On the fifth day the land began to rise; the west wind was cool and dry. The hunters of sammad Har-Havola sniffed the air and laughed aloud for this was the part of the world they knew best. They talked excitedly among themselves, pointing out familiar landmarks, hurrying ahead of the sammads and their plodding mastodons. Herilak did not share their pleasure because he could see from the tracks and signs just how bad the hunting was here. A few times he saw that other Tanu had come this way, once even finding the remains of a fire with the ashes still warm. He never saw the hunters themselves; they were obviously staying well clear of this large and heavily armed band.
The trail they were following took them further and further into the hills, each one higher than the one before. The days were warm, the sun hot, but they were happy to burrow under their furs at night. Then one morning at dawn Har-Havola called out happily and pointed ahead at the place where the rising sun was touching the high white peaks on the horizon. These were the snow-covered mountains they would have to cross.
Each day the track they were following rose higher and higher, until the mountains ahead were a barrier stretching away into the distance to either side. They looked unbroken, formidable. Only when the sammads were closer could it be seen that a river valley led gently up into their heart. The water ran quickly, cold and gray. They walked beside it, following its turns, until the foothills were lost from sight. The landscape changed as well; there were fewer trees and most of these were evergreens.
One afternoon there was a stirring on the mountainside above them and they looked up to see white, horned beasts bounding to cover. One stopped on a ledge, looking down, and an arrow from Herilak's bow sought it out, dropped the creature tumbling down the cliff face. Its fur was curled and soft, the flesh, when they cooked it that evening, delicious and fat. Har-Havola licked the last of the grease from his fingers and grunted happily.
"Only once before have I eaten mountain goat. Good. Very hard to stalk. They live only in the high mountains. Now we must think of fodder for the mastodons and wood for our fires."
"Why is this?" Herilak asked.
"We go higher. Soon there will be no trees, then even the grass will be thin and scarce. It will be cold, very cold."
"Then we must take what we will need," Herilak said. "Without the tents the travois are lightly loaded. We will cut wood, load it. Young branches as well with leaves for the beasts. They must not starve. Will there be water?"
"No, but it does not matter since there will be snow to melt. It can be done."
Although the days were still warm they found frost on the ground now when they awoke in the morning, while the mastodons rumbled their discomfort, breaths smoking in the chill of dawn. Although there were complaints about how thin the air was and old Fraken gasped loudly and could not walk so rode instead on one of the travois, Kerrick found himself filled with a happiness that was new to him. The clarity of the arr pleased him, as did the silence of the mountains, the stark cleanliness of sky and rock. So different from the damp heat of the south, the sweat and insects. The Yilanè could have their swamps and endless summer. They were suited for it. They would find life here unbearable. This was not their world here—could they not leave it to the Tanu? Although he looked always at the sky Kerrick saw none of the great raptors or other birds that might be marking their passage. Perhaps the Yilanè would not follow. Perhaps they were safe from them at last.
"That is the highest pass, there," Munan announced one afternoon, pointing ahead. "Where those clouds are, where it is snowing. I remember now how the clouds sweep up from the west so that it snows there more often than not."
"We cannot wait for the snow to stop," Herilak said. "There is little wood and fodder left. We must press on."
It took a long day of continuous struggle to reach the summit of the pass. The snow was deep and the mastodons broke through the crust and foundered in the heavy drifts. It was an exhausting struggle for them all, pushing ahead step after slow step. At nightfall the sammads were still on the slope and were forced to spend a sleepless night there, with the beasts squealing in discomfort through the darkness. Unable to light fires they could only wrap themselves in furs and shiver until dawn. At the first light they went on, knowing only that frozen death awaited them if they did not.
Once past the crest the going was even more difficult, working their way down the steep and icy slope. But they could not stop. The feed was gone and the mastodons would not survive another night in the snow. They went on, feeling their way through the banks of cloud that rolled up the slope to them. They reached the broken scree of rocks and boulders in the afternoon and found that it was even harder to walk on than the snow had been. It was almost dusk when they broke through the clouds and felt the setting sun warm on their faces. The valleys opened out below them and, far distant yet, there was a trace of green vegetation.
Darkness fell but they stopped only long enough to build a fire and light torches. In their flickering light the exhausted sarnmads stumbled onward. It wasn't until they were aware that the ground was softer underfoot that they realized the ordeal was over. They stopped then, on a slope beside a rushing stream of snowmelt where the ground was tufted with clumps of grass. They dropped, exhausted, while the mastodons squealed and tore out great clumps of grass with their trunks. Even the preserved murgu meat tasted good that night.
The worst was past; going down the valleys proved to be far easier than climbing them had been. Very soon they were back among the trees where the mastodons gorged themselves on the green leaves. The hunters were happy. They had seen the fresh droppings of mountain goat that day and in the morning swore that there would be fresh meat. But the goats were too wary and climbed to safety, vanishing well before the hunters were within arrowshot. It was the following day, in a meadow set between the trees, that they stalked a herd of small deer, killing two before the others fled. There were not only deer to eat here, for the pine trees were a kind they had never seen before, with sweet nuts inside the pinecones. The mountains were behind them, the future bright.
It was on the next day that the stream they were following ended in a rocky pool. There were the tracks of many animals in the mud beside it. The pool itself had no outlet. The water must run underground from this place; they had seen this happen before.
"This is where we will stop," Herilak said. "There is water here, grazing for the beasts, good hunting if we have read the signs right. Here is what we will do. The sammads will stay in this place and the hunters will bring in fresh meat. There are berries, roots to be dug. We will not go hungry at once. I will go on with Munan who has been here before to see what lies ahead. Kerrick will come with us."
"We must carry water in skins," Munan said. "There is little water after this, none in the desert."
"That is what we will do," Herilak said.
The change began at once, as soon as the three hunters were lower in the hills. There were few trees now, the grass was dry, and there were more and more of the spiny, dangerous-looking plants. As the foothills grew flatter the grass became sparse and they walked on gravel and drifts of sand. All of the plants now were spiny and dry-looking, each spaced far from the others. The air was dry and motionless. A lizard wriggled out of sight when they approached. Nothing else moved.
"It has been a long hard day," Herilak said. "We will stop here, one place is like any other. Is this the desert you talked of?"
Munan nodded. "It is all very much like this. Some places with more sand, sometimes broken rock. Other than these spine-plants nothing grows. There is no water."
"We will go on in the morning. It must have an end."
The desert was hot and dry and despite what Herilak had said it appeared to be endless. They walked for four days, from sunrise to sunset, resting in the middle of the day when the sun was high and it was too hot to go on. At the end of the fourth day the mountains were only a gray line on the horizon behind them. Ahead the desert was unchanged. At sunset Herilak stood on a small rise, shading his eyes as he looked west.
"The same," he said. "No hills or mountains, nothing green. Just more desert."
Kerrick held up the water skin. "This is the last."
"I know. We return in the morning. We have come as far as we can. Even now we will have no water for the last day's walking. We will drink well that night, when we reach the hills again."
"What will we do then?" Kerrick asked, piling up dry twigs for their fire.
"That must be thought about. If the hunting has been good perhaps we can stay in those hills. We will see."
When it was dark there was a hooting of an owl, close by. Kerrick shook himself, suddenly wide awake, feeling a sudden chill. It was just an owl, nothing more. They lived here in the desert, eating the lizards. Just an owl.
The Yilanè could not know they were here, could not have followed them through the snows of the mountain passes. They were safe.
Yet that night he dreamed of Alpèasak, was once again among the scurrying fargi. There was Inlènu* at the other end of the lead. He moaned in his sleep but did not wake, did not know that he lay with his fingers clamped on the iron ring about his neck.
When Kerrick woke at dawn the dream was still with him, pressing down on him like a great weight. It was just a dream, he kept telling himself, but the feeling of disaster stayed with him as they walked.
They made good time on their return journey. With their food and water gone they had less to carry and could move faster across the dry desert, then on to the grassy slopes of the foothills. It was late in the afternoon when they came over the last ridge, their mouths dry, looking forward with pleasure to the water that lay ahead. The track they were following led through thick undergrowth that crackled as they pushed by. Herilak was leading the way, climbing steadily. He saw that he was outdistancing the others and stopped to let them catch up.
As he did the arrow strummed past him and thudded into the ground.
He hurled himself to one side, calling out a warning as he did. Lying behind the bole of a tree he took an arrow of his own from his quiver and nocked it to the bowstring. A voice called from the slope above.
"Herilak, is that you? Did you cry out?"
"Who is that?"
"Sorli. Be on your guard. There is danger in the forest."
Herilak looked carefully about but saw nothing. What danger was there here? He did not want to call out again. Kerrick appeared among the trees, moving warily. Herilak waved him forward, signaled to keep on up the trail. When Munan had passed as well he followed them, silent and alert.
Sorli was waiting for them, concealed from sight behind the large boulders. Other hunters from his sammad were close by, hidden from below, peering back down the hill. Sorli waved them past, then fell in behind them. Once over the ridge he took the arrow from his bow.
"I heard you moving through the brush, then just saw your outline. I did not know it was you, that is why I let fly the arrow. I thought it was the others. They attacked this morning, just after dawn. The hunters on guard were killed, but gave the warning. They killed one of the mastodons too, perhaps for the meat, but we drove them off before they could do anything to it."
"Who were they?"
"Not Tanu."
"Murgu!" Kerrick. heard the terror in his voice as he spoke the word. Not here, no, not here too.
"Not murgu. But not Tanu as we know Tanu. There is one we killed, you will see. They had spears but no bows. Once the arrows struck among them they broke and ran."
They walked along the trail and Sorli stopped and pointed to a dead body.
The corpse lay where it had fallen, face down in the brush. There was a bloody hole in its back where the arrow that had made the mortal wound had been cut out. There were furs tied around the waist. The corpse's skin was darker than theirs, the long hair black instead of light. Herilak bent and heaved the corpse over, pushed the furs aside with the butt of his spear.
"A hunter. He could be Tanu except for the skin and that hair."
Kerrick bent and pulled up an eyelid; a misted black eye stared up sightlessly at his blue one. Munan leaned over to look as well, then spat with distaste.
"Harwan," he said. "When I was small I used to be frightened when they told stories about the black men from beyond the high mountains who came in the dark to steal children and eat babies. They were called the Harwan and were ferocious and terrible. Some said that the stories were true. Others laughed."
"Now you know," Sorli said. "They were true. And there is another thing. Look at this."
He led them a short distance up the hill to the dark form stretched under the trees. Herilak looked at it and grunted with amazement. "A longtooth, one of the biggest I have ever seen."
It was immense, half again longer than a man. The creature's mouth gaped in death, the two long teeth that gave it its name projecting, large, deadly, sharp.
"It came with the dark Tanu—and there were others as well. They marched with them like mastodons, attacked when they were told."
Herilak did not like it in the slightest. "This is dangerous. Armed Tanu and these creatures. Where did they come from?"
"From the north—and they went back to the north. It may have been a hunting party."
Herilak looked to the north and shook his head. "Then that way is sealed to us. So is the way west, at least at this place. We do not know how many of these dark Tanu there are, or how many longtooth run at their sides. We do not want to fight them. That leaves us only one direction to go."
"South," Kerrick said. "South through these hills. But there may be murgu there."
"There may be anything there," Herilak said, his face set in hard lines. "It does not matter. We must go. The desert may end there, the hunting may be good. Now let us go drink the sweet water. Keep guards out during the night. We leave at sunrise tomorrow."
A child could have read the signs of the sammads' passage, so clearly were they marked in the soft turf. The deep ruts cut by the poles of the travois, the large footprints of the mastodons, their high-heaped dung. Herilak made no attempt to obliterate these tracks—but hunters waited in hiding, some of them a two-day march behind the sammads, to make sure they were not being followed. Days passed and there was no evidence that the dark Tanu or their longtooth companions were behind them. Despite this Herilak still made certain that there were guards ready and watching, day and night.
Since all of the valleys and ridges led down from the high mountains, flattening out and vanishing on the arid plain, they went down from the hills to the plain itself. Instead of working their way across the ridges, the march continued along the edge of the desert. Hunters went ahead, scouting the valleys for water. When they camped each evening the mastodons would be led up the valley to drink and browse.
The march continued. The hunting was sparse in the foothills and on the plain. The grasslands at the foot of the hills began to extend further and further into what had been only arid desert, cut now and again by dry watercourses. But there was no water upon the grassy plain, little or no animal life. They could only go on.
It was only after the moon had waxed and waned twice that they reached the river. The water must have drained from the high mountains for the current here was strong and the channel that it had cut was very deep. They stopped at the brink, seeing the water tumbling over the rocks below, sending up white spray.
"There is no way to cross the river here," Kerrick said. Herilak nodded and looked away downstream.
"It might be wisest not to cross it—but to follow it instead. With all this water there must be an end to the desert. Where the desert ends we will find game. This we must do for even the murgu meat is coming to an end. We have to find a place where there is food to gather and animals to hunt."
Then he spoke aloud the thought that was with them always. "We must find this before winter comes."
They followed the river as it snaked across the plain and into a range of hills. There were many places where the bank had broken down, where they could water the mastodons. At some of these sites there were also the track of deer. And something else. It was Munan who spoke of it first. He joined Herilak and Kerrick at their fire and sat down, his back to the hills.
"I have hunted for many years," he said. "Only once was I hunted myself. Let me tell you about that. It was in the high hills that you call mountains where I was tracking greatdeer. The trail was fresh and it was early morning. I walked silently, yet I felt something was wrong. Then I knew what it was. I was being followed as well, watched. I could feel eyes on me. When I knew this to be true I jumped about suddenly—and there it was on the ledge above me. A longtooth. Not close enough to spring, not yet. It must have been tracking me—just as I tracked the greatdeer. It looked into my eyes, then it was gone."
Herilak nodded in agreement. "Animals know when they are being watched. Once I watched some longtooth and they turned because they felt my eyes. A hunter can sometimes know when there are eyes upon him."
"We are being watched now," Munan said quietly, poking at the fire. "Do not turn your heads, but get wood and when you so do look at the hill behind my back. There is something there, watching us, I am sure of that."
"Get wood, Kerrick," Herilak said. "Your eyes are good."
Kerrick rose slowly and walked a few paces, returning with some sticks that he pushed into the fire.
"I cannot be sure," he said. "There is a ridge of rock near the top of the hill, dark shadow below the rock. The animal might be there."
"There will be extra guards out tonight," Herilak said. "This is new country. There could be anything in these hills. Even murgu."
There was no alarm during the night. Before dawn Herilak woke Kerrick and they were joined by Munan. They had agreed on the stratagem the night before. Going different ways, silent as the shadows around them, they approached the rocky ledge from the sides and below. When the sun rose they were in the positions they had chosen.
When Herilak called like a bird they closed in. They met before the ledge, weapons ready, but there was nothing there. But something had been there. Kerrick pointed. "The grass has been flattened, broken in this place. Something was watching us."
"Spread out. Look for tracks," Herilak said.
It was Munan who found the mark. "Over here, in the sand. A footprint."
They bent close and looked. In silence, because there was no possible way of mistaking the creature that had made it.
"Tanu," Herilak said, standing and looking to the north. "Could the dark Tanu have followed us here?"
