CHAPTER TWELVE

The eating that afternoon was special, a formal occasion to welcome Malsas< and her staff. Events of this kind were so rare that most of the younger fargi had never watched one before; they moved about with excitement all that day talking excitedly to each other—though few were listening. This was a very new and unusual thing to them. In their day-to-day existence the Yilanè, although they enjoyed their food, looking forward with anticipation to sleeping with stomachs full, the consuming of the meat itself was a solitary act. Each would present a broad leaf to one of the meat-preparers and receive a portion of deliciously enzymed meat which they would eat in some quiet spot. This was the way food was taken and they could not imagine how it might be otherwise. Very little work was done this day as the inhabitants of the city filled the ambesed, pressed tight against its walls, climbed into the lower branches of the palisade in their eagerness to watch.

After their inspection of the city and the fields, Vaintè and Malsas< made their way to the ambesed. There Malsas< met with one after the other of those responsible for the growth of Alpèasak, spending most of the time with Vanalpè. When she was satisfied with what she had heard Malsas< dismissed them all and spoke to Vaintè.

"The warmth of the sun and the growth of this city has taken the winter from behind my eyes. I will return to Inegban* with this news. It will make the coming winter less cold for our citizens there. Eremais reports that the uruketo has been loaded and is well-fed and ready to swim at any time. We will eat, then I will leave."

Vaintè communicated her grief at the sudden parting. Malsas< thanked her, but dismissed any thought of staying longer.

"I understand your feelings. But I have seen enough to know that the work here is in good hands. But the uruketo is slow: we must not waste a single day. Let us eat. You know Alakensi, my first advisor and efenselè. She will serve you meat at this time."

"I am honored, highly honored," Vaintè said, thinking only about the privilege of this offer, not letting her thoughts dwell at all on Alakensi whom she knew of old. A creature of devious mind and unkind plots.

"Good." Malsas< gestured Vanalpè over. "Now we will eat. Alakensi, who is closest to me in all things, will serve Vaintè meat. You, Vanalpè, for what you have done in growing this city, in designing and expanding it so well, you are chosen to serve me."

Vanalpè was as speechless as a youngster fresh from the ocean at this, radiating pride with every movement of her body.

"For this special occasion there are two meats," Vaintè said. "One from the old world, one from the new."

"Old and new shall blend in our interiors the way Inegban* shall blend into Alpèasak," Malsas< said.

There were cries of appreciation at this from those who stood close, for she had spoken so well and the idea was so novel that they would tell each other about it and talk about it for some time. Vaintè did not speak again until those closest had repeated what Malsas< had said so that everyone would know.

"The meat from Entoban* is urukub, grown from the egg brought carefully to these shores, hatched in the Gendasi sun, grown large on Gendasi herbiage. There are others, but this one is the biggest, you have all seen it when you have passed the pasture at the swamp. You have all admired the sleekness of its hide, the arched length of its neck, the full-flesh of its flanks. You have seen it."

There were murmurs of appreciation at this, for they all had seen the tiny head at the end of that long neck rising high up from the water with a great mouthful of dripping green vegetation.

"The first urukub to be slain, yet one so large that all here will eat their fill of it. Then for Malsas< and those who have traveled with her from Inegban* there will be a creature they have never eaten before, sharp-footed deer of the kind found only in this place. The eating will now begin."

The two who would serve hurried away to return with the gourds of meat, each kneeling before the Eistaa she was to serve. Malsas< reached out and took up a long bone with a tiny black hoof attached, cool sweet flesh hanging loosely from it, tore a large bite from it, then held it up so all could see.

"Urukub," she called out and all who heard her made comment on her humor. For the smallest bone in a urukub was bigger than this entire beast.

Vaintè was pleased. The eating went well. When they had finished, washing their hands in gourds of water that their servers held up to them, the ceremony was over and the others went to eat before darkness came.

With no one listening or watching for the moment Malsas< could speak in confidence to Vaintè. Her voice was soft and the motions of her limbs merely hints of movement.

"Everything said here today was more than true. Everyone has labored hard, you hardest of all. Therefore I know you can use the labors of the Daughters of Death I brought with me."

"I saw them. They will be used."

"Use them until they die!" Malsas<'s teeth clacked together loudly with the force of her expression. "There are more and more of them, like termites eating away at the base of our city. See that they do not attempt to eat this city as well."

"No possibility, not the slightest, of that happening here. I have hard and dangerous work for all of them. That is their fate."

"We are of a single mind then. Good. Now about you, work-hardened, never-weary Vaintè. What can be done to help you more?"

"Nothing, we have all that we need."

"You do not speak of personal need, but I know you can use assistance. Therefore it is my wish that the strength of my hand, first to me in everything, my efenselè Alakensi, be attached to your following. To be your first aide and share your labors."

Vaintè would not permit herself the slightest movement, the softest word, for that would have revealed the spate of instant anger that engulfed her. But she did not have to speak. Malsas< looked her directly in the eyes, and eye to eye they both understood. Malsas< permitted herself just one little mocking gesture of victory, then turned and led her followers to the uruketo.

Had Vaintè possessed a weapon at that moment she would have sent a dart of death into that retreating back. Malsas< must have planned every moment of this even before she arrived. She had her spies in Alpèasak reporting on everything that happened here. She had known that as Eistaa here Vaintè would be reluctant to turn over power. Therefore the repulsive Alakensi had been brought here. She would sit at Vaintè's side and watch and spy—and report everything that happened. Her presence would be a constant reminder of Vaintè's certain fate. She would labor and build this city—and in the end she would be pulled down. For on that black day it would all belong to Malsas<. Now she realized what had been done; her past was laid clear by her future. From the very beginning Malsas< had had it all planned. Let Vaintè work and struggle and build the city—and in the building construct her own fate.

Unknowingly Vaintè raked her foot along the floor, her thick sharp nails tearing at the wood. No! It was not going to be that way. In the beginning she had just wanted to rise through her own labors, to join those that led the city. No more. Malsas< would never rule here. Alakensi would die; her appointment had been her death notice. The details were not clear—but the future was. As winter closed in on Inegban* the sun shone on Alpèasak. Weakness ruled there while strength grew here. Alpèasak was hers—and none would ever take it from her.

In her rage Vaintè left the presence of others, walked through the city by the most circuitous route where only a few fargi could see her—and upon seeing her flee from the anger that radiated from the very impact of her stride. Death was in every movement of her body.

There was a guardpost, now deserted, high above the port. Vaintè went there and stood in the lengthening shadows while the loading of the uruketo was completed. The last cargo taken into it were the limp bodies of a number of deer. Vanalpè had improved upon the toxin, normally used to stun large animals so they could be moved. The new drug did not stun—nor did it kill—but rather brought the creatures to the very brink of death. Their heartbeats could barely be detected, their breathing was immensely slowed. Treated in this manner they could cross the ocean to Inegban*, needing neither food nor water, to provide needed meat for the hungry citizens there. It was Vaintè's fervent wish, and she spoke it aloud though none could hear, that Malsas< be treated in this way. To lie dead but not-dead until the end of time.

When the uruketo left at dusk Vaintè returned silently and alone through the growing darkness and, despite the anger still possessing her, fell instantly asleep.

Sleep cleansed her mind of hatred, but in the morning it still lurked there at the edge of her thoughts. To those that saw her in the ambesed she appeared as always. But she had one glimpse of Alakensi across the ambesed and she had to turn away, rigid with hatred. Her temper was short as many discovered. It was Enge's ill luck to approach her at this time.

"I have a small request, Eistaa," she said.

"Refused. From you and your walking-dead creatures I want only work."

"You were never cruel without a reason before this," Enge said calmly. "It is my understanding that to the Eistaa all citizens are equal."

"Precisely. It is my decision that the Daughters of Death are no longer citizens^. You are work animals. You will labor until you die; that is your fate." The memory surfaced, long put aside by the pressure of work, brought up now by the sight of Enge standing before her.

"The ustuzou you were teaching to talk. What of them? Time has passed, a great deal of time."

"More time is needed, that is the request that I have. More time—or no time."

"Explain yourself."

"Each morning I begin to work with the ustuzou with hope that this will be the day of comprehension. Each evening I leave them with the strong sensation that it is all a wasted labor. The female is intelligent—but is it just the intelligence of an elinou that prowls the city seeking out and killing mice? The actions look intelligent but certainly are not."

"What of the male?"

"Stupid, like all males. He will not respond, even when beaten. He just sits and stares in silence. But the female, like an elinou, responds to kindness and is pleasant to be with. But, after all this time, she can speak only a few phrases, usually wrong, and always bad. She must have learned them as a boat learns and they are surely meaningless to her."

"I am not pleased at this news," Vaintè said, nor was she. Enge could have been working in the fields all this time; her labors had been lost. The reasons for attempting to communicate with the ustuzou were no longer important. There had been no further threat from the creatures—while trouble from other sources was bad enough. But if the danger was gone the intellectual interest was still there. She voiced the question aloud.

"If the creatures cannot learn Yilanè—have you taught yourself their language?"

Enge signaled despair and doubt with a convulsive movement of her body. "That is another question I cannot answer. At first I thought of them as ambenin, speechless things that could not communicate. But now I see them as ugunin…"

"Impossible!" Vaintè rejected the idea completely. "How can a creature of any kind communicate but not give or receive information? You are giving me puzzles—not answers."

"I know, and I am sorry, but I see no other name for them. Their sounds and movements reveal no pattern at all, and I say this knowing I must have memorized thousands of their movements and sounds. All are meaningless. It was difficult, they are so waxy and move so little. In the end, I came to believe—as a theory only—that they must have another level of communication that will remain forever closed to us. I have no idea of what it might be. I have heard of the theory of mental radiation, one brain talking directly to another. Or radio waves perhaps. If we had a physicist in the city that might be answered."

She fell silent as Vaintè expressed despair, doubt, and disbelief.

"You never cease to amaze me, Enge. A first-class mind was lost to this city when you devoted your existence to your repellent philosophy. But now I think that your experiments and expectations are at an end. I will see your ustuzou and decide what will be done." Vaintè saw Stallan near by and signaled her to come as well.

She led the way with Enge and Stallan following after. When they approached the prison chamber Stallan hurried ahead to open the barred entrance. Vaintè pushed past her and stared down at the young ustuzou while Stallan stood ready in case they should attack. The female was squatting, but her lips were drawn back to reveal her teeth and Vaintè grew angry at what was obviously a threat. The small male stood in waxy, motionless silence against the rear wall.

Vaintè called out to Enge. "Make them do their tricks," she ordered.

When Kerrick heard the scraping of the bolt that secured the door he jumped about to place his back against the wall, sure as always that this would be the day of death. Ysel was beginning to laugh at him for it.

"Stupid boy," she said, rubbing at the scratches on her bare skull. "Still baby-afraid. The marag brings us food and plays games…"

"Murgu bring death and they will kill us one day."

"Stupid." She threw a fruit rind at him and turned with a smile to face the one who visited them.

It was a strange marag who entered first, stamping heavily, and her smile faded. But the other familiar one was right behind, along with the brutal one, and the smile returned. It was another day just like any other.

She was a lazy and not-too-bright little girl.

"Speak to me," Vaintè ordered, standing before the ustuzou. Then with emphasis, slowly and clearly as though addressing a young fargi, "Speak… to… me!"

"I beg, let me try first," Enge requested with supplication. "I can get a response."

"Not any more you can't. If the creature cannot talk, that is the end of it. Too much time has been wasted." Turning back to the female ustuzou Vaintè made herself clear, absolutely and directly clear.

"This is my personal demand—and it is most urgent. You will speak now and you will speak as well as any Yileibe. If you do, you will keep on living and growing. Speech means growth-speech means life—understand?"

Ysel understood—at least she was aware of the emotion of the threat—and fear, kept at bay so very long, returned.

"I find it hard to talk, please." But the Tanu words elicited no response from the great ugly creature towering over her. She must remember what she had been taught. She tried, tried as hard as she could, making some of the movements as she spoke the words.

"has leibe ene uu…"

Vaintè was baffled. "Is that talking? What is it saying? It can't mean 'The old female grows adroit'."

Enge was baffled as well. "There is possibly the meaning that growing supple puts years on females."

Even as Vaintè was attempting to understand this possible interpretation her anger welled up within her. Perhaps, on another day, she would have taken this attempt, pitiful as it was, as an indication that the ustuzou was learning to speak. But not today. Not after the insults of yesterday and the infuriating presence of Alakensi. It was too much—and after she had even attempted to be polite to the disgusting fur beast. Reaching down she seized it by both forelimbs and raised it into the air before her, shaking it and bellowing with rage at the stupid creature, ordering it to speak.

The thing didn't even make the attempt. Instead it just closed its eyes and produced water from them, threw its head back, opened its mouth wide and emitted an animal screech that hurt Vaintè's skull.

Vaintè was beyond thought, her mind filled instead with blind hatred.

She leaned forward and sank her long rows of sharp conical teeth into the ustuzou's throat, bit down hard, tearing out its life.

Hot blood spurted into her mouth and she gagged at the taste, throwing the corpse from her and harshly spitting out its blood. Stallan moved slightly, radiating silent approval.

There was a gourd of water before her face and she seized it from Enge and rinsed out her mouth, spitting and gagging, pouring the remainder over her face.

The blinding anger was gone, she could think now, and could feel as well the satisfaction in what she had done. But she was not finished. The other ustuzou remained alive—and with its death they would all be extinct. Turning swiftly she moved in front of Kerrick and glared down at him.

"Now you, the last," she said, and reached out towards him. He could not retreat. His body moved and he spoke.

"…esekakurud-esekvilshan…elel leibeleibe…"

It made little sense at first and she stepped forward. Then stopped and looked more closely at the creature. There was a cower there, at least a clumsy attempt at a cower. But why was it moving from side to side like that? It made no sense. Then came realization—the thing of course had no tail so it could not do the lift correctly. But if that was really a tail lift, then it might be trying to communicate top-disgust-sensation as well as top-speech-volition. The bits and pieces were beginning to come together and in the end Vaintè cried aloud.

"Do you understand, Enge? See—it is doing it again."

Clumsily, but clearly now, clear enough to understand, the ustuzou was speaking.

"I very much don't want to die. I want very much to talk. Very long, very hard."

"You did not kill it," Enge said as they left the chamber and Stallan bolted the door behind them. "Yet you had no mercy at all for the other…"

"The other was worthless. You will now train this last one for it may be of use to us some day. Other packs of the creatures could be marauding out there. But you told me it never spoke?"

"Never. It must have been more intelligent than the other. It watched me all of the time, yet it never spoke."

"You are a better teacher than you know, Enge." Now sated, Vaintè was magnanimous. "Your only mistake was in teaching the wrong ustuzou."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Although the sky above was clear blue, fine snow was blowing fiercely up through the mountain pass. The biting north wind that tore across the mountains was picking it up from the slopes below, then sending it hurtling through the pass in great frigid waves.

