is about seven thousand years old, give or take a century,”
he said as he walked around the table and handed it to Hope before returning to his
seat. 

“I think we’re convinced, Hope,” Garen said.  “You don’t have to read it.”

“Yes, Highness, I do,” Hope said.  She set the chalice on the table before her and
placed both hands around it.  The red gold felt slightly warm to the touch, which
seemed odd, but she kept her hands in place and closed her eyes to focus.

Everyone fell silent, barely daring to move as they watched Hope for at least a full
minute.  Suddenly her eyes flew open in surprise and she yanked her hands away from
the chalice as though it had burned her. 

“
Poutanas yie!”
she gasped, rubbing her hands on her thighs as though trying to wipe something from
them.

“What happened, Hope?” Jackson asked.  “What did you see?”

Hope swallowed hard, trying to catch her breath so she could speak.  Everyone waited
patiently, giving her time.  Clark handed her a cup of juice which she drank gratefully. 
“Sorry,” she said after a moment. 

“It’s all right,” Garen said.  “Take your time, Hope.”

Hope smiled faintly at the Prince, then reached out to grasp Clark’s hand on one side
of her, and Jackson’s on the other.  Feeling safer with them touching her she began
to speak.

“There was a ceremony.  A big one.  It seemed quite formal, inside of what I think
was a cave, though it was brightly lit.  There were many Clan Jasani there, and many
Narrasti.  They looked humanoid in shape, but they had reptilian skin and yellow eyes
with vertical pupils.  A Dracon male-set shared a dais with a large Narrasti who was
holding this chalice as he spoke.  He then took a drink from the chalice and handed
it to the Dracons, who drank in turn.  There was a big roar of approval.  Then the
Narrasti presented the cup to the Dracons as a gift. 

After that everyone relaxed and mingled, talking, drinking, eating.  Then the head
Narrasti turned and beckoned into the crowd, and a new being came forward.  The Narrasti
introduced this new being to the Dracons as a friend from a distant world come to
visit.”

Hope swallowed hard and gripped her Rami’s hands even more tightly.  “The new being
was a Xanti,” she said.

“Are you certain?” Trey asked.

“Yes, positive,” Hope replied.  “If the Narrasti hadn’t introduced him as a Xanti,
the way it looked would have told me.”

“What did it look like?” Jackson asked.

“It looked a lot like the Narrasti,” Hope said.  “Shorter, greener, it’s skin rougher
and more heavily scaled than the Narrasti but obviously reptilian.  The big tip-off
was that its skin glittered in the light.  I remember Saige saying that the Xanti
glittered.”

“So, seven thousand years ago we were at peace with the Narrasti,” Garen said.  “Then
the Arkandu delivered this oraculum to the Xanti just before they were wiped out. 
And at the same time, the Xanti showed up as visitors to the Narrasti.”

“Then the Narrasti and the Ugaztun went to war,” Eldar Hamat said, his voice weak
and tired.  “Our history of friendship was lost.  Somehow, we came to believe that
we had always been at war, from the beginning.”

“The Xanti,” Hope said.  Everyone looked at her again.  She shrugged.  “They infiltrated
the Narrasti.  Why not the Jasani, too?”

Garen didn’t like it, but she was right and he knew it. 

“So, our history is not as we once thought,” Maxim Katre said.  “Fine.  I can accept
that.  But it does not change the events of the past three years.  The Narrasti have
done enough in recent time to earn our enmity.  I do not think that we should forgive
all that they have done because we were at peace seven thousand years ago.  They must
be destroyed.”

“Genocide is in direct violation of our treaties with the rest of the Thousand Worlds,”
Lariah said, her low, husky voice capturing the attention of everyone in the room. 
“I do not disagree that there are Narrasti that must be destroyed.  But I do disagree
with the idea that
every
Narrasti should be destroyed.”