"I have a respectful message from Erafnais," the fargi I said, speaking slowly and carefully, yet quivering with the effort to get the message correct. "The loading is complete. The uruketo is ready to leave."
"We go," Vaintè announced. Etdeerg and Kerrick stepped forward at her gesture. She looked around at the leaders of Alpèasak gathered before her and spoke in the most official and formal manner. "The city is yours until I return. Keep it well. You have my trust."
Having said this she took her leave and went slowly through the city with Kerrick and Etdeerg walking a decent pace behind.
Kerrick had long since learned to control his movements so he appeared as calm as the others. Inside he churned with conflicting emotions. This voyage, he was looking forward to it, yet was also afraid of such a major change in his ordered existence. And yesterday, what had happened yesterday with Vaintè, he still couldn't understand. What had caused such an all-encompassing sensation? Would it happen again? He hoped that it would. But what was it?
Any memories he had of Tanu passion, of the differences between the sexes, of the funny-forbidden talk the older boys had whispered to each other, even of the pleasure he once felt in touching Ysel's bare body, all this was gone. Overlaid and forgotten under the need for survival with the Yilanè. The males in the hanalè never talked of their relationship with the females, or if they did it was never in his presence. Inlènu* was dumb on the subject. He had no knowledge of sexuality, Yilanè or Tanu, and could only puzzle over this exciting mystery.
The sky behind them was red with sunset when they reached the harbor. The enteesenat, leaping with anticipation of the voyage, surged up out of the sea and splashed back into the water in a welter of red-tinted froth. Kerrick was last aboard, climbing down the opening in the high fin, blinking at the dim-lit interior. Beneath him the floor pulsed and he lost his footing and fell. The journey had begun.
The novelty quickly wore off for Kerrick since there was little to see and nothing at all to do. Most of the interior was taken up by the dead-alive bodies of deer and stalakel. The stalakel lay heaped in piles, small forelimbs limp, horn-beaked jaws gaping open. Some of the deer, though unmoving, had their eyes wide open, and this was clearly visible in the light from the luminescent patches. He had the uneasy feeling that they could see him, that they were crying out at their paralyzed state. They couldn't be, he was putting his own feelings into theirs. The sealed interior closed in on him and he clenched his fists with unknown terror, made worse by what seemed to be an endless storm. The uruketo's fin stayed sealed and the air grew musty and foul.
In the darkness the Yilanè grew torpid and slept. There were only one or two on watch at any time. Once he tried to talk to the Yilanè at the helm, but she would not answer; all of her attention was focused on the compass.
Kerrick was asleep when the storm ended and the heavy seas died down. He jerked awake as the chill, salty air washed over him. The Yilanè stirred and reached for the cloaks—but the air and the shaft of light were pure pleasure to him. He tugged at his lead until the sluggish Inlènu* woke up and had wrapped herself in a cloak, then pulled her after him towards the opening in the fin. He scrambled quickly up the corrugations and pulled himself up beside Erafnais who stood there, wrapped tightly in a large cloak. Inlènu* stayed below, as far as the lead would permit her. He held tight to the edge and looked out at the green waves rolling towards them and frothing over the uruketo's back, laughing when salt spray splashed his face. It was different, wonderful, exciting. Rays of sunlight cut through the clouds lighting up the vastness of the sea that stretched to the horizon in all directions. He shivered with the chill and wrapped his arms about him, but would not leave. Erafnais turned and saw him, and wondered at his emotions.
"You are cold. Go below. Take a cloak."
"No—I like it like this. I can understand now why you cross the sea in the uruketo. There is nothing else like it."
Erafnais was very pleased. "Few others feel this way. Were the sea to be taken from me now I would feel very strange." Strange had overtones of unhappiness and despair, with just the slightest suggestion of death. The scar on her back made it difficult to express this with exactitude, but so powerful were her feelings that the meaning was clear.
A flight of seabirds floated by overhead and Erafnais pointed in their direction.
"We are not far from the land now. In fact there, low on the horizon, that dark line. The coast of Entoban*."
"I have heard the name spoken, but never understood its meaning."
"It is a great land mass, so large that it has never been sailed around for the sea gets cold to the south. It is the home of the Yilanè where one city stretches to the fields of another city."
"That is our destination?"
Erafnais agreed. "On the northern coast. First through the passage known as Genagle into the warm waters of Ankanaal on whose shores is Inegban*."
When she spoke the word, there were mixed overtones of pleasure and pain. "Be pleased it is now midsummer, for the past winter was the worst in the city's history. Crops died. Animals died. Beasts from the north raided the herds. And once, briefly, hard water fell from the clouds and was white on the ground before it melted."
Hard water? The meaning was clear—but what was it? Before he could ask for an explanation Kerrick had a vision, clear and sharp, of snow-covered mountains. But accompanying it was a terrible pang of apprehension and fear. He rubbed at his eyes—then looked out at the sea and thrust the memory from him. Whatever it was it did not bear considering.
"I am cold," he said, half-lie, half-truth, "so return to the warmth inside."
One morning Kerrick awoke to warm air and sunlight, a beam that poured down from the open fin. He climbed quickly to join Vaintè and Etdeerg who were already there, He was surprised at their appearance, but since they said nothing about it he did not comment. Vaintè had an aversion to being questioned. He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. Her forehead and the strong angles of her jaw had been painted red with pigment, neatly applied in scrolls and turns. Etdeerg did not have any coloring on her face, but black vines appeared to twist about her arms, ending with leaf patterns on the backs of her hands. Kerrick had never seen a Yilanè decorated in this manner before, but managed to contain his curiosity and looked towards the shore instead. The coastline moved slowly by, green wooded hills clearly visible above the blue of the sea.
"Inegban*," Etdeerg said, a wealth of mixed emotions behind the single word.
Grassy fields were mixed in among the forests now, with the dark figures of beasts grazing upon them. As they moved past a point of land a grand harbor opened out. Upon its shores were the beaches of Inegban*.
Kerrick, who thought Alpèasak a city of wonder, now saw what a real city was and allowed his feelings to show, to the immense pleasure of Vaintè and Etdeerg.
"Alpèasak will be this one day," Vaintè said. "Not during our lives, for Inegban* has been growing since the egg of time."
"Alpèasak will be greater," Etdeerg said with calm assurance. "You will make it so, Vaintè. You have an entire new world to build it in. You will do it."
Vaintè did not answer. Nor did she deny it.
As the uruketo approached the inner harbor Erafnais climbed to the top of the fin, then called down orders. The great creature slowed and stopped, lay wallowing in the clear water. The pair of enteesenat swam ahead, then turned about sharply before they reached the floating boom of large logs. They had no desire to brush against the long stinging tentacles of the jellyfish that were suspended from the logs. They hurtled back and forth, anxious for the boom to be opened so they could reach their waiting reward, the treated food they were longing for. This was delayed until the uruketo in the harbor were driven away. Smaller than normal, still half trained, they were slow to obey. When they were safely restrained a harnessed uruketo tugged the boom open and the enteesenat instantly darted inside. Their own uruketo proceeded at a more leisurely pace.
Kerrick could only gape in silence. The dock area was vast—yet was still crowded with Yilanè awaiting their arrival. Behind it rose the trunks of ancient trees, their branches and leaves high above seemingly touching the sky. The pathway leading from the docking area into the city was wide enough to drive an urukub down. The Yilanè that were crowding it now parted to let a small procession past. At its head were four fargi carrying a construction made of gently curved wood and hung with colored fabrics. Its function was revealed when the fargi placed it carefully onto the ground, then squatted beside it. A hand pushed the fabric aside and a Yilanè, resplendent with golden face coloring, stepped down to the ground. It was a figure that Vaintè instantly recognized.
"Gulumbu," she said with carefully controlled lack of emotion that allowed just a small measure of her distaste to show through. "I know her of old. So she is the one who now sits at Malsas<'s side. We will meet her."
They had disembarked and were waiting on the dock when Gulumbu walked slowly up. She made the humblest of greetings to Vaintè, acknowledged Etdeerg's presence—and let her unseeing eyes move slowly past Kerrick.
"Welcome to Inegban*," she said. "Welcome to your home city, Vaintè, now builder of Alpèasak across the storm-filled sea." Vaintè acknowledged this with equal formality.
"And how fares Malsas<, Eistaa of our city?"
"She has ordered me to greet you and take you to attend her in the ambesed."
While they talked the palanquin had been carried away. Vaintè and Gulumbu walked side by side instead, leading the procession into the city. Kerrick and Etdeerg walked behind them with the other aides, in silence for this was a formal occasion.
Kerrick took it all in with widened eyes. Other vast walkways led from the one they were on, all crowded with Yilanè—and more than Yilanè. Small creatures with sharp claws and colorful scales darted through the crowds. Some of the largest trees they passed had steps worked into their bark, curving up and around to platforms above where other Yilanè, many of them with painted faces and bodies, looked down on the milling crowds. One of these tree-dwellings, larger than the others, had armed guards below. The Yilanè above looked out, moving about and twittering together in a manner that proved they could only have been males.
Nor was there the dedication to work and the formality of talk that he knew in Alpèasak. Yilanè pointed rudely at him, and talked to each other coarsely about his strange appearance.
And there were Yilanè of a kind he had never seen before, some only half the size of the others. They stayed together in groups, pressing themselves aside when other Yilanè passed, looking on with worried eyes, not speaking. Kerrick touched Etdeerg's arm and indicated them questioningly.
"Ninse," she said, scorn in every motion. "Yileibe."
The unresponsive, the dumb ones. Kerrick understood that clearly enough. Obviously they couldn't speak or understand what was said to them. No wonder they were unresponsive. Etdeerg would say no more about them and he put the matter aside for the moment with all of the other questions he was eager to ask.
The ambesed was so large that the farthest side was hidden by the milling crowds. But they opened before the procession which passed through them to the sunny, favored wall, where Malsas< reclined with her advisors on a platform draped with more of the soft fabrics. She was resplendent with gold and silver paintings on her face and down her arms, curlicues of gold reaching down her waistless, ribbed body. She talked to an aide, appearing not to notice the procession until it was just before her, waiting that extra little moment to deliver not an insult, but a firm reminder of rank. Then she turned and saw Vaintè and welcomed her forward. A place was made at her side as they greeted each other.
Kerrick was staring about at everything, taking little notice of what was being said, so was startled when two Yilanè approached and seized him by the arms. As they pulled at him he looked fearfully at Vaintè—who signaled him not to protest but to go with them. He had little choice. They pulled strongly and he allowed himself to be led away with Inlènu* walking dutifully after.
Close to the ambesed was the doorway to a strange structure. There was no way to tell its size for it was hidden by the city trees. But panels of translucent chitin were visible between the trunks, stretching away to both sides. A solid-looking door of the same material was before them, without handles or openings in its surface. Still holding tight to his arm, one of the Yilanè reached out and squeezed a flexible bulb beside the door. After a short wait the door opened and a fargi looked out. Kerrick was pushed through the door with Inlènu* following after. The door closed behind them.
"This way," the fargi said, ignoring Kerrick and speaking to Inlènu*, then turned and walked off.
It was most unusual. A short length of corridor made of the same chitinous material led to another door. Then another. The next chamber was smaller and the fargi stopped here.
"Eye membrane over," she said to Inlènu*, letting her own transparent nictitating membrane slide over her eyes. Then she reached out her hand, thumbs spread wide, and tried to place them on Kerrick's eyelids.