Herilak struggled with its fury, almost leaning against it as he pushed the last stumbling steps through the heavy drifts. Part of his left snowshoe had broken and it slowed him down. Yet if he stopped to mend it he would be dead before he finished. So he pressed stumbling on, a large man made even bulkier by the layers of furs wrapped about him. He could feel the change in the slope now as he entered the pass, went through it, tripping and falling again and again, but rising each time to shake the snow from him, then staggering on. As he passed the rocky scarp, the gray bones of stone rising from the drifts and kept free by the wind, he felt that wind lessen. He was through. Just a few paces further on and he was out of the wind completely, shielded by the rock. He dropped down with a sigh, his back against the rough stone, for the climb had taxed even his great strength.

His outer mittens were glazed with ice and snow and he had to beat them together before they were supple enough to remove. With his warm inner glove he wiped the caked snow from his eyebrows and eyelashes and blinked down at the valley below.

It was a sheltered place where some greatdeer still wintered; he could see the dark specks of their herds further up the valley. Below him was a stand of tall trees that gave shelter to the meadow beside the stream. A stream that never froze at its source where it welled up from beneath the ground. It was a fine spot to camp and to winter, and was known as levrelag Amahast, the camping place of the sammad of Amahast. Amahast married to Aleth sister of Herilak.

But the valley below was empty.

Herilak had heard this from a hunter of his own sammad, who had met a hunter of sammad Ulfadan who swore that he had been here, and that he was speaking only the truth. Herilak knew that he had to see for himself. He had taken his spear and his bow and his arrows, rubbed his body thickly with goose grease, then put on the soft furs of the beaver with the fur against his body, then the suit of coarse fur of the greatdeer over that. With the snowshoes lashed to the heavy fur boots he was ready for the winter. He traveled light for he must travel fast, and the bag over his shoulder held little more than a supply of dried meat and some of the mashed nuts and berries of ekkotaz.

Now he had found that which he sought and he was very displeased. He sucked a mouthful of snow as he bent to repair the snowshoe. Every once in awhile he would look up from the work to the empty valley below, as though to remind himself of the unpleasant truth. It remained empty.

It was midday before he was finished. He chewed on some dried meat while he pondered on what to do next. He had no choice. When he had finished eating he climbed to his feet, a big man who stood a head taller than even the tallest in his sammad, rubbing grease from his flowing beard and looking down the valley in the direction he must go. South. He started that way, along the slope, and once he began walking he never looked back once at the empty camping place.

All that day he walked and only stopped when the first stars began to sparkle in the darkness. He rolled himself in his furs and stared up at the night sky before closing his eyes to sleep. But he had a thought then and opened them again and searched among the familiar patterns. The Mastodon charging at the Hunter who held his spear ready. The bent row of stars in the Hunter's belt. Was there a new one there, next to the center star? Not as bright as the others, but just as clear in the cold transparency of the winter sky. He could not be sure. It would have to be the tharm of a strong warrior to be in that honored place, adding strength to the Hunter. He was not certain if it had been there before. While he thought about it he closed his eyes again and slept.

On the afternoon of the third day, three days of marching from first light to early darkness, Herilak came through the trees beside a fast-flowing river, the current so swift that it still had an open channel in its center. He went quietly as a hunter always does, once surprising a small herd of deer, sending them jumping away between the trees, bounding high with sprays of snow flying about them. One at least would have been easy prey—but he was not hunting now. Not for deer. Pushing through a thicket he stopped suddenly, then bent to look at the ground. At the gut rabbit snare strung between two boughs.

After that he chanted as he went and let his spear rattle against the low branches that he passed. This was a new thing that had started with the frozen winters. In none of the stories that the old ones told was there any mention of the need. There was the need now. Tanu had killed Tanu. The world was not the free place it once had been, where hunters did not fear hunters.

In a short time he could feel beneath his feet a path that had been trampled into the snow. When he came to the next clearing in the forest he stopped, plunged his spear into a drift like a standard and squatted on his haunches beside it. He did not have long to wait.

Silent as wreath of smoke a hunter appeared on the other side of the clearing. His spear was ready, but he lowered it when he saw Herilak's sitting figure. Herilak climbed slowly to his feet as the other hunter also stabbed his spear into the snow and started forward. They met in the center of the clearing.

"I am here on your hunting grounds but I do not hunt," Herilak said. "This is where the sammad of Ulfadan hunt. You are the sammadar."

Ulfadan nodded agreement. Like his name, his blond beard was long, reaching almost to his waist. "You are Herilak," he said. "My niece is married to Alkos of your sammad." He chewed over the relationship, then pointed back over his shoulder with his hand. "We will take our spears and we will go to my tent. It is warmer than the snow."

They walked side by side in silence for it is not a hunter's way to chatter like a bird when on the trail. The river moved swiftly at their side as they followed the path along its frozen bank. They came to the place where the river swung out and back in a slow curve and in the curve was the winter camp of the sammad, twelve large and sturdy tents. In the meadow beyond the tents the mastodons dug into the snow with their tusks, their breaths rising up in drifts of vapor, to reach the dry grass hidden below. From each tent a thin plume of smoke also rose into the cloudless sky. There were shouts as children ran between the tents playing some game. It was a peaceful scene well familiar to Herilak; it could have been his own sammad. Ulfadan pulled the hide flap aside and led the way into the darkness of his tent.

They sat in silence while the old woman poured melted snow, from the bark pail beside the fire, into wooden mugs, adding dried herbs to make a savory drink. The two hunters warmed their hands on the mugs and sipped at the brew while the women chattered to each other as they wrapped themselves in skins and slipped out of the tent one by one.

"You will eat," Ulfadan said when they were alone.

"The hospitality of Ulfadan is talked about in the tents of the Tanu from the sea to the mountains."

The formal words did not quite match the generosity of the portion, a few flakes of dried fish smelling very strongly of age. The winter was long and spring far distant yet. There would be hunger in the tents before it came.

Herilak drained the last drops of liquid with noisy appreciation, and eyen managed to summon up a belch to show how rich the meal had been. He knew that he should now talk about hunting, the weather, the migrating herds, and only much later reach the point of his visit. But this slow and time-consuming custom was changing as well.

"The mother of the wife of my first son is the wife of Amahast," Herilak said. Ulfadan nodded in agreement, for this fact was known to him. All of the sammads in these mountain valleys were linked by marriage in one way or another. "I have been to the camping place of Amahast's sammad and the place is empty." Ulfadan nodded at this as well.

"They went south last spring, their path always taking them down this valley. It was seen that half of their mastodons had died. It was a bad winter."

"It is known that now it is always a bad winter."

Ulfadan grunted in unhappy agreement. "They did not return after that."

Herilak turned the thought over in his head, tracing in his mind the trail down through the valleys to the flatlands, then eastward to the sea. "They went then to the sea?"

"Each year now they go the encampment by the river at the sea."

"But this year they did not return." There was no answer to that other than silent agreement. Something had happened that they did not know about. Perhaps the sammad had found a different winter camp; more than one sammad had been destroyed by cold and their encampments were empty. There was that possibility. There was the greater possibility that something far worse had happened about which they knew nothing.

"The days are short," Herilak said, climbing to his feet. "And the way is long."

Ulfadan rose as well and seized the big hunter's arms in his hands in a gesture of appreciation. "It is a long and lonely way to the sea in winter. May Ermanpadar guide your path all of the way."

There was nothing more to be said. Herilak pulled his furs tight about him again and once more pointed his spear to the south. It was only after he had reached the plains that he went faster, for the snow here was frozen and hard. Winter was his only enemy now for the ice-bound land was empty of life. Only once in his many days of walking did he see a greatdeer, and this was a thin and wretched creature pursued by a small pack of starving longtooths. He saw them moving across the plain in his direction. There was a low rise here with a stand of leafless trees upon it and Herilak stopped beside them to watch.

The wretched greatdeer was weakening, its flanks torn and dripping with blood. It stumbled to a halt when it reached the slope, too winded to run any further, and turned at bay. The starving longtooths came in from all sides, heedless of danger with the smell of warm blood in their nostrils. One of them was caught by the dagger-pointed horns and tossed aside. But this was the opportunity the leader needed to spring in and hamstring the greatdeer, tearing at its hindlegs. Bellowing, the creature fell and the end was upon it. The leader, a great black creature with a thick ruff of hair about its throat and chest, drew back as though to let the others eat first. There would be enough for all.

When it moved aside it became aware for the first time of watching eyes. With wild instinct it knew it was being observed. It rose growling and looked straight up the hill at Herilak, its gaze meeting his. Then it crouched and moved in his direction, halfway up the hill, coming so close that Herilak could look into the unblinking yellow of its eyes.

Herilak's gaze was just as unswerving. He did not move nor point his spear, but in his silence he communicated an unspoken message. They would go their way, he would go his. If he were attacked he would kill; the longtooth knew what spears could do. The yellow eyes watched steadily and the creature must have understood because it turned suddenly and went back down the hill. Now it would feed, and the others made way for it. But before it sank its muzzle into the warm flesh it glanced back up the hill. Nothing waited under the trees. The spear-animal was gone. It lowered its head and ate.

A blizzard trapped Herilak inside his furs for two whole days. He slept most of the time, trying not to eat too much of his dwindling store of food. But it was eat or die from the cold. When the storm finally lifted he went on. Later that same day he had the good fortune to find the recent tracks of a rabbit. He pushed his spear under the strap across his back and notched an arrow into his bow. That night he feasted on fresh meat by his fire. Ate his fill and more again, staying up late, nodding half asleep as he roasted the remainder over the blaze.

There was less snow on the ground this far south, but the midwinter frost was just as hard. The frozen grass of the riverbank crackled underfoot. He paused when he heard something, cupped his ear and listened closely. Yes, the distant whisper was there. The sound of surf, waves beating upon a beach. The sea.

The grass did not crackle now as he went forward, spear ready, eyes that saw everything. Ready to face any danger.

But the danger had long since gone. Under a gray winter sky he came upon the meadow with the bones of the mastodons resting there. A cold wind, cold as death, sighed through the high-arched ribs. The carrion scavengers had done their work, then the crows and sea birds had followed and feasted well. It was there, just beyond the mastodons, that he found the first of the Tanu skeletons. His jaw clenched hard, his eyes narrowed to slits as he realized that more and more skeletons littered the river bank. It was a slaughtering yard, a place of death.

What had happened here? Dead, all dead, an entire sammad, that was clear from the beginning. Skeletons of adults and children lay where they had dropped. But what had killed them? What enemy had fallen upon them and had butchered them? Another sammad? Impossible, for they would have taken weapons and tents, would have driven off the mastodons, not just killed them along with their owners. The tents were still there, most of them wrapped and loaded onto the travois that lay beside the mastodons' skeletons. This sammad had broken its summer camp, had been leaving when death had sprung upon them. Herilak searched further, and it was in among the bones of the largest skeleton that he saw a glint of metal. He lifted the bones aside with respect and took up the red-rusted form of a skymetal knife. He brushed away the rust and looked at the patterns on the metal, patterns that he knew so well. His spear fell to the frozen ground as he held the knife with both hands, thrust it up into the sky and howled with grief. Tears filled his eyes as he bellowed aloud his pain and anger.

Amahast, dead. The husband of his sister, dead. Their children, the women, the tall hunters. Dead, all of them, dead. The sammad of Amahast was no more.

Herilak shook the tears from his eyes, growling with rage as hot anger burned away the sorrow. Now he must find the killers. Bent low he traced his way backwards and forwards, searching for what he did not know. But searching carefully and closely as only a hunter can. Darkness stopped him and he lay down for the night beside the bones of Amahast and searched for Amahast's tharm among the stars. He would be there, that was certain, one of the brighter stars.

Next morning he found that which he was searching for. At first it appeared to be just another strip of torn leather, one among many. But when he pulled away the frozen black fragments he saw that there were bones inside. Carefully, so as not to disturb them to any greater degree, he picked away at the leathery hide. Long before he was finished it was obvious what he had found, nevertheless he continued until all of the tiny bones were uncovered.

A long, thin creature, with tiny and unusable legs. Many ribs, far too many ribs, and more bones in the spine than seemed possible.

A marag of some kind, there was no mistake, for he had seen their kind before. It did not belong here, no murgu could live this far away from the hot south.

South? Did that have a meaning? Herilak stood and looked west, where he had come from. No murgu there, that was impossible. He turned slowly to face the north and could see inside his head the cold ice and snow stretching away forever. The Paramutan lived there, very much like the Tanu although they spoke in a different manner. But there were very few of them, they rarely came south, and they fought against winter only, not Tanu or each other. East, out into the ocean—there was nothing there.

But south, from the hot south, murgu could come. They could bring death and leave again. South.

Herilak knelt in the frozen sand and studied the marag skeleton carefully, memorized all the details of it until he could have scratched its likeness in the sand and would remember forever every single bone of it.

Then he stood and ground its brittle fragments underfoot. Turned about and without once looking back started on the return trail.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kerrick never realized that it was age alone that had saved his life. Not that Vaintè had spared him because he was so young; she felt the most intense disgust for ustuzou of any age and would happily see them all dead. Ysel had been too old to respond naturally to a new language, particularly one as complex in construction as Yilanè. For her Marbak was the only way to speak and she used to laugh with the women when hunters from the Ice Mountains visited their tents and spoke so badly they could barely be understood. To her this was just stupidity, any intelligent one of the Tanu would of course speak Marbak. Therefore she had showed no interest in learning Yilanè, and was satisfied to memorize by rote some of the funny sounds just to please the marag and get food from it. Sometimes she even remembered to make body movements with her words. It was all just a stupid game—and she had died for believing that.

Kerrick never thought about language as a separate entity: he just wanted to understand and respond. He was still young enough to learn a language without conscious effort, by listening and watching. If he had had any idea that there were thousands of conceptual areas in the Yilanè language—that could be combined in over 125 billion ways—he would just have shrugged. The numbers were meaningless, particularly since he could not count nor visualize any number larger than twenty, the count of a man. What he learned he had learned without conscious effort. But now, as the lessons progressed, Enge did draw his attention to certain statements, ways of interpreting things, and made him repeat sloppy movements until he did them correctly.

Because of his inability to change areas of skin color he was learning what was referred to as graylight talk. In heavy jungle, or at dawn and dusk when there was very little light, the Yilanè communicated without color patterns, rephrasing expressions so that color was not necessary.

Each morning of their imprisonment he had expected death when the door had opened. He remembered the slaughter of the sammad far too well, the extinction of everything living, men, women, children—even the mastodons. He and Ysel would be killed one day as well; there was no alternative. When the ugly marag had brought food instead of death in the morning he knew that their slaughter had just been put off for one more day. After that he would watch in silence, trying not to laugh, as stupid Ysel made nothing but mistakes, day after day. But he had a hunter's pride. He would not help her or the marag, would not answer when he was talked to, and he tried to accept the blows that followed in silence as a hunter should. After many days had passed he discovered that he could understand some of the things that Enge said when she spoke to the other marag that he hated the most, the one who beat him and tied him up. Keeping silent became more important after this, for it kept secret his knowledge; a small fragment of success where before there had only been total disaster.