"That would not have been easy," Kerrick said. "And if they had done it they would have to have circled around us into the hills, to get ahead of us. This print is from different Tanu. I am sure of that."
"Tanu behind, Tanu ahead." Herilak scowled at the thought. "Must we fight then in order to hunt?"
"This Tanu did not fight—but only watched," Kerrick said. "Tanu does not always kill Tanu. Only with the cold winters did that begin. Where we are here, this far to the south, the winters are not as bad."
"What do we do?" Munan asked.
"Watch for them as well, try to talk to them," Kerrick said. "They may be afraid of us."
"I'm afraid of them," Munan said. "Afraid of a spear in the back."
"Then we are each afraid of the other," Kerrick said. "As long as we march together, with many spears and bows, these new Tanu may be too afraid to come close. If I go ahead on my own, taking just my spear, perhaps I will meet them."
"It is dangerous," Herilak said.
"All life is dangerous. There are Tanu out there, you see the print before you. If we do not try to make peaceful contact we have only one other choice. Do we want that?"
"No," Herilak said. "There is enough death without our killing each other. We will stay at this camp today. Give me your arrows and bow. Do not go too far into the hills. If nothing has happened by midday, return then. Is that understood?"
Kerrick nodded, passing over his weapons in silence. Then he watched and waited until the two hunters had returned the way they had come, down the hill towards the tents, before he turned his back on them and started slowly up the slope.
There was rock and hard soil here so that whoever had made the footprint made no others—nor did he leave any trail that could be followed. Kerrick climbed to the next ridge and looked back at the tents that were far below him now. This would be a good place for him to wait. It was open and no one could slip up on him without being seen. And if he had to flee his way was clear. He sat down, facing the valley, cradling his spear, watchful and aware.
The hills were silent, bare and empty of anything that moved, other than the ants in the sand before him. They were struggling with a dead beetle many times their size, trying to carry it to their nest. Kerrick watched the ants—and from the corners of his eyes watched around him as well.
Something itched the back of his neck and he brushed at it, but there was nothing there. He still felt something, not really an itch, but a sensation of some kind. Then he recognized it, remembered Munan's description of what he had felt. He was being watched.
Slowly he stood and turned about, looking up at the grassy slope of the hill and the stand of trees beyond. No one was visible. There were some bushes on the hillside, but they were thin and offered no cover. If he were being watched it had to be from behind the trees. He looked at them and waited, but nothing moved. If the hidden watcher was afraid then he would have to take some initiative himself. Only when he started to put his spear down did he realize that his hand was tight-gripped about the shaft. His only protection. He did not want to discard it. Yet he must if the unseen watcher—or watchers—were to believe that he came in peace. With an effort of will, and a decisiveness that he did not feel, he hurled it aside. There was still no movement under the trees.
Kerrick shuffled one foot forward, then the other. His throat was dry and the sound of his heart beat loudly in his ears as he walked slowly towards the trees. He stopped when he was a long spear throw from their cover, unable to force himself any closer. Enough. It was time for those in hiding to make a move. He raised his hands slowly, palms outward, and called out.
"I have no weapons. I come in peace."
Still no response. But was there a movement in the shadows beneath the trees? He could not be sure. He stepped back a pace and called out again.
A stirring in the darkness. An outline. Someone was standing there. Kerrick took another step backwards and the figure moved towards him, coming into the sunlight.
Kerrick's first reaction was fear. He swayed backwards but managed to control himself before he turned and ran.
The hunter had black hair and a dark skin, was beardless. But his hands were empty like Kerrick's. Nor was he wearing skins like the hunter in the foothills. There was something white bound about his head, white leather also about his loins. Not gray-white, but white as snow.
"We will talk," Kerrick called out, taking a slow step forward.
At this movement the other figure turned, almost ran back into the cover of the trees. Kerrick stopped when he saw this. The other recovered and, even at this distance, Kerrick could see that the man was shivering with fear. As soon as he realized this Kerrick sat slowly down on the grass, his hands still raised peacefully.
"I will not harm you," he called out. "Come, sit, we will talk."
After that Kerrick did not move. When his arms grew tired he lowered them and rested them palms upwards on his thighs. He hummed to himself, looked up at the sky, then around at the empty slopes, making no sudden motions that might startle the stranger.
The other hunter took a single hesitating step forward, then another. Kerrick smiled and nodded and did not move his hands. One single, shaking step at a time the other moved forward until he was less than ten paces away. Then he dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged like Kerrick, looking at him with wide and terrified eyes. Now Kerrick could see that this was no youngster. His skin was wrinkled and the black of his hair was shot through with gray. Kerrick smiled, made no other motions. The man's jaw moved and Kerrick could see his throat working, but only a harsh sound came out. He swallowed and was finally able to speak. The words came in a rush.
Kerrick could understand nothing. He smiled and nodded to give the other some assurance as the low and sibilant words continued. Then the other stopped speaking suddenly, bent forward and lowered his head.
Kerrick was baffled. He waited until the hunter had looked up again before he spoke.
"I cannot understand you. Do you know what I am saying? Do you want to know my name?" He touched his chest. "Kerrick. Kerrick." There was no response. The other just sat and watched, jaw hanging open, his eyes round and white against his dark skin. Only when Kerrick had stopped did he nod his head again. He spoke some more, then stood and walked back towards the trees. Another hunter stepped out of the shadows and handed him something. There were others moving behind him, Kerrick saw, and he gathered his legs under him, ready to stand and run. When none of them came forward he relaxed a little. But he kept watching the trees as the first one returned. The others stayed where they were.
This time the hunter came closer before he sat. Kerrick saw that he was carrying a dark bowl of some kind filled with water. He raised it in both hands and drank, then leaned far forward and put it on the ground between them.
Hunters who drink together are sharing something, Kerrick thought. It is a peaceful act. He hoped. He watched the other closely as he reached out and picked up the bowl, raised it and drank from it, returned it to the grass.
The other reached down for the bowl, picked it up and poured the remaining water onto the ground beside him. Then he tapped the bowl and said one word.
"Waliskis."
Then handed the bowl back to Kerrick. Kerrick was puzzled by the actions, but he nodded and smiled in an attempt at reassurance. He held the bowl close and saw that it was made of some dark brown substance that he could not identify; he looked at it more closely. Rough and brown, but decorated with a black pattern near the top edge. He turned it in his hands—and discovered that there was a larger design in black on the other side.
It had been well done, a clear, black silhouette. It was not a random blotch or a simple, repeated pattern. It was the figure of an animal. The tusks were obvious, the trunk as well.
It was a mastodon.
"Waliskis," the other said. "Waliskis."
Kerrick turned the bowl over and over in his hands, then touched the representation of the mastodon. The other nodded and smiled, repeating "waliskis" over and over. But what did it mean? Did these Tanu also have mastodons? There was no way to tell, not if they couldn't speak to each other. The other now pulled gently at the bowl until Kerrick released his grip, then turned and went back to the trees with it.
When he returned the bowl was filled with cooked vegetation of some kind, lumpy and white. The hunter scooped out some of the food with his fingers and ate it, then put the howl on the ground. Kerrick did the same; it tasted quite good. As soon as he did this the stranger turned and hurried back under the trees again. Kerrick waited, but he did not return.
Their meeting seemed to have ended. No one appeared when Kerrick called out, and when he went slowly across the field to look in the grove of trees he found it empty. The encounter was puzzling—but encouraging. The dark hunter had shown no weapons, but had brought water and food. Kerrick picked up the bowl, retrieved his spear, and returned to the tents. The hunters on guard called out when he appeared and Herilak ran up the hill to greet him. He tasted the food, approved of it—but had as little idea of its significance as Kerrick had.
The sammads gathered to listen when he returned, and he had to tell the story over and over again. Everyone wanted to taste the new food and the bowl was quickly empty. The bowl itself was an object of great interest. Herilak turned it over and over and tapped it with his knuckles.
"It is hard as stone—but too light to be stone. And this mastodon is just as hard. I understand none of this."
Even Fraken would not venture an opinion. This was all new to him as well. In the end Kerrick had to decide for himself.
"I'm going to go back tomorrow, in the morning, just like today. I'll bring them some meat in the bowl. Perhaps they meant to share food with us."
"Perhaps they meant for you to feed the mastodons with it?" Sorli said.
"We have no way of knowing anything," said Kerrick. "I'll bring them some of our meat. But not in their bowl. Let me bring them one of the woven trays with the designs."
Before it became dark Armun took the best tray, one that she had woven herself, and washed it clean in the river. "It is dangerous to go back," she said. "Someone else can go."
"No, these hunters know me now. And I feel that the danger is over, the worst part was when I first went up there. These new Tanu hunt these grounds and we must be at peace with them if we are to stay. And we have nowhere else to go. Now we will eat, but save the best pieces of meat to put on the tray for me to take with me."
There was no one in the, meadow below the grove when Kerrick arrived there the following morning. But when he threw his spear aside and went across the grass with the tray a familiar figure appeared under the trees. Kerrick sat down and put the tray down before him. This time the other came forward without fear and sat in the grass as well. Kerrick ate a piece of meat, then pushed the tray over and watched while the hunter took a piece and ate it with signs of pleasure. Then he turned and called out loudly. Five more hunters, all black-haired and beardless, dressed in the same manner, appeared from the grove and walked towards them.
Now it was Kerrick's turn to be fearful. He sprang to his feet and backed away. Two of the newcomers were carrying spears. They stopped when he moved and looked at him with open curiosity. Kerrick pointed at them and made motions of throwing a spear. The first hunter sensed his meaning and called back what must have been a command for they placed the spears on the grass before they started forward again.
Kerrick waited, arms folded and trying not to show concern. It all looked peaceful enough—but they could be concealing blades under their white leather. They wouldn't even need blades, the six of them could overwhelm him and kill him easily enough if they wanted to. He would have to take that chance. Either that or turn and run.
When they came closer Kerrick saw that two of them were carrying short clubs. He pointed to these and made clubbing motions. They stopped and talked among themselves, and it took them awhile to understand his meaning. Apparently the lengths of wood were not clubs at all. One of them went back to the spears and Kerrick stood ready to run again. But he was just demonstrating the use of the wooden tools. He held one in his hand and fitted the butt of his spear into a notch in the other end. Then, with the spear resting on his arm and held in place by his fingers, he leaned far back and sent the spear high into the air. It hurtled up, then fell back to the ground, plunging deep into the earth. Kerrick could not tell how the device worked, but it certainly made the spear go much further. Kerrick did not move again when the hunter dropped the wood beside the spear and came to join the others.
They grouped around him, talking excitedly in high voices, as interested in Kerrick as he was in them. They reached out tentative fingers to touch the two skymetal knives that hung from the ring about his neck, touched the ring itself with murmurs of wonder. Kerrick looked closely at their leather coverings—and realized that they weren't leather at all. When he ran his fingers over the piece that one of them had bound about his head, the hunter took it off and handed it to Kerrick. It was soft as fur, and when he looked closely he saw that it was woven like a basket, though the substance it was made from was as fine as hair. He started to hand it back but the hunter pushed it away and pointed to Kerrick's head. When he pulled it down over his hair all of them smiled and made appreciative noises.
They all seemed satisfied by this first contact and talked among themselves in low murmurs, reaching some decision. The newcomers turned and started back towards the grove. The first hunter pulled at Kerrick's arm and pointed to the others. His meaning was obvious; they wanted him to accompany them. Should he go? Perhaps all of this had only been only a ruse to capture or kill him. But they seemed so natural about it, the two spearmen even picking up their spears as they went and continuing on without looking back.
This convinced Kerrick. If it were a trap of some kind they would not have gone near the spears; other armed hunters could easily have been waiting among the trees. He had to act as if he believed their innocence. He must not show them his fears. But he was not leaving his own spear behind. He pointed back to it and started that way. The first hunter ran ahead of him and picked the spear up. Kerrick had a single pang of fright as he trotted back, spear held ready. But he merely handed it to Kerrick, then turned his back to follow the others. The tension eased a bit; perhaps they really were as peaceful as they acted. He took a deep breath; there was only one way to find out. They stopped at the edge of the grove and turned back to look at him.
Kerrick let the breath out slowly, then followed after them.
Their path took them over the top of the hill and down the other side. There was a gorge here and Kerrick realized that it had been made by the river they had been following, which looped out through the hills and back again. They followed a clearly marked path now down towards the river, until they were walking along its bank.
With each turn the rock walls rose higher, the river beside them rushed faster. They walked along a narrow bank of rock and sand that would surely be covered by the high waters of spring. Parts of the rock wall had broken loose here and the water splashed and broke into spray over giant boulders in the stream. They had to climb up an ever larger slide of tumbled stone that must have filled the deep ravine for the river now roared over and among the rocks, foaming high against the vertical rock face on the other side. The climb was getting more difficult. Kerrick looked up—and stopped suddenly.
Dark-haired, spear-armed hunters were looking down at him from above. He called out to the hunters climbing ahead of him and pointed. They looked up and understood, shouting orders that sent the others back out of sight. Kerrick went on then to the top and stood, panting, looking back the way they had come.
The mounded boulders fell away from him to the dark waters of the river, far below. High cliffs rose from the river on both sides. This natural barrier could be easily defended by the armed hunters who had drawn aside to let him pass. It was a perfect defensive position—but what was it guarding? Curiosity now replaced fear as he clambered down the inner face of the barrier and hurried after the others.
As they walked the landscape changed. The rock walls receded and sandy mounds appeared beside the river, dotted here and there with vegetation and stunted trees. After a short distance the land became flatter and greener, with low shrubs stretched out in even rows. Kerrick wondered at this regularity until they passed a group of men digging at one of the rows.
He marveled then at two things: the rows had been planted that way on purpose. And there were hunters working among the plants, doing woman's work. It was most unusual. But the Yilanè had planted fields around their city; there was no reason that Tanu could not do the same, that men should labor in them as well as women. His eyes followed the green rows to the rock wall of the valley beyond, up to the dark openings in the stone.
They passed a group of women next, all of them wrapped in the soft white substance, pointing at him and chattering in high-pitched voices. Kerrick knew that he should be feeling fear here in this valley, among these dark strangers, but he did not. If they had wanted to kill him they would certainly have done it long before this. He might still be in danger, but his curiosity was overwhelming any fears he still had. There was smoke from fires ahead, children running, the cliffs were closer—and he stopped with sudden realization.
"A city!" he said aloud. "A Tanu city, not a Yilanè one."
The hunters he had been following stopped and waited while he looked about him. Notched beams of wood, they must have been entire treetrunks, reached up the cliffside to the openings above. The beams could be climbed for he saw faces peering down at him. There was a rush and bustle here, also like a Yilanè city, with many activities he could not understand. Then he noticed that the hunter he had first met was waving him forward, towards a long, dark opening in the base of the cliff. Kerrick followed him inside and looked up at the rock wall that slanted back above. He blinked at it in the gloom, barely able to make out details after leaving the bright sunlight outside. The hunter was pointing at the rockface above.
"Waliskis," he said, the same word he had used when he pointed at the water vessel.
Kerrick looked up at the tracings in the rock and began to understand something of what the hunter was trying to say.
There were beasts there, marked out in color upon the rock, many of them like the deer that he recognized. In pride of place above them all, almost life-size, was a mastodon.