"I heard you," he said, slapping the hand away. "Keep your dirty thumbs to yourself."
The fargi gaped, shocked at hearing him speak, and took a moment to recover. "Important that eyes be closed," she finally said, then closed her own membranes and squeezed a bulbous red growth on the wall.
Kerrick had just enough time to close his eyes before a rush of warm water showered down on them from above.
Some trickled into his mouth, was burning and bitter, and he kept his lips clamped tightly closed after that. The spray stopped, but when it did the fargi called out "Eye…shut."
The water was replaced by moving air that quickly evaporated the water from their bodies. Kerrick waited until his skin was completely dried before he tentatively opened one eye. The fargi's membrane had slipped back, and when she saw that his eyes were open she pushed through the last door and into a long low chamber.
It was a complete mystery to Kerrick: he had never seen anything like it before. Floor, ceilings, walls, they were all made of the same hard material. Sunlight filtered through the translucent panels above and threw moving leaf patterns on the floor. Stretched along the far wall was a raised surface of the same material with completely unidentifiable objects upon it. Yilanè busied themselves with these things and took no notice of their arrival. The fargi left them, saying nothing. Kerrick could make no sense of any of it. Inlènu*, as always, cared not in the slightest where she was or what was happening. She turned her back and squatted comfortably on her thick tail.
Then one of the workers noticed their arrival and drew the attention, in a most formal way, of a squat and solid Yilanè who was staring at a small square of material as though it had great importance. She turned and saw Kerrick, and stamped over to stand before him. One of her eyes was missing, the lid collapsed and wrinkled, and the remaining one bulged out strongly as though trying to do the work of two.
"Look at this, look at this, Essag," she called out loudly. "Look at what has been sent to us from across the sea."
"It is strange, Ikemei," Essag said politely. "But it brings to mind another species of ustuzou."
"It does, only this one is not covered with fur. Why is that fabric draped around it? Remove it."
Essag started forward arid Kerrick spoke in the most commanding manner.
"Do not touch me. I forbid it."
Essag fell back while Ikemei called out with happiness.
"It talks—an ustuzou that talks. No, impossible, I would have been told. It has been trained to memorize phrases, that is all. What is your name?"
"Kerrick."
"I told you. Well-trained."
Kerrick was growing angry at Ikemei's firm wrongness of mind.
"That is not true," he said. "I can talk as well as you, and a lot better than the fargi that brought me here."
"That is hard to believe," Ikemei said. "But I will assume for the moment that what you said was original and not a rote statement. If it is original—why then you can answer questions."
"I can."
"How did you arrive here?"
"I was brought by Vaintè, Eistaa of Alpèasak. We crossed the ocean in an uruketo.
"That is true. But it also could be a learned statement." Ikemei thought intensely before she spoke again. "But there is a limit to learned statements. Now what can I ask you that your trainers could have no knowledge of? Yes. Tell me, before the door opened to admit you here—what happened?'
"We were washed by very bitter-tasting water."
Ikemei stamped her feet with appreciation. "How wonderful. You are an animal that can talk. How did this come about?"
"I was taught by Enge."
"Yes. If anyone is suited for that task she is. But now we will stop talking and you will do as I say. Come to this workbench."
Kerrick could see what they were doing, but had no idea why. Essag used a pad to moisten the ball of his thumb, then Ikemei pierced it suddenly with a sharp object. Kerrick was surprised that he felt nothing, even when Ikemei squeezed great drops of blood from his thumb. Essag caught them in little containers which sealed themselves when she squeezed their tops. Then his arm was placed flat on the surface and rubbed with another pad that first felt cool, then numb.
"Look there," Ikemei said, pointing high on the wall. Kerrick looked up and saw nothing. When he looked back he saw that while he had been distracted she had used a string-blade to slice away a thin layer of his skin. There was no sensation of pain. The small drops of blood that began to well up were covered by the adhesive bandage of a nefmakel.
Kerrick could not contain his curiosity any longer. "You have taken some of my skin and my blood. Why?"
"An ustuzou with curiosity," Ikemei said, signing him to lie flat on a low bench. "There is no end to wonders in this world. I am examining your body, that is what I am doing. Those colored sheets there will make a chromatographic examination, while those precipitating columns, those transparent tubes, will discover other secrets of your chemistry. Satisfied?"
Kerrick was silent, understanding nothing. Ikemei placed a lumpish gray creature on his chest and prodded it to life.
"And now this thing is generating ultrasound to look inside your body. When it is finished we will know all about you. Get up. We are done. A fargi will show you the way to return."
Ikemei looked on and marveled as the door closed behind Kerrick and Inlènu*. "A talking animal. For the first time I am eager to get to Alpèasak. I have heard that ustuzou lifeforms are varied and interesting there. I look forward with great interest to seeing them for myself. Orders."
"I hear, Ikemei," Essag said.
"Do a complete series of sera tests, all the metabolic tests, give me a complete picture of this creature's biology. Then the real work begins."
Ikemei turned to the workbench and almost as an afterthought said, "We must find out all we can about its metabolic processes. We have been ordered to find parasites, predators, anything that will cause specific damage to this species." She wriggled with distress as she said this and her assistant shared her discomfort. Ikemei gestured her to silence before she could speak.
"I know your thoughts and share them. We build life, we don't destroy it. But these particular ustuzou have become a menace and a danger. They must be driven away. That is it, driven away. They will leave and not bother the new city when they see they are in danger. We shall not kill them, we will just drive them away."
She spoke with all the sincerity that she could muster. Yet she and Essag shared a growing fear that darker things were being planned. Their respect for life, all life, warred with their sense of survival and their muscles twitched spasmodically with the silent conflict.
As the great doors were swung slowly shut the sounds of the ambesed outside began to grow quiet. Silence filled the room when they had closed all the way. Vaintè had scarcely noted the details of the doors before, though she had been in this chamber many times in the past. Her attention was drawn to them now. They were intricately carved with a variety of intertwined plants and animals, these in turn had then been inset with shining metal and gemstones. They were just one more of the luxuries and pleasures of this ancient city that were taken for granted by the Yilanè who dwelled here. That she had once also taken for granted. How different this was from new-grown Alpèasak where there were scarcely any doors at all—while the few that did exist might still be damp with the sap of their growth. Everything there was crude and quickly grown, new and green, in direct contrast to this cultured city, old and staid. It was brash of her to be here, Eistaa of a wilderness city come to stand before those who ruled in timeless Inegban*.
Vaintè rejected this line of thought instantly. There was no shame to newness, no need for her to feel inferior here in this great city. Inegban*, ancient, rich—but certainly doomed, there could be no doubting that. These trees would die, cold mists and dead leaves would blow through the empty city, these ponderous doors would fall beneath the fists of time, would be splintered and turn to dust. The Yilanè of Inegban* might sneer now at the crudeness of her distant city-but it would be their salvation. Vaintè treasured that thought, turned it over and over and let it possess her. Alpèasak would be their salvation—and she was Alpèasak. When she turned to face Malsas< and her aides she stood erect with pride that bordered on arrogance. They felt this and at least two of them stirred restlessly. Melik and Melpon<, who knew her well for these many years, knew her rank and expected some deference. Nor was Malsas< very enthusiastic about this seeming lack of respect. When she spoke her attitude was firm and questioning.
"You seem very pleased, Vaintè, you must tell us why."
"It is my pleasure to be in Inegban* again, among all her comforts, to be among efenselè of my efenburu. It is my pleasure to report to you that the work I have been asked to do is progressing well. Alpèasak grows and prospers, the fields are vast, the animals many. Gendasi is a rich and fertile land. Alpèasak will grow as no other city has grown before."
"Yet there is a shadow behind your words," Malsas< said. "A hesitation and an unhappiness that is all too clear."
"You are too perceptive, Eistaa," Vaintè said. "There is a shadow. The ustuzou and all the other animals of this land are numerous and dangerous. We could not establish the birth beaches until we had eliminated the alligators, creatures very similar to the crocodiles we know, but infinitely more plentiful. There are species of ustuzou that are delicious, you have eaten them yourself when you honored our city with your visit. Then there are the other ustuzou, the ones that stand on their hind legs like crude copies of Yilanè. They cause much damage and are a constant threat."
"I understand the danger. But how can these animals prevail against our weapons? If they are strong is that not because of your weakness?"
It was an open threat that Vaintè instantly turned aside. "Would that it were only my weakness. I would then step down and let one who was stronger preside in my place. But look how these dangerous animals reach right into our ranks and kill. Your efenselè, strong Alakensi, ever-watchful Alakensi. Dead Alakensi. They may be small in numbers but they have a jungle ustuzou's low cunning. They lay traps. Sokain and all with her died in such a trap. If a fargi dies there are always more to take her place. But who can replace Alakensi or Sokain? The ustuzou kill our food animals, but we can raise more. But the ustuzou also killed on the birth beaches. Who can replace those males, those young?"
Melpon< cried aloud at the thought. She was very old and given to much sentimental thinking about the birth beaches. But her cry spoke for all of them, even Malsas< who was clutched by the same strong feelings. But she was too experienced to permit herself to be swayed by emotion alone.
"The threat seems to have been contained so far. You do well."
"That is true—but I wish to do more."
"What?"
"Let me first supply all here with more information about the ustuzou. I wish them to hear about it from the lips of the captive ustuzou itself."
Malsas< pondered this and in the end signaled agreement. "If the creature has information that might be of value we will hear it. Can it really talk—respond to questions?"
"You will see for yourself, Eistaa."
Kerrick must have been waiting close by, because the messenger returned with him very quickly. Inlènu* settled down to face the closed doors while Kerrick addressed himself to the assembly in silent expectancy of orders, one of the lowest facing those of the highest.
"Order it to speak," Malsas< said.
"Tell us of your pack of ustuzou," Vaintè said. "Speak so all can understand."
Kerrick glanced quickly towards her when she said this, and as quickly away. Those last words were a signal. He was now to supply the listeners with the information that she had carefully drilled into him.
"There is little to say. We hunt, dig in the ground for insects and plants. And kill Yilanè."
A murmur of anger and a quick shift of bodies followed instantly.
"Explain about killing Yilanè," Malsas< ordered.
"It is a very natural reaction. I have been told that Yilanè feel a natural disgust towards ustuzou. Ustuzou react the same way to Yilanè. But being brutal creatures they seek only to kill and destroy. Their single aim is to kill all Yilanè. They will do this—unless they are killed themselves."
It sounded stupid even as Kerrick said it. Who could believe such an obvious and contrived lie? But the answer to this was clear; it would be accepted at once by these Yilanè who could not lie themselves. He recoiled in fear at the threat of death in their movements and was relieved to be ordered from the chamber. Malsas< spoke as soon as the door was closed again.
"The ustuzou must be wiped out once and for all. Every single one of them. Sought out and destroyed. Pursued and killed just as they killed Alakensi who sat closest to me. Now, Vaintè, can you tell us how this will be done?"
Vaintè knew better than to let them see that she had won a major tactical victory. Keeping her thoughts carefully on the plans that she had made she leaned back solidly on her tail and numbered off the steps to victory.
"Firstly—there must be more armed fargi. We can never have too many. They guard the fields, push out along the paths into the jungle, keep the ustuzou at bay."
