When your descendants taste of this swampdrink,

  they shall remember me, and the cup I drank to its bitter end.

  Rimdar En-Saari

  Additions to the Seven Scrolls

  Hans stared upwards at the Dazed and Crazed Restaurant, tilted wildly as it slowly spun high atop a thick pillar above Al's Big Eggs. Ever since the incident with the Sheek soldier, he'd found himself drawn closer and closer to Rimdar’s inner circle of companions. Hans ran through the list of the other Hakes who had been invited to this dinner … a few were in the Hake Army, but most had no fighting skills. Mariners, merchants, Wanderers, even an ex-government official who'd worked closely with the Sheeks before quitting to follow Rimdar. Eleven others, twelve counting himself. Rimdar made thirteen, a lucky number on Shamonj, the thirteenth planet from the star Myria, but the group did not feel lucky to Hans. The collection made no sense. What can Rimdar do with such misfits? I have little to offer him, but these others? He took a deep breath, and stepped through the door at the pillar's base into a narrow elevator. Rimdar had asked all twelve to attend a secret dinner here, away from the mob of Hakes that constantly followed him. Each guest was to arrive one at a time so as to not attract attention. Rimdar seems uneasy. Maybe now, he will tell us his plans. Yes, something must be in the works. He is rebuilding the Hake Army, and we shall be his commanders. Did he not say that the least of his followers would become great?

  The elevator doors opened to a shadowy room filled with mostly empty tables and the odor of smoke. There was a loud hum of air purifiers, filtering the air just enough to allow the smoking of fire-pipes.

  Hans wound through the scattered tables, finding his way to a bar littered with rusty mugs and broken-handled glasses. He eventually got the attention of the bartender, a thin pale Sheek, suffering from years of bad food and dirty air. “I'm here to meet Rimdar,” he said.

  “What’s yer name?” the bartender sneered.

  “Hans Terpaa.”

  “Right this way, Hannie.” The bartender led Hans to an old wooden door that was so dirty, Hans hadn't seen it against the garish wallpaper. He gave it a swift kick and it gave way. “There you go, Rimdar’s upstairs.”

  “Thank you.” Hans looked up the narrow stairway.

  “Your tip.” A dirty hand was offered, palm up.

  “Er, sure.” Hans dug through his pockets, flipped the bartender a coin, and stepped into the stairway. The door slammed behind him.

  The stair led to a narrow room with slanted sides. Rimdar was seated at a long table, speaking to the others. Ten of them. At least I am not last. Hans took a seat next to Rimdar, surprised to see it still available. Behind him, he heard footsteps. Arsha had arrived, taking the final chair. Everyone sat, looking attentively at Rimdar.

  Rimdar spoke with a steady, solemn voice. “Assuredly, one of you at this table will betray me.”

  Heads turned back and forth in shock. Hans couldn’t believe what he heard. One of us? Betray you! Our leader? Our savior from the Sheeks! How could it be?

  Rimdar took a slow, painful drink from his glass. The swampdrink was a vivid red. “Also I say to you, from this evening, I shall not drink again until the planet has been restored.”

  Hans breathed a sigh of relief. This sounded better. But what could it mean? Why did Rimdar always speak in such cryptic codes? What have I gotten myself into?

  The leader continued. “Each of you will fall this very night. You will abandon me, led astray by the Sheeks. For as it is written in the Seven Scrolls: Your Leader will be struck, and his followers scattered.”

  Hans couldn’t believe it. “Rimdar. Not I! These others, perhaps… but I shall never leave your side!”

  “Hans. Even this night, you will deny me.”

  Hans stood angrily. “Even if it meant death, I would not deny you!” The others echoed their agreement.

  The tense dinner continued for another half an hour, until finally Rimdar arose. “Come with me. We must hurry now… time runs short.”

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  The vehicraft reached the northern suburbs of the City of Selfar and its buzzing engine came to a stop. Thirteen Sheeple stepped out. Last in line was Hans. They followed Rimdar down a sidewalk that ran along the road. Lavish mansions were set back away from the street, so Hans knew they were somewhere in the wealthy residential district. Rimdar is acting very strange. First dinner at a cesspit of the Wanderers, now a late-night tour through the richest part of the city? Does he not fear the Sheeks?

  The group followed a sidewalk for a few minutes, then turned onto a narrower path that headed into a thick garden. A Shardeem, noted Hans. Shardeems on Shamonj were a big deal with the rich. This one, like most, was open to the public. Richer homeowners often set their homes far from the street, with a lush garden between the house and the road. Shardeems contained sidewalks connecting to the public walkways, drawing passerbys in to admire the owner’s wealth and choice of foliage. Most contained not only plants, but waterways, poetry, and monuments as well. A magnificent Shardeem was more than a symbol of great wealth. It was a boast of skill and art, for the owners typically did all the work themselves, rather than hiring gardeners.