"Waliskis," the hunter said again and bowed his head towards the representation of the great beast. "Waliskis."
Kerrick nodded in agreement without understanding the significance of the painting at all. It was a good likeness, as was the black mastodon on the bowl. All of the paintings were most realistic. He reached up and touched the deer, saying deer aloud at the same time. The dark-haired hunter did not seem interested. Instead he stepped back into the sunlight and waved Kerrick after him.
Kerrick wanted to stop and look at all the fascinating activity taking place, but the other hurried him along to one of the notched logs that stretched up the cliff face. He clambered up to the ledge above, then waited for Kerrick. The climb was an easy one. There was a dark opening behind the ledge with a chamber of some kind beyond. They had to stoop to enter. There were pots and other articles on the stone floor, a heaped pile of skins to the rear. The white-clad hunter spoke and a thin voice answered from the skins and furs.
When Kerrick looked more closely he saw that someone was there, a slight figure that lay under the coverings with just the head visible. A seamed and wrinkled face. The lips worked in the toothless mouth and the whispering voice spoke again.
"Where do you come from? What is your name?'
As his eyes adjusted to the gloom of the chamber, Kerrick saw that the old one's skin, though dark with age, was as fair as his, the eyes blue. The hair that might once have been light was now gray and sparse. When the thin voice spoke again he listened and could understand most of the words. Not Marbak as he knew it, but more like that spoken by Har-Havola's sammad from beyond the mountains.
"Your name, your name," the order came again.
"I am Kerrick. I come from beyond the mountains."
"I knew it, yes I did, your hair so light. Come closer so Huanita can see you. Yes, you are Tanu. See, Sanone, did I not tell you I could still speak as they do?" The weak voice rustled with dry laughter.
Kerrick and Huanita talked then, Sanone, for that was the dark hunter's name, listening and nodding approval though he could not understand a word. Kerrick was not surprised to discover that Huanita was a woman, captured by hunters when she had been a young girl. Everything that she said was not clear and she tended to ramble. Many times she fell asleep while talking. Once when she awoke she talked to him in Sesek, the language of the Sasku, as these dark-haired people called themselves, and grew angry when he did not respond. Then she called for food and Kerrick ate as well. It was late afternoon by the time Kerrick broke off.
"Tell Sanone I must return to my sammad. But I will be back here in the morning. Tell him that."
Huanita fell asleep then, snoring and muttering, and could not be aroused. But Sanone seemed to have understood what Kerrick was going to do because he walked with him back to the rock barrier, then called out orders to the two spearmen on guard there.
Once past the barrier Kerrick ran most of the way back to the encampment by the river, trying to reach the tents before dark. Herilak must have been concerned about his day-long absence for there were hunters in the hills waiting for him, calling out eager questions. He waited until he was back among the tents and had drunk deep of the cool water before he spoke. Herilak, Fraken, and the sammadars sat close, the rest of the sammads in the circle around.
"First you must know this," Kerrick said. "These dark Tanu are called the Sasku. They are not going to fight us or drive us away. They want to be of help, even give us food, and I think that this is because of the mastodons."
There was a murmur of surprise at this and he waited until they were quiet before he went on.
"I feel just as puzzled by this as you do since I do not understand them completely. There is an old woman there who speaks in a way that I can understand, but what she says is not always clear. The Sasku do not have mastodons. But they know of them, you can see the mastodon on the bowl here, and they have a large painting of a mastodon and other animals in a cave. Again the meanings are not that clear, but something about mastodons is very important to them even though they do not have any. They have seen ours, seen that the mastodons obey us, so therefore they will aid us if they can. They do not wish to harm us. And they have many important things like stores of food set aside for the winter, bowls like this, too much to remember all at once. In the morning I return to them with Herilak. We will talk with them, with their sammadars. I do not know exactly what will happen but there is one thing that is certain. We have found a safe place for the winter."
It was more than just a refuge from the winter; it promised to be safe haven from the storms of the world that had engulfed them. The Yilanè had never been here—nor had the Sasku ever heard of them; they could understand little of what had happened to the hunters since the old woman dozed and forgot to translate such complex thoughts. What was important was that they wanted the newcomers to stay close by. This had something to do with the Harwan, the dark hunters to the north, who had always been a constant bother with their raids. The barrier in the river had begun as a natural landslide, but the Sasku had been levering boulders and rocks into it for years to construct the massive barrier that now barred access to the valley from the north. The valley beyond the rockfall widened out between its high walls and contained wooded hills, flat pastureland as well. Further to the south the high rock walls closed in again, constricting the water's flow so that the river became narrow and fierce, filled with rapids, so that no boat could pass that way. Despite these barriers the Harwan still caused trouble, coming into the valley at places where the rim was low so that the Sasku had to stay on guard at all times. None of this would happen if the sammads stayed close by; the Harwan would keep their distance then. The Sasku would be happy to supply them with food. It was an arrangement that suited everyone.
The sammads stayed in their tents by the river, for the grazing was good enough there and in the wooded highlands above. The hunting was not good, and it would have been a hungry winter had it not been for the Sasku. They were free with their food for they seemed to have an abundance of it, all grown in their fields beside the river. They asked nothing in return, though they were grateful for fresh meat after a successful hunt. If they did ask anything, it was only the privilege of seeing the mastodons, for coming close to them, for the ultimate favor of being permitted to reach out and touch their wrinkled; hairy skins.
Kerrick's pleasure was even greater than theirs since he found every aspect of the Sasku's life fascinating in the extreme. The other hunters took no interest at all in the Sasku, even laughing at the males who grubbed in the dirt like women. Kerrick understood the Sasku better, saw the relationship between their work in their fields and the pastured animals of the Yilanè, understanding the security that was guaranteed by a food supply that did not move about with the seasons. Since there were more hunters than game, the hunters of the sammads were pleased to see him spending so much time with the Sasku. He stayed many nights in the rock-carved rooms and in the end brought Armun and all their furs and goods to the rock chambers in the cliff. They were made welcome, the women and children gathering around in admiration of her fair looks, hesitantly touching her shoulder-length hair.
Armun proved to be very quick at picking up the language spoken by the Sasku. Kerrick went often to the old woman, Huanita, and learned some of the Sasku words from her and their way of speaking. Armun was eager to learn these as well and practiced them on the other women when he was away. They laughed and covered their mouths when she spoke, and she smiled because she knew that there was no malice in their laughter. When they finally understood what she was trying to say they would speak the words correctly, over and over for her, as though she were a child, and she would repeat after them. In a short time she was the one who was teaching Kerrick and he no longer had to rely on the old woman and her senile vagaries.
With Armun working hard to learn the new language, Kerrick could devote all of his time to investigating the fascinating activities and skills of the Sasku. He discovered that the hard bowls were really made from soft clay found in a thin layer in one particular hillside. The clay was molded and shaped while still wet, then put in an immensely hot oven to dry, an oven shaped from stones and more of the clay itself. Wood burned beneath it day and night and the heat worked a change that turned clay to stone.
Of even greater interest were the fibers they used for ropes and cord, that they wove into cloth to be made into clothing. These came from a little green plant called charadis. The seeds were not only good to eat, but when hammered and pressed produced an oil with many uses. However it was the stems of the plant that were of most value.
The charadis stalks were put into shallow ponds and heavy rocks were placed on top of them to hold them under water. After a certain time the soggy stalks were removed and dried in the sun, then beaten on stone slabs. Special wooden tools with prongs were used to rake out and separate the fibers, which the women then twisted and spun into strong lengths. Many of these lengths could be wound together to make cords and ropes, which were then knotted into nets for fishing and catching animals. Best of all, the thin lengths were stretched on wooden frames, many of them, close together. Then the women wove other threads back and forth between them to make the white fabric that Armun so greatly admired. She soon discarded her skins and furs and dressed as the other women did in the soft charadis cloth.
Armun was happy among the Sasku, happier than she had ever been in her life before. Her baby would be born soon and she was grateful that she was warm and comfortable here and not spending the winter in a cold tent. She had no desire, big as she was, to climb the barrier of stone to go back to the sammads by the river for the birth. But this was not the important reason. Her sammad was here, Kerrick her sammadar. She dated the beginning of her real life from the moment he had looked into her face and had not laughed. The Sasku did not laugh at her either, taking no notice of her divided lips at all, lost as they were in admiration of her fair skin, her hair as pale as charadis. That is what they called it, for it was almost as white as the cloth itself. She felt at home among them, talking easily now in their language, learning to spin and cook the crops that they grew. The baby would be born here.
Kerrick did not question the decision, was pleased by it if anything. The cleanliness of the stone caves, the soft luxury of the woven cloth, was far superior to the windy tents and vermin-ridden furs. Life with the Sasku was, in many ways, like the bustle of life in a Yilanè city, though he did not often make this observation consciously. He did not like to think of the Yilanè at all, and let his thoughts slip away from them whenever some chance resemblance brought them to mind. The mountains and desert were a barrier: the Yilanè could not find them here. That was the way it should be. He had responsibilities now and they took precedence over everything. The birth was the important thing. Though only to him and Armun. Another birth was of greater importance to the Sasku and it was all that they could talk about.
The mastodon cow, Dooha, was also giving birth. This would be her fourth calf so that she and the sammads accepted it as a natural occurrence.
Not so the Sasku. Kerrick was beginning to understand some of the reverence that they had for the mastodons. They knew many things about the world that the Tanu did not, in particular they knew about the spirits of the beasts and rocks, about what lay beyond the sky, where the world had come from and what the future would be like. They had special persons called manduktos who did nothing except pay attention to such matters. Sanone was first among them and led them, just as the manduktos led the rest of the Sasku. His powers were very much like that of a Yilanè eistaa. Therefore, when he sent for him Kerrick went at once to the cave. Sanone sat before the image of the mastodon and waved Kerrick to sit beside him.
"You have journeyed a great distance to reach this valley," Sanone said. Like the Tanu the Sasku came slowly to the subject at hand. "And you battled with the murgu who walk like men. We have never seen murgu like this so you must tell me of them."
Kerrick had told him often about the Yilanè but he did so once again knowing that this was a step along the way to whatever reason Sanone had for this visit.
"Such killing, such creatures!" Sanone trembled when he thought about the evil the Yilanè had done. "And they killed not only Tanu but mastodon as well?" There was unconcealed horror in his voice when he said this.
"They did."
"You know a little our reverence for the mastodons. You have looked at the painting above me. I will now tell why these great creatures are held in such esteem. In order to know this you must understand how the world came into being. It was the creator, Kadair, who made the world as you see it now. He made the water to run, the rain to fall, the crops to grow. He made it all. When he made the world it was solid rock and barren. Then he took the form of a mastodon. When the mastodon-who-was-Kadair stamped his feet the rock opened and the valley was formed. The mastodon's trunk sprayed water and the river ran. From the mastodon's dung the grass grew and the world was fertile. This was how the world began. When Kadair left, the mastodon stayed behind to remind us always of what he had done. This is why we worship the mastodon. Now you understand."
"I do and am honored to hear of these things."
"The honor is ours to have you here. For you lead the people who tend the mastodon and you have led them here. For this we are grateful. The manduktos gathered last night and talked of this, and then we watched the stars all the rest of the night. There were portents there, burning fire in the sky, trails of fire all pointing this way. There is meaning in these things. We know them to mean that Kadair had guided the sammads here for some hidden reason. Last night that reason became clear. You were guided here so that we could witness the birth of the mastodon calf."
Now Sanone leaned forward and there was great concern in his voice when he spoke. "Can the cow be brought here? It is important that the calf be born here with the manduktos in attendance. I cannot tell you why this is important because that is a mystery we must not speak about. I can assure you there will be great gifts if you will permit this. Will you do it?"
Kerrick respected their beliefs, though he did not understand them, so he spoke with care. "I would say yes at once, but it is not for me to decide. The sammadar who owns the cow named Dooha will decide. I will talk with him and tell them of the importance of this."
"It is of an importance that you cannot understand. Go to this sammadar. I will send manduktos with you, bearing gifts, so our sincerity will be clear."
Armun was sleeping when he returned. Kerrick moved silently so as not to awaken her. He bound on his leggings with the thick soles and left. Sanone was waiting on the ground below. Two of the younger manduktos were with him, bent under the weight of the woven baskets on their backs.
"They will accompany you," Sanone said. "When you have spoken with the sammadar you will tell them if our request has been granted. They will run here with the news."
Kerrick was glad to stretch his legs; it had been a long time since he been to the campsite. At the rock barrier he saw that the river was high; the snow was melting in the distant valleys. Once past the barrier he pushed on at a steady pace, then had to stop and wait for the heavily laden manduktos to catch up with him. The sun was warm and the spring rains had turned the grass green. Blue flowers were springing up on the hillside. He pulled off a long stem of sweet grass and chewed on it while he was waiting for the manduktos.
They went on, through the small stand of trees and out into the meadow where he had first met Sanone. He could see the river from here and the campsite beside it.
It was empty, deserted.
The sammads were gone.
Kerrick was surprised by the disappearance of the sammads, even a little disturbed, but the effect on the two manduktos was astonishing. They dropped to their knees and wailed pitifully. Their unhappiness was so great that they paid no attention to Kerrick when he spoke, and he had to pull at them to draw their attention.
"We will follow them, find them. They won't have moved very far."
"But they are gone, perhaps destroyed, vanished from this earth, the mastodons dead," the younger one moaned.
"It is nothing like that. The Tanu of the sammads are not bound to one place like the Sasku. They have no fields or rock dwellings to live in. They must move always to find food, to search for better hunting. They have been in their camp all this winter. They will not have gone far or they would have sought me out and told me. Come, we will follow them, find them."
As always, the tracks of a sammad on the move were easy enough to make out. The deep ruts first pointed north, then swung west into the low hills. They had been walking for only a short time when Kerrick saw the thin twists of smoke rising up ahead and pointed this out to the relieved manduktos. The grooves and tracks led back to the river, to a place where the high bank had been broken and trampled, leaving a trail down to the water. The manduktos, their earlier fears now replaced by excitement at the sight of the mastodons, hurried forward. Some children saw their approach and ran shouting with the news. Herilak strode forth to greet them, smiling at Kerrick's white clothing.
"Better than furs in the summer—but you would freeze in a real winter. Come, sit with us and smoke a pipe and you will tell me of the happenings in the valley."
"That I will do. But first you must send for Sorli. These Sasku have gifts for him—and a request."
Sorli was summoned and smiled with pleasure at the baked cakes of ground meal, the sweet, fresh roots, even some of the rare and highly regarded honey. The manduktos looked on anxiously while he poked through the baskets, were relieved at his smiles.
"This will be good eating after the winter. But why do they bring such gifts to my sammad?"
"I will tell you," Kerrick said in a serious voice, pointing to the gifts and the manduktos while he spoke. "But you must not smile or laugh at what I say, for this is a serious matter to these people. Think of all the food they have given us, all the food to come. You know how they have great reverence for the mastodons?"
"I do. I do not understand it, but it must be of some importance or they would not act as they do."
"Of greatest importance. Were it not for the mastodons I do not think they would have helped us at all. Now they have a request. They ask for your permission to bring the cow Dooha into the valley so that her calf will be born there. They promise to feed and tend to her during the birth. Will you agree to that?"