And then Vaintè had killed the girl. He felt no remorse about that because she had been stupid and deserved to join the rest of the sammad. Only when Vaintè had seized him, the blood of murder still fresh on her jaw, only then had the hunter's strength failed. He had only hunted once, had not been accepted as a hunter, that was what he told himself later, trying to explain away his failure to accept death from those sharp and terrible teeth. In all truth he had been just as frightened then as he had been when his spear drew the marag from the water. He had spoken out of dreadful fear, scarcely aware of what he was doing, and had spoken well enough to save his life.

Kerrick still knew that he would die some day, when the murgu had had enough of him. But that day was in the future and now, for the first time, he permitted himself a tiny bit of hope. Each day he could understand more and speak better. And he still had not been out of this room since the moment they had been brought here. Some day he would be let out of it, unless they intended him to spend his remaining days locked away, and on that day he would run. The murgu waddled, they did not walk, and he was sure he could run faster than they could—if they could run at all. This was his secret hope and because of it he did what he was asked and hoped that his rebelliousness had been forgotten.

Each day began the same way. Stallan would open the door and stamp in. Kerrick would carefully control his loathing of the violent creature. Even though he no longer fought back the hunter would still hurl him to the floor and kneel painfully on his back as it put the living shackles on his ankles and wrists. Stallan would then rub a string-blade over his head to remove the stubble of hair, usually cutting his skin at the same time. Enge would arrive later with the fruit and the gellid meat that he had finally forced himself to eat. Meat meant strength. Kerrick never spoke to Stallan, unless the creature struck him and demanded an answer, which was very rare. Kerrick knew better than to expect any compassion from this ugly, hoarse-voiced creature.

But Enge was a different matter altogether. With a boy's sharp eyes he watched closely and saw that Enge reacted differently from the other murgu. For one thing she had expressed pain and sorrow when the girl had been killed. Stallan had enjoyed it greatly and had applauded the action. Once in a great while Enge would arrive with Stallan. Kerrick's speaking improved and when he was sure he could say exactly what he wanted, he began to watch patiently each day as the door opened. When Stallan entered alone he forgot the matter completely until the following morning.

This went on until the morning when Enge entered as well. Kerrick said nothing, but he stiffened his body so that Stallan was more brutal than usual in handling him. As his arms were pulled out before him and the cool shackle was being slapped into place he spoke.

"Why do you hurt me and bind me? I cannot hurt you."

Stallan's only answer was a gesture of disgust and a blow across the head. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw that Enge was listening.

"It is hard to talk when I am bound," he said.

"Stallan," Enge said, "what the creature says is true."

"It attacked you, have you forgotten that?"

"No, but that was when we first brought it in. And you will remember it bit me only when it thought I was hurting the female." She turned to Kerrick. "Will you try to injure me again?"

"Never. You are my teacher. I know if I speak well you will reward me with food and not hurt me."

"I marvel that an ustuzou can talk—but it is still a wild creature and must be secured." Stallan was adamant. "Vaintè put it in my charge and I will obey my orders."

"Obey them, but bend them a slight amount. Free its legs at least. It will make talking easier."

In the end Stallan reluctantly agreed and that day Kerrick worked especially hard, knowing that his secret plan had moved ahead just that single step.

There was no way to count the days, nor did Kerrick particularly care how much time had passed. When he had been in the north, with his sammad, winter and summer had been markedly different and it had been important to know the time of year for the hunting. But here, in the endless heat, the passage of time did not matter. Sometimes rain would drum on the transparent skin above the room, while at other times it would be darkened by clouds. Kerrick knew only that a long time had passed since Ysel's death, when there was an interruption to their daily lesson. The rattle of the outside lock drew the attention of both of them so that they turned to look when the door swung open. Kerrick welcomed the novel event until Vaintè entered.

Although the murgu were very similar one to the other he had learned to notice differences. And Vaintè was one creature whom he would never forget. He automatically signaled submission and respect as she stamped across the floor towards them, was pleased to see that she was in a good mood as well.

"You have done well in your animal-training, Enge. There are stupid fargi out there that do not respond as clearly or as quickly as this one. Make it speak again."

"You may converse with it yourself."

"Can I? I don't believe it. Why it is like giving instructions to a boat and having it answer you back." She turned to Kerrick and said clearly. "Go left, boat, go left."

"I am not a boat, but I can go left."

He walked slowly about the room while Vaintè expressed disbelief and pleasure in equal portions.

"Stand before me. Tell me the name you have been given."

"Kerrick."

"That means nothing. You are a ustuzou so you cannot say it correctly. It must be said this way, Ekerik."

Vaintè could not realize that it was the sounds alone that made up his name. She added the physical modifiers so that in its entirety it signified slow-stupid. Kerrick could not have cared less.

"Ekerik," he said, then again with the modifiers, "Slow-stupid."

"I could almost be talking to a fargi," Vaintè said. "But see how unclearly it says Slow-stupid."

"It can do no better," Enge explained. "Having no tail it cannot complete the motion correctly. But see, it has taught itself that twisting motion which is as close as it can come."

"I will have need of the creature soon. The uruketo has brought Zhekak from Inegban* to work with Vanalpè. She is vain and she is fat—but she has the best scientific brain in Entoban*. She must stay here for we need her help. I wish to please her in every way. You must see that this ustuzou attracts her attention. The sight of a talking ustuzou will be a success I wish to achieve."

Kerrick expressed only respectful attention as she turned to him. Unlike the Yilanè where to think a thought was to express it—he could lie very well. Vaintè looked him up and down coldly.

"It looks filthy, it must be washed."

"It is washed daily. That is its natural color."

"Disgusting. As is the creature's penis. Can't it be forced to withdraw it into its pouch?"

"It has no pouch."

"Then have one made and attach it. The same color as the the creature's flesh so it will not be noticed. And why is its skull scratched like that?"

"The fur is cut off daily. You ordered it."

"Of course I did—but I didn't order the ugly thing to be butchered as well. Talk to Vanalpè. Tell her to find a better way of defurring it. Do this at once."

Kerrick just expressed humble thanks and amplified respect when they left. Not until they were gone and the door was sealed did he permit himself to straighten up and laugh out loud. It was a very hard world, but at the age of nine he was learning to survive in it very well.

Vanalpè came that same day, shown in by Stallan, and followed by her usual train of assistants and eager fargi. There were too many of them to fit into the small chamber and Vanalpè made all of them, other than her first assistant, wait outside. The assistant put the bundles and containers on the floor while Vanalpè walked around Kerrick examining him closely.

"I've never seen a live one before," she said. "But I know the creature well. I did the dissection on the other."

She was behind Kerrick's back when she said this so he did not hear it all. Which was just as well since the Yilanè expression for dissection was the very literal cutting-dead-meat-apart-to-learn.

"Tell me, Stallan, can it really speak?"

"It is an animal." Stallan did not share the general interest in the ustuzou and wanted it dead. But she obeyed orders and did it no injury.

"Speak!" Vanalpè ordered.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Wonderful," Vanalpè said and instantly lost all interest. "What have you been using to remove the fur?"

"A string-knife."

"Very messy. You've butchered the animal. Those things are better for cutting meat. Bring me the unutakh," she ordered her assistant.

The brown, slug-like creature was shaken out of the container onto the palm of Vanalpè's hand. "I use it for preparing specimens. It digests the fur but not the hide. But only on dead specimens so far. Let us see how it works on a live one."

Stallan hurled Kerrick to the floor and leaned on him as

Vanalpè pried the rolled-up unutakh open and placed it on his skull. He shivered away from the cold, slimy touch and the Yilanè expressed amusement at the sight. It crawled damply across his skin.

"Very good," Vanalpè announced. "Flesh unharmed, fur removed. Now for the next problem. The creature certainly needs a pouch. I have this tanned hide, almost a perfect color match. Just a matter of fitting it into place and trimming it. I've lined it with modified bandages to adhere to the skin. Good. Stand it up now."

Kerrick was close to tears at the rough and insulting handling but he forced them back. Murgu would not see him cry. The cold slug still crawled across his scalp and was now over one eye. When it moved away he glanced down at the small breechclout that they were fitting into place. It was no bother to him. He forgot about it as the slug went slowly across the lashes of his other eye.

It would be many years before he would learn that the covering pouch was made from the preserved and well-tanned skin of Ysel, the girl who had been murdered before his eyes.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"I have thought about your status for a long time," Enge said. "I have reached the inescapable conclusion that you are the lowest of the lowest."

"I am the lowest of the lowest," Kerrick agreed, trying to concentrate on her speech and ignore the unutakh crawling damply over his skull. This was only the third day that it had cleansed his body of hair and he still found it repulsive. As soon as it was finished he looked forward eagerly to washing off its slimy tracks. He also had a growing respect for the small creature. When he had pried it off the previous morning it had adhered to his finger and consumed most of one fingernail. It was crawling to the back of his head now and he could wipe his browless and lashless eyes clean with the back of his hand.

"Are you giving me all of your attention?" Enge asked.

"All. I am the lowest of the low."

"But you don't speak that way. You have never learned to do it correctly. Now you must. Say it this way. Lowest of the low."

Kerrick noted her bent posture, tail tucked under, and did his best to imitate it.

"Better. You must practice. Because you will soon be in the company of those who are highest here and they will not take insults of language."

"How do you know that I am lowest of the low?" Kerrick said, phrasing it as a question asked by one of low mentality—when in reality he was getting both bored and annoyed by their talk.

"Vaintè is the Eistaa and rules here in Alpèasak. She is the highest. Beneath her and infinitely above you and I are Stallan and Vanalpè and others who order the city. They have their aides and of course the fargi who train in their service. Even though you now speak better than many fargi you must still be lower than they are for they are Yilanè and you are merely ustuzou, a talking animal but still an animal."

Kerrick cared nothing for the structure of their complicated relationships of rank and privilege. He was just curious about the word he had never heard before.

"What are fargi?"

"They are, well, just fargi."

As soon as she had said it Enge realized the emptiness of the statement. She sat rigid and unmoving for a long time as she struggled for a definition. It was difficult to express clearly since, like any accepted fact of life, one took it for granted and never questioned the fact's existence. It was like asking What is the sun? It is the sun. Its existence defines it. She knew that physicists could tell her many facts about the sun, far more than she might ever wish to know. But if she were to train this ustuzou to appear in public it had to know all the commonplace things that others knew. Including, apparently, what a fargi was. To explain she must begin at the beginning.

"When the young leave the birth beaches they enter the sea. They live in the ocean for many years, growing and maturing. It is a happy time because fish are easy to catch and dangers are few. All those who enter the ocean at the same time belong to the same efenburu. They are efenselè to each other and form a bond that lasts a lifetime. Eventually they mature and emerge from the ocean to live on land. The males are rounded up and brought to the city since they are too stupid to fend for themselves. This is a very hard time for every one must find her own way into life. Food is plentiful but so are dangers. Life is in the cities and the young go there. They listen and learn, and those that learn to speak become part of the city at the lowest level. They are fargi. You are lower than they are."

"I can understand that, but I do not understand about the males. The fargi are females?"

"Of course."

"But you are male—"

"Do not be insulting. You have never seen a male since they are carefully protected in the hanalè."

Kerrick was stunned by this information. Female—all the murgu were female! Even the repellent Stallan. Indeed, everything about the murgu did not make sense. All Tanu could talk, even young ones. These murgu must be stupid. "What happens to those who do not learn how to speak?" he asked.

"That is no concern of yours. Just remember that even to the lowest fargi, one who is yileibe, that is speaking with utmost difficulty, you are lower."

"I am the lowest of the low," Kerrick agreed and tried not to yawn.

A short time later their lesson was interrupted by the unbolting of the door. Kerrick smoothed his features to hide the intense loathing he always felt when Stallan came in. She was carrying a sealed container.

"The time is now," Stallan said. "Vaintè wishes the presence of the ustuzou. I have brought this to restrain the creature."

Kerrick made no protests when Stallan removed the unutakh, then scrubbed him from head to toe with water. She seemed displeased with the manacle creature that held his wrists and replaced it with a fresh one. From the container she then produced a long, dark length that writhed slowly when she held it by one end.

"We want no trouble from this ustuzou," Stallan said, pulling Kerrick over and looping the creature about his neck, then clamping its mouth onto its own body to make a secure loop. She held tight to the other end. "Tell it to follow you," she told Enge, still refusing to accept the fact that Kerrick was anything more than a trained animal. They were matched and equal in their hatred of one for the other.

Kerrick did not care; for the first time since he had been captured he would see what lay beyond the door. He had only vague memories of pain, forest and trees when he had first been brought here. Now he was alert and ready, and trying hard to appear docile and manageable. Enge threw the door wide and he followed her, his hands shackled before him, Stallan walking behind holding tight to his leash.

A dimly-lit green tunnel stretched away before them. It had woven flooring like his prison chamber, but the walls were more insubstantial. They were made of growths of many kinds, thin and thick tree trunks, climbing vines, flowering shrubs as well as many strange plants that were unknown to him. Overlapping leaves made a covering above. There were corridors leading off this one, where he had quick glimpses of moving figures, then they emerged into a sunlit opening. He had to squint against the glare after his long imprisonment. The light hurt, but he looked anyway with watering eyes, taking in everything.

Was this all there was to Alpèasak? he thought. When Enge talked about it he had a picture in his mind of a giant encampment with countless tents stretching as far as the eye could see. He should have known that murgu knew nothing about a real camp. Yet this jumble of corridors and trees was indeed very large. And wherever he looked there were murgu. Too many of them all at once; it was like falling into a pit of them. His skin crawled as they crowded around, pushing each other to see the ustuzou, then following after when he had passed. They were stupid too, a lot of them could barely talk. These must be the fargi he had been told about.

The corridor ended suddenly in an open area, far bigger than the ones they had crossed before. Kerrick's eyes were getting used to the light now and could see the groups of Yilanè all about the open space. Stallan called out a sharp command and the fargi moved aside leaving an open path for them. Across the hardpacked soil they went to the far wall where a small group stood. Two of them were very important, because even at this distance the crouching attitude of those in attendance was obvious. As they came closer Kerrick recognized Vaintè; that was one he would never forget. Beside the Eistaa squatted a very fat Yilanè, her skin drawn tight as though ready to burst. Vaintè signaled them to stop and turned to the fat one at her side.

"There you see it, Zhekak, one of the ustuzou who committed the crimes of which you know."

"Pull it closer," Zhekak ordered in a thin voice, the fat muffling the motions of its limbs. "It does not look too dangerous."

"This is still a young one. The mature ones are gigantic."

"Interesting. Let me see its dentition."