"That will be done," Malsas< agreed. "We have been breeding hèsotsan and training fargi in the use of these weapons. When you return the uruketo will carry as many armed fargi as it can hold. Two of the smaller uruketo are reported ready for a longer sea voyage. They will carry fargi as well. What else?"
"Creatures to spy, creatures to kill. Yilanè are not jungle killers, but Yilanè of science can breed those creatures that will do this to perfection."
"This is being seen to as well," Lekmelik said. "Much work has already been accomplished. Now that the sampling of the tissue of your ustuzou has been done the work will proceed to its conclusion. Ikemei who is supervising all of this work is waiting close by to be summoned. She will explain."
"Then everything that can be done has been done," Vaintè said, expressing pleasure and gratitude with every movement of her body.
"It has," Malsas< said, but there was a touch of displeasure behind her words. "Started but not finished. And the flow of time is not kind to us. Those who care about such things have returned early from Teskhets. They report a cold summer, an early autumn. They fear for a long and violent winter. We must proceed always with care—but we must proceed."
The emphasis in her words, the bitter anger and the fear was so strong that those who listened to her swayed backwards beneath the wave of emotion. They shared the fear for long moments before Malsas< broke the silence.
"Send for Ikemei. We will hear what has been done."
They were not only to hear about the research progress, but were to see the results with their own eyes. Ikemei entered, followed by a train of heavy-laden fargi, who hurriedly put their burdens down and left. Ikemei pulled the covering from a cage that was large enough to hold a grown Yilanè.
"The ruler of the skies," she said proudly, her single eye bulging. "A raptor of skill, strength—and intelligence."
The great bird ruffled its feathers and turned its head about slowly to look at them. The hooked beak was made for tearing flesh, the long wings for flying high, fast, tirelessly. The bird's toes were tipped with curled sharp claws designed only for killing. The creature did not like to be stared at. It shook its wings and screeched angrily. Ikemei pointed to an elongated, dark object that clung to one of the raptor's ankles with tight-wrapped toes.
"This beast is a neurological image recorder," she said. "Very much improved for this use. As I am sure you know an image from its eye is focused on a membrane within. Neurons then store the image in microganglia for future retrieval. Since single images are being stored, not memories of complex series or motions, there is almost no limit to the number of these images that can be recorded."
"Images of what?" Malsas< asked abruptly, bored by the technical talk, little of which she understood.
"Images of whatever we wish to record, Eistaa," Ikemei said. "This bird is almost immune to cold—the creatures fly at very high altitudes while searching for their prey. Therefore after its training had been completed this creature was instructed to fly north. The training has been most successful. Normally the creature has no interest in longtooth, carnivorous ustuzou that dwell far to the north. They offer it no threat and are too large to attack and eat. But the bird is well-trained and knows that it will be rewarded if it follows instructions. This one flew far to the north. And, here, we can see exactly what it saw."
Ikemei opened one of the parcels and took out a bundle of prints. They were grainy, black and white, but very impressive. She had arranged them in dramatic order. First a field of white with black dots upon it. Then the swoop, the dots took shape, then were clear. Four-legged, fur-covered ustuzou. One of them grew, filled the print, looked up with snarling jaws, curved teeth protruding. Then jumped aside at the threat of the attacking bird. This last print was the most dramatic of all for the wing-spread shadow of the raptor lay across the longtooth and the snow. When Malsas< had finished looking at them Vaintè took the pictures with eager hands, excitement growing as she went through them.
"It can be trained to search for any creature?"
"Any."
"Even the ustuzou I brought from Alpèasak?"
"Particularly that ustuzou. It will search and it will find and it will return. Where it has been can easily be determined by using the pictures of its flight to prepare a map."
"This is the weapon I need! The ustuzou move in small packs, while the country is large. We found one pack and destroyed it easily. Now we will find the others…"
"And you will destroy them in the same way," Malsas< said.
"We will. I promise you—we will."
"I am pleased. Vaintè, remain. Everyone else will now retire."
Malsas< sat in frozen silence until the heavy doors had closed behind their backs. Only then did she move, and as she turned to face Vaintè she expressed unhappiness and more than a suggestion of fear. The Eistaa of Inegban* unhappy and afraid? There could be only one cause. Vaintè understood, and her movements echoed those of Malsas< as she spoke.
"It is the Daughters of Death, is it not?"
"It is. They will not die—and their numbers grow."
"Nor will they die in Alpèasak. In the beginning, yes, the work was hard and the dangers many. But now that we have grown and prospered it is not the same. They are injured, some die. But not enough."
"You will take some of the worst offenders with you in the uruketo when you return. The ones that talk in public, who make converts."
"I will. But each one I take means one less armed fargi. In Alpèasak these deathless creatures impede me because they will not aid in the destruction of the ustuzou. They are a burden."
"Equally so in Inegban*."
"I will take them. But only in the new and unproven uruketo."
Malsas<'s sign of assent had small overtones of respect.
"You are hard and dangerous, Vaintè. If the young uruketo fail to cross the ocean, their failure will also be a success."
"My thoughts exactly."
"Good. We will talk of these matters again before you return to Alpèasak. Now—I am tired and the day has been long."
Vaintè made a most formal withdrawal—but once the door had closed she had to fight to prevent her elation from being revealed. She was filled with thoughts of the future as she walked through the city, and her body moved to mirror those thoughts. There was not only elation, but death was very present as well, so much so that the fargi she passed moved quickly away from her. She was hungry now and went to the nearest place of meat. Many were waiting and she ordered them from her path. Vaintè ate well, then washed the meat from her hands and went to her quarters. They were both functional and comfortable, yet also highly decorated with woven and patterned cloth.
The fargi hurried away at her abrupt command. All except the one that she signaled to her.
"You," she ordered. "Seek out my ustuzou with the leashed neck and bring it here."
It took some time because the fargi had no idea where to look. But she spoke to fargi she met who spoke to others and the command passed through the living fabric of the city until it reached one who saw Kerrick.
Vaintè had almost forgotten the order by the time he arrived, was deeply involved in planning the future. Memory returned instantly when he entered.
"This has been a day of success, a day of my success," she said. Speaking to herself, not knowing or caring what he responded. Inlènu* settled down comfortably on her tail, facing the woven cloth on the wall, enjoying its patterns in her own almost mindless way.
Vaintè pulled Kerrick down beside her and stripped away his fur coverings. Laughing when he tried to draw away from her, exciting herself as she excited him.
Kerrick was no longer frightened by what happened. It felt too good. When it was over and she pushed him from her he went regretfully. Hoping already that this thing would happen again and again.
Thunder rumbled ominously behind the dark-clouds as the torrential rain lashed the surface of the ocean. The uruketo moved slowly away from the shore, with the two smaller uruketo close behind. The enteesenat, happy to be in the open ocean again, raced ahead, surging up and out of the water as they dived through the waves. Inegban* soon fell behind, grew dim, then was lost from sight in the rain.
It was not an easy voyage. After the excitement and unexpected pleasures of Inegban*, the return trip in the uruketo was a constant torment to Kerrick. The interior was filled to capacity, the bottom so covered with fargi that it was impossible to walk without treading on them. Food and water were in short supply and carefully rationed. This was no hardship for the Yilanè who simply grew torpid and slept most of the time. Not so Kerrick. He felt closed in, trapped, unable to breathe. Nor was there any respite in sleep, for he would dream of suffocating, drowning, and wake with a cry, running with sweat. He could not move around at will, and only twice during the seemingly endless voyage did he manage to make his way up inside the fin to gasp in lungfuls of the life-giving salt air.
There was a storm in mid-ocean that prevented the fin from opening for so many days that the foul-smelling air became unbreathable. In the end the fin had to be opened, just a slit, but this was still more than enough to admit a dripping shower of cold sea water along with the air. Damp and sticky, first cold then warm again, Kerrick suffered in silent misery.
When the storm finally ended and the fin could be opened again, Vaintè ordered the others away and climbed to the top alone. The seas were still heavy and white-tipped waves stretched out on all sides. Empty seas. The two small uruketo had vanished; they were never seen again.
Kerrick's seasickness ended only when they were in the harbor of Alpèasak. The sickness and the days without food had weakened him so greatly that he could barely climb to his feet. The caged raptor had suffered almost as much as he had; its head hung low and it cried out weakly when they carried it away. Kerrick was the last ashore, and had to be lifted bodily up the fin by Inlènu* and two of the fargi.
Vaintè breathed deeply of the moist, warm air, rich with the odors of the living city, and felt immense pleasure as she shook off the lethargy of the voyage. She slipped into the first cooling tank she came to, rubbed away the salt and crusted filth from the uruketo's interior, emerged into the sunlight again refreshed and fit.
She had no need to summon the city leaders because they were all waiting for her in the ambesed when she arrived.
"Alpèasak is well?" she asked, and felt even more refreshed when they all communicated well-being. "What of the ustuzou, Stallan, what of those vermin that gnaw at the fringes of our city?"
"A nuisance, little more. Some of our meat animals have been stolen, others butchered during the hours of darkness, their flesh carried away before morning. But our defenses are strong, there is little they can do."
"The smallest amount is too much. They must be stopped. And they will be. I bring more fargi, trained in the use of their weapons. The ustuzou will be followed and killed."
"They are hard to track," Stallan said doubtfully. "They have an animal's skill in the forest and leave no sign of their passing. Or if there is a trail it leads only to an ambush. Many fargi have died that way."
"No more," Vaintè said, and expressed pleasure as the raptor screeched as though in response. Its cage had been brought forward by its handlers and the bird was now preening its feathers in the sunlight.
"All will be explained," Vaintè said. "This flying creature will enable us to find the ustuzou den where they hide their cubs and females. But first I want the reports in detail of everything that has passed while I have been away."
The raptor recovered quickly from the sea voyage: Vaintè waited impatiently for the next ustuzou raid. When the report reached her she issued rapid orders and went at once to the outlying pasture where the attack had occurred. Stallan was there first, pointing out with disgust the butchered corpses on the blood-stained grass.
"Wasteful. Just the rich hindquarters have been taken."
"Very practical," Vaintè said, showing little emotion. "Easy to carry, little to waste. Which way have they gone?"
Stallan indicated the opening that had been torn in the thorn fence, the trail beyond that vanished under the tall trees.
"North, as always. An easy trail to follow which means we were meant to see it. The meat is gone and only death, traps, and ambushes will be on that trail if we dare to follow it."
"The bird will go where we cannot," Vaintè said as the raptor was brought up. The captive creature screamed angrily and tore at the shackle that held its leg. It was not caged now but sat instead on a wooden perch mounted on a platform. Long poles supported this so that the fargi that carried it could not be reached by claw or beak. Kerrick arrived at the same time, wondering at this early summons.
"Do your work," Vaintè ordered the handlers.
Kerrick found himself suddenly no longer a spectator as hard thumbs seized him and dragged him forward. The raptor was excited by the sight and smell of the bleeding carcasses, screeching and flapping its wings thunderously. One of the handlers carved a lump of flesh from the flank of a butchered beast and threw it towards the bird. It seized the red meat greedily with its free foot, clamped it to the perch with its claws and tore bloody gobbets from it. Only when it was done did they continue. Kerrick struggled as he was pushed forward, almost within reach of that gory, hooked beak.
"Follow, find. Follow, find," the handler shouted, over and over, while they forced Kerrick even closer.
The raptor did not attack, but turned its head instead to fix one cold, gray eye upon Kerrick. It stared unwaveringly at him while the commands were shouted at it, only blinking and bobbing its head when the orders ceased.