"They wish to keep her? I cannot let them to that."
"They won't keep Tier. She'll just be there until her calf is born."
"In that case she will go. Where the calf is born is of no importance."
"But you must make it sound important, in the way that you talk. They are listening closely."
Sorli turned slowly to face the two manduktos, raising his hands palm outwards. "It shall be done as you ask. I will take Dooha there myself, today."
Kerrick repeated his words in the language of the Sasku, and the manduktos bent low in honored acceptance.
"You will thank this sammadar," the older mandukto said. "Tell him that our gratitude will never cease. Now we must return with the word."
Sorli looked after their retreating backs and shook his head. "I don't understand it—and I'm not going to try to. But we will eat their food and ask no more questions."
There was a feast then, and all of the sammads shared the fresh food. Kerrick, who had eaten like this all of the winter, did not touch the Sasku food; instead he took great pleasure in chewing on a piece of tough smoked meat. When they were done, the stone pipe was lit and passed and Kerrick drew on it gratefully.
"Is this site better than the old one?" he asked.
"For now," Herilak said. "The grazing is better for the beasts here, but the hunting is just as bad. We have had to go as far as the mountains to find game, and that is dangerous for the dark ones hunt there as well."
"What will you do then? The hunting may be bad—but there is all the food we need from the Sasku."
"That is good for one winter—but not for a lifetime. The Tanu live by hunting, not begging. There may be hunting to the south, but we have found that there are barren and waterless hills on the way and they are hard to pass. Perhaps we should try."
"I have talked to the Sasku about these hills. There are some valleys there where there is good hunting. But the Kargu, that is what they call the dark ones, are already there. That way is closed. Have you looked to the west?"
"Five days once we walked out into the sand, then we had to turn back. It was desert still, nothing growing except the spine plants."
"I have talked to the Sasku about that as well. They say that there are forests if you are able to reach the other side. Most important, I think that they may know the trail across the desert."
"Then you must ask them. If we can cross and find a place that has good hunting, without murgu there, why, then the world will be as it used to be, before the cold, before the margu came." Herilak's face fell as he spoke and he stared, unseeing, at the dead fire.
"Do not think of them," Kerrick said. "They will not find us here."
"They will not leave my thoughts. In my dreams I march with my sammad. See them, hear them, the hunters, the women and children, the great mastodons pulling the travois. We laugh and eat fresh meat. Then I awake and they are dead, dust blowing on that distant shore, white bones in the sand. When I have these dreams, then all these sammads about me are strangers and I want to leave and go far away. I want to go east back over the mountains, to find the murgu and kill as many as I can, before I die as well. Then perhaps in the stars I will find peace. My tharm will not dream. The pain of memory will end."
The big hunter's fists were clamped tight, but his fingers only closed on empty air, for the enemies he fought were as invisible as his thoughts. Kerrick understood, for his hatred of the Yilanè had been just as strong. But now, with Armun, his child on the way, the life among the Sasku was as full as he had ever wished. He could not forget the Yilanè, but they were in the past and now he wanted only to live in the present.
"Come to the place of the Sasku," he said. "We will talk with the manduktos. They have knowledge of many things, and if there is a way across the desert they will know about it. If the sammads do go there you will have the twin barriers of the desert and the mountains behind you. The murgu will never cross both of them. You can forget them then."
"I would like to. More than I desire anything else I would like to put them from my mind during the day, from my dreams at night. Yes, let us go and talk with the dark ones."
Herilak was not like the other hunters who laughed at the Sasku who worked here in the fields, strong males digging in the dirt like women instead of stalking game as real hunters should. He had eaten the food raised here, had lived well through the Winter because of it. When Kerrick showed him how the plants were grown and stored, he listened with close attention.
He saw how the tagaso was dried, with the tasseled, yellow ears still on the stalks, then hung from wooden frames.
There were rats here, mice as well, who would have grown fat on this provident food supply had it not been for the donsemnilla who kept their numbers down. These sleek, long-nosed creatures, many of them with their young hanging on their mother's backs, tiny tails wrapped about her larger one, stalked the vermin in the darkness, killed and ate them.
They stopped to watch the women who were scraping the dried kernels from the ears, then grinding them between two stones. This flour was mixed with water and heated before the fire. Herilak ate some of the cakes, still hot enough to burn his fingers, dipping them in honey and biting on the hot peppers that brought pleasureful tears to his eyes.
"This is good food," he said.
"And always abundant. They plant it, harvest it, and store it as you have seen."
"I have. I have also seen that as they depend on the green fields, so do the fields depend on them. They must stay in this one place forever. That is not for everyone. If I could not roll my tent and move on I do not think I would find life worth living at all."
"They might feel the same way about you. They might miss returning to the same fire in the evening, not seeing the same fields in the morning."
Herilak thought about this and nodded agreement. "Yes, that is possible. You are the one who sees things in a different way, Kerrick, perhaps because of all those years living with the murgu."
He broke off when he heard someone calling Kerrick's name. One of the Sasku women was hurrying towards them, crying out in a shrill voice. Kerrick looked worried. "The baby has been born," he said.
He ran off and Herilak followed at a more leisurely pace. Kerrick was concerned because Armun had been so upset of late. She wept daily and all of her earlier fears had returned. The baby would be a girl and would look like her, then it would be laughed at and scorned just as she had been. Kerrick could do nothing to change her mind; only the birth itself would remove her black doubts. The women here were skilled in these things, he had been told. He sincerely hoped that they were as he clambered up the notched log to their quarters.
One look at her face told him all that he need to know. All was well at last.
"Look," she said, unwrapping the white cloths that swaddled the infant. "Look. A boy to make his father proud. As handsome and as strong."
Kerrick, who had no experience of infants, thought it wrinkled, bald, and red, nothing like him at all, but had the intelligence to keep his opinions to himself.
"What is his name to be?" Armun asked.
"Whatever you like for now. He will be given a hunter's name when he is grown."
'Then we will name him Arnwheet, for I wish him to be as strong as that bird, as handsome and as free."
"A good name," Kerrick agreed. "For the Arnwheet is also a good hunter with the best eyesight. Only an Arnwheet can hang from the wind, then drop and take its prey. Arnwheet will become a great hunter when he begins life with a name like that."
When Kerrick called down to him Herilak climbed easily up the notched log to the rooms above. He went inside and saw that Armun was nursing the baby, surrounded by a circle of admiring women. Kerrick stood proudly to one side. The women brought her food, jugs of water, whatever she needed. Herilak nodded approval.
"Look at the strength in those hands," he said. "How they clutch, the muscles working in those mighty arms. There is a great hunter there."
Herilak admired the luxury of the surroundings as well. The clay pots holding water and food, the woven mats and soft cloth. Kerrick took a finely carved wooden box from a ledge and held it out to him.
"Another secret that the Sasku have is here. Let me show you. With this you no longer need to drill wood or carry fire with you."
Herilak looked on in wonder as Kerrick took a lump of dark rock from the box, then another polished stone with grooves scratched in its surface. He next took up a pinch of powdered wood. With a quick motion he struck one stone with the other—and a spark flew into the wood. He had only then to blow on it and it burst into flame. Herilak took the two lumps of rock in his hand and wondered at them.
"There is fire captured in this rock," he said, "and the other stone releases it. The Sasku do indeed have strange and powerful secrets."
Kerrick carefully put the box away. Herilak went to the ledge outside and marveled at all the activity below, and when Kerrick joined him he pointed and asked Kerrick to tell him about it. Herilak listened closely as he explained the spinning and weaving, then showed him where the smoking oven was, the oven where the pots were fired.
"And there, on those racks, those red spots are the chilies that brought tears to your eyes. They are dried then crushed. Inside the bins are the sweet roots, different kinds of squash as well. They are good when baked, and even the seeds are ground into flour. There is always food here, no one is ever hungry."
Herilak saw his enthusiasm and happiness. "Will you remain here?" he asked.
Kerrick shrugged. "That I do not know yet. It is familiar to me, living in a place like this, for I lived for many years in the city of the Yilanè. There is no hunger and the winters are warm."
"Your son will dig in the ground like a woman instead of following the deer."
"He doesn't have to. The Sasku hunt deer, with their spear-throwers they do it very well."
Herilak said nothing more about this, but his feelings were clear in the way he held his head when he looked about him. This was all very interesting, good enough for those born here, but in no way comparable to the life of a hunter. Kerrick did not want to argue with him. He looked from Herilak to the Sasku digging in the fields and could understand them both—even as he had understood the Yilanè. Not for the first time did he feel suspended in life, neither hunter nor tiller of fields, Ter or marag. They went inside then and his eyes went to Armun holding their son and knew that he had a base now, a sammad of his own no matter how small. Armun saw this look in his face and smiled at him and he smiled back. One of the women came from the cave mouth and whispered to him.
"A mandukto is here and would talk to you."
The mandukto stood on the ledge, wide-eyed and trembling. "It has been as Sanone said. The mastodon is born—as is your son. Sanone asks to talk with you."
"Go to him. Say that I come with Herilak." He turned back to the big hunter. "We will see what Sanone wants. Then we will talk to the manduktos, find out if there really is a way across the desert to the west."
Kerrick knew where to find Sanone at this time of day, for the afternoon sun was slanting across the valley, shining into the cavern at the base of the cliff to illuminate the paintings on the rock wall there. Like Fraken, Sanone knew many things and could recite them from the rise of the sun in the morning to the darkness at night. But Sanone shared his knowledge with the other manduktos, the young ones in particular. He would chant and they would repeat what he said and learn his words. Kerrick was permitted to listen, and recognized the honor in this for only other manduktos were normally permitted to hear what was being said.
When they came close Kerrick saw that Sanone was sitting cross-legged before the great mastodon painting, looking up at it, while three of the younger manduktos sat before him, listening intently.
"We will wait here until he is done," Kerrick said. "He is telling the others about Kadair."
"What is that?"
"Not what, who. They do not talk of Ermanpadar here, they do not know how he shaped the Tanu from the mud of the river. They speak instead of Kadair, who in the guise of a mastodon walked the earth alone. He was so lonely that he stamped his feet on the black rock so hard that it cracked open and the first Sasku came out."
"They believe this?"
"Yes, very strongly. It is very meaningful to them. They know of many other things, spirits in the rocks and the water, but all of these were made by Kadair. Everything."
"Now I see why they welcomed us here, gave us food. We brought them the mastodons. Do they have any of their own?"
"No. They just know of them from the paintings. They believe we brought them the mastodons for an important reason. Now that the calf has been born they may know the reason. I do not understand everything about it, but it is of great importance. The young ones are leaving, we can talk to Sanone now."
Sanone came forward to greet them, smiling with pleasure.
"The mastodon calf is born, did you know that? And I have just been informed that your child has been born as well. This is a matter of great import." He hesitated. "Has your son been named yet?"
"Yes. He is called Arnwheet which means the hawk in our language."
Sanone hesitated, then lowered his head as he spoke.
"There is a reason for these births on the same day, just as there is a reason for everything that happens in this world. You led the mastodon here, and that was for a reason. Your son was born the same day as the calf, and that was for a reason. You have named him Arnwheet and you know well the reason for that. This is our request. We wish that your son's name be given the calf as well. This is of great importance to us. Do you think that the sammadar will permit this to be done?"
Kerrick did not smile at this strange request, for he knew how seriously Sanone and the others took their beliefs. "It will be arranged. I am sure that the sammadar will agree to this."
"We will send more gifts to please the sammadar and to convince him to agree to this request."
"He will agree. Now I have a request in return. This is Herilak who is the leader in battle of the waliskis people."
"Tell him that we welcome him here, for his victories in battle brought the waliskis to us. His arrival has been known to us. The manduktos will gather and we will drink the porro that has been made for this occasion."
Herilak was puzzled when Kerrick told him what was happening. "They knew that I was coming? How can that be?"
"I don't know how they do it, but I do know they can see the future far better than old Fraken can with his owl vomitings. There are many things I still do not understand about them."
The manduktos gathered in silence, bringing the large covered pots with them. They were finely made and each had a black mastodon baked into its surface. The drinking cups were also decorated in the same manner. Sanone himself dipped each cup into the frothy brown liquid, handing the first one he filled to Herilak. Kerrick sipped at his and found the porro bitter but strangely satisfying. He gulped the contents down, just as the others did, and the cup was refilled.
Very quickly a strange dizziness went through his head, which began to feel very light. He could tell by Herilak's expression that he was feeling this as well.
"This is the water of Kadair," Sanone intoned. "Kadair comes to us through this and shows he is watching and listening."
Kerrick was beginning to realize that Kadair was more powerful than he had suspected.
"Kadair guided the waliskis people here, that is known. When the calf was born the child of Kerrick was also born so that Kerrick could give them the name. Now the leader of the waliskis people comes to us for guidance for he seeks a way across the desert to the west."
When Kerrick translated this Herilak's eyes were wide with awe. These people could read the future. He listened intently as Sanone went on, waiting for Kerrick to tell him the meaning of what was being said.
"The waliskis people will leave us for their work is done. The manifestation of Kadair on earth is here. The calf Arnwheet is here and will remain with us. This is what shall be."
Herilak accepted this without question. He believed now that Sanone could see the future, and what he spoke would come to pass. Some of the dizziness was going from Kerrick's head and he hoped that Sorli would feel the same way about the loss of the calf. Yet it was a good bargain for they had been fed for the entire winter by the Sasku.
Sanone pointed to a young mandukto and called him forward.
"This is Meskawino who is strong and will show you the way across the desert. I will tell him the secret of the pools of water in the empty wilderness and he will remember. I will tell him the signs to look for and he will remember. No one alive has crossed the desert but the way is remembered."
The sammads would leave, Kerrick knew. But would he be going with them? Their decision was an easy one—his was not. What was his future going to be? He thought of asking Sanone, but was almost afraid to hear the answer. His cup was refilled with the porro and he seized it up and drank it greedily.
This was the valley of the Sasku. A wide and rich valley that stretched between the protecting rock walls, high and impassable. In the beginning there had only been solid rock here, but that had been cut through by Kadair on the first day after the world was born. Or so it was taught. Nenne believed this for the evidence was right before his eyes. Who but Kadair could have had the power to slice solid rock as though it were soft mud? Kadair who had torn the earth and rock apart, then scratched the bed of the river into the valley bottom, then filled it with fresh water. All this was obvious. Nenne sat in the shadow of the ledge and thought about these things, for he always listened closely and remembered when Sanone talked of such matters. Thoughts like these filled his mind as he watched and guarded their valley. Only Kadair could cut through the rock in an instant, but it was true that even the strongest rock wore away in time. The walls of the valley had fallen away in this place, leaving a slope of rock and scree that could be climbed. The Sasku went this way when they left the valley to hunt. That is why Nenne sat and watched the slope now, for where they could go out others could come in. The Kargu hunted in the hills beyond.
Nenne caught a quick movement up among the rocks, but it was gone in an instant. An animal perhaps, or a bird. Perhaps not. The Sasku did not trouble the Kargu as long as they kept their distance. They were even permitted to come in peace to trade their meat for cloth or pots. But they had to be watched. They preferred to steal, in any case. And they stank. They lived in the open like animals, and were certainly closer to animals than they were to the Sasku, even though they could speak. But they did not speak well and their furs smelled, they smelled. The flash of movement came again and Nenne leaped to his feet, his spear in his hand.