While Kerrick was still puzzling out the meaning of the new phrase, Stallan seized him by the head and pried his jaws open, dragging him forward so Zhekak could see into his mouth. Zhekak was intrigued by the sight.

"Very similar to the preserved specimens that Vanalpè has. There is much to study here, much of interest. I see the day when Alpèasak will lead all of the other cities in their knowledge of ustuzou and their uses."

Vaintè was radiating pleasure. "There is something else about this creature that you should know. It talks."

Zhekak fell back expressing disbelief, wonder, incredulity and respect, her gross body writhing with the effort of saying this all at the same time.

"Demonstrate," Vaintè ordered.

Stallan tugged Kerrick closer and Enge stood to one side where he could see her. "Speak your name to those of great rank before you," she said.

"I am Kerrick, lowest of the low."

Zhekak was overly generous in her appreciation. "A wonderful bit of training. I have never seen a beast that could speak its name before."

"There is more to it than that," Enge said with respectful addition—not correction. "It can talk just as though it were Yilanè. You may converse with it if you so wish."

Zhekak's delight, incredulity, and disbelief were very great. When she was finished she leaned forward and spoke very slowly and very clearly.

"I find this hard to believe. You cannot really talk."

"I can. I can speak very fast and very clearly."

"You've been trained to say that."

"No. I learned as a fargi learns."

"In the ocean?"

"No. I cannot swim. I learned to speak by listening to Enge."

Zhekak did not look towards Enge and her speech was full of contempt. "That is very good. Kind words spoken of one who caused so much difficulty in distant lovely Inegban*. It is only fitting that a crude beast like this speaks well of a Daughter of Death." She turned to Vaintè. "You are to be congratulated in that you have made something out of nothing, a city out of jungle, a speaker out of an ustuzou, a teacher out of a deathless one. Surely the future of Alpèasak will be always warm."

Vaintè dismissed Enge and Kerrick with a gesture as she spoke to Zhekak. "I will remember those words always. A new world means new things and we are doing our best. And now—will you take meat? We have some new varieties here that you would never have tasted."

Zhekak clacked her jaw in loud appreciation. "That is what I was told and that is what I intend to discover for myself."

Fat murgu, eat and explode. Those were Kerrick's thoughts, but no hint of this was reflected in his submissive stance.

"Return it to its place," Vaintè said, dismissing them as well. Stallan tugged on the leash and pulled Kerrick along behind her. Kerrick stumbled, almost fell, but made no complaint. They left the great open space and returned to the green tunnels of the city. Enge turned into a different tunnel and Kerrick glanced carefully around. When there were very few others in sight, none of them close by, Kerrick called out in pain.

"Help me. Such pain. This thing on my neck… I'm choking."

Stallan turned about and cuffed Kerrick on the side of the head for disturbing her. But she knew that they wanted this animal kept alive. The leash would have to be loosened. She dropped the free end and reached for the animal's head.

Kerrick turned and ran, scarcely hearing the roar of rage that bellowed after him.

Run, boy, run, fast as your legs can carry you, faster than any murgu. There were two of them ahead, uncomprehending fargi.

"Move aside!" he ordered—and they did!

Stupid, stupid creatures. The leash was flapping over his shoulder and he raised his hands and gathered it up so it wouldn't impede him. As he ran through one of the open spaces he glanced over his shoulder and saw that Stallan was far behind him. He was right, these creatures could not run.

He slowed a bit then, ran easier, ran free. He could run this way all day. The breath came strongly to his lungs, his feet slammed down on the matting as he fled for his life.

He could not be stopped, When he saw groups of murgu ahead he took a different way. The fargi moved aside when he ordered them to. One marag did not move, tried to grab at him instead, but he dodged the clumsy effort and ran on. When he found himself alone at last in a leaf-shrouded chamber he paused for breath—and to plan.

The city was all around him yet. The sun filtered down through the leaves and he blinked up at it. Late afternoon, the sea would be behind him, the land ahead in the direction of the setting sun. That was where he must go.

City blended into fields without any sharp distinction. He trotted briskly now, running only when he was noticed. The first difficulty to be overcome was a thick hedge filled with long thorns. His heart leapt. If he were found here he was trapped. He ran swiftly along it, searching for an opening, aware that two of the murgu had seen him and were calling after him. Yes, there it was, stout vines that looped back and forth across the gap. There must be a way of opening them, but he did not bother to search for it. Instead he dropped flat and wriggled under the lowest strand. A herd of small deer looked at him, then fled in panic through the tall grass. He followed them, kept straight on when they veered aside at the next fence. Now that he knew what to look for the vine-covered opening was easy to see. This time when he dropped flat to slide under it, he looked back and he saw that a group of murgu were at the far side of the field, just starting to open the last gate that he had slipped under. They would never catch him now!

Then he came to the final field. It had to be the last because the high green wall of the jungle was just beyond. He had already passed small bits of jungle, but these had been surrounded by the fences and fields. The jungle beyond this fence was unending, dark and frightening. But whatever dangers it held were nothing compared to those of the city he was leaving behind. He slipped under the vines into the field and stood up—and saw the great creatures that were looking at him.

Fear seized him and shook him savagely so he could not move. Big they were, bigger than mammoths, murgu from his worst nightmare. Gray, wrinkled, with legs like tree trunks, great shields of bones rising up and up, horns on their noses pointing directly at him. Kerrick's heart beat so loudly in his chest that he thought it would burst.

Only then did he notice they were not moving towards him. Tiny eyes in wrinkled sockets stared down and scarcely saw him. The ponderous heads lowered and the sharp jaws tore at the grass. Slowly, a step at a time, he walked around them, towards the partly grown fence that was still filled with large gaps that opened out onto the dark of the forest.

Free! He had escaped! He brushed some hanging vines aside and stepped onto the cool loam of the jungle floor. Brushed the sticking vines aside, and once again.

Then he discovered that they had adhered to his arms, were slowly tightening themselves about him.

They weren't vines at all but living traps. He tore at them, tried to bite them, but to no avail. He had been close, so very close. As he spun about in their cool embrace he saw the murgu coming after him through the field. So close.

He turned again to the forest, hanging limply, fighting no longer, scarcely able to react when the two-thumbed hands seized him cruelly. Looking up at the trees and freedom. At the flash of movement of some animal there.

The leaves above parted for an instant and he saw a bearded face. It was gone as quickly as it had come. Then he was being dragged back into captivity.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Vaintè leaned back comfortably on her resting wood, deep in thought, her body fixed and motionless. Her aides surrounded her and talked quietly among themselves, they in turn being encircled by the ever-attendant fargi. Vaintè was in the midst of an island of silence, for none would dare to disturb the Eistaa's immobile state. Her thoughts were the force that drove the city.

But her only thought at the moment was one of extreme hatred; her immobility served only to hide that fact and represented no matters of great cogitation. She rested in complete stasis—except for her right eye which moved slowly, following the three retreating backs. Vanalpè, her irreplaceable aide in growing this city, the scientist Zhekak who could prove just as important. And with them Alakensi, the deadly weight that hung about her neck. How well Malsas< had planned this, what subtlety of malice. Now that the first vital work had been done Alakensi was there to make sure that Malsas< profited by it. To observe and remember—then to hand the leadership over to Malsas< when she arrived. There she went now, currying favor with Zhekak, hearing everything that passed between the two Yilanè of science.

The three vanished from sight and Vaintè's eye rolled back and came to focus on Enge who had come up silently and now stood before her, bent in a gesture of supplication.

"Leave me," Vaintè said, as curtly as she could. "I speak with no one."

"A matter of greatest importance. I implore you to listen."

"Go."

"You must listen. Stallan beats the ustuzou. I am afraid she will kill it."

Vaintè gave Enge her full attention now, demanding an instant explanation.

"The creature tried to escape but was recaptured. Stallan beats it terribly."

"This is not my wish. Command her to cease. Wait—I will do it myself. I want to hear more about this escape. How did it happen?"

"Only Stallan knows. She has told no one."

"She will tell me," Vaintè said, grim authority in her gesture.

When they reached the prison chamber they saw that the door was open and could hear the thudding sound of blows, the moans of pain, as they came down the corridor. "Stop," Vaintè ordered, halting in the doorway, speaking the word with such strength that Stallan halted, her arm still raised, the blood-drenched leash in her hand.

At her feet Kerrick lay twisted in agony, his back raw bloody flesh, beaten half unconscious.

"Tend the creature," Vaintè ordered and Enge rushed forward. "And you, put that thing down and give me an instant explanation."

There was such certain death hovering behind her words that even the strong and fearless Stallan quavered before it. The leash fell from her powerless fingers: it took all of her will to force her body to answer. Knowing that Vaintè had but to speak the few words more and she was doomed.

"The creature escaped from me, ran. Very fast. No one could catch it. We followed it to the fields, keeping close behind it. But never close enough. It would have escaped had it not been caught by one of the traps placed around the fields to stop the ustuzou night raiders."

"That close," Vaintè said looking down at the small form. "These wild animals have abilities we are not aware of." Her anger was dying away and Stallan quivered with relief. "But how did it escape?"

"I do not know, Eistaa. Or rather I know what happened but cannot explain it."

"Try."

"I shall. It walked beside me, obeying my commands. When we had gone some distance it stopped and raised its hands to the collar of this leash, choking and saying it was being strangled. This was possible. I reached to the collar but before I could touch it the ustuzou ran away. And it was not choking."

"But it told you it was choking?"

"It did."

Vaintè's anger was gone now as she thought hard about what the hunter had said. "Were you not holding the leash?"

"I had released it when I reached for the collar. The beast was choking, it could not escape."

"Of course. You did the only thing possible. But it was not choking. You are sure of that?"

"Positive. It ran a long way and breathed well. When it was captured the first thing I did was look at the collar. It was just as it had been when I put it on."

"These things are unexplainable," Vaintè said, looking down at the unconscious ustuzou. Enge was bent over it, cleaning the blood from its back and chest. Its eyes were discolored and bruised, there was blood upon its face as well. Surprising that it was alive after Stallan's attention. The inescapable fact was that the collar had not been choking it. But it had said it was being choked. That was impossible. But it had happened.

Then Vaintè stiffened into immobility. It was a thought, an impossible thought, one that would never have occurred to a crude hunter like Stallan. Vaintè controlled the thought, held it at bay for the moment as she spoke rudely and stiffly.

"Leave at once."

Stallan hurried out immediately, expressing relief and gratitude, knowing that her life was out of danger for the moment, happy to put everything that had happened out of her mind.

But not Vaintè. Enge's back was still turned so she was able to seize the thought, examine it, and not be concerned about anyone observing her own thinking processes.

It was simply an impossible idea. But it had happened. One of the first things that she had learned in the science of thought was that when all other explanations have been rejected, the remaining explanation, no matter how illogical or apparently false, must be the only explanation.

The ustuzou had said the collar was choking it. The collar was not choking it.

The statement of a fact was not a fact.

The ustuzou had said a fact that was not a fact.

There was no word or expression for this in Yilanè so she must make one up. It was a lie. The ustuzou had lied.

No Yilanè could lie. There was only immobility, or lack of expression to conceal one's thoughts. A statement was a thought and a thought was a statement. The act of speaking was one with the act of thinking.

But not with the ustuzou.

It could think one thing and speak another. It could appear quiet and docile, then say it was choking—when all of the time it was only thinking of escape. It could lie.

This creature must be kept alive, cherished, guarded—and prevented from escaping. The future was gray and formless and Vaintè was not sure of the details. But she knew with positive assurance that the ustuzou was her future. She would use it and its ability to lie. Use it to climb, use it to reach the summit of her ambitions.

But now she must put all thoughts of this impossible talent from her own mind. She must order things done so that none of the others should know. She would order all discussion of the escape forbidden. Should Stallan die? For a moment she considered it—then rejected it. The hunter was too valuable. Stallan would obey the order for silence, would enjoy obeying it since she would certainly remember how close she had been to death before Vaintè's anger. When she had composed herself Vaintè drew Enge's attention.

"Is the creature badly hurt?"

"I cannot tell. It is bruised and cut, but that could be all. See, it stirs, its eyes are open."

Kerrick looked up blurredly at the two murgu standing above him. He had failed to escape, he hurt, and he had failed. There would be another time.

"Tell me what you feel," Vaintè ordered, and he was surprised at the worry in her words.

"I hurt. All over." He moved his arms and legs. "That is all. I hurt all over."

"That is because you tried to escape," Vaintè said. "You took your chance when Stallan let go of your leash. I will arrange matters in the future so that this will never happen again."

Kerrick was not too tired or sore to notice the elision in Vaintè's words, the obvious leaving out of a statement. Vaintè must know what he had said to Stallan to make her drop the leash. Enge did not notice, but he did. He saw that knowledge and wondered at it, then forgot it. He hurt too much.

One of Vanalpè's students came and dressed his wounds—and after that he was left completely alone for many days while they healed. The student brought food every morning, then checked the progress of his healing. There were no more language lessons—nor did he have to suffer the attentions of the dreaded Stallan. His manacles were removed, but the door was always securely locked.

When the pain lessened enough he thought about his attempt to escape—and what had gone wrong. He would not be trapped that way next time. He would avoid the false vines, leap over them, and flee into the jungle.

Had he really seen the bearded face there among the leaves? Or was it just wishing, hoping, that had placed it there? He could not be sure. Maybe it was only his desire that someone be there, waiting. It did not matter. He did not need any help. Just the chance to run. The next time they would not stop him.

Day after slow day passed until his wounds had healed and the scabs had fallen away, leaving white scars in their place. The student still examined him closely every morning when she brought the food. When all the bruises on his skull were healed she brought the unutakh to remove the long stubble of hair that had grown. After this he became used to the creature's slimy ministrations once again. The door was always sealed when the student was with him, and he could feel the ominous presence of Stallan on the other side of it. There was no escape that way. But they would not keep him in this chamber forever.

On the day the student came in, moving with excitement, he knew that something was going to happen. She washed him and carefully inspected his body, saw that his skin pouch was decently in place, then crouched and watched the door. Kerrick knew better than to ask the creature what was happening. She never spoke to him or answered his questions. So he sat back and looked at the entrance as well.

It was indeed an important day. When the door opened next Vaintè entered, followed by the waddling fat body of Zhekak. Fargi and aides followed them bearing containers.

"It has escaped once," Vaintè said. "It must be arranged that it shall never happen again."

"An interesting problem, Eistaa, and one that has given me many happy moments of contemplation. I believe that I have the answer, but I shall show you rather than tell you in the hopes that you will take pleasure from the revelation."

"I take pleasure in any work of Zhekak's," Vaintè said formally, but allowed an extra feeling of satisfaction to show through. Zhekak waved a fargi over and took the container from her.

"This is very new," she said, drawing out a length of flexible material. It was thin, darkish red in color—and immensely strong. Zhekak demonstrated that it could not be broken by having two fargi tug at the ends of it, struggling and slipping to the amusement of all. As a final test she took up a string-knife and pulled it back and forth across the taut length. When it was handed to Vaintè she looked close and saw that it had scored the shining surface, but no more than that. She expressed admiration—and puzzlement.

