"He roosted in the high mountains to the north, on the shores of a still lake, though there are tales that his wings would carry him far from there, betimes. His appetite for knowledge was endless, and it was said that the more he learned, the more that hunger grew, until bright eyes began to open everywhere upon his body. All that could be seen, his golden eyes searched out, and rare indeed was the question he could not answer. So rare, in fact, that-- ah, but we will come to that."

A curving crisscross of ripples spread across the being's face, and it was clear to both the scholar and the dancer that this was his laughter, a soft chuckle that his translator gave voice to as well. He shifted the fat grub in his lap like a father with a toddler on his knee, every motion of his large body slowed by the soft burden of tenderness.

It captivated the dancer. Sumira doubted this traveler had ever had an unkind thought in all his years. "But he is real, you're saying -- this Watcher? The All-Seeing?"

The black orb bobbed above the traveler's shoulders. The grub had no need to translate.

"Then all we need to do is search the northern peaks," the scholar grumbled. He sat beside the dancer, the two of them regarding the great Thigg from across the hearth -- a flagstone-rimmed pit of pale ashes with an iron kettle resting upon a bed of embers at its center. "How do we do that? Perhaps the Watcher could answer us, but if we could pose him the question in the first place it would be rather a moot point."

The dancer gave him a cool look from the corner of her eye, holding out her cup as the traveler poured her more dark, smoky tea. "Let him finish," she said.

The scholar subsided with a frustrated sigh.

"Alas, doubly moot," the grub translated in its clear, flute-like voice. Its cadence was fluid, conversational, and it took on its duty like a player on a stage. As its tiny, complex mouth-parts formed its words impeccably, the pair of humans wondered less at the mechanics of its speaking than at the way it spoke. Was it taking on something of the traveler's true character as it chose its words and timbre, or was it inventing the role to some degree? "He could not answer you, not for lack of knowledge, but, you see... Even in these lands, you know of Ashurach, the sorcerer king of vanished Nibiru."

Sumira looked to the scholar, then, and he narrowed his eyes. "There is some debate as to the, ah, factuality--" He fell short as she turned away again.

That torrent of ripples again. Laughter, but gentle. "So little faith in anything not right in front of your eyes. You have a kindred spirit in the Watcher, young student."

"Scholar," he corrected.

"Of course. Ashurach, Nibiru, all vanished, and the traces of his thousand year reign are very few. But while so many of the world's scars are softened over with the passage of time, the Watcher's cannot heal. Ashurach had many secrets, and he guarded them jealously. But they were not secrets to the Thousand-Eyed Beast of the high mountains. So he hunted him. He had no wish to shut those many eyes, but he could not have his secrets laid bare simply for the asking... so he took the Beast's great head, placing a golden seal upon his neck. Could you traverse the high peaks in the north, perhaps you might find the Watcher... but for him to answer you, you would need to pose your questions to his head, in the vaults of vanished Nibiru."

The scholar bowed his head, forehead to palm in frustration. "Is this anything but an anecdote? You present us with another impossibility!"

Sumira poured another cup of tea, then, holding it out to the scholar upon her palm, the way she had been taught in the walled gardens of her home. He accepted, sheepish at his own behavior.

"I merely offer knowledge. Useful, trivial -- who is to judge? But I still was not finished." The traveler paused, offering a sip of tea to his translator. The cup looked like a thimble in his huge hand. The grub curled its round head downward and sipped delicately, trilling its thanks.

"You see -- you, scholar, of all people, must see -- that in the pursuit of knowledge, the question is as valuable as the answer. A question is a flagstone upon the path to enlightenment; answers, the step you take upon it. The Watcher hoarded not only answers, but questions. And to anyone who could pose him a question he could not answer, he would pay them with the gift of one of his golden eyes."