There was something there, something big, moving between the large boulders. Nenne fitted the spear to his spear-thrower, stretched it out along his arm.
The Kargu scrambled into view. He must be tired for he paused often to rest. Nenne watched, unmoving, until he was sure that this one was alone. The place where he stood guard had been chosen because it commanded the trail below. Anyone entering the valley here must pass by him. As soon as he was sure that there were no others following the Kargu, Nenne dropped silently from the ledge.
There was the sound of sliding rocks, then the slow thud of running feet. The hunter passed between the tall pillars of stone that stood like sentries at the top of the cutting. As soon as he had passed Nenne jumped out and slammed the butt of his spear hard into the interloper's back. The Kargu screamed hoarsely and fell. Nenne stepped on his wrist then kicked the other's spear away, pushed the point of his own spear into the filthy furs that covered the Kargu's stomach.
"Your kind are not permitted in the valley."
A twist of the spearpoint made the message clear. The Kargu glared up at him, dark eyes framed by his matted beard and hair.
"I go through… to hills after," he said thickly.
"You go back. Or you stay here forever."
"Faster going through. To other sammads."
"You came here to steal, nothing else. Your kind do not pass through our valley, you must know that. Why are you trying to do that now?"
Reluctantly and clumsily the Kargu told him why.
The porro was finished and Kerrick was glad of it. It had done strange things to his head. Whether they were good or bad things, he wasn't sure. He stood and stretched, then went outside the picture-filled cavern where Herilak joined him. They watched as Sanone led the manduktos in solemn procession to the newborn mastodon calf where it rested on a bed of straw. They chanted in unison and Sanone rubbed red pigment onto the creature's tiny trunk. Its mother did not appear to be concerned by the attention; she chewed calmly on a green branch. Kerrick was about to speak when moving figures at the riverbank drew his attention. One of them, with dark hair and dressed in furs, had to be a Kargu, and he wondered at his presence here. He knew that the hunters came sometimes to trade, but this one was empty-handed; the Sasku walking behind him carried two spears. He jabbed the Kargu with one of them and pointed towards Sanone, ordering the hunter in that direction.
"What is it?" Herilak asked. "What is happening?"
"I don't know. Let me listen."
"This one came into the valley," Nenne said. "I brought him to you, Sanone, for you to hear what he has to say." He prodded with the spear again. "Speak. What you told me."
The Kargu looked around, scowling, rubbing the sweat from his face with a filthy hand, smearing the dirt there even more.
"I was in the hills, hunting alone," he said reluctantly. "All night by a waterhole. Deer never came. Went back to the tents this morning. All dead."
A cold premonition seized Kerrick as Sanone spoke. "Dead? Your sammad? What happened to them?"
"Dead. Arderidh the sammadar, no head." He made a swiping motion across his throat with his finger. "No spear, no arrow. All dead. Just these."
He dug inside his furs and took out a folded scrap of leather and opened it slowly. Kerrick knew as he unwrapped it, knew what he would see there.
Small, pointed, feathered.
Darts from a hèsotsan.
"They have followed! They are here!"
Herilak bellowed the words aloud, a roar of mighty pain. His fist lashed out and smote the Kargu's arm so hard that the hunter screeched in pain. The darts fell to the ground and Herilak ground them underfoot.
The Sasku looked on in amazement, unable to understand, and Sanone looked to Kerrick for some explanation. But Kerrick felt the same mixture of black anger and fear as Herilak did. He drew in a shuddering breath and forced out the words.
"It is them. From the south. The murgu. The murgu who walk like Tanu. They are coming again."
"Are these the murgu you told me of? The ones you have fled from?"
"The same. Murgu of a kind you have never seen nor thought possible. They walk and talk and build cities and kill Tanu. They killed my sammad, they killed Herilak's sammad. Every hunter, every woman, every child. Every mastodon. Dead."
At these last words Sanone nodded with solemn understanding. He had given this matter much thought ever since Kerrick had first told him about the murgu. He had not spoken of it until now; he had not been sure. The surety came now for it had been taught, and he knew the teachings, and he knew that there was only one creature that would dare to kill a mastodon.
"Karognis…"he said, in a voice so filled with loathing that those closest to him shivered and stepped back. "The Karognis is loose on the land and is now close to us."
Kerrick was only half-listening for he was not interested in what Sanone was saying. "What do we do, Herilak? Do we flee once again?"
"If we flee again they will only follow again. Now I know the meaning of my dreams. This is the day that I saw coming. I will meet them and I will fight. Then I will die. But it will be a warrior's death for many of the murgu will die with me."
"No," Kerrick said, the word harsh as a slap across the face. "That would be good if you were one man and wanted to die. But you are the sacripex. Do you want the hunters and the sammads to die with you? Have you forgotten that the murgu are as numberless as the sands upon the shore? In open battle we can only lose. So now you must tell me. Are you the sacripex who will lead us in battle—or are you the hunter Herilak who wishes to go alone against the murgu and die?"
The big hunter was a head taller than Kerrick and stood looking down at him, his hands opening and closing now, hands that could reach out and kill. Yet Kerrick was as angry as he, staring back at him in cold silence, waiting for his answer.
"Those are harsh words, Kerrick. No one speaks to Herilak in that manner."
"As margalus I speak to the sacripex. To the hunter Herilak I would speak differently, for his pain is mine." His voice softened now. "It is your choice, great Herilak, and no one can decide for you."
Herilak stared down in silence, his fists now clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. Then he nodded slowly, and when he spoke there was understanding and respect in his words.
"And so shall the son teach the father. You make me remember that I forced a choice upon you once, and you listened to me and you left the murgu and became a Tanu hunter once again. If you could do that, then I must do my duty as sacripex and forget what I saw in my dreams. But you are margalus. You must tell us what the murgu are doing."
The incident was over, forgotten. Now there were decisions to be made. Kerrick looked at the Kargu hunter, eyes unfocused and looking through him, deep in thought, seeing instead the Yilanè and the fargi who had come here. Trying to see what they were doing and how were they doing it. The Kargu moved uneasily under his unseeing gaze as long moments passed before Kerrick spoke to him.
"You are a hunter. You found your sammad dead. What tracks did you find, what sign?"
"Many tracks, those of beasts I have never seen before. Came from south, go back south."
Kerrick felt a sudden leap of hope. He turned to Herilak, translated the Kargu's words. Groped to divine the meaning of the Yilanè movements.
"If they returned they must have been part of a larger body. A small group of fargi would not come this far, it would be impossible. Their creatures fly, they know where we are before they attack. They knew the Kargu were camped in that place so they attacked swiftly and slaughtered them. That means they know where the sammads are. And they know about the Sasku and this valley."
Sanone's words broke through his thoughts, drawing his attention back to the present.
"What is happening? I understand none of this."
"I spoke of the murgu who walk like men," Kerrick said. "They are coming now from the south, in great numbers I believe. They want only to kill us. They have ways of knowing where we are well before they attack."
"Will they attack us as well? What will they do?" Sanone asked, an echo of Herilak's same question.
"They will know about this valley. They will kill everyone here because you are Tanu."
Would they do that? Kerrick thought. Yes, of course. They would surely attack the sammads at the encampment first, then come here. But when? They would have to swing wide around the valley, might even be doing that now. But would they strike now, this very afternoon? It was a terrible thought that at this very moment the sammads might be under attack, destroyed. No, the Yilanè did not think that way. Find the prey, lie up overnight, attack at dawn. They had done this in the past, it had always succeeded in the past, they would not change it now. He turned swiftly to Herilak.
"The murgu will attack the sammads at the encampment in the morning, I am sure of it. Tomorrow morning or the next one at the latest."
"I go now to warn them. The sammads must leave at once."
He turned and ran and Kerrick called after him.
"Where will you go? Where can you flee that they cannot follow?"
Herilak spun about, faced Kerrick and his distasteful facts.
"Where? North, that might be best, to the snows. They cannot follow us there."
"They are too close. They will catch you in the hills."
"Then where?"
Where? As Herilik cried the words aloud Kerrick could see the answer clearly. He pointed to the ground.
"Here. Behind the rock barrier, in this valley with no exit. Let the murgu come after us. Let them face the death-sticks and the arrows and the spears. Let their darts strike the hard rock instead of us. Let us lie and wait for them. They will not pass. They will think they have trapped us here—but it is we who will have trapped them. We have food and water here, strong spears to aid us.
"Let them attack us and die. I think that the time for running away has come to an end." He turned to face Sanone, for their survival depended upon him now. "The decision is up to you, Sanone. The sammads can go north—or we can come into this valley and wait for the murgu attack. If you let us in you risk the lives of all your people. They may not attack…"
"They will," Sanone said with calm assurance. "For now the future has become as clear as the past. We have lived in this valley, gathering our strength, waiting for the mastodon to return. You have done that, brought them to us so that we may defend them. In the mastodon is the power of Kadair. Outside is the Karognis seeking to destroy that power. You do not know about the Karognis but we do. As Kadair is the light and the sun, so is the Karognis the night and the darkness. As Kadair put us on earth, so does the Karognis seek to destroy us. We know of the Karognis's existence, knew that he would come one day, and now we know his guise, know that he has come. These murgu are more than you think they are—and they are less. They are strong—but they are the Karognis on Earth and war against Kadair and his people. That is why you came to us, that is why the mastodon child Arnwheet was born. He is Kadair incarnate. We are here to see that the Karognis is stopped. Call them in, all of them, quickly. The battle is about to begin."
"How ugly these creatures are," Vaintè said. "If anything this one is uglier than most."
She put out one foot and turned the severed head over with her claws. There was dust now on the face and hair, caked into the dried blood of the neck.
"Different as well," Stallan said, poking the head with her hèsotsan. "See how dark the fur is. This is a new type of ustuzou. All of the others had white skins and white fur. This one is dark. But these creatures also had sticks with sharp stones attached to them, wore scraps of dirty fur about their bodies."
"Ustuzou," Vaintè said firmly. "In need of killing."
She dismissed Stallan with a movement of her arm and looked about at the organized bustle of the fargi. The sun was still well above the horizon, as it always was now when they stopped for the night, for there were many preparations to be made. While the uruktop were being unloaded and fed, other fargi were spreading the sensitive vines out in circles around the camping place. Nothing could approach now in the dark without being detected. The light-creatures had been bred to be much brighter now, and were slightly sentient so that they pointed at the area that had been disturbed, washing it with eye-burning light. Of greater interest were the bundles of melikkasei that the fargi were carefully unrolling beyond the vines. A new development, plants that were photosensitive and harmless to handle during the daylight hours. But after dark poisonous thorns sprang up from their recesses, the death in their sharp tips ready for any creature that might touch them during the night. They retracted only when the sky was bright again.
A squat Yilanè slowly approached Vaintè. Okotsei, slow and ugly with age—but possessing a brain second to none. It was Okotsei who had developed the creatures that could see and record images by starlight. She had been improving the process ever since, so that now she had her flying beasts in the air night and day—and the pictures they brought back were available almost as soon as they had returned. Okotsei extended a handful of flat sheets as soon as she had caught Vaintè's attention.
"What is this?" Vaintè asked.
"What you requested, Eistaa. These were taken soon after dawn this morning."
Vaintè took the pictures and looked through them carefully. There was no change. Long shadows stretched from the skin cones by the river, reaching out as well from the mastodons in the field nearby. No change. The fears that had possessed her three days ago when the camping place had been discovered empty had proven groundless. The brutes had not fled but had just moved from one site to another. They were not alarmed; the presence of her striking force was still undetected.
"Show me this same place on the larger picture," she said.
The birds flew by night and by day, close to the ground and high in the sky. There was no escape for the ustuzou now. This new picture, taken by a high-soaring raptor, revealed vast stretches of river, the river valley as well, and large parts of the surrounding countryside. Okotsei tapped it with her thumb.
"This is the place where we slept last night. Now this is the ustuzou lair that was destroyed, where that head in the dirt came from." Her thumb moved. "We are at this place now. The ustuzou you are searching for are here, by the river."
"They are the ones I seek, you are certain of that?"
"I am certain only that they are the only group on this side of the snow-mountains that have mastodons with them. There are other ustuzou packs here, here and here. A larger group is in this valley by the river. Further to the north, beyond this picture, there are more of the creatures. But nowhere, except in this one place, are there any mastodons. On the eastern side of the mountains, yes, there are many groups like this. On this side—just the one."
"Good. Take these to Stallan so she may plan the attack in the morning."
The fargi whose duty it was brought Vaintè the evening meat and she was scarcely aware when she seized it and ate it, so great was her concentration on her plans. Her thoughts were all on the multifaceted labors that had brought her and the armed fargi to this place at this time. Once again she went through all the parts to be sure that none were missing, no work incomplete, no detail forgotten. All was as it should be. They would attack in the morning. Before the sun had set Kerrick would be dead—or in her hands. Better in her hands, her thumbs opened and closed with the thought, far better in her hands.
She tried to be unemotional about it, logical, but she was finished with logic now and hatred was seething through her. How many pictures had she looked at? There was no counting. One group of ustuzou looked like any other, the creatures themselves were hard to tell apart. Yet she was sure that the one she sought was in none of the earlier pictures of the packs to the east of the mountains. Only when she had looked at the picture that revealed the mastodons, the only mastodons west of the mountains, had she had the feeling that she had found him at last. Tomorrow she would know for certain.
With the coming of darkness she slept—as did all the Yilanè. Protected by their carefully laid defenses. There were no alarms that night and their sleep was not disturbed. At first light the fafgi stirred and preparations for the day's march, the day's battle, began. There was little warmth in the sun yet and Vaintè kept the large sleeping cloak wrapped about her when Stallan joined her as she watched the loading. Everything moved smoothly with true Yilanè organization, groups and group leaders moving efficiently about their appointed tasks. Water, meat, and the other supplies were loaded on the specially bred large-size uruktop. The pleasure of the operation was spoiled for Vaintè when she became aware of Peleinè signaling for attention.
"Vaintè, I would speak with you."
"This evening, when this day's work is done. I am busy now."
"This evening may be too late for the work you desire may not be done."
Vaintè did not move or speak, but one eye looked Peleinè up and down with cold scrutiny, although Peleinè was too distraught to be aware of her displeasure.
"I wish it were otherwise, but there is much talk among the Daughters and many are worried. They begin to feel that a mistake has been made."
"A mistake? You assured me that you were no longer to be called the Daughters of Death but were now the Daughters of Life in everything. True citizens of Alpèasak, with your errors put behind you, ready to help and aid in all matters. Therefore I saw to it that all rights and honors were restored to those that followed you, raised you up to serve by my side. It is too late now to talk of mistakes."
"Hear me out, mighty Vaintè.' Peleinè wound her thumbs together in unconscious misery, her palms showing distressed colors to match. "Speaking of matters and making decisions is one thing. Carrying them out is another. We came with you of our free will, came across the sea, the land and the rivers with you since we agreed that what you are doing is correct. Agreed that the ustuzou are predatory animals that must be slaughtered just as meat animals are slaughtered."
"This you agreed."
"This we agreed before we saw the animals. Two of the Daughters were with the party that found the ustuzou pack yesterday."