"I shall be happy to elucidate," Zhekak said with immense self-esteem. "A string-knife, as you know, is a single long molecule. It cuts because of its small diameter, it is virtually unbreakable because of the strength of the intramolecular bonds. And here we have like attempting to cut like. The flexible length is made of fibers of molecular carbon grown in that medium. They, will bend but not break, and cannot be cut."

Vaintè radiated approval. "So you have a leash that will certainly secure the beast. So I ask the next obvious questions. How do you fasten it to the ustuzou—and to what do you fasten the other end?"

Zhekak wriggled her soft flesh with pleasure. "Eistaa, you do understand these things so well. Here is the creature's collar-to-be."

An assistant produced a semi transparent, jellyfish object the length and thickness of her arm. It writhed sluggishly as Zhekak draped it about Kerrick's neck. He disliked the cold touch of it but knew better than to protest in the slightest. Zhekak issued brisk orders as the assistant brushed the ends of the creature with some salve, then pressed them together to form a thick collar about Kerrick's neck.

"Quickly!" Zhekak ordered, "the secretion process is beginning."

With careful touch they looped the end of the leash about the creature, then pulled on it so that it sank into the thing's transparent flesh, to the very center.

"Lean close, Eistaa," Zhekak called out, "and you will see the process begin."

The transparent flesh was beginning to discolor deep down, congealing about the alien object in its core.

"This animal is a simple metal secretor," Zhekak said. "It is depositing molecules of iron about the flexible core. Soon it will stiffen and grow strong. We will feed the creature until a complete metal collar is formed about the ustuzou's neck. A metal collar too strong to be broken or cut."

"Admirable. But what will you affix to the other end?"

Zhekak's pendant flesh wriggled with pleasure as she walked across the room to the watching fargi and pulled one forward. This creature was taller and wider than most; strong muscles rippled under her skin as she walked. Zhekak pinched one muscular arm between her thumbs and could not dent it.

"This fargi has served me many years and is the strongest I have ever found. She is barely able to talk, but she still does all the lifting and heavy work in the laboratory. She is yours now, Eistaa, for a more important service." Zhekak's little eyes, almost lost in the folds of flesh, looked around at her silent and expectant audience.

"This is what her service will be. A collar will be grown about her neck as well—with the other end of the lead firmly grown into it. The ustuzou and the fargi will be joined together for life like two fruits growing from the same bough!"

"Your mind is like the mind of no other," Vaintè said, and all of the aides and assistants signaled agreement. "Joined together, forever inseparable. I am told our ustuzou runs very fast. Tell me, ustuzou, how far can you run pulling this little fargi?"

There was no answer to this so Kerrick was silent, while all of the others were much amused. He looked at the stupid features of the creature at the other end of the lead and felt nothing but burning hatred. Then he noticed that Vaintè was looking closely at him and he silently expressed resignation and acceptance. She approved.

"This fargi has a new name," Vaintè said, and they all grew silent. "From this moment on she shall be named Inlènu* for her mighty body shall make the entire world a prison for the ustuzou. Do you know your name, strong one?"

"Inlènu*," she said with great satisfaction, knowing that she had been named by the Eistaa herself and would now serve the Eistaa.

Kerrick's posture of acceptance was as false as the pleasure of all the rest in the chamber was true. He reached out slowly with his toe and rolled it over the length of the lead where it lay on the floor, already thinking of possible ways to sever it.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Es mo tarril drepastar, er em so man drija.

If my brother is wounded, it is I who will bleed.

The evening sky was as red as fire behind the black outlines of the trees, while over the ocean the first bright stars had appeared, tharms of the strongest warriors. But the four men on the beach faced away from the stars, stared instead at the dark wall of the jungle before them, for they feared the unseen beasts that were hidden there. They crouched with their backs against the wooden side of their boat, taking some strength from its solidity. It had brought them here and would, they fervently hoped, take them safely away again from this place of many dangers.

Ortnar could no longer keep silent, and he spoke the thoughts of all of them.

"There could be murgu in there, watching us right now, ready to attack. We should not be here." He chewed his lip with apprehension, his imagination filling the darkness with unseen dangers: he was a lean and nervous man much given to worry.

"Herilak told us to wait here," Tellges said, and this decided the matter for him. He did not fear what he could not see, and much preferred taking orders to giving them. He would wait patiently until the sammadar returned.

"But he has been gone all day. He could be dead, eaten by the murgu." Ortnar was possessed by the terror of his thoughts. "We should never have come this far south. We passed herds of deer, we could have hunted…"

"We hunt when we return," Serriak said, catching some of Ortnar's fear. "Now shut your mouth."

"Why? Because I speak the truth, that is why. Because Herilak seeks revenge we will all die. We should not have come…"

"Be silent," Henver said. "There is something moving along the beach."

They crouched, spears ready, lowering them with relief only when Herilak's silhouette was clear against the sky as he climbed the dune.

"You have been gone all day," Ortnar said when the sammadar came close, the reproof clear in his voice. Herilak chose not to hear it, standing before them and leaning wearily on his spear.

"Bring me water," he ordered, "then listen to what I have to say." He drank thirstily, then dropped the gourd onto the sand and lowered himself beside it. When he spoke his voice was low and distant as he talked first of things they knew.

"The sammad of Amahast is no more, all killed, you saw their bones upon the shore. You see Amahast's skymetal knife now around my neck and know that I took it from among his bones. What I found on that beach, among those skeletons, led me to believe that death came to them from the south. I chose you to come with me to find that death. I chose you because you are strong hunters. We have come south for many days, stopping only to kill for meat to fill our bellies. We have come south to the country of the murgu and have seen many of them. But yesterday we found something different. We found trails that were not animal trails. I followed those trails to wherie they led. I will tell you now what I found."

There was something in Herilak's voice that silenced them all, even Ortnar. The last light of sunset washed Herilak's face as red as blood, a blood-mask that belonged with the anger that drew his lips back from his teeth, clenched his jaw so tightly that it now muffled his words.

"I have found the killers. Those paths were made by murgu, of a kind I have never seen before. There is a great nest of them out there where they teem like ants in an anthill. But they are not ants—or Tanu—although they stand erect on legs like Tanu. They are not any of the beasts we know, but are murgu of a new kind. They move over the water on the backs of creatures like boats and their nest is guarded by a wall of thorns. And they have weapons."

"What are you saying?" There was terror in Ortnar's voice, for Herilak spoke of nightmares come alive. "That there are murgu that walk like Tanu? Who have spears and bows and kill like Tanu? We must leave, now, quickly, before they reach us…"

"Silence." There was grim command in Herilak's voice. "You are a hunter, not a woman. If you show your fear the animals you hunt will know it and will laugh at you and all of your arrows will miss their mark."

Even Ortnar knew that this was true and he bit his lips shut to assure his silence. If you spoke of deer, no matter how distant they were, they would hear you and flee. Worse still, if a hunter felt fear all the animals would know it and his stone points would never strike true. Ortnar felt the others turn away from him and knew that he had spoken too quickly without thinking. He took refuge in silence.

"These murgu are like Tanu but not like Tanu. I watched all day from hiding and saw them do many things that I did not understand. But I did see something that is a weapon, although it is not a spear or a bow. It is like a stick. A marag pointed one and there was a noise and I saw a deer fall dead." His voice rose, challenging them to disbelieve him, but none spoke. "This is what I saw, although I cannot explain it. The stick-thing is a weapon and there are many murgu, many sticks. It is they who killed the sammad of Amahast."

It was Tellges who broke the long silence that followed. He believed what Herilak had said, but he could not understand it all.

"These murgu that kill with noise-sticks. You can be sure they killed the sammad?"

"I can be sure." Herilak's voice was grim again with the portent of the words that he spoke. "I can be sure because they know of the Tanu. I can be sure of this because I saw them capture a boy of the Tanu. They know of us. We now know of them."

"What do we do, Herilak?" Serriak asked.

"We return to the sammad because there are just the five of us against so many murgu that they cannot be counted. But we do not return with our hands empty. The Tanu must be warned of this danger, shown what the danger is."

"And how will this be done?" Ortnar asked, and there was still a tremor of fear in his voice.

"I will think before I sleep and you will be told in the morning. Now we will all sleep because there is much to be done tomorrow."

Herilak had not spoken the entire truth. He had already decided what must be done, but he did not want them awake and worrying about it all night. Particularly Ortnar. He was one of the best hunters—but he thought about things too much before they happened. Sometimes it was better not to think but simply to act.

At dawn they were awake and Herilak ordered all of their possessions packed into their boat, ready for launching.

"When we return," he said, "we will want to leave without delay. It may be that we will be followed." He smiled at the sudden apprehension on their faces. "It is only a small chance. If we do our work as hunters there will be no chance at all. Here is what we must do. We are going to find a small group of murgu who are not close to the others. Yesterday I saw groups like this. They were doing something. We will find them and then, unseen, we will slay them. All of them, in silence. If my brother is hurt, I will bleed. If my brother is killed, then death is mine to return. Now we leave."

Herilak looked at their grim and silent faces, could see them weighing his words. What he had proposed was something new and dangerous. But they would be hunting and killing murgu, murgu that had attacked and slaughtered the entire sammad of Amahast. Had butchered the women and children, the mastodons, everything. When they thought of this the anger grew within them and they were ready. Herilak nodded and took up his weapons and they took up theirs as well and followed him into the jungle.

It was dark under the trees where the dense foliage blocked out the sun, but the trail was well-trodden and easy to follow. They went in silence, bright birds calling out above them in the canopy of the forest. More than once they stopped, spears ready, as something heavy and unseen crashed in the undergrowth nearby.

The trail they followed twisted up through sandy hillocks set with towering pine trees, fresh-smelling with the morning breeze rustling their needles above. Herilak raised his hand suddenly and they stopped in rigid silence. He raised his head and sniffed the air, then cocked his head to listen. They could all hear the sound now, a faint crackling like burning twigs, or waves upon a stony shore. They crept forward then, to a place where the trees opened out upon grassy meadows. Meadows filled with movement.

Murgu, a giant herd of them, stretching out into the distance. Four-legged, round, each twice as big as a man, small eyes rolling as they tore at the grass and pine-cones. One reared to seize a branch in its duck-like bill, sharp claws on its small forelegs, sharper claws on its long hindlegs. Herilak signaled a retreat; they would have to work their way around the herd. Before they could move there was a scream from the jungle and a great marag appeared among the trees, leaping forward onto one of the grazing beasts. It was armored and scaled, its teeth white daggers now dripping with blood. Its forelegs were tiny and useless—but the claws of its great hind legs tore the life from its prey. The rest of the herd squealed and ran; the hunters hurried on before the marag took notice of them as well.

The trail led down from the trees into low, brush-covered land. The ground was getting softer, water pushing up between their toes as they walked; the sun burned on their backs while here in the open, away from the shelter of the forest, the damp heat was suffocating. They were running with sweat, panting for air, by the time Herilak signaled a halt.

"Up ahead, do you see it?" He spoke so quietly that they could barely make out his words. "That open stretch of water. That is where I saw them. Go forward in silence and do not show yourselves.'

They moved like shadows. No blade of grass rustled, no leaf moved to show that they had passed. One by one they slid up to the water's edge where they peered unseen from the darkness. Then there was the quiet gasp of indrawn breath from one of the hunters; Herilak scowled in his direction.

Although the sammadar had told them what he had seen, and of course they had believed him, the reality was another thing altogether. They could only watch in horrified silence as the two dark forms slid silently through the water towards them. The first of them came close, passed by before the concealed hunters.

A boat—but not a boat—for it moved without oars. It had been decorated with a large shell at the front. No, not decorated, the shell grew there, was part of the living creature that was the boat itself. And on its back it carried other creatures, murgu. They could only be the ones that Herilak had told them of. But his words had not prepared them for the disgusting reality. Like deformed Tanu they stood erect, or unlike Tanu squatted back on their thick tails. Some of them held strange objects, while others had long dark sticks that must be the weapons Herilak had described. The hunters watched in frozen silence while the creatures passed, not a short arrow flight away. One of them was making clacking, growling sounds. Everything about the scene was alien and repellent.

Then the dark forms were past, had stopped on the far bank and the murgu were climbing ashore.

"You have seen," Herilak said. "It is as I told you. They did this same thing yesterday, then they returned. Now you must move without being seen and find places along the bank where there is space to draw your bows. Lay your arrows on the ground before you. Wait in silence. When they return I will give the order to be ready. Choose your targets. Wait. Bend your bows but do not loose your arrows. Wait. When I give the command—kill them all. Not one must escape to warn the others. Is this understood?"

He looked at each grim, set face, and each hunter nodded agreement. In silence they took their positions, then in silence, unmoving, they waited. The sun rose high, the heat was intense, the insects bit and their mouths were dry with thirst. Yet no one moved. They waited.

The murgu were doing strange, incomprehensible things, while making loud animal sounds at the same time. They were either still as stones or twitching with repulsive movements. This went on for an unbearably long time.

Then ended as suddenly as it had begun. The murgu were putting their artifacts onto the living boats, then boarding them. The ones with the killing-sticks, obviously acting as guards, went first. They pushed off.

The birds were silent in the heat of the day, the only sound the ripple of water around the shell bows of the approaching creatures. Closer they came, and still closer, until the colored details of their scaled skins were repulsively clear. They were close to the bank, coming even with the unseen hunters, passing…

"Now."

Strum of bowstrings, hiss of arrows. A murgu screamed hoarsely, the only one to utter a sound, then was silenced as a second arrow caught it in the throat.

Arrows had plunged as well into the dark hides of the living boats; they heaved in the water, spun about, the bodies of the dead murgu spilling from them. There was another loud splash as Herilak dived into the water and swam to the massacre. He returned dragging one of the bodies after him, was helped from the water by ready hands.

They turned the marag over, stared into the sightless eyes, prodded it unbelievingly with their bows.

"It was well done," Herilak said. "All dead. Now we leave—and we take this with us." He held out one of the killing-sticks. "We also take the body."

They gaped in silence, not understanding. Herilak's answering smile was the smile of death.

"Others must see what we have seen. They must be warned. We take this corpse with us in the boat. We row all this day and all of the night if we must. We get far away from this place and the murgu. Then, before this marag stinks too much, we flay it."

"Good," Tellges said. "Take the skull too. Cure the hide and take it with us."

'That is correct," Herilak said. "There will be no doubt then, none at all. Every Tanu who sees these things we have brought will then know what we have seen."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The model had a practical purpose, was indeed essential to the planning and design of the city. But like all things Yilanè it had to have a functional gestalt of its own, a completeness that went far beyond actual necessity. A chart could have been made that would serve the same purpose well enough, just as charts were used for navigation of the uruketo. But charts were used there only because of the shortage of space. In that particular case necessity demanded charts so the pragmatic answer was to make charts. Since no such restriction existed in the city, a scale model of Alpèasak was constructed that was essential for future planning, yet was also pleasing to behold.