"Turn the perch until it faces the trail," the handler ordered, then reached out from behind and swiftly released the shackle.
The raptor screamed, bent its legs—then hurled itself into the air with the thunderous beat of great wings. Kerrick fell back as the bird looked in his direction and the handler shouted instructions.
It had been well-trained. It mounted swiftly into the air, soared about in a single lofty circle-then started north.
"It has begun," Vaintè said with great satisfaction.
But her enthusiasm ebbed as day after day went by—and the raptor did not return. The worried handlers avoided her, as did everyone else at the sight of the anger in her movements. As long as Kerrick was not summoned to her presence he stayed as far away as he could. The hanalè offered a quiet retreat where he could not easily be found; he had not been there since their return from Inegban*.
Ikemend opened the door at his approach. "You have been to Inegban*," she said, her words a question and an answer at the same time, excitement in the movements she spoke.
"I have never seen such a city."
"Tell me of it, for I will never see it again with my own eyes."
While he spoke she fitted the leash into a groove that had been worked into the wood of the doorway, then closed the door against it. Kerrick knew what she wanted to hear and told her only of the glories of the city, the crowds and the excitement—and nothing of the hunger and cold of the winters. He valued his visits to the hanalè so made sure that Ikemend would always look forward to seeing him. She listened as long as she could, hurrying away only when the urgency of her work demanded it. The males did not like Ikemend and carefully avoided her company. None of them were in sight now. Kerrick looked down a dark hallway, to the interior he would never see, then called out when someone passed at the far end.
"It is I, Kerrick, I would speak with you."
The male hesitated, then started on, stopping only when Kerrick called out to him again. "I have been to Inegban*. Would you like to hear about the city?"
The bait was too strong to be resisted. The Yilanè came slowly forward into the light and Kerrick recognized him. Esetta*, a moody creature whom he had talked to once or twice. All of the other males admired Esetta*'s singing, though Kerrick found it monotonous and a little boring. Though he had never said this aloud.
"Inegban* is a real city," Esetta* said, in the abrupt, breathless fashion that all the males used. "There we could sit high up among the leaves and watch everything that happened in the crowded walkways below. We were not forever trapped in boredom as we are here, with little to do other than to think of the fate of the beaches. Tell me…"
"I will. But first send for Alipol. I want to tell him too."
"I cannot."
"Why?"
Esetta* took a perverse pleasure in his answer. "Why can't I? You want to know why I can't? I will tell you why I can't." He hesitated over the answer, flicking his tongue between his teeth to dampen his lips before he spoke.
"You cannot speak to him because Alipol is dead."
Kerrick was shocked by this news. Sturdy Alipol, as solid as a treetrunk. It did not seem possible.
"He was taken ill—an accident?"
"Worse. He was taken, taken by force. He who has been to the beaches twice before. And they knew, those crude beasts, they knew, he told them, pleaded with them, showed them the lovely things he makes but they just laughed at that. Some of them turned away, but the hideous one with the scars and that rough voice, the one who leads the hunters, she found the protests exciting and seized Alipol and stifled his cries with her ugly body. All day they were there, she made sure, all day, I saw it. Sure of the eggs."
Kerrick understood that something terrible had happened to his friend, but did not know what. Esetta* had forgotten him for the moment, was swaying with his eyes closed. He hummed a dirge-like tone, then began to sing a hoarse song that brimmed with dread.
Young I go, once to the beach,
and I return.
Twice I go, no longer young,
will I return?
But not a third, please not a third,
for few return.
Not I, not I. For if I go, I know,
I'll not return.
Esetta* grew silent then. He had forgotten that Kerrick was to tell him about Inegban*, or perhaps no longer cared to hear about that distant city. He turned, ignoring Kerrick's questions, and shuffled back down the hall. Even though Kerrick called out loudly after that no one else appeared. In the end he let himself out, pulling the door shut so it sealed behind him. What had Esetta* meant? What had killed Alipol on the beach? He could not understand at all. Inlènu* was asleep in the sun, leaning against the wall, and he jerked cruelly on the leash until she blinked vacantly up at him, yawned, and climbed slowly to her feet.
The fargi was eager to deliver her message—a message to the Eistaa herself!—but in her eagerness she had moved too fast in the heat of the day. When she reached the ambesed her mouth gaped so wide and she breathed so fast that talking now was impossible. In an agony of indecision she lurched forward into the sun, then fell back into the cool shadows. Was there a waterpool nearby? In her confused state she could not remember. None of the fargi nearby paid any heed to her moving fingers and the play of colors across the palms of her hands. They were selfish, thinking only of themselves, never helping another fargi. She grew angry, ignoring the fact that she would have done exactly the same thing herself in a similar situation. In desperation she looked into nearby corridors and finally found a drinking fruit. She sucked the cool water from it, then squeezed the rest of its contents over her arms and body. Her breathing finally slowed and she hazarded an attempt at speaking.
"Eistaa… I bring you a message…"
Rough but understandable. Walking slowly now, keeping to the shadows, she circled the ambesed, pushing her way through the clustered fargi to the empty space before the Eistaa. Once there she stiffened her body into the position of expectant-attention, lowest to the highest.
It was Vanalpè who noticed her after some time and drew Vaintè's attention to the silent figure.
"Speak," Vaintè ordered.
The fargi shivered with apprehension and had to force herself to speak the carefully memorized words.
"Eistaa, I bring message. Message is from she who feeds the raptor. The bird is returned."
"Returned!" Vaintè was delighted and the fargi writhed with joy, believing in her simplicity that the pleasure was directed at her. Vaintè summoned another fargi with a quick motion. "Find Stallan. She is to attend me at once." She turned back to the fargi who had brought the message.
"You. Return to the ones with the bird. Stay with them until the pictures are ready for me to see then come and inform me. Repeat."
"Return to those with the bird. Stay. Return to the Eistaa when ready are the…"
"Pictures, views, landscapes." Vaintè said it three different ways so the stupid creature could understand. "Repeat, akayil."
Akayil, disgust-in-speech. The watching fargi whispered the terrible expression to each other and felt fear, moving away from the messenger when she left as though afraid of some contamination.
"Vanalpè, how long will the process take?" Vaintè asked.
"To start with, the information is available now. The memory store of the bird's ganglion array will have been dumped into a larger memory bank. I have done this myself when recording growth patterns. The first pictures and the last pictures may be seen at once—but finding one's way through the information in between is the time-consuming part."
"Your meaning is not clear."
"I am stupid in my explanations, Eistaa. The bird has been gone for very many days. All of this time, night and day, a picture has been memorized every few moments. The memory creature may be instructed to remove all the black pictures of the night, but countless more still remain. Then each picture must be brought to the liquid-crystal screen, to be ignored or recorded. This will take days, many days."
"Then we will be patient and we will wait." She looked up and saw the stocky, scarred figure of Stallan approaching and signaled her close.
"The bird has returned. We will soon know if the ustuzou have been found. Are we ready to mount an attack?"
"We are. The fargi now shoot well, the hèsotsan are well-fed. More dart-bushes have been planted and many darts have been gathered. The boats have been breeding and some of the young ones are big enough for service."
"Ready them. Load food and water, then attend me. You, Vanalpè, your experience with pictures will be put to good use now. You will go at once to aid those who do that work."
For the rest of that day, and all of the next, Vaintè guided the city and put all thought of ustuzou from her mind. But on every occasion when she relaxed and there was no one close to speak to, instant memory returned. Had the ustuzou been found? If they had been found they must be killed, sought out and destroyed. Her nose flaps whitened with anger when she thought of the ustuzou. When she felt like this she took no pleasure from eating, while her temper was so short that one frightened fargi died after her savagely curt dismissal. It was a good thing for the well-being of the city that word finally reached Vaintè on the third day.
"The pictures are ready, Eistaa," the fargi said and a shiver of relief passed through all who heard that. When Vaintè left the ambesed even Kerrick joined the large group of followers who trailed after her, as eager as any to discover what had happened.
"They have been found," Vanalpè said. "A large picture is being processed and is almost ready."
The sheet of cellulose was slowly being extruded from a beast's orifice. Vanalpè pulled it free with a wet smacking sound and Vaintè seized it ifp, still damp and warm.
"They have indeed been found," she said, and the picture trembled in her fingers at the pleasure in her movements. "Where is Stallan?"
"Here, Eistaa," Stallan said, laying aside the pictures she had been looking at.
"Do you know where this place is?"
"Not yet." Stallan pointed to the center of the picture. "But it is enough to know that this river goes past the site. We attack by water. I am now following their trail, it is a way that I know and the first part is already marked on my charts. With the pictures I shall follow them until they reach this place. See, it is their lair. The shelters of skins, the large beasts, everything as before."
"And they will be destroyed as they were destroyed before." She signed Kerrick to attend her, then tapped the picture with her thumb. "You know what this is?"
The black and white patterns meant nothing to him; he had never seen a picture before. He took the sheet and turned it in different directions, and even looked at the back before Vaintè tore it from his hands.
"You are being difficult," Vaintè said. "You have seen these creatures and structures before."
"With all respect, Eistaa," Vanalpè said, her interruption humble and apologetic. "But the fargi are like this as well. Until they have been trained to look at pictures everything that they see is meaningless."
"Understood." Vaintè threw the picture aside. "Finish the preparations. We leave as soon as the site is identified. You, Kerrick, you will be coming with us."
"Thank you, Eistaa. It is my pleasure to aid."
Kerrick was sincere about this. He had no idea of where they were going or what they were doing. But he looked forward to the novelty of the voyage in the boats.
His enthusiasm wore off very quickly. They left at dawn, sailed until dusk and then slept on the shore. This continued day after day until he began to envy the Yilanè their ability to lapse into an almost mindless state. He looked at the shore instead and tried to imagine what was behind the wall of trees behind the beaches.
There were changes in the shoreline as they moved slowly north. Jungle gave way to forest, then to marshes, then low scrub. They passed the mouth of a great river but continued on. Only when they entered a large bay was there a change from their northerly route. Vaintè and Stallan in the lead boat altered direction and headed up the bay. This was something new and the somnolent fargi stirred to life. When they drew close to the reeds along the shore their passage stirred the birds that were feeding there, causing them to rise up in great flocks that darkened the sky; the sound of their honking was deafening. When the marshes gave way to beach again Vaintè signaled them to land—although the sun was only halfway down the sky. Like the others, Kerrick moved close to hear what was being decided. Stallan was touching one of the pictures.
"We are here—and the ustuzou are here, on the riverbank. If we go closer today we may be seen. It will be wisest to lighten the boats here, leave all the water and food on the beach. In that way we will be prepared to strike fast at first light."
Vaintè agreed. "We will attack from the water, in the breaking-wave movement, since we cannot get behind them this time. I want them all killed, except for the few that Stallan has been instructed to take prisoner. Is this understood? Repeat."
The group leaders repeated the instructions while the fargi strained to understand. This was done over and over until even the most dim-witted knew what they had to do. Kerrick turned away, bored, but returned quickly when Vaintè signaled to him.
"You will remain here with the supplies and await our return. I don't want you killed by mistake during the fighting. Your work will come later."
Before Kerrick could answer she turned away. He had no desire to see any killing, even of ustuzou, so he welcomed her decision.
They were up at dawn and into the boats. Kerrick sat on the shore while they boarded the boats, then watched their silent departure as they slipped away into the morning mist. Inlènu* watched as well, with apparent lack of interest, though she did open one of the meat containers as soon as they were out of sight.