"I know of this. It was I who sent them." To blood them, she thought, that was what Stallan said. Blood them. Stallan always did this with fargi who sought to become hunters. There were many who could not easily kill for they had been too long in the cities, too long from the sea, too far from their origins to kill quickly and efficiently. A killer does not think; a killer reacts. These Daughters of Death thought too much, thought all of the time and did very little else. Blooding them would help.
Peleinè was having difficulty in speaking. Vaintè waited with barely controlled patience.
"They should not have gone," Peleinè finally said, her meaning muffled by unnecessary movements of her limbs.
"You presume to question my commands?" Vaintè's crest was erect, quivering with rage.
"They are dead, Vaintè. Both dead."
"They cannot be. The resistance was slight, none were injured."
"These two returned. They spoke of the ustuzou camp and said that it was not unlike a small city, the ustuzou had many strange artifacts as well, and they cried out in pain as they died. Both of them had used their hèsotsan and they had killed. When they spoke aloud of this someone said that they were Daughters of Death now, not Daughters of Life, and they agreed that they were givers of death. So they died. Died just as though the Eistaa had taken their names away and ordered them from the city. That is how they died. Now that we know this, we know that we were wrong in our beliefs. Killing ustuzou brings death not life. We can no longer aid you, Vaintè. We cannot kill for you."
Peleinè stopped her nervous movements when she said this for her speaking was done now, what she had to say had been said. The decision had been made. No, not made, had been forced upon them. What would happen next was up to Vaintè to decide.
Vaintè was as unmoving in thought as Peleinè was in anticipation. They faced each other in immobility, eyes staring, feet splayed. Silent.
This was rebellion, Vaintè thought, and it must be stopped at once. But with the thought came the realization that it could not be stopped, that these rebellious creatures would surely refuse to take up weapons in the future. Death was now her enemy. These misguided females had seen two of their number die and believed it would happen to them. Well, they were correct. Death would come to them with certainty now. They would not fight but they still could die. There was no room for noncombatants in this war. They would be taken care of.
"You are dismissed," she said. "Go to your Daughters of Death and tell them that they have shamed their city. Their hèsotsan will be taken from them. They will work—but they will not be required to kill."
Peleinè signed grateful acknowledgment as she turned and hurried away. She should have remained to listen for Vaintè had not finished her speaking.
"Not required to kill. But they will be required to die." She called her tarakast to her, made the fargi leading it bend over so she could mount the creature by standing on her shoulders. Turned it and ordered it to run, to pass the fargi and the uruktop to the head of the advancing column where she would lead the march.
Armed Yilanè on fast tarakast spread out ahead of the army, while others rode to each side and guarded the flanks. Stallan had studied the pictures closely as always and she pointed the way. It was an easy ride to the planned halting place by the river and Vaintè signaled the stop just as one of the scouts came hurrying back.
"Gone," the scout said simply, large group and ustuzou in the meaning.
"They will have moved their stopping place again," Vaintè said, hope-of-this in her movements.
"This may be," the scout said. "I followed the track as it returned to the stopping place where they stayed before. The track went on along the river and into the river valley and that is when I returned to tell you."
"They did not turn away or double back or escape in any other way?" Stallan asked, rigid attention in the forward angle of her body.
"Impossible. I followed until the rock walls rose high and there was but one way to go."
"Trapped!" Stallan said with exultation, pulling her beast close to Vaintè's in order to pass over a picture to her. "See this, sarn'enoto, see the trap they have entered. The river valley is wide but the walls are high with this single entrance along the river. The river exits here over rocks and through rapids. There is no way out there."
Sarn'enoto, an ancient title from the half-forgotten past, now revived. A leader in armed conflict—whom all obeyed. Now she must think like such a leader. She held up the picture and touched it with her thumb. "Here, on this side, you yourself showed me a way down into the valley."
"A way that can be blocked. A force can be bent there to seal the exit, the main force can remain here to attack."
"It shall be done that way. Issue the orders. In these other pictures I see more ustuzou in the valley."
"More ustuzou to die in the valley," was Stallan's ready answer as she raked her sharp claws into her tarakast so that it reared and hissed with pain. She controlled it easily, turned it and thundered off.
The sun was just past the zenith when Okotsei handed Vaintè the latest pictures, still warm and damp. She looked at them closely, then passed them on one by one to Stallan who stood at her side.
"Everything is now ready," Stallan said when she had looked at the last one. "There is no escape." Her thumbs snapped shut and the pictures crumpled and broke. "The cliff path is guarded and sealed. We await your orders, sarn'enoto."
"A swift attack along the river," Vaintè said. "First a sudden sweep over the rock barrier killing any of the ustuzou that might be concealed there. Then on into the valley. Order the fargi forward, but do not lead them yourself. There is a possibility that the ustuzou are aware of our movements. If they are, then the first attackers will die. Begin."
The massed fargi advanced along the river bank. They became so crowded forcing themselves through the narrow gap that some of them were wading in the water. Vaintè watched them leave, then settled back on her tail and waited with unmoving patience for the outcome. Behind her the rest of the fargi dismounted and began to unload the supplies. They had scarcely finished before Stallan came wearily out of the valley and walked slowly up to the silent Vaintè.
"Lying in concealment," Stallan said. "We fired but there was no way to tell if we had hit any of them. The first attackers died as you said they might. We retrieved the hèsotsan of the dead, as many as we could, before we drew back from the engagement. I prepared a defensive line out of range of their weapons and came here at once."
Vaintè did not appear to be surprised by this unwelcome report.
"They knew that we were coming. That is why they went to the valley. Now I will see for myself."
Stallan pushed her way through the milling fargi, ordering them to move aside for their sarn'enoto. Beyond them the river swung around the rock face and it was here that Stallan had placed the defending position. Fargi crouched behind rocks, weapons ready, while others dug protective trenches in the soft sand. Stallan raised her hèsotsan and pointed it at the bend.
"It is now time for caution. I will go first."
They advanced slowly, then stopped. Stallan waved Vaintè forward to join her. "You can see the barrier from here."
Vaintè moved carefully forward and the first of the bodies came into view. There were many more of them sprawled at the base of the tumbled rocks, while a few had climbed up a few paces before they fell. The river swung around the barrier, burbling swiftly through the narrow passage. There were other fargi corpses there as well, some lying half in and half out of the water. On the summit of the barrier there were quick movements. The enemy lay in wait. Vaintè looked up at the sun, still high in the sky, before she moved back.
"We will attack again. If I remember correctly the hèsotsan can survive under water."
"They can survive. Their nostril flaps close when they are submerged."
"I thought so. Here is what we will do. An attack on the barrier will be launched. I do not want it to stop when a few fargi are killed."
"It will not be easy. It will be certain death for many."
"Nothing is easy, Stallan, or we would all be eistaa without fargi to serve us. You know that the Daughters of Death will not fight?"
"I have taken their weapons from them."
"Good. But they can still serve in their own way. They will lead the attack on the barrier."
As the meaning sank in Stallan's lips pulled slowly back to display rows of sharp teeth, exposed to show the sharpness of the decision as well as her great appreciation of it.
"You are first and wisest in everything, great Vaintè. Their bodies will draw many of the darts of death so the armed fargi can get through. You are the only one who could have found a way to exact such a great service from these burdensome creatures. It will be done just as you have ordered. The ustuzou and the Daughters of Death will die together. What fitting companions they are for this fate!"
"There is more to the attack than that. We might overwhelm them in that manner but the losses would be heavy. While this attack is being pressed forward I want armed fargi in the water, swimming through that gap. They will strike the defenders from behind, kill them, distract them. Then we will sweep over the barrier and destroy the rest."
The flies were already swarming over the tumbled bodies on the rocks below. Nothing moved other than the flies, their buzzing loud in the silence. Kerrick took a handful of darts and began to push them, one by one, into the hèsotsan.
"They have run away," Sanone said, cautiously raising his head to look.
"The fight hasn't started yet," Kerrick said. "They were just probing to test our strength. They'll be back." He turned to look at Sanone and froze. "Don't move! Stay where you are."
He reached out a steady hand and plucked the dart from Sanone's headscarf. "If this had gone through you would be dead."
Sanone looked down calmly at the deadly bit of thorn and leaf. "Our cloth has values I never thought of. It will not stop a spear—but is proof against this inurgu poison. Perhaps we should wrap ourselves thickly and survive in that manner."
Kerrick threw the dart away. "That is why we are safe behind these boulders. Only when the darts fly like leaves in the autumn will we be in danger."
He turned to look at the hunters sprawled along the top of the barrier. They were all armed with hèsotsan and had made good use of them, conserving their arrows and spears. The spear-armed Sasku were on the rear of the barrier and on the ground, ready for support if they were needed. Now all that they could do was wait.
Herilak stood on the summit of the rock wall and was the first to see the attackers.
"They come again," he called out, then dropped into concealment himself.
"Do not waste darts," Kerrick ordered. "Let them get closer this time before you fire."
He knew that this was the correct thing to do. When the first attack had come someone had fired his hèsotsan far too early when the murgu were still out of range, and the others had begun firing as well. This was a waste: the supply of darts was adequate, but the hèsotsan tired and did not react quickly when used too much. This time the defenders would wait until the fargi were climbing the rocks.
They were closer now—and Kerrick suddenly realized that those in front were unarmed. What did this mean? Was it a trick of some kind? It did not matter, in fact it was better for it made them easier to kill.
"Now, fire, now!" he cried out, squeezing his hèsotsan and sending death biting into the skin of the nearest attacker. The Tanu were shouting and firing and still the enemy came on. There was an occasional scream, but for the most part they died in silence. It was the defenders who were making the noise so much so that Kerrick did not hear the voice calling out at first. Then he made out the words.
"The river, there, in the water!"
Kerrick turned, stared, recoiled. Dark spots in the rushing water, more and more of them, some being swept towards the bank. Yilanè, swimming with the flow, dark lengths in their hands, hèsotsan, coming ashore…
"Spears, arrows, kill them in the water!" Herilak called out, leaping down from the barrier, his great voice rising above all the other sounds. "Kerrick, stay there with the killing-sticks. They will attack now in force. Stop them there."
Kerrick turned away with an effort, saw that Herilak had divined the enemy's intentions well. Behind the unarmed attackers, now heaped in piles of dead, more and more fargi appeared, firing as they came.
"Don't let them through!" Kerrick shouted. "Stay here, keep firing." He fired himself, then fired again, the fargi so close that he saw the dart grow suddenly from her throat, saw her eyes widen as she fell backwards down the slope.
Now the living were climbing over the dead, using them for cover, firing themselves. The battle was no longer one-sided. One hunter was hit, then another. Kerrick's hèsotsan writhed in his hands when he squeezed it and it took him long moments to realize that it was empty of darts. And there was no time to reload. He seized up his spear, stabbed upwards at the fargi who had clambered to the top, sent her falling backwards and shrieking with pain.
She was the last, the attack was broken for the moment. He dropped with his back to the stone, gasping for breath, forcing his fingers to move smoothly as he fed darts into the hèsotsan. The others had stopped firing as well for want of targets; he permitted himself a quick glimpse at the river.
A good number of fargi had reached the shore, but they were dead. Along with some of the defenders, for it had been a close run thing. In the shallows the dark figure of a Sasku was draped across the corpse of a Yilanè in obscene embrace. Other corpses, bristling with arrows, floated away in the stream. Sanone called out and Kerrick turned to him, saw him standing on top of the barrier and shielding his eyes against the setting sun.
"They've gone back," he cried. "They have stopped the attack. We have won!"
Won, Kerrick thought, looking around at the Tanu dead. What have we won? We have slaughtered some fargi in a world teeming with fargi. Some of us are dead and they will keep attacking until we are all dead. We have held them but we have won nothing. Even if we beat them back this time they will come again. They loathe us just as much as we hate them. They can find us wherever we hide so we cannot hide. They will follow us wherever we run, so we cannot run.
Not us, he realized then. Me. If all they wanted was to kill Tanu there were plenty on the other side of the mountains. The raptors and the night birds could see everything, watch everyone. Yet this great force had come here, striking directly at this valley like a far-flung spear. Why? Because he was here; it was a chilling thought. Vaintè, it had to be her, still alive, still seeking vengeance.
What could be done? Where could he escape to? What possible defense had they?
Anger possessed him, shook his body, sent him leaping to his feet brandishing the hèsotsan over his head, shouting.
"You cannot do this, Vaintè, you cannot kill us all. You will try but you cannot. This is our land to live in and you cannot cross the ocean with your cold creatures and drive us from it. You will not win here and you will go crawling home with your few survivors as soon as that is clear to you. Then you will come again…"
Kerrick realized that Sanone was looking at him in amazement, not understanding a word that he was saying. His temper died but the cold anger remained. He smiled wryly at the mandukto and spoke in Sasku.
"You have seen them for the first time today. Do you like it? Do you enjoy seeing murgu kill your people? We must put an end to them—once and for all."
Kerrick stopped then, breathing hard. Looking out at the high-piled dead, the handful of living. Could the Yilanè be stopped? If so—how?
There could be only one way. They could retreat no more, hide no more.
The battle must be taken to the enemy. That was the answer, a clear and resolute answer and an inescapable one.
Sanone looked at Kerrick in wonder now as he spoke. No, he was not speaking, for the sounds he was emitting were like nothing he had ever heard before. And as he talked he moved his body, threw his head back, and his arms shook as though he had a seizure.
Kerrick saw the expression on Sanone's face and realized that he had spoken in Yilanè for he was thinking about the Yilanè—and thinking like a Yilanè now. Coldly and savagely analyzing what must be done, examining the facts then reaching a solution. When he spoke again it was in Sasku, carefully and clearly.
"We will take the war to the murgu. We will seek them out in their city far to the south. We will find them there and we will kill them there. When this place that they call Alpèasak is gone so will they be. I know that city and I know how to destroy it. That is what we will do." He turned and called down in Marbak to Herilak at the water's edge.
"You will have the wish that was shown to you in your dream, Herilak. We will leave here and go south and you will be sacripex of all the Tanu who march with us. The murgu will die and you will lead us. I now know what must be done and how to do it—and how to destroy them all. What do you say to that, great hunter? Will you lead us?"
Herilak heard the authority in Kerrick's voice, knew that he would not have spoken this way if he did not know how the deed would be done. Hope tore through Herilak and his wordless roar was answer enough.
"They come again," Sanone called out forgotten in the threat of the moment.
The Yilanè advance broke against the rock wall of the defenders. The fargi died. The spirit seemed to have gone out of them and the attack was not pressed home. It was the last attack of the day because the sun was low in the sky, hidden by a bank of clouds, by the time the few survivors had withdrawn.
Kerrick put all thoughts of future battles from him until the present one was finished. He stood atop the rock barrier, watching the crows and buzzards already starting on the luxurious feast that awaited them below. It would be dark soon. There would be no more attacks now since the Yilanè would be setting up their night camp and preparing its defenses. If he could only see what they were doing. There might be some way to harass them after dark. They could not be allowed to sleep in peace, to prepare themselves for the morning. Their attacks had come too close to succeeding this day: this must not be permitted to happen again. The prey must become the hunter now.
"We must do more than simply lie here and wait for more attacks," he told Herilak when the big hunter had climbed up to join him. Herilak nodded solemn agreement.
