Her eyebrows rose. "The second-banana hero."

"Yes. And selfless. Still another universal, Hutch. You see it everywhere. Nok has several variations. So do we. Patroclus, for example."

"Why didn't the other guy, what's his name, Urik, offer to be the main course? After all, it's his girlfriend they're after."

"Well, it wouldn't be decent to rescue the lady by throwing her lover to the wolves. No, Calipon is in the narrative for the specific purpose of serving as the sacrifice. And doing it willingly. That's what gives meaning to the tale. It's the point of the story. Everyone has an obligation to the greater good."

"It worked, of course, right?"

"Yes, Hutch. It worked. Calipon died, Urik finished off the horgon, and retrieved one of its eyes. Eventually, with the help of a sacred sea bird, a diver, he also retrieved the lovely Lisandra. In celebration of the manner of her freedom, she placed the eye on a gold chain and wore it ever after at her throat. And, in representations, she is said always to have been accompanied by a diver." He propped his chin on his hand and studied her. "So the question is, where does all this leave us?"

"That's itT she asked.

"That's it" Carson lifted his glass. The electric candles glittered in the Chianti.

"He rescued her, and they lived happily ever after," she said.

"No." He shook his head. "That isn't the end. It never is. Not for epic heroes. There has to be a final validation of the myth, a recognition by a divinity, and by the community, of the significance of the heroic acts. And it has to be set up. The setup is that, while the hero is away on a quest, raiders attack his home. Lisandra dies protecting their son.

Urik catches up with the bandits, and does them in, although he is mortally wounded in the encounter. And the gods have their opportunity to bestow divine honors. The reward for Urik—Calipon is not mentioned—is to be accepted into the company of God's warriors, a deathless squadron to be called on in time of great need. The members were memorialized by being placed in the sky."

"That's interesting," said Hutch. "Seek us by the light of the horgon's eye. Are the Monument-Makers showing us where they live?"

"Maybe."

"If so, the horgon's eye is a star. Possibly the home star."

"That's exactly what I thought," said Carson.

Hutch disposed of some spaghetti. "Could we be looking for a constellation?"

"I would think so."

"Which one? Do we know the Quraquat constellations?"

"Not from that era."

She sighed. "We're still at sea. How do we find one that looks like a big Quraquat with a spear? And then, how do we narrow it down to an individual star?"

"I don't think we're looking for Urik. He's not the one who's associated with the horgon's eye. It's Lisandra. She carried it."

"Whatever," said Hutch. "Did Lisandra get a constellation, too?"

"Urik and Lisandra were lovers. In mythical systems, lovers, if they are of sufficient stature, are never separated beyond the physical realm. These two would be closely associated throughout the mythic cycle, and so we should expect to find them together in the heavens."

"It's still hopeless." Hutch threw up her hands. "Have you ever been able to make pictures out of the stars? How would we ever recognize her?"

"Good question. If you have a suggestion, I'd be happy to hear it."

"I have no idea."

"Maybe it's not that hopeless. We've got a hole card: the horgon's eye is red."

LIBRARY ENTRY

They drink my deeds in the halls of the Ka, And bless their arms with my name. Yet I, riding through deep snow, In the dark of the moon, Do not pause.

Where, now, is Calipon my comrade?

The pennants ripple atop Master's outpost,

Brave colors, gray and blue, rock and sea,

My colors,

Bright still in the fading light;

I nod, but do not stop.

And where, at last, Lisandra?

— from Urik at Sunset (Translated by Philip Marcotti)

Professor Emeritus Eric Kofton of Georgetown was visiting the Quraquat display at the Ivers Museum when he noticed a zodiac carved in a three-legged table. It didn't take him long to learn he had made a discovery, but he had no idea of its importance. The Academy awarded him a certificate.

The images were idealizations, giving no hint what the constellations might look like. But there were inscriptions identifying the figures. "I don't know whether it'll help us," said Carson, unrolling a poster reproduction. "The table is from the same part of the world as the Casumel culture. Unfortunately, it's only a few hundred years old. So maybe it's the same zodiac, and maybe it isn't. But look at this." He pointed at a snouted Quraquat with spear, shield, and war helmet. "It's called the Warrior."

"Urik, do you think?"

Carson looked hopeful. "We need to stay objective. But he comes complete with a female."

"The female's a separate constellation? Or part of the same one?"

"Separate. Its name doesn't have an English equivalent, but it would translate to the 'Beautiful Woman Virgin-Mother. »

Hutch grinned. "That's Lisandra. I'd recognize her anywhere."

He looked down at a notebook. "The constellations are listed by occupation. Or function. There's a woodsman. A fisherman with a net. A soronghilia plant."

"A what?"

"The Tree of Life. Symbol of immortality. There's an axe. Even a strider."

"We could have used a few pictures of the constellations."

"They would help." They were in Carson's office on the fifth floor. It was filled with memorabilia from both his military and archeological careers. She counted three models of combat aircraft, and the Temple shuttle. Awards and photos covered the walls. A young Carson in Air Force gray posed beside a black Labrador retriever. An older version stood beside a striking brunette.

"Who is she?" Hutch asked.

"Just a friend." His face clouded briefly. "Used to be."

Fearing she had intruded, Hutch retreated to the subject at hand. "What are the other.constellations?"

"A bucket, a shield, a couple of animals—"

"No horgon's eye?"

"No. And something we think was a scales."

"It's interesting. But it's hard to see that we've made any progress."

In answer, he handed her a simmy helmet. She put it on, and a starfield blazed into existence. "View from Oz," he said. "Circa 9000 B.C." The stars lay across half a sky, the campfires of a distant army. Beyond lay the black heart of the Void. Two crosshairs appeared left and right. "They represent the two towers, Hutch. You're standing directly in the center of the city. Each crosshair is targeted on a straight line from your position to the corresponding round tower, and angled up parallel to the rooftop."

The sky rotated, and one of the crosshairs locked on a red star. "That's from the tower with the inscription," Carson said. "The star is Orchinda. The Orchid. It's a red giant, only about nine light years from Quraqua. More violet than red, not that it matters."

If they had guessed right, when the horgon's eye appeared in one sight, the target sun would appear in the other. The target—she glanced at the other crosshair—was dim.

"I don't recall its numerical designation. We've never been there. It's a class G. Sixty light-years from Quraqua, a hundred fifteen from here."

"Is that /7?" Hutch was prepared to respond with an appropriate outburst, but Carson was too reserved. It wasn't going to be this easy.

"Maybe," he said. "There are seventeen red stars that appear in one or the other of the crosshairs. Sixteen of those give us a star in, or very near, the opposite sight. The problem is that we have to assume the towers have slipped over the millennia, been affected by quakes, meteor strikes, whatever. So we're looking at everything within four degrees of the target area."