"You're disgusting, a glutton," Kerrick said. "You will get fat."
"Eat good," Inlènu* said. "You eat too."
He really did not like the meat that was preserved in the bladders; it always had a musty taste. But he nibbled a little, then drank some water, knowing that there was no way he could get Inlènu* to move until she had eaten her fill. He looked closely at her and realized that what he had said was true; she was getting fat, a soft layer over her entire body that rounded the hard contours of her solid muscle.
Though he was used to the constant presence of others he found that he could still relish the freedom of being alone. Inlènu* did not count. When the boats had gone silence descended. There were sounds, the breeze rustling the tall grass, the small waves slapping on the shore. But there were no voices, none of the constant talk of the ambesed.
Kerrick led the way as they walked quietly along the clean sand, between the tussocks of grass, surprising birds that fluttered away almost from beneath their feet. They walked on, until Inlènu* muttered complaints and had to be ordered into silence. The tide was going out when they came to the ridge of high black rock. Seaweed hung from it in streamers and just above the water there were large mounds of dark shellfish clinging to the cracks.
"Good to eat," Inlènu* said, smacking her jaws loudly. Standing knee-deep in the sea she tried to pull some free but they were firmly fastened to the stone. She made no protest when Kerrick led her ashore and found a fist-sized rock. He used this to break some of them free and Inlènu* seized them and shoved them into her mouth and crunched down with her immense jaws. She spat the fragments of shell into the ocean and happily swallowed the sweet flesh inside. Kerrick gathered more for himself and used the metal knife about his neck to open them. They stayed and ate until they could eat no more.
It was a pleasurable day, the best that he could remember. But Kerrick wanted to be there when the others returned, so they went back to the landing site in the early afternoon. They had a long wait. It was almost sunset before the boats reappeared.
Vaintè was first ashore. She strode across the beach to the supplies, dropped her weapon into the sand, and tore open a bladder of meat. As she bit a great chunk from it she looked at Kerrick's inquiring stance. She chewed and swallowed greedily before she spoke.
"None escaped. The killers have been killed. They fought hard and we lost fargi, but the world has many fargi. We did what we came here to do. Now you will do your duty as well."
She called out an order and two fargi took a heavily wrapped bundle from one of the boats and dragged it ashore. At first Kerrick thought that it was a bundle of skins. Then it moved.
When the fargi dropped it on the sand the skins fell open and Kerrick looked down at a bearded face. Blood had soaked into the creature's hair; its eyes were wide with terror. It opened its mouth at the sight of Kerrick and strange harsh sounds came out.
"The ustuzou speaks," Vaintè said. "Or does whatever passes for speaking among these dirty creatures. What is it saying, Kerrick? I order you to listen and tell me what it says."
There was no thought of disobeying. When the Eistaa spoke one always did what she said. But Kerrick could not obey and he moved with fear.
He could not understand the sounds. They meant nothing to him, nothing at all.
"Is the creature speaking?" Vaintè asked, insistently.
"Tell me at once."
"I don't know," Kerrick admitted. "Perhaps it is. I can understand nothing. Nothing at all."
"Then the noise it makes—it is just a noise."
Vaintè was furious. This was a setback to her plans. She should never have believed Enge with her insistence that the filthy beasts actually communicated with each other. She must have been wrong. Vaintè vented her anger on the ustuzou, pushing her foot into the thing's face, twisting hard. It groaned with pain and called out loudly.
Kerrick cocked his head, listening intently before he spoke. "Eistaa, please wait—there is something."
She stepped back and spun about to face him, still angry. He spoke quickly before she turned her wrath on him as well.
"You heard it, it called out the same thing-many times. And I know, that is, I think I know what it was saying."
He fell silent, chewing at his lip as he searched through memories long buried, words forgotten, silenced.
"Marag, that is what it said. Marag."
"That conveys no meaning."
"It does, I know it does. It is like, it has the same intent as ustuzou."
Now Vaintè was puzzled. "But the creature is ustuzou."
"That is not what I mean. To this one, the Yilanè are ustuzou."
"The meaning is not completely clear, and I do not like the inference, but I grasp what you are attempting to say. Proceed with the questioning. If you think this ustuzou is yileibe and cannot speak well we will find you another one. Begin."
But Kerrick could not. The captive was silent now. When Kerrick leaned close to encourage it the ustuzou spat into his face. Vaintè was not pleased.
"Clean yourself," she ordered, then signaled to a fargi. "Bring another one of the ustuzou here."
Kerrick barely noticed what was happening. Marag. The word turned over and over in his head and stirred up memories, unpleasant memories. Cries in the jungle, something frightening in the sea. Murgu. That was more than one marag. Murgu, marag, murgu, marag…
He stiffened and realized that Vaintè was calling to him angrily.
"Are you suddenly yilenin too, as unable to speak as a fargi fresh from the sea?"
"I am sorry, the thoughts, the sounds the ustuzou made, my thoughts…"
"They mean nothing to me. Speak with this other one."
Kerrick looked down into wide, frightened blue eyes, a tangle of blond hair about its head. There was no hair on the thing's face and its body under its wrappings was swollen and different. The frightened creature wailed as Vaintè grabbed up one of the stone-tipped wooden spears that had been taken from the ustuzou and prodded the captive's side with it.
"Look at me," Vaintè said. "That is correct. I now show you what your fate will be if you remain silent like this other one and do not make your speaking."
The bearded captive cried out hoarsely as Vaintè turned and stabbed the spear into its flesh, again and again, until it was silent. The other prisoner moaned in agony and rolled about as much as it could in its tight binding. Vaintè threw the blood-drenched spear aside.
"Loosen its limbs and make it speak," she ordered as she turned away.
It was not easy. The captive wailed, then coughed heavily until its eyes streamed with tears, mucus dribbled down its lips. Kerrick leaned close and waited until it grew quieter before he spoke the only words that he knew.
"Marag. Murgu."
The answer came quickly, too fast for him to understand, though he recognized murgu-and something else. Sammad. Yes, sammad, the sammad had been killed. That was what the words meant. All in the sammad slain by the murgu. That was what she was saying.
She. Unbidden the word was on his lips. Female. She was linga, the other dead one, hannas. Male and female. He was hannas too.
Understanding grew, but only slowly, a word, an expression at a time. Some words he could not understand at all; the vocabulary of an eight-year-old, all that he had ever known, was not that of a grown woman.
"You make noises at each other. Is there understanding?"
Kerrick blinked at Vaintè, leapt to his feet, and stood gaping for a long moment before the meaning of her question penetrated the flood of Marbak words that filled his head.
"Yes, of course, Eistaa, there is understanding. It moves slowly—but it moves."
"Then you are doing well." The shadows were long, the sun below the horizon, and Vaintè had a cloak wrapped about her. "Tie it again so it cannot escape. In the morning you will continue. When you have perfected your understanding there are questions you will put to the ustuzou. Questions that will need answers. If the creature refuses—just remind it of the other's fate. I am sure that that argument will be a strong one."
Kerrick went for a cloak for himself, then returned to sit on the sand beside the dark form of the woman. His head was filled with a clash of words, sounds, and names.
The woman spoke some words—and he realized that he could understand them even though her movements were unseen!
"I grow cold."
"You can speak in the dark—and I can understand."
"Cold."
Of course. Marbak was not like Yilanè. It did not depend upon what the body was doing. It was the sounds, just the sounds. He marveled at this discovery while he unrolled some of the blood-soaked skins from the dead man, then spread them over the woman.
"We can speak—even in the night," he said, wiping his sticky hands on the sand. When she answered her voice was low, still fearful, but curious as well.
"I am Ine of the sammad of Ohso. Who are you?"
"Kerrick."
"You are captive too, bound to that marag. And you can speak with them?"
"Yes, of course. What were you doing here?"
"Getting food, of course, that is a strange question to ask. We should never have come this far south, but many starved to death last winter. There was nothing else we could do." She looked at his outline against the sky and felt a great curiosity. "When did they capture you, Kerrick?"
"When?" It was a difficult question to answer. "It must have been many summers ago. I was very small…"
"They're all dead," she said with sudden memory, then began to sob. "These murgu killed them all, all except a few captured."
She sobbed even louder and there was sudden pain in Kerrick's neck. He seized his collar with both hands as he was dragged away. The noise was disturbing Inlènu* in her sleep and she rolled away from it, pulling Kerrick after her. After that he did not try to talk again.
In the morning he was slow to waken. His head felt heavy, his skin warm. He must have been in the sun too much the day before. He found the water containers and was drinking thirstily when Stallan approached him.
"The Eistaa has informed me that you talk with the other ustuzou," she said. There was a wealth of rich loathing behind the concept of bestial communication that she used.
"I am Kerrick who sits close to the Eistaa. Your manner of talk is an insult."
"I am Stallan who kills the ustuzou for the Eistaa. There is no insult in calling you what you are."
The hunter was filled with the fullness of the killing today. Her manner was normally as rough as her voice, yet not this venomous. But Kerrick was not feeling well enough to argue with the brutal creature. Not today. Ignoring her movements of superiority and contempt he turned his back on her, forcing her to follow him as he went to the spot where the bound woman lay.
"Speak to it," Stallan ordered.
The woman shivered at the sounds of Stallan's voice, turned frightened eyes on Kerrick.
"I am thirsty."
"I'll get some water."
"It writhed and made noises," Stallan said. "Your noises were just as bad. What was the meaning?"
"It wants water."
"Good. Give the thing some. Then I will ask questions."
Ine was frightened of the marag that stood near Kerrick. It stared at her with a cold and empty expression, then moved its limbs and made sounds. Kerrick translated.
"Where are more Taru?" he asked.
"Where? What do you mean?"
"I am asking for this ugly marag. It wants to know where more are, other sammads."
"To the west, in the mountains, you know that."
Stallan was not satisfied with the answer. The questioning continued. After a while, even with his inconsistent knowledge of the language, Kerrick realized that Ine was avoiding clear answers.
"You are not telling all that you know," he said.
"Of course not. This marag wants to find out where the other sammads are in order to kill them. I will not tell. I will die first. Do you want the thing to know?"
"I do not care," Kerrick answered truthfully. He was tired—and his head ached. Murgu could kill ustuzou, ustuzou kill murgu, it was nothing to him. He coughed, then coughed again, deep and chesty. When he wiped his wet lips he saw that there was blood in his saliva.
"Ask again," Stallan said.
"Ask her yourself," Kerrick said in such an insulting manner that Stallan hissed with anger. "I want some water to drink. My throat is dry."
He drank the water, gulping it greedily, then closed his eyes to rest for a moment.
Later he was aware of someone pulling at him, but it was too much effort to open his eyes. After a bit they went away and he drew his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms about them. Unconscious, he whimpered with cold although the sun was hot upon him.
There was an awareness of the passage of time; there was a constant awareness of pain. Pain that very quickly became the most important thing in Kerrick's life, an overwhelming presence that trampled him underfoot. He slipped in and out of consciousness, welcomed the blank periods of darkness as an escape from the fever and the endless agony. Once he was awoken by the sound of someone screaming weakly; it was some time before he realized that he was doing it himself.
The worst of these times slowly passed away. There were still only brief periods of consciousness, but during them the pain had now subsided to a dull ache. His vision was blurred, but the strong, cool arm about his shoulders, supporting him so he could drink, could have only been that of Inlènu*. A constant attendant, he thought, constant attendant. He laughed at the idea, he didn't know why, as he drifted off again.