"I must follow them," Kerrick said.
"We will follow them."
"Good—but we must not follow them in death. Something happened today. A dart hit Sanone's headband but did not penetrate the twisted cloth. Darts are not like arrows or spears, they are light and do not go in very far."
"They kill just as well. Just a single scratch."
"Their deadliness is clear." His hand swept towards the expanse of corpses and the gathering carrion birds. "I don't want us to join them when we follow after the murgu. But think of this, what if we were to wrap ourselves in lengths of bundled cloth, cloth thick enough so that the darts wouldn't penetrate? If we did that any guards they have placed out there would fire and reveal themselves. They would die, we would not. I do not intend to face all of the enemy. We need approach only close enough to observe them."
Kerrick spoke to Sanone who was quick to appreciate his suggestion and sent two manduktos running for the cloth. He wound the fabric about Kerrick himself, arranging folds and draping it thickly to trap any dart. After folding a narrower length he wound it about Kerrick's head and neck leaving only a slit for him to see through. Herilak took an unfired dart and prodded at the coverings but could not penetrate to Kerrick's skin.
"This is a wonder," he said. "Tell him to wrap me in the same manner. Then we will go out and take a closer look at the murgu."
The wrappings were hot—but bearable now that the sun was low. Kerrick could feel the sweat on his forehead, but the cloths soaked it up so that it did not run into his eyes. He led the way down the outer face of the barricade.
The only way to reach the ground was by climbing over the piled corpses, which moved beneath their weight in a very unattractive manner. Kerrick ignored the sightless eyes and gaping tooth-lined mouths and stepped carefully until they had reached the cleared ground at last. He turned and called back to the watchers on the wall.
"All the murgu here are dead. Wait until we pass the turning ahead. Then you can come down and get all the death-sticks that they left behind. They took what they could, but there are still many we can put to use."
The Yilanè had indeed posted guards. When the white-clad hunters came warily around the bend in the rock wall there were three sharp explosions. They ran forward as more darts were fired, then fired themselves at the fargi among the rocks. Two of them died while the third jumped to her feet and fled; Herilak's dart struck her back and she fell. He reached out then and carefully plucked a dart from the cloth that covered Kerrick's chest and threw it aside. "These coverings are hot—but we are alive."
Kerrick took two darts from the big hunter's coverings before they went on. "I know this Yilanè," Kerrick said, looking down at the third corpse. "She is a hunter, close to Stallan. Stallan will be here, Vaintè as well." His hands clamped hard on the hèsotsan at the thought of aiming it, firing it at those two.
"We will bring their death-sticks with us when we return," Herilak said, scouting forward, weapon ready.
When they had climbed up the riverbank to the plain they could see the Yilanè camp, clearly visible on the open ground ahead. There were great numbers of the riding beasts there, as well as mounds of supplies. And fargi, far more than had attacked that day. Kerrick felt a pang of fear at their numbers and forced himself to remember that the attack had been stopped. If they came again—they would be stopped again. If Vaintè wanted all the fargi dead, then the Tanu would do their best to oblige.
More guards had been posted outside the circle but the sun was below the horizon now and they retreated when the two white-clad figures appeared in the growing darkness, entering the circle of defenses through a gap left by the laboring fargi.
"Alarms and traps," Kerrick said. "See where they have placed them in the grass? Those long-legged creatures behind the barricade must make the light that shone on us that night."
"They are all inside now and sealing the last gap."
"Good. Now let us see how close we can get. They won't come out again, not when it is this dark. I want to see just what defenses they have now."
Herilak was hesitant about going forward against this great murgu army, the fleet-footed riding beasts that could run many times faster than a hunter. But Kerrick strode ahead, knowing the Yilanè well, knowing they would not emerge from the security of their living-defenses during the night. It was still light enough when they reached the outer circle of vines to see the thorns lifting slowly into the air.
"Poisoned, you can be sure of that," Kerrick said. "And at this distance darts fired from inside might reach us here. This is close enough."
"Why don't they shoot at us?" Herilak asked, pointing to the murgu with death-sticks just on the other side of the barrier. They stood silent, looking stolidly at the two hunters. Behind them other fargi were moving about, eating, lying down, taking no notice of the enemy without.
"They have no orders to fire," Kerrick said. "The fargi never think for themselves, so they do nothing without being ordered to. I suppose they have been told to shoot when the lights are alarmed. They will obey." There was a low mound nearby and he pointed towards it. "Now we will discover just what kind of a welcome they have prepared. Even if the darts come this far that mound will give us some protection from them."
Kerrick kicked at the ground until he had torn free a large lump of soil, the long stems of grass still hanging from it. He seized these and spun it about his head. "Get down," he called out as he let fly.
The clod flew high and landed among the defenses. The instant that it hit, the twilight vanished in a blaze of light and there was a continuous crackling sound from the circle, the sound of many hèsotsan being fired at once: the air above them rustled with the passage of countless darts. They remained pressed to the ground as more darts were fired and voices called out loudly. This soon stilled, and after a while the lights dimmed and vanished. Not until then did they dare to stand, looking about and blinking, their eyes still dazed by the glare. There was still enough light to see about them—to see the swathes of large darts stuck into the ground.
"Something new," Kerrick said. "These are bigger than any I have ever seen before—and look how far they have carried. Twice the distance of our death-sticks. They must have bred stronger death-sticks, which have been taught to shoot when the alarm vines are touched. Disturb the vines and the lights shine to the spot and these things fire. Even with the cloths we wear I feel that we would be a good deal safer further away from them."
They moved quickly back, beyond the fall of the last darts, then turned to look back at the dark and silent mass of the enemy camp. Kerrick was dripping with sweat now and he slowly unwound some of the cloth, breathing deeply of the cool evening air. Looking and thinking hard.
"Tell me, Herilak, you are a strong bowman. Could you reach that camp from here?"
Herilak took the cloth from his head and rubbed his streaming face with it, looking to the mound they had left, then beyond it towards the vines and the spindly light-beasts.
"Not easy. A good pull should send an arrow that far, but it would be hard to hit a particular target at this distance."
"Aim doesn't matter, as long as it reaches beyond the defenses. And the Sasku, with their spear-throwers—I believe they could also throw that far."
"You plan well, margalus," Herilak said, laughing aloud. "The murgu are packed in there like seeds in a pod. Impossible not to hit something with a spear or arrow."
"Instead of sleeping soundly I believe that the murgu will have other things to think about this night! Let us mark this place where we stand so we can find it when we return."
"With bows and spears!"
Herilak had been correct. An arrow pulled full length, and pointed high, went well past the lights and found a target within the camp. There was a thin scream of pain and the hunters roared with laughter, slapping one another across the shoulders. They quieted only when Sanone fitted a spear into his thrower, watched him intently as he leaned far back—then sent it whistling through the darkness. An animal screeched and they knew that his point had found its mark as well. Sudden light dazzled their eyes and they recoiled at the cloud of darts that suddenly appeared. They all fell short. The one-sided nighttime battle was joined.
Despite what Kerrick had told them, the others did not really believe that the enemy would lie silent and die without counterattacking their tormentors: they stood ready to run into the darkness when that occurred. The attack never came. There were only flickering lights of some kind, then movement within the camp as the fargi tried to draw back from the probing spears and arrows.
These were not in unlimited supply and Herilak quickly ordered them to stop. The lights died away, the murgu settled down in their sleep—and the arrows started again.
This continued all night, with fresh hunters coming out to take the place of the tired ones. Kerrick and Herilak slept for a bit, then woke and ordered the hunters back to the stone barricade at the first gray light of dawn.
They stood ready all day waiting for the attack, some guarding while others slept. The morning passed and the attack never came. By afternoon, still without a murgu attack, Herilak was beset by volunteers who wanted to scout the enemy positions. He refused them all. Nothing would be gained by losing more lives. When dusk came—still without any sign of an attack—he and Kerrick had themselves wrapped in cloth once again. They went forward carefully, weapons ready, but there were no defenders lying in wait for them this time. Still as cautiously they crept up the river bank and raised their cloth-wrapped heads above the edge, peering through the slitted fabric.
The plain was empty.
As swiftly as they had come the enemy had vanished, their tracks and animal droppings pointing to the horizon.
"They are gone. We have beaten them!" Herilak roared, shaking his fists victoriously at the sky.
"Not beaten," Kerrick said, suddenly dizzy with fatigue. He dropped cross-legged to the ground, tearing the suffocating cloth from his face and looking out at the retreating track. '"They have been defeated here, pushed back. But they are like poisonous thorns. We cut them in one place and they only grow stronger in another."
"Then we will root out these thorns once and for all. Destroy them so that they cannot grow and return."
Kerrick nodded solemn agreement. "That is what we must do. And I know just how it can be done. Now we will call together the sammads and the manduktos of the Sasku. The time has come to wipe the Yilanè away just as they have tried to root out and kill us.
"We are going to take the battle to them."
The two boys, dripping with perspiration from their proximity to the flames, added sticks of dry wood to the fire whenever it died down. These blazed up brightly, bathing the cavern interior with a wavering golden light so that the animals painted there appeared to move as the flames flickered. Sanone had not arrived yet, but the other manduktos sat beneath the image of the mastodon as was their right. Kerrick, Herilak, and the sammadars were all seated on the same side of the fire as well.
Beyond the flames were the hunters, with others from the sammads behind them. Sanone had agreed to this with great reluctance since it was the custom of the Sasku for the manduktos to make all the decisions, and he found it difficult to understand that the sammadars did not rule with the same authority. This compromise had finally been reached, with the leaders on one side and the sammads on the other. The Sasku were not sure what to make of this unusual arrangement and only a few came close and listened from the darkness, looking expectantly over the shoulders of those seated before them. They stirred with mixed emotions, pleasure and fear, as a mastodon trumpeted in the darkness. There was a thud of heavy feet, torches coming close, dark forms moving.
Into the circle of light the mastodons came, the great cow Dooha being led by Sanone, one of the Tanu boys high on her neck, guiding her. But the Sasku were not looking at her, but at the newborn baby at her side. Sanone reached out and touched the small creature's trunk and a murmur of happiness welled up from the darkness. Only then did he join the others by the fire.
Armun sat just behind the hunters, the baby burbling gently in its sleep, comfortable in the deerskin carrier on her back. Then Kerrick rose to speak and the talking died away. She covered her face with her hands so others would not see her smile of pride. He looked so erect and strong standing there in the firelight, his long hair bound about by a charadis cloth, his beard now fully grown. When there was silence he turned so that they all could hear him as he spoke.
"Yesterday we killed the murgu. Today we buried them, so all here know how many of them died during the attack. We killed them in great numbers and the few that lived have now fled. They will not be coming back, not now."
There were shouts of approval from the hunters at these words, and from the darkness the sound of rapid drumming and the clatter of the Sasku gourd rattles when he had translated his words for them. Kerrick waited until they were silent again before he spoke.
"They will not be back now—but they will be back. They will come back stronger, with better weapons to kill. They always come back. They will return again and again and will not stop until we are all dead. That is the truth and must always be remembered. Remember too those of us who have died."
The silence now was a grim one, Herilak's voice just as grim when he spoke.
"This is indeed the truth," dark bitterness in his voice. "Kerrick knows because his sammad was the first one the murgu destroyed. He alone lived, he alone was taken by the murgu and was held captive by them, learned to speak with them. He knows their ways so you must listen when he talks of murgu. You must listen also when I talk of death for I am here and Ortnar sits there—and all others in our sammad are dead. Every hunter, every woman and child, every mastodon, slain by the murgu."
The listeners moved with the pain of his words and Sanone looked up at the mastodon above him and whispered silent prayers to the memory of those great beasts as he listened to Kerrick's quick translation.
"There is no place to flee to, no hiding place where we cannot be found," Kerrick told them. "The sammads who sit here fought them on the beach of the great ocean, on the plains of the duckbills, and yet again in this valley after crossing the high mountains to escape these murgu. Now the time has come for us to stop running away. We know now that they will always find us. So now I tell you what we must do."
Kerrick paused for breath, looking out at their expectant faces, then he spoke.
"We must bring the battle to them, go to their city—and destroy it."
There were shouts of disbelief at this, mixed with cries of approval. The Sasku called out questioningly and Kerrick translated what he had said into Sesek. Then Har-Havola's voice rose above the others and they grew silent again and listened.
"How can we do this? How can we fight those armies of murgu? How can we destroy an entire city? These are things I do not understand."
"Then listen," Kerrick said. "Here is how it can be done. Herilak knows all the trails that go to the city of Alpèasak because he has led his hunters there and killed murgu there—and returned alive. He will do that again. Only this time it will not be a handful of hunters he will lead but many hunters. He will lead them by stealth through the jungles so the murgu armies will not find them no matter how they search. He will lead the hunters to Alpèasak and I will then show them the way to destroy that city and every murgu in it. I will tell you now how it can be done, I will show you now how it will be done." He turned to the manduktos and repeated what he had said so that they would understand as well.
The silence was absolute. Not a watcher moved. Every eye was upon him as he stepped forward. A baby cried thinly in the distance and was instantly hushed. One stride, then another, brought Kerrick to the fire. He seized up a dry branch and thrust it into the blaze, poked it into the glowing embers until a cloud of sparks rose up. Then he pulled it out, crackling and blazing, and held it high.
"This is what we will do—we will bring fire to their city of trees where there has never been fire before. The murgu do not use fire, do not know of the destruction it can cause. We will now show them. We will set fire to Alpèasak, burn it, raze it, burn every murgu within it and leave nothing but ashes behind!"
His words were lost in their wild howls of agreement.
Herilak strode forward to join him, holding up a burning brand as well, shouting his allegiance, his voice unheard in the tumult. The other sammadars did the same while Kerrick was translating for the manuktos. When he understood Sanone held back, waiting until the noise died away, before striding to the fire. Seizing a burning length of wood and holding it high.
"It is Kadair who made this valley for us and guided us here when there was just darkness. Then he made the stars for us so the sky would not be empty, then put the moon there to light our way. But it was still too dark for the plants to grow so he put the sun in the sky as well, and that is how the world has been ever since. We live in this valley for we are the children of Kadair." He looked slowly around at the silent audience, filled his lungs—then screeched aloud a single word.
"Karognis."
The Sasku women covered their faces and the men moaned aloud as though in pain; the Tanu watched this with great interest, though they understood nothing. Now when Sanone spoke he strode back and forth by the fire, his voice loud and commanding.
"Karognis came disguised as these creatures called murgu and they were defeated. The ones that did not die fled. But that is not enough. While they live Karognis lives and while the threat of his existence lives we cannot be safe. Therefore Kadair came to us in this newborn mastodon to show us the way to defeat Karognis. The mastodon people will attack and kill the murgu." He bent suddenly and seized up another burning branch and swirled it over his head. "We will go with you. Karognis will be destroyed! We will fight beside you. The killers of the holy beasts will be consumed by flames."
His gesture was enough, his listeners did not have to understand his words in order to roar approval. The future had been decided. Everyone wanted to talk then and there was much shouting and confusion that quieted slowly only when Herilak shouted them into silence.
"Enough! We know what we want to do, but I wish to hear from Kerrick how it will be done. I know that he has thought long about this matter. Let him speak."