Vaintè walked slowly around it, immensely satisfied. It was much improved since Sokain had come from Inegban* with her trained assistants. They had fleshed out the details that had only been indicated by the field surveyors. Now tiny stunted trees formed the heart of the city, surrounding the small opening of the ambesed. When Vaintè bent close to look there was the golden crescent of the birth beaches, complete down to the wall of thorns.

Alakensi was of course right behind her, a constant reminder that Malsas< would be getting reports on every detail of her movements and decisions, a nagging presence that dulled the pleasure of everything. Kerrick came next in line, as he did all of the time now. He was feeling even more excited interest than Vaintè, though he was careful not to reveal this in any way. This was the first time he had seen this model; he had not even known of its existence until this moment. He must study it, try to memorize it all. Then, when he escaped from the city, he would know just what course to take to safety. As he moved so did Inlènu*, a few steps behind him, holding up a loop of the lead that bound them together. Kerrick was so used to her presence now that he usually forgot all about her. She was just an inescapable fact of life—like the metal collar that rested about his neck. When he stopped she stopped, her back turned, not listening to anything being said, thinking her own placid thoughts until a tug on the lead stirred her to life again.

There was only a narrow walkway around the model, so the ever-attentive fargi were forced to remain outside, straining to see in through the doorway, telling each other how wonderful the model was, admiring the size of the transparent ceiling that filtered the sunlight to a golden glow.

Vaintè had reached the far side of the model now where Sokain was working with her assistants. Vaintè was upon them before Sokain was aware of her presence.

"Welcome, Eistaa, welcome," she said hurriedly standing up, speaking, brushing mud from her knees—and holding onto a bulbous orange creature at the same time.

"Do not let me disturb your work," Vaintè said.

"It is completed. The transfer of measurements has been made."

"And this is what you use," Vaintè pointed to the orange animal. "I have never seen a creature of this kind before."

Sokain held out the orange chiton case for Vaintè's inspection. Other than a tiny mouth and sealed eyes it was featureless, except for a tube on top and a number of indentations down the side.

"Explain," Vaintè ordered, for as Eistaa there was no small detail of the city that she must not know. Sokain pointed to the bare ground where the model was being enlarged, to small slivers of wood that had been pushed into it.

"Those bits of wood correspond to the stakes we used in the survey. When we are in the field I place this measuring creature upon a marked spot in the ground and look through this tube at a stake which is a certain distance away. When this is done I press the indentations to inform the instrument to remember the angle and distance. I then turn the tube to another stake and do the same. This is done many times. When I return to the model the instrument-creature informs us of the scaled down distance between stakes and of the correct angles between them as well. The result—this model."

"Excellent. What are these curved channels you have scribed in the soil?"

"Waterways, Eistaa. On this side of the city we have found a great deal of swamp. We are now plotting its extent."

Vaintè displayed concern. "We need many more fields. Can these swamps be drained or filled?"

"I do not think so. But Akasest, who has improved the quality of the feed for the herds, has examined them as well and we are now planning to create enclosures there. There are many amphibious species, such as the urukub, that will thrive in that environment."

"A satisfactory solution and utilization of the environment. You are both to be commended."

"Our pleasure is to serve Alpèasak," Sokain said formally, expressing great personal pleasure at the same time.

Much later, Vaintè was to remember this conversation, for it was the last time that she was ever to speak to the surveyor.

Like all of her days, this was a full one. As the city expanded so did the work—and with it the decisions that had to be made. By the time that the shadows were getting long she became aware of her fatigue and waved the attentive fargi away, then signaled Kerrick for a drinking fruit. There was one attached to a saptree close by and he prodded the green bulb until the suckers let go. He brought it to Vaintè who opened its orifice and drank the cool, sweet water inside. When she lowered it she saw Stallan hurrying across the ambesed, shouldering fargi aside in her haste. Vaintè knew that there was trouble, knew it as clearly as if the hunter had spoken aloud.

"Tell me," Vaintè ordered as Stallan hurried up.

"The survey party, Sokain and her assistants, they have not returned—and it is almost nightfall."

"Have they been this late before?"

"No. My orders are specific. There is a party of armed guards with them who bring them back at this time each day."

"Then this is the first time that they have not returned at the specified time?"

"Yes."

"What can be done?"

"Nothing until morning."

Vaintè was possessed by a sense of disaster, and all those present shared it. "I will want a very large armed party ready to leave at dawn. I will lead it."

Vaintè was awake when the first light filtered through the trees. Fargi were sent to summon Kerrick. He yawned and stretched and followed after the Eistaa, still not completely awake. Vaintè had not summoned Alakensi but she came along as well. Eager as always to see anything that she might report on to Malsas<. Stallan and the armed guards were already boarding the boats when they arrived at the river's edge. This was not Kerrick's first ride in a boat, but he still found the creatures fascinating. This one had just been fed and the legs and tail of a baby alligator were still hanging from its mouth. The creature's little eyes, set under the shell, bulged slightly as the wet skin contracted with effort and the rest of the alligator vanished from sight. He climbed aboard with the others. The pilot bent and shouted a command into the boat's ear opening. The flesh beneath them began to pump rhythmically and jet out water. The small flotilla moved out into the stream beneath the blood-red dawn sky.

Stallan was in the lead boat, showing the way. Fields moving slowly by on each side, the animals there either fleeing from them, or looking on with gross stupidity at their passage. Beyond the drained fields were carefully preserved and fenced areas of swamp. Large trees that were well-rooted in the mud had been left standing and were connected by the living fence. This had been grown in place, vines that were both flexible and strong. They had to be, for the urukub inside were the largest creatures on earth. Their immense forms sent waves of water surging through the fences when they moved; their tiny heads seemed grotesquely small on the ends of their long necks. They browsed the trees above, dredged deep in the swamp below for underwater plants.

One of their young, already bigger than a mastodon, cried out shrilly as it splashed and swam to safety when the boats passed close. Kerrick had never been to this part of the city before so he carefully memorized the course that they were following.

When they had passed the last field the uncleared swamp began; Stallan led the small flotilla into a narrow channel. Tall trees rose up on all sides, their water roots lifting high above the boats. Flowers grew in great profusion here, white moss hung from the boughs above. Biting insects rose in clouds and Kerrick slapped at the ones that landed on him and began to regret that he had come on this trip. Not that there had been any choice.

They went slower now, wending their way through ever narrower channels, until Stallan finally signalled a stop.

"This is where they were working," she called out.

The silence closed in when Stallan stopped speaking. A bird flew by overhead cackling loudly, but there was no other sound. Nor was there anything to see. The guards clutched at their weapons, looking about in all directions. Nothing. It was Vaintè who broke the deadly silence.

"They must be found. Spread out through these channels. Stay alert."

Kerrick had good eyesight and caught the movement first.

"There!" he called out. "In that waterway. I saw something move."

Every weapon was pointed that way in an instant, until Stallan commanded them to be raised.

"You will be shooting and killing each other. Or me. I'm going in there. Point your hèsotsan some other way."

Her boat slipped forward slowly, Stallan standing with one foot on the thing's shell, peering ahead into the leaf-shrouded darkness.

"It's all right," she called back. "It's one of our own boats." Then, after a long moment of silence, she added reluctantly, "It's empty."

The other boat shivered when her boat bumped against it, shivered even more when Stallan jumped into it. It took shouted commands, and a good kicking, before the boat backed away from the bank. As it approached the other boats Stallan was silent—but her pointing finger was explanation enough.

There was something stuck into the boat's thick hide. Stallan reached down and pulled it free and the boat quivered with pain. Kerrick felt his heart beat loudly in his chest as Stallan held the object out for them to see.

A Tanu arrow!

Stallan dipped the arrow in the river to wash it clean, then leaned out and handed it to Vaintè. She turned it over and over in her hands, reading a detestable message there that arched her thick body with anger and detestation. When she looked up at Kerrick he cowered back as though from a blow.

"You recognize this, don't you? I also know what it is. An ustuzou artifact with a sharp tip of stone. There are more of your disgusting ustuzou out there. We did not kill them all. But we will now. Kill them all, every one. Find them and slaughter them. This land of Gendasi is large, but not large enough to hide your ustuzou. It will be Yilanè or ustuzou—and it will be Yilanè who prevail.

There were hisses of agreement from all who heard her and Kerrick felt a sudden fear that he would be the first to be killed. Vaintè raised the arrow to throw it far from her, then lowered it and grew silent. Then she looked at Kerrick with a sudden new interest.

The deaths of Sokain and the others would now have a purpose, she thought. She sat silent and unmoving for a long time, not seeing Alakensi or any of the others, but looking into a distance at something visible only to her. They waited patiently until she moved again and spoke.

"Stallan, you will search until you are sure that all those missing are gone. Return before dark. I am going back to the city now. My duty is there.".

She sat in immobile silence all of the way back to Alpèasak. She had to. Her plan was finished and complete and if she dared move at all everyone would read it clearly. Only when they were at the dock and climbing back onto the shore did she move. Her eyes slipped across Alakensi's broad back, hesitated a second and moved on.

The plan was indeed made.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

No trace of the surveying party was ever found. The arrow was grim evidence of their fate. Vaintè went alone to her chamber where she put it away with the other ustuzou artifacts that they had captured, in the chests that grew from the walls. Then she sat on her seat of power and sent for Vanalpè and Stallan, who arrived with the ever-present Alakensi close behind her. Kerrick looked in as well, but fled at her gesture. She could not bear the thought of an ustuzou presence now. The three of them conferred for a long time with Stallan about the security of the city. There would be more traps, more guards—but no more survey parties for the time being. After this she dismissed them and called in one of the fargi she had recently promoted to assist her, the one who could speak the best.

"The uruketo will be here soon. When it leaves I want you to leave with it. I want you to return to Inegban* and seek out Malsas<. You are to tell her what I will now tell to you. You will tell her in exactly the way I tell you. Do you understand?"

"I do, Eistaa. I will do as you command."

"Here is the message. Greetings, Malsas<, I bring you a message from Vaintè in Alpèasak. This is a sad and anger-filled message of great concern. Some are dead. Sokain is dead. She and the other Yilanè were killed by ustuzou, the same kind of ustuzou who slaughtered on the birth beaches. We did not see them but our knowledge is certain. We found a weapon of wood and stone of the kind that they use. These ustuzou must be found and killed. They lurk invisible in the jungles around Alpèasak. They must be found, they must be killed. All killed. When the uruketo returns to Alpèasak I ask you to send many fargi in it who can shoot well, with hèsotsan and supplies of darts. I feel it imperative that this be done. The fate of Alpèasak depends on the ustuzou deaths."

Then Vaintè grew silent, oppressed by the truth and the darkness of her own words, while the fargi swayed before her with fear at the terrible message she must carry. But Vaintè had the strength to push the darkness aside and she did so, then ordered the fargi to recite the message back to her until it was perfect.

The morning after the uruketo left Vaintè went to her chamber and sent for Kerrick. Many days had passed since he had last been in her presence and he approached her with a certain amount of fear. There was no need. Vaintè had many important things on her mind now, he could tell that at a single glance, and actually seemed pleased at his presence.

"Inlènu*," she called out, and the great creature shambled forward obediently. "You are to stand in the entrance, fill it with your body and no matter who approaches you will send them away. Do you understand?"

"They go away."

"Yes, but say it strongly like this. Go away, Vaintè commands. Say it."

"Go away, Vaintè commands."

"That is correct. Now do it."

Inlènu* made a good guardian; there was a scurry of running feet at her ominous presence. Vaintè turned to Kerrick and spoke as Eistaa issuing orders.

"You will now tell me everything about the ustuzou, your kind of ustuzou. Speak."

"I do not understand the meaning of the Eistaa's words."

Vaintè saw his fear and confusion and realized that the question was too general. She must be more specific. "What is the name of your ustuzou city?"

"Ustuzou do not have cities. This is the first city I have ever seen. Ustuzou live in…"He searched his memory in vain. It had been so long since he had heard or spoken Marbak that the words would not come. He fell back on description. "Soft structures made of skins, hung over poles. These come apart and the poles are pulled by… large animals with hair."

"Why do they come apart? Why do they move?"

Kerrick shrugged, then wriggled with the effort to put together bits of faded memory. "That is just the way that it is done. You hunt one place, fish another. That is just the way it is done."

Continued questioning elicited few more answers. The ustuzou seemed to live in groups, like the group they had slaughtered, and there were other groups, but no indication of how many. The unused memories of the boy were vague and uncertain. Vaintè finally had enough of the questioning and stopped it with a single gesture. Now came the important part. She would use fear and reward, train this ustuzou to do what must be done. Her manner changed and she spoke now as Eistaa, she who controlled the life of the city and its inhabitants.

"I can kill you or have you killed at any instant—you know that."

"I know that." He trembled with supplication, confused by the sudden change of tone.

"I can also raise you up, see that you are honored and do not always remain an ustuzou, lowest of the low. You would like that, wouldn't you? To sit by me, to command others to labor for you. I can do that for you—but you in turn must do something for me. Something that only you can do. You "must do for me the thing that only you can do."

"I will do what you ask, Eistaa, but I do not understand what you are saying. I do not know what you are talking about."

"It is what you do when you speak of one thing and think another. It is what you did to Stallan. You told her you were choking and you were not."

"I don't know what you mean," Kerrick said, radiating stupidity and lack of knowledge, innocence. Vaintè moved with joy.

"Wonderful! You are doing it now. You are doing the thing where you talk about things that didn't happen as though they did happen. Admit it—or I will kill you on the spot."

He quailed at the abrupt change in Vaintè's mood, the motion of killing with her mouth open, her face close to his, those rows of deadly teeth just before him. "I did that thing, yes, I admit it. I did it to escape."

"Very good." She stepped back and the moment of danger was past. "This thing that you do, that no Yilanè can do, we will call it lying. I knew that you lied, and I also know that you will undoubtedly lie to me in the future. I cannot prevent it—but Inlènu* will see to it that your lies will not permit you to escape. Now that we know that you lie, we will put that lying to good use. You will lie for me. You will do that for me."

"I will do what the Eistaa orders," Kerrick said, not understanding, but quick to agree.

"That is correct. You will do as I order. You will never speak of this order—for if you do you are dead. Now—here is the lie you must speak, and you must speak it in a very excited way. You must say—"There, in the trees, an ustuzou, I saw it!' Those are the words. Now repeat them."

"There in the trees I saw an ustuzou."

"Good enough. Do not forget that. And speak it only when I order you to. I will make a motion like this."

Kerrick agreed happily. It was easy enough to do, though he could not see the reason for it. The threats had been real enough though so he made a special effort not to forget the words and the sign, muttering them to himself as he walked away through the city.