This timeless period came to an indefinite finish one day when he found himself conscious but unable to move. It wasn't that he was held down or bound in any way, just that a terrible weakness was pressing him flat. He found that he could move his eyes, but they hurt when he did it bringing inadvertent tears. Inlènu* was beside him, sitting comfortably back on her tail, staring at nothing with silent pleasure. With great effort he managed to croak out the single word, water, unable to make the accompanying body motions to indicate that he wished some water to be brought to him. Inlènu*'s nearest eye rolled towards him while she considered his meaning. Eventually his intent became obvious, even to her, and she stirred and went to bring him the gourd. She raised him so he could drink. He slurped, then coughed, dropping back exhausted but conscious. There was a movement at the entrance and Akotolp swam into his vision.
"Did I hear it speak?" she asked and Inlènu* signed an affirmative. "Very good, very good," the scientist said, bending over to look at him. Kerrick blinked as her fat features, heavy wattles swaying, swam into view like a rising moon.
"You should be dead," she said with some satisfaction. "And you would be dead had I not been here. Move your head to show how grateful you are for that."
Kerrick managed a slight motion of his jaw and Akotolp accepted it as her due. "A frightening disease, raging through your entire system: those sores on your skin are the least part of it. The fargi wouldn't touch you, too stupid to realize that an infection like this is species specific, had to tend you myself. Most interesting. Had I not worked with warm-fleshed ustuzou in the past your death would have been certain."
While she talked, mostly for her own benefit, Akotolp changed the dressings on his body. This was moderately painful, but nothing like the pain that he had felt before. "Some of the ustuzou we captured had the same disease, in a milder form. Antibodies from their youth. You had none. I exsanguinated the sickest one completely, made a serum, did the job. There, finished. Now eat something."
"How… long…" Kerrick managed to whisper the words.
"How long the food? How long the antibodies? Are you still delirious?" Kerrick managed to move his hand in the motion of time significance. "Understood. How long have you been ill? Very long, I did not keep track. It is not important. Now drink this, you need protein, you've lost a third of your bodyweight, it is delicious meat enzymed to liquid, most digestible."
Kerrick was too weak to protest. Though he did gag on the repulsive liquid before he managed to get some down. After that he slept, exhausted. But this had been the turning point. The disease was over, he was on the mend. He had no visitors, other than the fat scientist, nor did he want any. Memories of the Tanu that he had talked to turned over and over in his mind. No, not Tanu, ustuzou, degenerate, warm-fleshed killers. Flesh of his flesh. Tanu. The same people, the same creatures. He had a double-identity that he could not understand and he fought to make sense of it all. Of course he was Tanu himself, since he had been brought here when he was very young. But that had happened so long ago, so much had happened to him since that all memory of this had vanished. He was left more with a memory of the memory, as though it were something that he had been told about and had not really experienced himself. Though physically he was not Yilanè, could never be, he nevertheless now thought like one, moved like one, spoke like one. But his body was still Tanu and in his dreams he moved among his own people. These dreams were disturbing, even frightening, and he was glad that he remembered very little of them when he awoke. He tried to remember more of the Tanu words but could not, while even the words he had spoken aloud slipped from his mind as he recovered.
Other than the perpetual silent presence of Inlènu* he was left completely alone. Akotolp was his only visitor and he wondered at this.
"Are they all still away from the city, all of those who are killing the ustuzou?" he asked her one day.
"No. They have been back twenty of days at least."
"But no one passes outside, not even the fargi, no one comes in other than you."
"Of course not." Akotolp settled back solidly on her tail, her four thumbs laced together and resting comfortably on the thick roll of fat on her midriff. "You know little about the Yilanè, just about this much, the space between my thumbs." She pinched them together tightly. "You live in our midst yet know nothing."
"I am nothing, I know nothing. You know everything. Enlightenment would be pleasure."
Kerrick meant what he said, it was not mere politeness. He lived in a jungle of mysteries, a maze of unanswered questions. Most of his life had been lived here in this city of secrets. There were assumptions and knowledge of Yilanè life that everyone seemed to know—yet no one would talk about. If flattery and fawning could get answers from this fat creature, he would contort himself into every position of obeisance.
"Yilanè do not grow ill. Disease strikes down only the lower animals, like you. I can assume that there were once diseases that affected us. They have long since been eliminated, like the fever that killed some of the first Yilanè to come here. Infections may follow traumatic wounding; they are quickly conquered. So your illness baffles the stupid fargi, they cannot understand it or accept it—so they ignore it—and you. However, such is my skill at working with all forms of life that I am immune to such stupidities."
She expressed great satisfaction with herself and Kerrick hurried to agree in great detail. "There is nothing unknown to your Highest," he added. "Could this stupid one presume upon your intelligence to ask a question?"
Akotolp signaled bored permission.
"Is there not disease among the males? I was told in the hanalè that many of them die on the beaches."
"Males are stupid and make too much stupid talk. It is forbidden for Yilanè to discuss these things."
Akotolp looked at Kerrick with one quizzical eye, while rolling the other at the same time towards Inlènu*'s stolid back, while she made up her mind.
"But I can see no harm in telling you. You are not Yilanè—and you are male—so you will be told. I will speak of it simply, because only one of my great knowledge can really understand it. I am going to describe to you the intimate and complicated details of the process of reproduction. Firstly, you must realize your inferiority. All of the warm-fleshed male creatures, including yourself, evacuate sperm—and that is your total involvement in the birth process. This is not true of our superior species. During intercourse the fertilized egg is deposited within the masculine pouch. This act triggers a metabolic change in the male. The creature grows torpid, expends little energy, and grows fat. The eggs hatch, the young nurse in the protected pouch and grow strong, emerging only when they are mature enough to survive in the sea. A beautiful process that frees the superior females for more important duties."
Akotolp smacked her lips hungrily, reached out, and seized up Kerrick's unfinished gourd of liquid meat and drained it in a single swallow. "Superior in every way." She belched with pleasure. "Once the young have entered the sea the male role in reproduction is finished. Very much the same, it might be said, as that of an insect called the mantis where the female eats the male while they are copulating. Reversing the male metabolic change is not efficient. Approximately half of them die in the process. While this is presumably uncomfortable for the male it has no effect at all on the survival of the species. You have no idea of what I am talking about, do you? I can tell that by the bestial emptiness of your eyes."
But Kerrick understood only too well. A third time to the beaches, certain death, Kerrick thought to himself. Aloud he said, "What wisdom you have, Highest. Had I been alive since the egg of time I would know only the smallest part of what you do."
"Of course," Akotolp agreed. "The inferior warm-fleshed creatures are incapable of major metabolic change which is why they are few in number and capable of surviving only at the rim of the world. I have worked with animals in Entoban* that encase themselves in the mud of dried lake bottoms during the dry season, surviving that way until the next rains fall, no matter how long a time that may be. Therefore even you will be able to understand that metabolic change can cause survival as well as death."
The facts came together and Kerrick spoke aloud, without thinking. "The Daughters of Life."
"The Daughters of Death," Akotolp said in the most insulting manner. "Do not speak of those creatures to me. They do not serve their city, nor do they die decently when turned away. It is the good who die." When she looked at Kerrick now there was cold malice in her gestures. "Ikemei is dead, a great scientist. You had the honor of meeting her in Inegban* when she took samples of your body tissues. That was her undoing. Some fools in high places wished for her to find a biological way of destroying your ustuzou. She would not, could not do this, no matter how hard she tried. So she died. The scientist preserves lives, we cannot take them. Like a Yilanè rejected by her city, she died. You are an insensate male animal and I talk to you no more."
She waddled away, but Kerrick was scarcely aware of her going. For the first time he was beginning to understand some bit of what was happening around him. He had stupidly accepted the world as he saw it. Had believed that creatures like the hèsotsan and the boats were completely natural. How could they be? The Yilanè had shaped their flesh in some unknown manner—must have shaped every plant and animal in the city. If the fat Akotolp knew how to accomplish such things her knowledge was indeed well beyond anything that he could possibly imagine. For the first time he sincerely respected her, respected what she knew and what she could do. His sickness, she had cured that. He would be dead except for her knowledge. He fell asleep then and moaned in his sleep at the dreams of animals and flesh changing all around him, of himself melting and changing as well.
Soon he was well enough to sit up. After that, leaning on Inlènu*, he managed to walk a few dragging steps. Bit by bit his strength returned. When he was able to, he ventured out of his chamber and sat against a leafy wall in the sun. Once here, and apparently as sound as ever, his presence was permitted again. The fargi came when he called and brought him fruit, all that he wished to have, to wash the taste of liquified raw meat from his mouth.
His strength continued to return until finally, stopping often to rest, he even managed to venture out as far as the ambesed. Before his illness this would have been a short stroll. It was an expedition now and he was leaning heavily on Inlènu* and running with sweat before he reached his goal. He dropped against the ambesed wall, gasping for breath. Vaintè saw him arrive and ordered him to her presence. He struggled to his feet, stumbling when he walked. She watched his unsteady approach.
"You are still ill," she asked, expressing concern as she spoke.
"The illness has passed, Eistaa. Just the weakness remains. Akotolp, she of endless knowledge, tells me to eat much meat so that flesh will return to my body, and with it my strength."
"Do as she orders, that is my command as well. Victory marched with us to the north and all of the ustuzou we met we destroyed. Other than the few we made prisoner. It was my wish that you speak with them, seek out information."
"As the Eistaa commands," Kerrick said. Though he spoke with humble courtesy he was possessed of sudden excitement: his skin flushed and he trembled. He knew that he loathed the disgusting creatures. Yet he still longed to communicate with them.
"You will speak, but not with those we brought back. They are dead. Build your strength. When the warm sun returns to the north we go there again for an even greater killing."
Kerrick signed supplication, wondering at his sudden disappointment.
It was enough now to lie in the sun, to put the illness behind him as his strength returned. Many days passed before Akotolp sent for him. The fargi led the way to a part of the city he had never visited before, to a sealed and strangely familiar panel. It opened to reveal a still damp chamber.
"It is a water entrance—just like the one in Inegban*!"
Inlènu* wriggled her thick body in agreement. "Hurts the eyes."
"Then keep them shut, one of great stupidity." Then he closed his own eyes quickly as the warm liquid washed over them.
Akotolp turned from her work when they entered, reached out and pinched Kerrick's flesh between her thumbs.
"Good. You cover your ribs. You must exercise as well. That is the order I pass on to you from the Eistaa. She is most concerned that you will able to go north with the others."
"I hear and I obey." Kerrick's eyes were moving about the strange room as he talked, trying—and failing—to understand what he saw. "Once, in distant Inegban* I was in a place like this."
"You are wise in your stupidity. One laboratory is the same as another."
"Tell me what you do here, great one."
Akotolp smacked her lips and her fat flesh trembled with the strength of her feelings. "You wish me to tell you, creature of endless stupidity! Were you to live ten lifetimes you could not begin to understand. Since Yilanè first came from the sea we have had our science, and since that time it has been growing and, maturing. Science is the knowledge of life itself, of seeing inside life, seeing the cells that form all life, seeing inside the cells to the genes, seeing the spiral there that can be cut and moved and changed until we are masters of all life. Have you understood a word that I have said, groveling and crawling one?"