  It was nice of Rimdar to bring us here for a rest. Hans meandered down the curving path, losing track of the others in the dimness of night. Soft candles lit the way, though the Star overhead provided more than enough light to see by. Beside each candle stood a copper post tall enough for a Sheepel to see a square plaque posted on its top. Hans stopped at one in the center of the Shardeem, picking up the candle to read the words written on it:

  I heard the forest call my name,

  One foggy autumn day.

  I heard a shout, and tip-toed out,

  And I was on my way.

  I heard the forest call my name,

  I stepped out to the gloom.

  The trees rose tall, plants great and small,

  Forever did they loom.

  I heard the forest call my name,

  I met the peaceful stream.

  Deep and blue, flowing through,

  It went on like a dream.

  I heard the forest call my name,

  The mossy clumps of stone.

  A great wind blew, an owl flew,

  Though I felt all alone.

  I heard the forest call my name,

  And I was full of peace.

  I heard a shout, and tip-toed out,

  And all the calm did cease…

  I heard the city I was in,

  The passing of a train.

  Vehics rushed through, a war-flyr flew,

  A crash on Third and Main.

  I still hear the forest call my name,

  On foggy autumn days.

  Calling me to come be free,

  From the city and its ways.

  Hans set the candle in its holder and moved on. The next stop had a painting of a magnificent orange cliff topped with snow. The scene reminded Hans of the Etani Cliffs in Talmyn. He wondered how Zak was doing, whether things were better for his friend now that he'd left.

  The path looped around a complex mobile hung from a stately pine imported from the forests of Yar. The next stop was another plaque bearing a shorter, more sobering message:

  Why does the stream languish so far from its source?

  From the spring, it rushes and dances alive with youth

  But as its creator falls behind, it grows fat and lazy,

  Tugging on slimy banks in a feeble attempt to pause

  Before it drifts out into the sea of ignominy.

  Hans disliked the poem and stopped reading before the end, glancing at his personal-information-center. It was getting late. He looked back, but Rimdar and the others were nowhere to be seen. I’ll just rest here a bit until the others turn up. Hans sat on a bench of Selfarian marble, pondering Rimdar's words at the Dazed and Crazed.

  Hans awoke to the sound of Rimdar urgently rousing him and instantly felt guilty. Sheepel could go for months without sleep… was he that tired?

  “How can you sleep at a time like this? Come, let us go! The hour is nigh.”

  Hans stumbled off the bench and followed Rimdar and the others back down the verdant path out of the Shardeem. When they reached their vehic, Hans gasped in astonishment. A band of armed Sheeks stood beside the vehic. They carried huge pikes, slowly closing into a circle around the Hakes. One grinned. “Which of you is Rimdar? You are under arrest for violating Sheek orders that all Hakes report themselves to their local Sheek Authority for interrogation and tracking. You have resisted capture, inspired uprisings all across the land, and spoken against the Sheek Authority.”

  A Sheepel in a governmental uniform and wearing the star-shaped insignia of a Hake stepped forward. “Rimdar has misrepresented us and given us false advice, as have the Hake Leaders before him. By order of the Regional Authority of Talgar, he is to be brought to Talmyn for trial.” He scanned the group of Hakes in anger. “So tell me, where is Rimdar?”

  Hans gasped as a companion stepped forward and handed a hat to Rimdar and dashed off. A Sheek yelled: “It’s the sign! Grab that one!” The armed Sheeks rushed to Rimdar, throwing heavy chains around his arms. A Hake mariner drew a gun, firing it at the nearest Sheek. But nothing happened; the guns were still dead, as they had been since Rimdar's arrival. The mariner stared at the defunct gun as the Authorities handcuffed him.

  Hans slid his dagger out of his cloak, prepared to defend himself. Rimdar turned to him with a sad face. “Put it away,” he reprimanded. Terrified, Hans dropped the weapon to the ground and looked around him. Several Sheeks were coming at him, the angle of their pikes forming a line to his chest. He gasped and fled back into the dim Shardeem.

  The sound of footsteps was close behind. He dove behind an enormous plant with strange, bluish leaves, listening to the footsteps thunder past, then waited. He heard shouts and more commotion, then the engines of flyrs and vehics. Soon all was quiet. Now what to do?

  “Ah, there you are.” A soldier yanked Hans into the path and looked him over. “Lucky you're wearing your symbol, or I’d take you straight to Seoltin.”

  “What do you want with me? I'm a Hake citizen.”

  “We need witnesses for the trial. You're coming to Talmyn for questioning.”

  “I don't know anything about Rimdar! I was just visiting the Shardeem,” protested Hans.

  “You can tell that to the Council.” He grabbed Hans by the collar and marched him to a waiting flyr.