During your darkest days, a light shall be set in the sky above the land of your oppressors. This shall be a sign unto you that a Leader will rise to deliver you from the evildoers. Let every Sheepel prepare for the Leader's coming, that both Hakes and Sheeks may be saved.

  Scroll of the Future

  The Central Plaza of Talmyn was less crowded than usual, the number of Hake buyers and sellers greatly reduced from their already dwindling numbers. The disappearance of Quinn and surrender of much of the Hake Army had left Hakes all across Shamonj in a state of anxiety, as if they themselves were suddenly less secure, even though the battle had taken place thousands of miles away.

  Hans was the only customer at a run down stand with a wooden sign stating Weapons and Such, but the owner was glaring at him.

  “Look Hakey, even if what you’re sayin’ is true, I ain’t gonna do nothin’ ‘bout it! First of all, I ain’t gonna sell no Hake no weapon! Thirdly, this alleged rabadon ain’t gonna shown up in dah same place twice–those things are half Sheeple, ‘ya know; they know how to keep alive. They say Hakes 'n Sheeks were once the same, all dem years ago, but I tell you, it's Hakes and Rabadons that got more in common. Wouldn't surprise me in the least if'n there's one of them buggers still hidin' in the hills north 'a town. If you’re really convinced you saw a rabadon, you'd better fetch the Authorities, not no gun salesman! Ain't no weapon you can wield that's gonna get one of them. Ain't no weapon you can wield anyway, given there's a war going on. I got strict orders not to sell to the likes of you. Now, get outta here! Can't you see there ain't no other Hakes hanging around this end of the market? I'd follow their lead, if I were you.”

  The salesman greeted an approaching Sheek, his conversation with Hans over. Hans turned back to the plaza center, his thoughts submerged in shadowy gloom.

  A commotion ahead of him caught his attention, and he was surprised to see a small crowd clustered in the middle of the marketplace. He approached warily, gaining self-assurance as he noticed that the crowd was mostly Hakes. Although a fraction of the number of Hakes typically found in the plaza, it was a sizable group. Elbows and shoulders jabbed and jarred as those in the crowd struggled to get a closer look at a Hake speaking from atop a wooden crate. Remarkably, the audience remained quiet as the Hake spoke. Hans squeezed into the crowd, wondering what was so interesting that almost every Hake in the market had stopped to hear.

  He listened as the speaker shouted: “Sheeple, Hakes, friends: I have joyous news! Others and I have been watching the stars with hope and expectation for many years, awaiting a sign of peace for this beautiful planet. Now, hear! Not one week ago, the sign arrived in the sky! Lo–as it is written in the Seven Scrolls: 'During your darkest days, a light shall be set in the sky above the land of your oppressors. This shall be a sign unto you that a Leader will rise to deliver you from the evildoers. Let every Sheepel prepare for the Leader's coming, that both Hakes and Sheeks may be saved.'

  We all know these words; every Hake has recited them from birth. But here in my hand is the fulfillment of this prophecy! See, I hold a fotograf of the sky before and after last week–the light is plain as day, hovering far above the Sheeks’ Land. If any look to the north tonight, you will see it; a new star, dim but steady, directly above Seoltin; the heart of the land of our oppressors!”

  Hans found the speaker’s words interesting, but had never felt the Seven Scrolls to be more than made up poetry by an ancient group of hope-deluded Hakes. If the Hakes had a leader it was Quinn, and he had turned out to be a failure. Had they not quoted that same prophecy when Quinn appeared? As the speaker continued, Hans meandered to Zak’s stand. Zak called as he approached.

  “Hans! Well, I'll be; I was worried you might have taken off with the others! It has been many days since I’ve seen you. How are ‘ya? Hans?”

  Hans ignored him, his gaze transfixed upon the chair Zak sat on.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The chair was green. Not just any green, as might be found on shrubs or ceramic plates, but that odd, one of a kind greenish hue of the Green Sea after a storm has stirred up the ancient rotting sludge from the sea bottom and swished it around the hundred mile wide basin–the strange, slightly yellow-tinted look of Yarian lumber a week after its felling. A shade of green that to a human might be sickening, the color of things that should be kept in stomachs and not displayed. But the Sheeple had no such prejudices. Moreover, Hans had never traveled as far north as the Green Sea; had never stepped into the sawmills of Yar, making the color all the more exotic.