Kerrick signed groveling and crawling as he spoke. "Very little, she of endless knowledge, but enough to know that you are the master of life."
"That is true. At least you have intelligence enough to appreciate even if you cannot understand. Look in wonder at this creature." Akotolp pushed one of her assistants aside and gestured at a knobbed and spiked, multicolored creature that squatted beside a transparent section of the wall. Bright sunlight shone against what appeared to be a great eye in its side. Disconcertingly, it had another eye in the top of its head. Akotolp signaled Kerrick forward, then wobbled with mirth at his reluctance.
"You are afraid of it?"
"Those eyes…"
"They cannot see, stupid one. It is blind and senseless, the eyes modified for our use, lenses to bend light so we can see the unseen. Look here, on this transparent plate, what do you see?"
"A drop of water?"
"Amazing observation. Now watch when I place it into the sanduu." Akotolp prodded with her thumb until an opening appeared in the sanduu's side, then slipped the plate into it. She then squinted into the topmost eye, grunting to herself as she thumbed the sanduu with instructions. Satisfied, she straightened up and signaled Kerrick to her.
"Close one eye. Look in here with the other. Tell me what you see."
He saw nothing. Just a blur of light. He blinked and moved his head—then saw them. Transparent creatures with rapidly moving tentacles. He could not understand it and turned to Akotolp for assistance. "I saw something, moving beasts, what were they?"
"Animals, minute ones, there in the drop of water, their images magnified by the lenses. Do you know what I am talking about?"
"No."
"Exactly. You will never learn. Your intelligence is equal to that of the other ustuzou behind you. Dismissed."
Kerrick turned and gasped when he saw the silent, bearded Tanu standing in the niche in the wall. Then he realized that it was only a stuffed and mounted animal. It meant nothing to him and he left quickly.
Yet he felt strangely disturbed as he walked back, the sun warm on his shoulders, Inlnu* plodding patiently behind. In thought and speech he was Yilanè. In form he was ustuzou. Which meant he was neither one nor the other and he grew upset when he thought about it. He was Yilanè, that was what he was, there was no doubt about that.
Unconsciously, as he told himself this over and over, his fingers pinched at his warm Tanu flesh.
"The time has come for us to leave," Stallan said. "It is here in the pictures, everything we need to know."
"Show me," Vaintè said. Her aides and the fargi pressed close to see as well, but a gesture drove them back. Stallan passed the pictures over, one at a time, with a careful explanation of each.
"These are the earliest, of the high valleys where the ustuzou usually winter. But this last winter the valleys remained frozen. The thaw did not come that brings them life during the rest of the year. Therefore the ustuzou must move south to find food."
South, away from the cold of their winter, Vaintè thought, just as we flee south from the frigid winters of Inegban*. She wiped this repugnant idea away as quickly as it had come. There was no connection between the two facts, could be no connection between Yilanè and ustuzou. It was just a matter of chance. What did matter was that the creatures would have to move south to find food. She spoke aloud.
"South—where we can reach them."
"You see the future clearly, Eistaa. If they stay, then they die of starvation. If they do not stay, why, we will be there to greet them."
"When do we leave?"
"Very soon. See here, and here. The large beasts that drag the poles and skins. They come down from the hills. There is grass, but still gray and dead after the winter. And the white, here in the hollows, that is hard water. They must come further south."
"They will. Are your preparations made?"
"They are. Supplies gathered, the boats fed, the armed fargi are ready."
"See that they remain that way."
She dismissed Stallan, put the hunter from her mind instantly, addressed her thoughts instead to the coming campaign. They would be going far inland this time and would be away all of the summer. They could not carry enough food with them for this long a time—so should she arrange for resupply? Or live off the land? This would be easier—and every beast they killed and ate would be one less for the ustuzou. But there would also have to be a reserve of preserved meat so their progress would not be slowed. Everything must be considered. Prisoners must be taken as well. The raptor's chance movements would find only a few of the ustuzou packs. But questioning the prisoners would lead them from one pack to another until they had all been destroyed. A fargi hurried over at her gesture.
"Command Kerrick to attend me."
Her thoughts went to the coming campaign until she was aware of his presence before her.
"Tell me of your health," she ordered. "You are thinner than you used to be."
"I am, but the weakness has gone, the scars from the sores are healed. Each day I make this fat Inlènu* run with me to the fields. She loses weight, I gain it."
"We go north soon. You will go with us."
"As the Eistaa speaks, so do I obey."
He expressed this in the most formal manner when he left, revealing no other emotion. But the thoughts that churned beneath that calm exterior were quite different.
He was eager to go—yet was afraid at the same time. Most of his memories of the last voyage north were buried beneath the pain of his sickness. It had been easiest when he was the sickest because then there had only been unconsciousness with no memory of what had passed. But then had come the wakening days, the pains in his chest, the sores that covered his body. He knew that he should eat but he could not. He had been vaguely aware of the wasting away of his body, the close approach to death, but had been too weak to do anything about it. Only when the gradual and painful recovery had begun could he think of food again.
But that was in the past—and must be kept in the past. Though he still grew tired by the end of the day, each day he was that slight bit stronger. It would be all right. He would go with them and there would be other ustuzou to talk to. For a long time he had not permitted his thoughts to dwell on this, but now a strange excitement filled him and he looked forward eagerly to the expedition. He would talk to Tanu again—and this time he would remember more of the words. There was a sudden and inexplicable excitement when he thought about talking with them and he walked faster, until Inlènu* registered patient protest.
They started north a few days later, earlier than had been originally planned, for now they would be going slower. Vaintè wanted to see if they could supply their own meat as they went along. On the first day they traveled only until early afternoon before making a landing on a rocky shore. Stallan left at once with her best hunters, followed by a group of nervous fargi.
They returned well before dark, the fargi now burdened with the carcasses of deer. Kerrick looked on with strange excitement as they came up and placed the deer carefully before the Eistaa.
"This is good, very good," she said with pleasure. "You are truly named, Stallan, for you are a hunter without peer."
Hunter. Kerrick had never considered the significance of the name. Hunter. To enter the forest, move stealthily across the plain, to make the kill.
"I would like to hunt too, Stallan," he said, almost thinking aloud. He bent to pick up a hèsotsan that lay nearby, but Stallan kicked it roughly away with her foot. The rejection was cruel and sharp.
"Ustuzou are killed with hèsotsan, they get no closer than that."
Kerrick recoiled. He had not been thinking of the weapons, just the chase. While he was shaping a reply Vaintfe spoke first.
"Is your memory so short, Stallan, that you have forgotten that it is I who give the orders? Give Kerrick your own weapon. Explain to the ustuzou how it functions."
Stallan stiffened into immobility at the strength of the command. Vaintè did not change her final imperative position. It was important that all Yilanè, even of Stallan's rank, be reminded that she alone was Eistaa. And it pleased her to pit these two against each other, since their hatred of each for the other was so great.
Stallan could only obey. The fargi pushed close as they always did when something was being explained, while Stallan reluctantly held out the weapon to Kerrick.
"This creature is hèsotsan, developed and bred to be a weapon." Kerrick gingerly took the cool dark length in his hands and followed the indicating thumb. "They are mobile when young, only changing their form when they get their full growth. The legs become vestigial, the spine stiffens until the creature looks like this. It must be fed or it will die. This is the mouth," she indicated a black-lipped opening, "not to be confused with this orifice where the darts are inserted. The darts are picked from the bushes and dried—do not move your hand!"
Stallan tore the weapon from Kerrick's grasp and held it while she fought to control her temper. The presence of the Eistaa behind her just made this possible. Had they been alone she would have smashed the ustuzou to the ground. Her voice was even hoarser when she spoke again.
"This weapon kills. To do this you squeeze its body with one hand, here where your hand was, then press here on the base with the thumb of your other hand."
There was a sharp cracking sound and a dart hissed harmlessly out into the sea.
"The darts are inserted here. When the hèsotsan receives the impulse, it produces a small quantity of a secretion which explodes into steam, driving the dart out forcibly. When they are loaded the darts are harmless to handle. But as it moves through the projection tube the dart brushes against a gland that secretes a poison so strong that a drop too small to see will instantly kill a creature as large as a nenitesk."
"You make an excellent teacher," Vaintè said, a sharp edge of amusement adding a second meaning. "You may stop now."
Stallan thrust the hèsotsan at Kerrick and turned quickly about. But not so quickly that he could not see the burning hatred in her movements. He returned the emotion in full. But he quickly forgot the incident as he examined the weapon, eager to try it on the hunt. But not so eager that he would allow Stallan anywhere near him when they were out of sight of the others. It would be wise to always stay well away from the hunter now, particularly during the hunt. The poisoned darts could kill him as easily as any other animal.
When it was time for the hunt next day he did go out with his weapon until he saw which way Stallan and the others had gone—then he went in the opposite direction. He had no desire to be the victim of a fatal accident.
Hunting was not easy with the clumsy Inlènu* in tow, but he did as well as he could. He had some success and in the coming days Inlènu* carried more than one deer back to the beach. But more important than the deer themselves was the way he felt when stalking his prey through the high grass. It was a pleasure beyond pleasure. He did not notice when he grew tired: his appetite was ravenous and he slept well. The hunting continued as they moved slowly north, and every day he found that he could do that little bit more. By the time they left the ocean and started up the wide river he felt as strong as he ever had. It was only a few days after that when they had their first battle, their first massacre of the summer.
Kerrick stayed at his usual place in the encampment on the river bank when the others left. The raptor's pictures had shown that the ustuzou were moving in this direction along the river bank, so the ambush had been carefully laid. It was no affair of Kerrick's. He sat cross-legged on the ground and teased the hèsotsan's mouth open with his fingernail, then pushed a fragment of meat into it, thinking of the next hunt. Inlènu* was so noisy. But at least she had learned to be motionless and quiet when they stopped. He would do a wide circle around the next herd of deer that they found, then lie in wait downwind from them. The deer would move away from the other hunters and approach him—instead of the other way around. It was a good plan.
The distant shriek cut through his thoughts. Even Inlènu* stirred herself and looked around. It sounded again, louder, closer. Kerrick jumped to his feet, the weapon in both hands ready to fire as the cry came again, the sound of heavy thudding.
There was a harsh bellow from the bank above them and a great head appeared. Long white tusks, a lifted trunk, the deafening shriek again.
"Kill the ustuzou," Inlènu* pleaded. "Kill, kill!"
Kerrick had the hèsotsan in a line before his eyes, looking along it at the creature's dark eye glaring down at him.
"Karu…" he said, and did not fire. Inlènu* moaned in fear.
The mastodon lifted its trunk and bellowed again. Then turned and vanished from sight.
Karu. Why had he said that? What did it mean? He had been startled by the giant creature—but not afraid at all. That strange word, Karu, it stirred up mixed memories. Warm and friendly. Cold as death. He trembled and pushed them away. The fighting should be very close. The large, hairy beast must have been frightened by the battle, had run this way. He was glad that he had not killed it.
"The Eistaa sends for one by the name of Kerrick," the fargi said, moving slowly along the river bank. She had been wounded by some sharp object and a large bandage covered her lower arm. There was blood on her side and streaked down her leg.
"Wash yourself clean," Kerrick ordered, then gave a tug on his lead and Inlènu* lumbered to her feet. The hèsotsan had finished the bit of meat and he smoothed its mouth shut as they walked; it had tiny, sharp teeth and could give a nasty little bite if this were not done.