Many days had passed since Kerrick had last seen Enge. He rarely even thought of her now for his new-found freedom occupied every moment of his waking day. At first he had been hesitant to venture out alone and even took pleasure in the dumb presence of Inlènu* as some measure of security. When he did leave his room he very quickly discovered how stratified Yilanè social structure really was. He quickly came to understand that his position was somewhere near the top, since he was seen often in the Erstaa's presence, sitting close to her. For the nameless fargi this was evidence enough of how high he ranked above them and, crude as it was, this respect was represented in the way they addressed him.

When he walked through the green corridors he saw how those fargi with the intelligence and ability to master their language were quickly slotted into city life. They became guards, food preparers, slaughterers, work gang supervisors, agriculturists, a wealth of occupations about which he knew little. With these Yilanè he spoke in a neutral manner, taking them as equals, or slightly lower, and this was readily accepted.

Respectful speaking he saved for those who were the leaders. Their position was obvious, though what they did was not always as clear, since they were trailed by aides and assistants, these followed in turn by fargi eager to be called upon, anxious to find a fixed status in the order of the city.

With so much to see Kerrick had very little time to miss Enge's daily visits. The city was an ant's nest of industry and occasionally he wished that she were there to explain some of the more puzzling aspects of life in Alpèasak. He asked after her a few times, but the curt dismissal of his question taught him not to follow that subject any further. But the response made him curious. When Enge and Vaintè had talked together it had been as equals. So why this bias against even mentioning her name? He considered, then rejected, questioning Vaintè about her whereabouts. The Eistaa made it very clear that she was the one who began and terminated conversations.

He saw Enge again strictly by chance. He was near the ambesed, where Vaintè had dismissed him from her presence, when there was a stirring of excitement among the fargi. They were asking questions of each other and all hurrying in the same direction. Curious, he followed after them just in time to see four Yilanè go by, carrying a fifth one. He could not get close in the press and decided not to draw any attention by ordering them aside. He was about to leave when the same four Yilanè returned, walking slowly now, mouths agape. Their skins were splotched with dirt, their legs caked with red mud. Then Kerrick saw that one of them was Enge. He called out and she turned to face him. She was attentive, but did not speak.

"Where have you been?" he asked. "I have not seen you."

"My language skills are no longer needed, so my meetings with you are ended. I work now in the new fields."

"You?" There was astonishment, even dismay, lack of understanding with the word.

"I." The other three had stopped when she did and she signaled them to continue on, asking Kerrick to do the same. "I must return to work."

She turned away and he hurried up beside her. There was a mystery here that he dearly wanted to solve, but he did not know how to begin.

"The one that you carried here. What happened?"

"A serpent bite. There are many where we work."

"Why you?" They were not overheard now as they walked; the plodding Inlènu* did not count. "You talk to the Eistaa as one equal to another. Yet you now do work better done by the lowest fargi. Why?"

"The reason is not easy to tell. And I have been forbidden by the Eistaa to speak of it to any Yilanè."

Even as she spoke the words Enge realized the ambiguity of meaning that they contained. Kerrick was not a Yilanè. She indicated Inlènu*. "Order that one to walk ahead of us, to follow those three." As soon as this had been done Enge turned to Kerrick and spoke with an intensity he had never seen before.

"I am here, these others are here, because we have strong personal beliefs that those who rule do not agree with. We have been ordered to abandon them—but we cannot. For once you have discovered the truth you cannot turn away from it."

"What truth are you talking about?" Kerrick asked in puzzlement.

"The burning, disturbing truth that the world and all things in it contain more than can be easily seen. Do you ever think of these things?"

"No," he answered quite honestly.

"You should. But you are young—and not a Yilanè. I have puzzled about you since you first started to speak, and your existence is still a puzzle to me. You are not a Yilanè, yet you are not a bestial ustuzou since you can speak. I don't know what you are or how you fit into the scheme of greater things."

Kerrick was beginning to be sorry that he had found Enge. Little of what she said made any sense to him. But now that she was speaking, for her own benefit more than his, she could not be stopped.

"Our belief must be true because there is a power in it that passes the comprehension of the nonbeliever. It was Ugunenapsa who came first to this understanding, spent her life ordering her mind, forcing herself to understand. To bring a new thing into the world where none had been before. She talked to others about her belief and they laughed at her. Word reached the Eistaa of her city about her strange ways and she was called before the Eistaa who commanded her to speak. And she did. She spoke of the thing within all of us that cannot be seen, the thing that enables us to speak and separates us from the unthinking animals. Animals do not have the thing within which is why they cannot speak. Therefore speaking is the voice of the thing within and that thing within is life and the knowledge of death. Animals have no knowledge of life or death. They are, then they aren't. But the Yilanè know—and now you know. Which is the great puzzle that I must grapple with. Who are you? What are you? Where do you fit into the design?"

Enge turned to face Kerrick, looked into his eyes as though she might find the answer to her question there. But there was nothing that he could say in answer, and she realized that.

"Someday you may know," she said. "Now you are too young. I strongly doubt if you can comprehend the wonder of the vision that Ugunenapsa had, a vision of a truth that she could explain to others. And the proof as well! For she angered the Eistaa who ordered her to set aside these false beliefs and live as all Yilanè have done since the egg of time. Ugunenapsa refused and thereby put her beliefs ahead of her city and the commands of her Eistaa. The Eistaa saw disobedience and stripped her of her name, ordered her from the city. Do you know what this means? No, you cannot. A Yilanè cannot live without her city and her name once she has attained it. To leave is to die. Since the egg of time a Yilanè turned away from her city has suffered a deadly change. The rejection is so strong that the Yilanè collapses instantly, quickly falls unconscious and soon dies. It was always that way."

Enge was possessed now of a strange humor, something between elation and delight. She halted and took Kerrick lightly by both arms and looked into his eyes, trying to convey what she felt.

"But Ugunenapsa did not die. There was a new thing in the world with proof undeniable. And since that day this truth has been proven time and time again. I was ordered from Inegban*, ordered to die—and I did not. None of us died, which is why we are here. They call us the Daughters of Death because they say that we have a pact with death. That is not true. We call ourselves the Daughters of Life and that is true. Because we live where others die."

Kerrick wriggled free of her cool and gentle grasp, turning away, lying. "I have come too far. I am forbidden to be here in the fields." He tugged on his leash, avoiding the intensity of her gaze. "Inlènu*, we return."

Enge watched in silence as he left, then turned back to the fields. Kerrick looked behind him then and saw her plod slowly down the dusty track. He shook his head with mystification and wondered what she had been talking about. Then he noticed the orange trees nearby and pulled Inlènu* that way. His throat was dry and the sun was hot and he had not understood one word in ten that Enge had said. He had no way of knowing that her beliefs were the first rift ever torn in the millions of years of Yilanè homogeneity. To be Yilanè was to live as Yilanè. Nothing else had been comprehensible. Until now.

There were armed guards posted here, and about the entire city, who looked at him curiously as he pulled the ripe oranges from the tree. These guards provided daytime security, while larger and stronger traps were positioned to block entry by night. But in the days to come the guards saw nothing—while the traps merely collected a great assortment of animals of all kinds. The ustuzou killers never returned.

In all the time that it took for the uruketo to cross the ocean to Inegban* and return there were no further attacks on the city. When the uruketo did arrive Vaintè and her retinue were waiting as the great beast was secured to the land. It was the commander, Erafnais, who was first ashore, pausing before Vaintè and formally acknowledging her high station.

"I bring a personal message from Malsas<, Eistaa, who is much concerned about the ustuzou atrocity. I have private words for you, but she also commanded me to speak aloud of the need for vigilance and strength—and the destruction of the ustuzou. To that end she has sent her best hunters, with hèsotsan and darts, and the will to destroy the menace completely."

"We are all of a like mind," Vaintè said. "Walk beside me as we go for I want to hear all the news of Inegban*."

There was indeed news, and, in the privacy of Vaintè's quarters, Erafnais related it to her, with Alakensi the only other present.

"The winter has been mild. Some animals have been lost, but the weather has been better than in other years. That is the day side of what I have to tell you. The night side is that there has been disaster among the uruketo. More than half are dead. They grew too fast, there was a weakness. Other uruketo are being bred. But the citizens of Inegban* will not come to Alpèasak this summer or the next or next again."

"These are hard words you bring," Vaintè said. Alakensi also motioned her unhappiness. "And all the more need to exterminate the ustuzou. But you must return with word of our growth to take the bitter taste of the other words from your mouth. You must see the model. Alakensi, order a fargi to have Stallan attend us there at once."

Alakensi did not enjoy being ordered about like a fargi, but concealed her resentment and turned away to pass on the order. When they reached the model Stallan was already there.

Alpèasak had not grown since Sokain's death, but its defenses had hardened. Stallan pointed out the newly grown thorn hedges and guard stations where armed Yilanè were now posted day and night.

"What good can a guard be at night?" Alakensi asked in her petulant way. Stallan's answer was formal and clear.

"Very little. But they are protected, there are heaters and cloaks so they rest well. Nor must they walk the long way from the city and back each day. At dawn they are watching, and still on guard at sunset."

"I feel the resources could be used more wisely," Alakensi said, unconvinced. Vaintè took a middle path, which was unusual for she usually ignored Alakensi when she spoke.

"Perhaps Alakensi is right. We must be sure. We will see for ourselves, you as well, Erafhais, so you can tell Malsas< of our defenses when you return."

They straggled through the city in a ragged column, with Stallan and Vaintè in the lead, the others following behind in order of rank. Kerrick—with the ever-present Inlènu* beside him—walked just behind the commander of the uruketo. The aides and fargi followed after. Because of the rain Vaintè and some of the others were wrapped in cloaks. But the rain was warm so Kerrick did not use a cloak, but enjoyed the feel of it upon his skin.

He also took careful note of the path they used, through the fields and the living gates. Someday he would come this way alone. He did not know how he would do it, but it would be done.

The group of trees was near the forest, at the edge of the final field. As they drew close it could be seen that vines and thornbushes encircled the grove, leaving only a single entrance to the strongpoint. Stallan pointed out the Yilanè with a hèsotsan, on a platform above. "When they watch, none shall pass," she said.

"It appears satisfactory," Vaintè said, turning to Alakensi and receiving a reluctant agreement to her request for an opinion. She then started past the grove and Stallan requested her to stop.

"There are creatures of all kinds out there. You must let guards precede you."

"Agreed. But I am Eistaa and go where I wish in Alpèasak. With my advisors. You may keep the rest of the group back here."

They only proceeded when a line of attentive guards, guns ready, went cautiously on ahead of them. On the far side of the grove Stallan pointed out the traps and defenses.

"You have done well," Vaintè said. Alakensi started to disagree but Vaintè ignored her, turning to Erafhais instead. "Bring word of all this to Malsas< when you return. Alpèasak is guarded and in no danger."

She turned about and in the moment when only Kerrick could see her she signaled to him to speak—intensifying the order when he gaped. Then he understood.

"There!" He called out loudly. "There in the trees. I see an ustuzou."

The urgency of his words was such that all turned, all looked. In that moment, when everyone's attention was focused on the trees, Vaintè let her cloak drop to the ground. Held beneath it was the stone-tipped, wooden arrow.

Grasping it firmly with both hands she turned slightly and plunged it into Alakensi's chest.

Only Kerrick saw, only his attention was not upon the trees. Alakensi clutched at the shaft with her thumbs, her eyes open wide with horror, opened her mouth to speak—then slumped and fell.

Kerrick realized then what his lie was for. And he improved upon it instantly.

"An ustuzou arrow, it came from the trees. It has hit Alakensi!"

Vaintè stepped aside, body rigid, as the excitement swirled about her.

"An arrow from the trees," Inlènu* called out; she usually repeated what she heard. Others said the same and the fact was established. The word was the deed, the deed the word. Alakensi's body was rushed away, Stallan and Erafhais hurried Vaintè to safety.

Kerrick came last. He looked one more time at the jungle wall, so close yet infinitely distant, then plucked the lead secured to the collar about his neck and Inlènu* came obediently after him.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Vaintè stayed alone in her chamber, grieving for the death of the loyal Alakensi. That is what Kerrick told the anxiously awaiting Yilanè when he emerged. She would see no one. They all sorrowed as they left. He was such an excellent liar. Vaintè marveled at his talent as she looked out and listened through a small gap in the leaves, and knew that this was indeed the weapon she had always desired. She stayed away now from the sight of others because victory and joy were in every muscle of her body when she moved. But none saw her move for she did not appear in public until well after the uruketo had gone. By that time she no longer mourned the dead Alakensi, for this was not the Yilanè way. Whoever or whatever Alakensi had been, she no longer was. Her dead body was no longer hers and had been disposed of by the lowest fargi whose occupation that was. Vaintè was triumphant. The lives of those still living would continue—would do more than continue, would blossom as they were soon to find out.

Vaintè issued the orders and those who led in the city came to attend her. Kerrick stood back and watched because he felt that something momentous was in the air, could detect this just from the stance of Vaintè's body. She welcomed each of them by name when they arrived, something she had never done before.

"Vanalpè, you who grew this city from a seed, you are here. Stallan who defends us from the perils of this world, you are here. Zhekak, whose science serves us all, Akasest who supplies our food, you are here."

She named them all this way, until they were assembled, the small and important group who were the leaders of Alpèasak. They listened in motionless silence when Vaintè spoke to them all.

"Some of you have been in this city since the first landings on the first day, before the city existed, while some arrived later on as I did. But now all of you work hard to bring honor and growth to Alpèasak. You will have heard of the shame I found on the day I arrived in this city, the murders of the males and the young. We have purged that crime, the ustuzou who did it are safely dead, and it shall never happen again. Our birth beaches are secure, guarded, warm—and empty."

As she spoke the words clearly and precisely a ripple of motion swept the listeners as though an unseen wind had passed over them. Only Kerrick was unmoved, as attentively silent as they were, waiting frozen for Vaintè's next words.

"Yes, you are right. The time has come. The golden sands must be filled with fat and torpid males. Now is the time. Now we begin."

Kerrick had never seen such excitement in all of his days in Alpèasak. There was loud talking and much laughter as they walked, faster than they usually walked, and he followed after in much puzzlement as they went through the city to the entrance to the hanalè, the sealed area where the males lived. The guardian, Ikemend, stepped aside at their approach with expressive movements of great welcome as they went through the entrance. Kerrick started after them but was jerked to a halt by the iron collar about his neck. Inlènu* stood as silent and immobile as a rock as he tugged on the lead that joined them. Behind his back there was a thud as the door was locked and sealed.

"What is it, what is happening? Speak, I order you," he said, most irritated.

Inlènu* turned round and empty eyes upon him. "Not us," she said, then repeated it. "Not us." Nor could he force her to say any more. He thought about this strange occurrence for some time, but after awhile he forgot the incident, put it aside as just one more inexplicable happening in, this city of many secrets.