  Hans wanted the chair. Badly.

  The chair was small but sturdy. It had thin metal legs with a shiny chrome finish and a frame of some artificial material Hans could not identify. It seemed the perfect size for him, as if made with him in mind. Unfortunately, Zak was sitting in this much-desired chair.

  “Hans, can you hear me?” Zak rose, peering into Hans' face. Hans leaned to look around him at the chair, and breathed a sigh of relief… the chair was for sale. A cardboard sign stuck to the back said ‘Moz’s Daved's Jer’s Zak's Chair. For Sale: 5 25 75 100 yar (or best offer)’.

  “Where did you get that chair?” asked Hans curiously.

  “So you can talk. Now this chair, that would catch your attention, wouldn't it? A fine chair it is! I purchased it from a Nomad Salesman named Jer who stops by every few months. He was traveling through yesterday evening; gave it to me at a great price. He said he bought it off a Wanderer who'd picked it up from a junk collector named Moz. Apparently, Moz found the chair lying in The Zone while salvaging after the battle last week. It’s a great chair, would make a fine addition to any collection. Would you like to buy it?”

  Hans sighed, patting his empty moneypouch. “Well, you know how things are now…”

  “Oh, forget the money! I'll tell you what; I’ll sell it to ‘ya in exchange for you telling me what you know about Quinn. Ever since he fled last week, I’ve heard so many crazy rumors about him I don't know what to think. The Authorities say he died in battle, but the Sheek newsstands are saying he's hiding in the Hakes' Area, planning something new. Surely as a Hake, you know what’s really up. Your kind is better at sorting out truth from fiction.”

  “It’s strange, Zak. Quinn’s gone, but now they’re prophesying another to rise and take his place. Can you believe that? We lost an entire fleet, and one Hake is supposed to save us? They’ve gone mad, the whole lot. But I have much more important news to tell you than the latest ramblings of our 'prophets'.”

  “Eh?”

  Hans glanced around, and then leaned forward, his voice a hush. “I know you will not believe me, but I swear it is the truth. No one else will listen to me, but I know what I saw.”

  “What did you see?”

  “There was a… a rabadon in my yard last night.”

  Zak’s face betrayed a growing uneasiness as Hans vividly described his encounter. When the story was over, Zak was staring at the ground, shaking his head. “Hans, this is all too familiar to me. I was eighteen years old during the Great Terror. As the rabadons were systematically killed off, those that remained became more and more violent… the number of Sheeple killed actually increased as the number of rabadons decreased! If any survived that great scouring–even one–then, well… Condar help us all. Are you certain it was a rabadon?”

  “I have no doubt.”

  “Then it is a miracle that you are still alive. If it was a rabadon, why did it leave you? Hans, I am thankful you are alive, but if it truly were a rabadon…” his voice trailed off.

  “I have no answer for you, nor dare I ponder this any longer. Perhaps you forget–I too remember that time. I know that vivid and horrendous memories lie just inside my mind. To focus on them for even a second would be too much. I do not know how I survived that night, but neither do I know how I live any day when such terrible memories lie hidden in my head. They are memories so dreadful that the very thought of thinking them stirs my soul to long for death, and yet I walk each day as if they are not there, as if the past is somehow passed and gone, sterile and harmless, though its memory lies in my mind as a very present, very real terror.”

  Zak lifted the green chair over the counter and handed it to Hans. “Take this chair; perhaps it will bring you happier memories. No charge.”

  “Thank you, Zak. You are truly a great friend. But please be careful, especially at night. Warn your family and the Authorities. They will not listen to me.”

  “I will. As for you, do not strain yourself with worry about the rabadon–it is said they never show up in the same place twice.”

  “It is also said they are extinct.”

  Zak smiled, trying to mask his fear. “You will be fine. You are a wise Sheepel, Hans. No doubt, that is why the creature spared you. I'll stop by tomorrow and visit you!”

  “Sure. See you then. Thank you again for the chair. I’ll pay you back as soon as the war ends and I get my job back.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Hans turned, thinking as he left the plaza. If I am wise, it is of no account. They did not spare my father.