They followed the river bank, then turned away from it when they came to a well-trampled path. More wounded fargi passed them going in the opposite direction. Some of them had stopped; others were sprawled on the ground, too weak to go any further. They passed one of them that had died on the way, eyes wide and mouth gaping. The fighting must have been fierce.
Then Kerrick saw his first dead Tanu. They were heaped together, men and women, children's tiny corpses tossed aside. Beyond them a mastodon, dead among the broken poles, its load burst and scattered.
Kerrick was numb, with an emotion—or lack of emotion—that left him stumbling along in silence. These were ustuzou, they needed killing. These were Tanu—why were they dead? These were the loathsome ustuzou that had slaughtered the Yilanè males and the young on the beaches. But what did he really care or know about that? He had never even been close to the beaches.
A fargi, the spear that had killed it still through her body, lay in bloody embrace over the body of the hunter who had wielded it. The fargi was Yilanè and he, Kerrick, he was Yilanè as well.
But, no, he was Tanu. Was he Tanu too?
The question could not be answered, but could not be forgotten as well. Yet he must forget it then and remember that he had been a boy—but that boy was dead. In order to live he must live as a Yilanè. He was Yilanè, not dirty ustuzou.
A fargi pulled at his arm and he stumbled after her. Through the column of death; dead Tanu, mastodons, Yilanè. It could not bear looking at. They came to a group of armed fargi who moved aside so that Kerrick could pass. Vaintè stood there, every movement of her body expressing unconcealed anger. When she saw Kerrick she pointed soundlessly at the object on the ground before her. It was an animal's skin, badly tanned and mottled, limp and shapeless except for the head that had been stuffed.
Kerrick recoiled in horror. Not an animal—a Yilanè, and one that he recognized. Sokain, the surveyor who had been killed by the ustuzou. Killed, skinned, and brought here.
"See this." Every motion of Vaintè's body, each sound she spoke, exuded hatred and a relentless anger. "See what these animals have done to one of such intelligence and grace. I want to know more of this matter, which one of them was responsible, how many were involved, where we can find them. You will question the ustuzou we hold captive over there. We had to club it into submission. It may be the pack leader. Make it bleed, make it tell you what it knows before I kill it. Be quick. I will want to know when I return. A few of them fled destruction but Stallan leads her hunters and follows and will pull them down."
There was a glade here surrounded by high trees. The Tanu lay on the ground, arms and legs bound, while a fargi beat the creature with its own spear. "Make it suffer—but do not kill it," Vaintè ordered, then turned away as a messenger hurried up.
Kerrick approached slowly, almost against his will. Saw that the hunter was big, taller than he was, his flowing beard and hair matted thick with blood. The beating continued yet the man said nothing.
"Stop that," Kerrick ordered, prodding the fargi with his weapon to get her attention. "Move back."
"What are you?" the man asked hoarsely, then coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood and fragments of teeth. "Are you a prisoner, leashed like that? Yet you speak to them. Where is your hair? Who are you? Can you talk?"
"I… I am Kerrick."
"A boy's name, not a hunter's name. Yet you are grown…"
"It is I who ask questions. Give me your name."
"I am Herilak. This is my sammad. Was mine. They are dead, all dead, aren't they?"
"Some escaped. They are being pursued."
"A boy's name." His voice was gentler. "Come closer, boy who is now a man. Let me see you. They bruised my eyes, you must come close. Yes, I see. Even though all of your hair is gone I can still see that you have a Tanu face."
Herilak rolled his head back and forth, trying to shake the blood from his eyes. Kerrick reached down and gently wiped them clean. It was like touching himself, the warm skin. Skin like his, flesh like his. Kerrick shivered all over, his hand shook in the grasp of some unknown sensation.
"You were making sounds at them," Herilak said, "and wriggling about too just as they do. You can speak with them, can't you?"
"You will answer my questions. It is not you who will do the questioning."
Herilak ignored this but nodded with understanding. "They want you to do their work. How long have you been with them?"
"I don't know. Many summers… winters."
"They have been killing Tanu all of that time, Kerrick. We kill them, but never enough. I saw a boy once, being held by the murgu. Do they have many captives?"
"There are no captives. Just myself…" Kerrick fell silent; a memory long forgotten stirred his thoughts, a bearded face in the trees.
"They captured you, raised you, didn't they?" Herilak said almost in a whisper. "You can speak with them. We need your help, the Tanu need you now…"
He broke off as he saw what hung about Kerrick's neck. His voice was choked now as he spoke.
"Turn, boy, turn to the light. Around your neck—is that yours?"
"Mine?" Kerrick said, touching the cool metal of the knife. "I suppose so. It was around my neck, they tell me, when I first came to them."
Herilak's voice was distant, as he too dredged in memories of the past. "Skymetal. I was one of those who saw it fall from the sky, searched and found it. I was there when the knives were made, sawn from the metal block with sheets of stone, hammered and drilled. Now—reach into my furs, in the front, that's right. You have it, pull it out."
The metal knife was hanging from a thong. Kerrick clutched it, unbelieving. It was the same as his—only twice as large.
"I saw them made. A large one for a hunter, a sammadar, a small one for his son. The son, a boy's name, Kerrick perhaps, I don't remember. But the father. One close to me. His name was Amahast. Then I found the skymetal knife again many years later—in the broken bones of his body. The bones of Amahast."
Kerrick could only listen in frozen, horrified silence as the name was spoken. A name remembered in dreams, forgotten upon awakening.
"Amahast."
Amahast. The word was like a key unlocking a flood of memories that washed silently over him. Karu, his mastodon, killed beside him. His father, Amahast, killed, the sammad destroyed around him. The memory blurred and merged with that of this sammad lying dead now on all sides. The slaughter, the years, the long years since. Through these memories the hunter's words slowly penetrated.
"Kill them, Kerrick, kill them as they have killed us all."
Kerrick turned and fled with Inlènu* stumbling after, away from the hunter and his voice, away from the memories that flooded through him. But these he could not escape. He pushed past the armed fargi to the top of a grassy slope that led down to the sea, dropped to the ground, sat clutching his legs, staring out at the ocean yet not seeing it.
Seeing Amahast, his father, instead. And his sammad. Unclearly at first, but fleshed out in greater detail as memory returned. The memory was still there, buried and long forgotten, but hiding there still. His eyes filled with a child's tears, tears that he had never shed as a child, that welled out and ran down his cheeks as he saw his sammad being destroyed, slaughtered just as the sammad of Herilak had been destroyed this day. The two scenes blurred in his mind and were one. To survive all those years with the Yilanè all of this he had to forget. He had survived, he had forgotten.
But now he remembered, and in remembering he was two people, the ustuzou who spoke like a Yilanè; the boy who was Tanu.
Boy? He stared at his hands, arched his fingers. He was no longer a boy. In those long years his body had grown. He was a man yet knew nothing of being a man. The realization came that his father, the other hunters, so large in memory—why, he must be their size now.
Springing to his feet, Kerrick roared aloud with defiance and anger. What was he? Who was he? What was happening to him? Through the crash of his emotions he was aware of a movement at his neck, a pulling. He turned about, blinking, to discover that Inlènu* was tugging gently at their connecting lead. Her eyes were wide, her shivering motions expressing worry and fear at his strange actions.
He wanted to kill her, half raised the weapon still clutched in his hand. Marag, he cried, "marag." But the anger drained away as quickly as it had come and he lowered the weapon shamefacedly. There was no harm in this simple creature, more of a prisoner than he was.
"Be of peace, Inlènu*," he said. "There is nothing wrong. Be of peace."
Reassured, Inlènu* sat back on her tail and blinked comfortably in the evening sun. Kerrick looked past her to the glade behind the trees where Herilak waited.
Waited for what? An answer, of course. To a question that Kerrick could not answer, although the question was all too clear.
What was he? Physically he was Tanu, a man with the thoughts of a boy who had never grown as a Tanu. That was clear and obvious when he thought about it. That boy, to stay alive, had become Yilanè. That was obvious too. A Yilanè inside his thoughts, a Tanu for the world to see. That much was clear. What was not clear was what would happen to him next. If he did nothing, his existence would go on very much as it had in the past. His position would remain high, next to the hand of the Eistaa, secure and honored. As a Yilanè.
But was that what he wanted? Was that his future? He had never considered these matters before, had no idea that a conflict such as this might exist. He shrugged his shoulders, struggling to remove an invisible burden. It was too much to consider right now. He needed to puzzle things out slowly. He would do as Vaintè had asked, question the ustuzou. There would be time later to think of these matters; his head was hurting too much now.
When he returned nothing had changed. Herilak was lying bound on the ground, the three fargi standing guard in unquestioning obedience. Kerrick looked down at the hunter, trying to speak, but the words did not come. It was Herilak who broke the silence.
"Do as I said," he whispered. "Kill the murgu, cut my bonds, escape with me. To the mountains, to the winter snow, the good hunting, the fire in the tent. Come back to your people."
Though they were whispered the words were echoing in his head like the roll of thunder.
"No!" he shouted aloud. "You will be silent. You will answer my questions only. You will not speak except to answer…"
"You're lost, boy, lost but not forgotten. They've tried to make you one of them but you are not of them. You are Tanu. You can come back to the sammad now, Kerrick."
Kerrick shouted in anger, ordering Herilak to be silent, but he could not drown out the hunter's voice or his words. Neither would he give in. It was the fargi, the one who still held the hunter's spear, who made the decisive move. She did not understand, but she could see that there was disagreement. Remembering the Eistaa's earlier orders she moved forward to help, hammering the butt of the spear into Herilak's side, again and again.
"No!" Kerrick roared aloud in Tanu, "you cannot do that."
The weapon in his hand snapped almost without volition and the fargi crumpled and died. Still in the grip of his anger he turned and fired at the next one as well; her mouth still gaping with disbelief as she fell. The third one started to raise her own weapon but she crumpled like the others. He kept squeezing and squeezing on the hèsotsan until the fargi corpses bristled with darts. Then it was empty and he threw it down.
"The spear, take it," Herilak ordered. "Cut me free."
Inlènu* lurched after Kerrick as he stumbled to the fargi and pulled the spear from her dead grasp. He cut Herilak's ankles free, then his wrists.
"What is this? What has happened?" Vaintè called out angrily.
Kerrick spun about to see her standing above him, mouth open, teeth shining. And now, for the first time he saw before her in the blur of memory those teeth tearing a girl's throat out. Saw the rows of teeth above him as she straddled him, roaring with pleasure. Shared pleasure, for he had been moved as well.
Pleasure and hatred now, he felt them both.
She was saying something he could not hear, issuing an order he could not obey, as she turned away and reached for one of the abandoned weapons.
What he did next was so natural, so right that it required no thought or effort. The spear came up, thrust forward, into Vaintè's side, deep into her body. She clutched at it and it came free. Blood spurted as she crumpled and fell backwards out of sight.
"Run," Herilak shouted, pulling at Kerrick's shoulder. "Come with me. You can't stay here, not after what you have done. You must come with me. That is all that you can do now."
He took Kerrick by the hand, tugging him towards the dark wall of the forest beyond the glade. Kerrick resisted—then stumbled after him crashing, through the undergrowth, the spear still clutched, forgotten, in his hand, with Inlènu* protesting and stumbling along behind.
Their running footsteps died away as they vanished from sight among the trees. The glade was quiet again.
Quiet as death.