Bit by bit his exploration of Alpèasak continued, for he was curious about everything. Since everyone knew that he sat close to the Eistaa all of the time there were none to bar his way. He did not attempt to leave the city, the guards and Inlènu* would have prevented that, but he wandered everywhere else. This was natural to him for children in the sammad had done the same thing. But now he remembered less and less of his former existence; certainly there was nothing to remind him of that earlier life. Before very long he had adapted to the oceanic pace of Yilanè existence.

Each day began in the same manner. With first light the city stirred to life. Like the others Kerrick washed himself, but unlike them he was thirsty in the morning—hungry as well. The Yilanè ate but once in the day, sometimes even missing days, and drank their fill at the same time. This was not his way. He would always drink deeply from the water-fruit, perhaps in unconscious memory of his brief days as a hunter. Then he would eat the fruit that he had put aside the evening before. If there were other matters of importance he would order a fargi to do this task, get the fruit for him, but he tried to do it himself whenever possible. The fargi, no matter how carefully he instructed them, would always return with damaged and rotten fruit. To them it was all the same, fodder for animals—creatures who ate what they were given regardless of its condition. In fact, if there were any fargi present when he was eating, they would gather around, watching with dumb intensity, speaking among themselves and trying to understand what he was doing. The more adventurous would taste the fruit—then spit it out, which the others always thought was most amusing. At first Kerrick tried to dismiss the fargi, was annoyed at their constant presence, but they would always return. In the end he suffered their attentions, was scarcely aware of it like the other Yilanè, dismissing them only when something private and important had to be discussed.

Slowly he began to see through the apparent disorder of Alpèasak to the natural order and controls that ruled everything. If he had been of an introspective turn of mind he might have compared the movement of the Yilanè in their city to that of the ants in their own cities beneath the ground. Apparently a senseless scurrying, but in reality a division of labor with workers gathering food, nurses tending the young, armored and clawed guards preventing invasions—and at the heart of it all the queen producing the endless stream of life that guaranteed the ant city's existence. Not an exact analogy, but a close one that he never even considered. But he was just a boy, adapting to extraordinary circumstance, so like the others he made no comparisons and unthinkingly ground the ants beneath his feet and passed on.

Many mornings he would go out with the fargi who had been ordered by one of the herders to bring in fruit from the groves around the city. This was pleasant to do before the heat of midday and his growing body needed the exercise. He would walk fast, even run, with the heavy tread of Inlènu* lumbering after him, many times stopping only because she became too warm and would go no further. Then he would feel very superior, streaming with sweat, knowing that he could go on and on when even a Yilanè as strong as Inlènu* could not.

Around the city the groves of trees and green fields stretched out in widening circles of a diversity that was constantly changing. Vanalpè's assistants and their helpers were always developing new plants and trees. Some of the new fruits and vegetables were delicious, others smelled bad or tasted worse. He tried them all because he knew that they had been tested for toxicity before being planted.

The variety of plants was there to feed the even greater variety of animals. Kerrick had no knowledge of the Yilanè's deep-rooted conservatism, of their millions-of-years-old culture that was based upon change only in the short term where it would not affect the stability and continuity of existence. The future would be as the past, immutable and unchangeable. New species were added to the world by careful gene manipulation; none was ever taken away. The forests and jungles of Gendasi held exciting new plants and animals that were a constant source of fascination to Vanalpè and her aides. Most of these were too familiar to Kerrick to be of any interest. What fascinated him were the great, lumbering, cold-blooded beasts that he used to call murgu; a Marbak word that he had now forgotten along with all the others.

Just as Alpèasak grew from Inegban*, so did the life of the old world flourish here in the new. Kerrick could spend half a day watching the three-horned nenitesk tearing at the foliage with mindless hunger. Their armored skins and large armored plates before their skulls had been developed to ward off predators now millions of years extinct, although perhaps they too were also preserved in small numbers in some of the older cities in Entoban*. Racial memories of their threat were still imprinted in the giant creatures' brains and they would sometimes wheel about and tear up great clumps of earth with their horns when something caused them to perceive a possible danger. But this was the exception; normally they tore placidly at the undergrowth, consuming vast amounts of it every day. If he moved slowly Kerrick discovered that he could get quite close to the immense creatures for they saw no possible threat from his tiny form. Their hides were heavily wrinkled, while small and colorful lizards scurried across their backs, crawling into the folds of skin to eat the parasites there. One day, despite Inlènu*'s worried tugging on the lead, he ventured close enough to reach out and touch one of them on its cool, rough hide. The effect was unexpected for he had an instant vision of another great gray animal, Karu the mastodon, trunk lifted to throw dust over his back, one bright eye looking down at Kerrick. As quickly as it came the vision vanished and the gray wall of the nenitesk's hide was before him. Suddenly he hated the creature, an insensate rock, unmoving and stupid. He turned his back on it and would have left it then but for the fact that something appeared to have disturbed it. For some reason it mistook the other nenitesk for a marauder and there was the thudding of giant bodies, the crash of armor and horns. Kerrick looked on with pleasure as small trees were crushed and the ground was torn up on all sides before they lost interest and separated.

One thing that Kerrick did not like was the slaughtering yard where each day animals in great numbers were killed and butchered. The killing was quickly and painlessly done; at the entrance to the yard a guard simply shot the animals as they were driven up. When they fell they were dragged into the yard by large beasts that were immensely strong and stupid, apparently indifferent as well to the fact that their legs were soaked and stained with blood. For it was a bloody business inside as the still-warm carcasses were disjointed and carved to bits, then thrown into tubs of enzyme. While Kerrick was now used to the jellied, half-digested meat he really wanted to forget the process that brought it before him.

The laboratories where Vanalpè, Zhekak, and their assistants worked were beyond his understanding and therefore boring. Kerrick rarely went there. He much preferred to examine the incredible detail of the growing city model—or to talk with the males. He discovered them after he had been turned away from the birth beaches. None were permitted there but guards and attendants. From what he could see through the thorn barrier around the beaches they looked dull beyond belief. Just fat males lolling about in the sun.

But the males in the hanalè were different. By this time he had forgotten the sense of profound shock that he had felt when he had first discovered that all of the Yilanè he had met, even terrifying creatures like Stallan, were female. He accepted that as a fact of life now, had long forgotten the roles of male and female among the Tanu. He was just curious about a part of the city he had never seen. After being turned away from the hanalè many times he had questioned Vaintè about it. She had been amused by this, though she hadn't explained why. She had decided that as a male there was no reason he could not be admitted. But Inlènu* could not go in—therefore he was forbidden entrance as well. He thought about this for a long time until he hit upon the obvious answer. He went through the door—which was closed behind him. Leaving Inlènu* on the outside with their unbreakable link still connecting them.

This meant that he could not leave the area inside the door, so could not see all of the interior of the hanalè. But this did not matter. The males came to him, overjoyed at the novelty of his presence in their sheltered and boring existence.

Superficially there was no way that Kerrick could tell the males from the females. He was young enough not to think this of any importance and it was only the curiosity of the males, once the novelty of his presence had worn off, that caused them to reveal their nature.

Though most of the males talked to him or asked him questions at one time or another, it was Alipol who came forward eagerly to greet him whenever he appeared. Although Ikemend ordered all the affairs and operations of the hanalè, it was Alipol who ruled inside the door. He had been selected in Inegban* for this position of responsibility and leadership. He was far older than any of the others, all of whom had merely been selected for youth and good health. In addition Alipol was an artist, a fact that Kerrick did not discover for a long time. This happened on a visit when Alipol did not appear and Kerrick had to call out to one of the others.

"Alipol is busy at his art as always," he said and hurried on. Kerrick did not understand the expression, most of the males were worse than fargi in the crudeness of their language, but what he had said had to do with beauty, of making things, of new objects. Alipol did not appear that day, so on the next visit Kerrick displayed his curiosity.

"Art is of greatest importance, perhaps the greatest thing that there is," Alipol said. "But these stupid young males don't know that, and certainly the brutal females would have no idea of its existence."

Alipol, and the other males, always referred to the females in this manner, with a mixture of fear and respect that Kerrick could never understand. Nor would they explain it to him, so he had long since ceased asking.

"Please tell me," Kerrick said, with curiosity and interest, which Alipol accepted with a certain suspicion.

"A rare attitude," he said, then made his mind up. "Stay here and I will show you what I do." He started away, then turned back. "Have you ever seen a nenitesk?"

Kerrick did not understand the relevancy of the question, though he agreed that he had indeed seen the great beasts. Alipol left and returned with an object that had Kerrick expressing unconcealed joy and pleasure. In turn Alipol's own pleasure was beyond belief. "You see what others don't see," he said simply. "They have no eyes, no understanding."

Alipol had his hands joined before him, all four thumbs turned up to form a bowl. Resting upon them was the delicately formed image of a nenitesk, glowing brightly in the sunlight and seemingly woven from beams of light. The eyes were shining red, while every line of tail and horn, great shield and stumpy legs had been caught in glowing radiance.

Kerrick bent close to see that the tiny creature was formed from thin strands of some shining material, woven together to form the intricate object. He reached out a questing finger and found it hard to the touch.

"What is it? How do you do it? I've never seen anything like it before."

"Woven of wire, silver and gold wire. Two metals that never grow dim. The eyes are small gems that I brought with me from Inegban*. They are found in streams and banks of clay, and I have the skills to polish them."

After that Alipol showed Kerrick other things he had made: all of them were marvels. Kerrick could appreciate art and he longed to have one of them, but dared not express his desire lest it interfere with the friendship they had formed.

As the city grew and flourished only one major problem remained. The ustuzou. During the rainy months, when there was cold in the north, the city was guarded and ringed with defenses. When the warmth returned to the north, then Stallan led raids up along the coast. Only once did they find a large group of ustuzou; they killed all that did not flee. At other times small groups were attacked and killed, and once they returned with a wounded prisoner. Kerrick went with the others to see the filthy, fur-covered creature, and he felt no sense of identification at all. It never regained consciousness and died quickly. This was the only time that the mounting clashes between Yilanè and ustuzou interfered with the order of city life. All of the other encounters took place at a distance now and were only the concern of Stallan and the others with her.

Without the rhythms of the seasons, the passage of time was scarcely noted in Alpèasak. The city grew with the leisured pace of any living creature, animal or plant, reaching out into the forest and jungle until it covered a vast area inland from the river and the sea. Reports from Inegban* had the unreality of weather not felt, a storm not experienced. The recent winters had been mild enough so that some there hoped the cold weather was at an end, although the scientists who knew about these things insisted that the condition was only a temporary one. They talked of air and water temperature measurements made at the summer station in Teskhets, and pointed out the increasing numbers of ravenous wild ustuzou that had been driven down from their normal haunts in the north.

In Alpèasak news of this sort was, of course, of great interest, but they were still tales told of a distant land. More uruketo were being bred, that was good to hear, and one day Inegban* would come to Alpèasak and the city would be complete. One day. In the meantime there was much to do here and the sun was always warm.

For Kerrick the world was endless summer. Without the arrival of autumn he never looked forward to the snows of winter. From his place of privilege close to the Eistaa he watched the city grow—and he grew with it. Memories of the life he had once led grew dim, vanished altogether except for the occasional confusing dream. In mind if not in body he was Yilanè and none dared speak otherwise in his presence. He was no longer ustuzou. No longer Ekerik. When Vaintè called him by his name she changed the way the word was said and everyone else copied her way. He was no longer Ekerik, slow and stupid, but Keririk, close to the center.

There was need for the new name for he was growing, tall as a Yilanè, then even taller. There was so much hair on his body now that the unutakh died, perhaps from overeating, and he had been supplied with a larger and more voracious unutakh. But without the cold of winter to end the year, the green of spring to begin the new, there was no way to measure the track of time.

Kerrick did not know it but he was fifteen years of age when Vaintè ordered him into her presence.

"When the uruketo leaves in the morning I go with it to Inegban*."

Kerrick showed abstract interest, but little else, though he did lie and say it was sorrow to be parted from her. Inegban* was a word to him, nothing more.

"Major changes are on the way. The new uruketo reach maturity and in one summer, two at the most, Inegban* will be abandoned. They are so concerned there with fear of the future and the changes it will bring that they do not appreciate the real problems we have here. They care nothing about the ustuzou that threaten us, scarcely even notice the Daughters of Death who sap our strength. I have great labors ahead of me and you must aid me. That is why you are coming with me to Inegban*."

Now Kerrick's interest was indeed captured. A voyage inside the uruketo, across the ocean, a visit to a new place. He was both excited and afraid and Vaintè was aware of that since he was too upset to lie.

"You will capture everyone's attention, and when I have that attention I will convince them what must be done." She looked at him quizzically- "But you are too much of a Yilanè now. We must remind them all that you were once ustuzou, still are."

She went to the opening where she had placed the small knife many years ago, and took it out. Zhekak had examined it, pronounced it a crude artifact worked from meteoritic iron, had then placed a rustproof coating on it. Vaintè gave it to Etdeerg, her first assistant, and ordered her to fix it into position about his neck. Etdeerg did this with a piece of twisted gold wire, attaching it to the shining iron of his collar, while the fargi watched and listened at the doorway.

"That looks strange enough to make them look twice," Vaintè said, reaching out to press flat the sharp end of the wire. Her fingers touched his skin, the first time in years, and she was surprised at the warmth of it.

Kerrick had looked at the dull knife with lack of interest, had no memory of it at all.

"The ustuzou drape themselves with skins, it has often been remarked, and you had one about you when you were brought here." She signaled to Etdeerg who opened a bundle and shook out a smooth deerskin. The fargi chattered with distaste and even Kerrick moved away from it.

"Stop that," Vaintè ordered. "This is no piece of lice-ridden filth. It has been sterilized and cleaned, and that will be done again daily. Etdeerg, remove the false pouch and put this in its place."

Then Vaintè ordered the fargi cleared away and Inlènu* to block the doorway since she remembered why the pouch had been made in the first place.

Etdeerg stripped off the pouch and tried to fit on the skin, but the seals were in the wrong place. She went to fix them and Vaintè looked at Kerrick with interest. He had changed, grown, and she stared at him now with a mixture of attraction and disgust. She went across the chamber and reached down to him and Kerrick shivered at her touch. Vaintè laughed with pleasure.

"You are a male, very much like our males. Just one instead of two—but you respond just as they do!"

Kerrick felt unease at what she was doing, tried to pull away but she seized him tight with her other hand and drew him close.

Vaintè was aroused now, the aggressor as all female Yilanè were, and he was pulling away yet responding at the same time like any male.

Kerrick had no idea of what was happening to him, nor what were the strange sensations he was feeling. But Vaintè was well aware. She was Eistaa, she could do as she willed. With practiced motions she hurled him to the floor and mounted him, while Etdeerg watched with appreciation.

Her skin was cold on his, yet he was warm, strangely warm, and then it happened. He had no idea of what it was, just that it was the greatest and most wonderful thing that had ever occurred in his entire lifetime.