The wind was followed by giant waves, which barreled in toward the Shizoo islands; just as Cholo had feared, the asteroid had apparently hit the ocean.
The waves hammered the islands. On Elbar, the embankments gave way, and most of the population was swept out to sea. Much damage was done to the other islands, too, but—thank the Eggmother!—overall, casualties were surprisingly light.
It was half a month before the seas returned to normal; it was even longer before the heavens completely cleared. The sunsets were spectacular, stained red as though a giant meatscooper had ripped open the bowl of the sky.
“You have done the Shizoo people a great service,” said Queen Kava. “Without your warning, we would all be dead.” The monarch was wearing a golden necklace; it was the only adornment on her yellowish-gray hide. “I wish to reward you.”
Cholo, whose own hide was solid gray, tilted his head backward, exposing the underside of his neck in supplication. “Your thanks is reward enough.” He paused, then lowered his head. “However…”
Kava clicked the claws on her left hand against those on her right. “Yes?”
“I wish to go in search of the impact site.”
The waves had come from the west. Dekalt—the continent the Shizoo referred to as “the mainland”—was to the east. There was a land mass to the west, as well, but it was more than five times as far away. Shizoo boats had sailed there from time to time; fewer than half ever returned. There was no telling how far away the impact site was, or if there would be anything to see; the crater might be completely submerged, but Cholo hoped its rim might stick up above the waves.
Queen Kava flexed her claws in surprise. “We are recovering from the worst natural disaster in our history, Cholo. I need every able body here, and every ship for making supply runs to the mainland.” She fell silent, then: “But if this is what you want…”
“It is.”
Kava let air out in a protracted hiss. “It’s not really a suitable reward. Yes, you may have the use of a ship; I won’t deny you that. But while on your voyage, think of what you really want—something lasting, something of value.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” said Cholo. “Thank you.”
Kava disengaged her tail from the wooden mount, stepped away from her chest cradle, and walked over to the astronomer, placing the back of a hand, her claws bent up and away, gently on his shoulder. “Travel safely, Cholo.”
They sailed for almost two months without finding any sign of the impact site. Cholo had tried to determine the correct heading based on the apparent direction from which the huge waves had come, plus his knowledge of the asteroid’s path through the sky, but either he had miscalculated, or the ocean really had covered over all evidence of the impact. Still, they had come this far; he figured they might as well push on to the western continent.
The ship deployed its anchor about thirty-six bodylengths from the shore, and Cholo and two others rowed in aboard a small boat. The beach was covered with debris obviously washed in by giant waves—mountains of seaweed, millions of shells, coral, driftwood, several dead sea serpents, and more. Cholo had a hard time walking over all the material; he almost lost his balance several times.
The scouting party continued on, past the beach. The forest was charred and blackened—a huge fire had raged through here recently, leaving burnt-out trunks and a thick layer of ash underfoot. The asteroid would have heated up enormously coming through the atmosphere; even if it did hit the ocean, the air temperature might well have risen enough to set vegetation ablaze. Still, there were already signs of recovery: in a few places, new shoots were poking up through the ash.
Cholo and his team hiked for thousands of bodylengths. The crew had been looking forward to being on solid ground again, but there was no joy in their footsteps, no jaunty bouncing of tails; this burned-out landscape was oppressive.
Finally, they came to a river; its waters had apparently held back the expanding fire. On the opposite side, Cholo could see trees and fields of flowers. He looked at Garsk, the captain of the sailing ship. Garsk bobbed from her hips in agreement. The river was wide, but not raging. Cholo, Garsk, and three others entered its waters, their tails undulating from side to side, their legs and arms paddling until they reached the opposite shore.
As Cholo clambered up the river’s far bank and out onto dry land, he startled a small animal that had been lurking in the underbrush.
It was a tiny mammal, a disgusting ball of fur.
Cholo had grown sick of sea serpent and fish on the long voyage; he was hoping to find something worth killing, something worth eating.
After about a twelfth of a day spent exploring, Cholo came across a giant shieldhorn skull protruding from the ground. At first he thought it was a victim of the recent catastrophe, but closer examination revealed the skull was ancient—hundreds, if not thousands, of years old. Shizoo legend said that long ago great herds of shieldhorns had roamed this continent, their footfalls like thunder, their facial spears glaring in the sunlight, but no one in living memory had seen such a herd; the numbers had long been diminishing.
Cholo and Garsk continued to search.
They saw small mammals.
They saw birds.
But nowhere did they see any greater beasts. At least, none that were still alive.
At one point, Cholo discovered the body of a meatscooper. From its warty snout to the tip of its tail, it measured more than four times as long as Cholo himself. When he approached the body, birds lifted into the air from it, and clouds of insects briefly dispersed. The stench of rotting meat was overpowering; the giant had been dead for a month or more. And yet there were hundreds of stoneweights worth of flesh still on the bones. If there had been any mid-sized scavengers left alive in the area, they would have long since picked the skeleton clean.
“So much death,” said Garsk, her voice full of sadness.
Cholo bobbed in agreement, contemplating his own mortality.
Months later, Cholo at last returned to Queen Kava’s chambers.
“And you found no great beasts at all?” said the Queen.
“None.”
“But there are lots of them left on the mainland,” said Kava. “While you were away, countless trips were made there to find wood and supplies to repair our cities.”
“’Lots’ is a relative term, Your Highness. If the legends are to believed—not to mention the fossil record—great beasts of all types were much more plentiful long ago. Their numbers have been thinning for some time. Perhaps, on the eastern continent, the aftermath of the asteroid was the gizzard stone that burst the thunderbeast’s belly, finishing them off.”
“Even the great may fall,” said the Queen.
Cholo was quiet for a time, his own nictitating membranes dancing up and down. Finally, he spoke: “Queen Kava, before I left, you promised me another reward—whatever I wanted—for saving the Shizoo people.”
“I did, yes.”
“Well, I’ve decided what I’d like…”
The unveiling took place at noon six months later, in the large square outside the palace. The artist was Jozaza—the same Jozaza who had assured her own immortality through her stunning frieze on the palace wall depicting the Eggmother’s six hunts.
Only a small crowd gathered for the ceremony, but that didn’t bother Cholo. This wasn’t for today—it was for the ages. It was for immortality.
Queen Kava herself made a short speech—there were many reasons why Kava was popular, and her brevity was certainly one of them. Then Jozaza came forward. As she turned around to face the audience, her tail swept through a wide arc. She made a much longer speech; Cholo was growing restless, hopping from foot to foot.