"I will tell you how it will be done," Kerrick said. "As soon as the snow melts in the mountain passes we will cross the mountains again with all the sammads. We may be seen then by the murgu, we will certainly be seen when we reach the other side. Therefore they must see sammads on the move, women and children, not a Tanu army on the march. They must be deceived. We will meet with other sammads as we go west, then we will separate and join again, confuse our trail. To the murgu we all look alike so they will surely lose track of us. Only after this has been done will we strike for the ocean shore. We will hunt and we will fish—just as we did before when we killed the murgu who came to kill us. They will see that and they will think about that—and they will believe that it is another trap."
Kerrick had given this much thought, trying to put himself in the Yilanè mind, trying to think as they would think. As Vaintè would think, for he knew that she was still out there, relentless, that she would keep on leading the fargi against them as long as she was alive. She would, of course, suspect a trap, would do her best to turn the trap upon them. There were, many ways she could do that—but he did not care what she did. The sammads would not be there when she struck.
"It does not matter what the murgu believe," he said. "Because the sammads will leave the shore before the attackers can reach us. They will stay just long enough to get food for the winter. This will be easily done since there will be many hunters—and few to eat the food. For when we turn back and pass through the hills we will divide. The sammads will go on to the mountains, to the snow for safety.
"But the murgu-hunters will go south. Fast. We will carry some food—but we will hunt for the rest as we go. Herilak knows the tracks through the hills, for he has been that way twice before. We will move as only hunters can move through a forest, and perhaps we will not be seen. But the murgu have many eyes and we cannot hope to escape them all. It does not matter. They will not be able to stop us. They have only a few hunters skilled in woodcraft—and we are many. If they seek us out they will die. If they send the fargi in armies they will die in armies. We will vanish into the forests and we will wait until the time is right. When the dry winds blow, before the winter rains, we will strike them. Burn them and destroy them. That is what we will do."
It was decided then. If any disagreed they were quiet and did not speak, for all who spoke wanted to do this thing. They wanted to fight back.
When the fire had died down and the talking was done they left the meeting and went to their tents and their rock-walled rooms. Armun came and walked beside Kerrick.
"Must you do this thing?" she asked, and in her voice was the knowledge that he would do it, so much so that he did not answer. "Do not be too brave, Kerrick. I do not wish to live in a world without you."
"Nor I without you. But this must be done. That creature Vaintè will come after me until one of us is dead. I take the war to Alpèasak to be sure that she is the one who falls. With her dead, the city burned, the Yilanè destroyed, then we will be able to live in peace. But not until then. You must understand. There is nothing else that I can do."
Ever since her return to Alpèasak it had been made clear to Vaintè that she was out of favor with Malsas<, nor was the reason too hard to understand. Vaintè was the first sarn'enoto the city had ever known, and her power at times had exceeded even that of the Eistaa herself. Malsas< had approved of this, had approved of all the preparations Vaintè had made. Vaintè had fallen from favor only after her return from the west.
Until this had happened the resources of the city had been hers to command, even the resources of the great continent across the sea. The fleet of uruketo that had brought the citizens of Inegban* to Alpèasak had made the voyage many times to the cities of Entoban* bearing welcome messages, telling them that there was a whole new world across the western sea, that the city of Alpèasak was now established there. Alpèasak, growing and expanding in that unknown wilderness, could be of aid to the cities of Entoban*, could relieve of them of the excess of fargi that clogged their cities' ways, ate the cities' food. The Eistaa of these cities were only too happy to rid themselves of the burden of unwanted fargi, happy as well to grant small favors in the way of beasts and plants that Alpèasak could make use of.
While this was happening a model of Gendasi was growing close beside that of Alpèasak. At first only the coast north of Alpèasak was well known and complete in detail, while inland from the ocean there were little or no markings. This gradually changed as the raptors and the newer birds produced more and more pictures of the continent. Skilled Yilanè translated their flat designs into mountains and rivers, valleys, and forests, until the model grew in richest detail. West of Alpèasak there was a warm sea with a verdant coastline. Wide rivers drained into it from a land of plenty, theirs for the taking. Except for the ustuzou, of course.
Their presence in this otherwise perfect landscape was a great annoyance. They were there, almost all of them in the north, and the positions of their packs were carefully noted on the model. The packs were scattered in a thin and broken line from the ocean to the high mountains, just south of the ice and snow. In due time they would be hunted down and slain. When some of them had come south, Vaintè had taken her fargi on the new uruktop and tarakast and sought them out, killed them and drove them back to the land of ice. With each victory like this Vaintè's esteem had grown. It would take a great failure indeed to bring her down from grace.
When more ustuzou had been discovered to the west, prowling comfortably away from the snowy north, Vaintè knew instantly that they must be destroyed. The distance was great, but her urge for revenge was greater. Many uruketo were needed to move the great mass of fargi and mounts to their landing site on the coast. At winter's end Vaintè had led forth an army such as the world had never seen before. They had marched inland, well supplied and equipped with strong defenses. The location of every ustuzou was known and, one by one, each pack was to be overwhelmed and destroyed. This was to be the beginning of the end for the ustuzou.
Then the defeated army had returned.
Word of what had happened had reached the city long before the first fargi had come ashore. When Vaintè had made her report to the council Malsas< had not been present. The Eistaa's absence had been message enough. The council listened coldly to her explanations, tallied up her losses, then had dismissed her. Sent her away like a common fargi.
After this fall from power Vaintè had not gone near the ambesed where the Yilanè gathered each day, where the Eistaa sat, the hub of the city. She stayed away, alone and apparently forgotten, waited for a message that never came. She was out of favor and none came near her lest they share her outcast position as well.
After many days had passed she did have one visitor, though one that she would rather not have seen. But a meeting with an efenselè could never be avoided.
"It would have to be you," Vaintè said grimly. "The only one who will risk being seen with me, a Daughter of Death."
"I wish to talk, efenselè," Enge said. "I have heard many things said about this last adventure and all of them sadden me."
"I am not that pleased myself, efenselè. When I left here I was sarn'enoto. Now I sit alone and wait for a summons that never comes—and do not even know if I am the sarn'enoto who commands or something lower than a fargi."
"I am not here to add to your misery. Although those who swim to the top of the highest wave…"
"Can only sink into the deepest trough. Save your crude philosophies for your comrades. I know all of the stupidities that your founder Farneksei has spoken and reject them in their totality."
"I will make my stay a brief one. I ask you only to tell me the truth behind the whispered stories…"
Vaintè cut her off with abrupt silencing slashes of her thumbs. "I care nothing about what the stupid fargi tell one another, nor will I discuss their mindless mouthings."
"Then we will talk only of facts." Enge's movements were grim, implacable and inescapable. "There is a fact known to us both. Peleinè divided the ranks of the Daughters with her doubts and her arguments. She convinced many that your cause was a just one, and these misguided ones swelled the ranks of your army. They went with you on your murderous campaign. They did not return."
"Naturally." Vaintè made only the slightest movements when she spoke, conveying the absolute minimum amount of information, instantly settling into immobility when she was through. "They are dead."
"You killed them."
"The ustuzou killed them."
"You sent them against the ustuzou without weapons, they could only die."
"I sent them against the ustuzou, as I did all of the others. They chose not to carry weapons."
"Why did they do that? You must tell me." Enge leaned forward with anticipation and dread. Vaintè leaned back away from her.
"I choose not to tell you," she said, again with the absolute minimum amount of communication. "Leave me."
"Not until you have answered my question. I have thought long about this and have reached the inescapable conclusion that the reason for their actions is vital to our very existence. Peleinè and I differed in our interpretations of Ugunenapsa's teachings. Peleinè and her followers decided that your cause was a just one so they went with you. Now they are dead. Why?"
"You will get no answer from me, no words to support or aid your destructive philosophy. Go."
There was no crack in Vaintè's wall of grim immobility—yet Enge was equally as steadfast and determined in her assault.
"They bore weapons when they left here. They were empty-handed when they died. You have told me that this was their choice. Your choice was merely that of a murderer, a butcher in the abattoir, sending them to their deaths." Vaintè was not immune to these calculated insults; a shiver trembled her limbs, yet still she did not speak. Enge went on relentlessly.
"Now I ask you—why did they decide to do that? What happened that made them change their thinking about carrying weapons? Something happened. You know what it was. You will tell me."
"Never!"
"You will!"
Enge lurched forward and seized Vaintè's arms tight-clamped between her powerful thumbs, her mouth gaping wide in anger. Then Enge saw the slight movements of joy and she released Vaintè at once, pushing her away and stumbling back.
"You would like me to use violence, wouldn't you?" she said, panting with the effort to control her violent emotions. "You would like to see me forget the truth of my beliefs and sink to your level of desperate violence. But I will not debase myself that much no matter how provoked. I will not join you in your despicable animal corruption."
Rage swept away all of Vaintè's reserve, released all of her anger that had been suppressed since her return and fall from favor.
"You won't join me—you have joined me! These marks in my flesh where your thumbs bit deep, where your nails drew blood. Your treasured superiority is as hollow and empty as you are. You grow angry as I do—and you will kill as I do."
"No," Enge said, calm again. "That I will never do, that low I will never sink."
"Never! You will, you all will. Those who followed Peleinè did. They happily aimed their hèsotsan and killed the verminous ustuzou. For one instant they were true Yilanè and not whining and despicable outcasts."
"They killed—and they died," Enge said, speaking softly.
"Yes, they died. Like you they could not face the fact that they are no different, no better than the rest of us…"
Then Vaintè stopped, realizing that in her anger she had answered Enge's questions, satisfied her imbecile beliefs.
With the realization of the truth all of Enge's anger had been washed away. "Thank you, efenselè, thank you. You have done me and the Daughters of Life an immense service this day. You have shown us that our feet are on the path and we must walk along it without straying. Only in that way can we reach the truth that Ugunenapsa spoke of. Those who killed, died from that killing. The others saw that and chose not to die in the same manner. That is what happened, is it not?"
Vaintè spoke with cold anger now. "That is what happened—but not for the reasons that you give. They died not because they were better, because they were in some way superior to the rest of the Yilanè—they died because they are exactly the same. They thought they could escape the death of being cast out from the city, nameless and dead. They were wrong. They died in the same manner. You are no better than the rest of us—if anything you are something far less."
In silence, wrapped in thought, Enge turned and left. At the doorway she paused and turned back. "Thank you, efenselè," she said. "Thank you for revealing this immense truth. I sorrow that so many had to die to reveal it, but perhaps that was the only way it could have become known to us. Perhaps even you, in your search for death, will aid in bringing us life. Thank you."
Vaintè hissed with anger and would have torn Enge's throat open had she not gone at this moment. This on top of her indeterminate status was becoming too much for her to bear. Something must be done. Should she go to the ambesed, go before the Eistaa and speak to her? No, that would not do at all for there might be public humiliation from which she could never recover. Then what? Was there no one she could call upon? Yes, one. One who believed as she did that nothing was more important than the killing of ustuzou. She went out and signaled to a passing fargi and issued her instructions. Most of the day passed and still no one came, until Vaintè gradually went from angry pacing to immobile vacuity, settling into a mindless, thoughtless silence. So dark was this somber mood that she had difficulty in rising from it and stirring herself when she finally realized that another stood before her.
"It is you, Stallan."
"You sent for me."
"Yes. You did not come to see me of your own will."
"No. It would have been seen, Malsas< would have been told. I do not need this kind of attention from the Eistaa."
"It was my belief that you served me. Now you value your own scaled hide more?"
Stallan stood solidly, legs wide-braced, and did not give way. "No, Vaintè, I value my service more. My work is to kill ustuzou. When you lead, I will follow. To the north they crawl like vermin. They need stamping underfoot. When you do not lead, then I wait."
Vaintè's evil humor ameliorated slightly. "Do I detect a hint of admonition there, stout Stallan? The slightest suggestion that my energies would be better disposed of if I had simply acted the butcher and slaughtered the nearest ustuzou? That I should not have mounted my great campaign to track down and kill a single miserable ustuzou?"
"You have said it, Vaintè. I did not. But it should be known that I also share your desire to open the throat of this one particular ustuzou."
"But not enough to pursue him wherever he runs and hides?" Vaintè paced her quarters, back and forth, twisting with anger, her claws ripping into the matting of the floor. "I tell this to you and you alone, Stallan. Perhaps this last attack was a mistake. But none of us knew the outcome when we began, all of us were carried away by the ambition of it. Even she who now will not speak to me." She spun about and jabbed her thumb at Stallan.
"So tell me, loyal Stallan. How is it that you avoided my presence all this time—yet now you are here?"
"The losses are forgotten. After all, most of those killed were just fargi. Now there is talk only of those Yilanè that were murdered in the forest by the ustuzou, the dead males on the beaches. I have seen to it that many of the pictures that the birds bring back are passed about, pictures of the ustuzou for the Yilanè to look at. The Yilanè look and grow angry. They wonder why the killing has stopped."
Vaintè crowed with pleasure.
"Loyal Stallan, I wronged you. While I hid here in dark anger you were doing the one thing that will bring my exile to an end. Reminding them of the ustuzou. Showing them what the ustuzou have done and will do again. There are ustuzou out there badly in need of killing. Soon they will come to me again, Stallan, because they will remember that killing ustuzou is one thing that I am very good at. We have made our mistakes—and we have learned from them. It will be calm, efficient slaughter from now on. As fruit is plucked from a tree to feed the animals, so will we pluck these ustuzou. Until the tree is bare and they are gone and Gendasi will be Yilanè across all its vast expanse."
"I will join you in that, Vaintè. I have felt since I saw my first ustuzou that it will be ustuzou or Yilanè. One or the other must die."
"That is the truth. That is our destiny and that is what must be done. There will be a day when the skull of the last ustuzou will be hung from the thorns of the Wall of Memory."
Stallan spoke quietly and with great sincerity.
"It will be your hands that hang it there, Vaintè. Yours alone."
It became Vaintè's custom to visit the Gendasi model every evening just before sunset. By then the builders would have gone, their work for the day completed, and she could have the vast, dim-lit expanse to herself. There she would study any changes of the day, discover if the birds had brought back any pictures of interest. It was summer now and the animals were on the move, the packs of ustuzou stirring as well. She saw the packs come together, then break apart until they could not be told one from the other. Because she had no authority now she could not order flights, so had to accept without question whatever information the pictures revealed.
Stallan came one evening when she was there, bringing newly arrived pictures that she wanted to compare with the physical record. Vaintè seized the pictures eagerly, examining them as well as she could in the failing light. Though there was never any spoken agreement, once Stallan had discovered that Vaintè was there at this time of day, she herself came most days bringing new pictures of the ustuzou movements. In this way Vaintè knew as much as any other in the city about the creatures she had sworn to destroy.
Whenever there were new pictures of the valley ustuzou in the south she examined them closely; she was not surprised when one day the skin shelters and large beasts were gone. Kerrick was not waiting for her return. He was gone. But he would appear again, she was sure of that.
All that long summer she studied the model, kept to herself—and waited. She followed the movements of the various packs, saw that one of the larger packs of ustuzou was moving steadily east. When this ustuzou pack actually left the shelter of the mountains and approached the ocean shore, she waited and said nothing. When they stopped, well within reach of attack from the sea, she still waited. Her patience must be the greater. Stallan reported worried talk among the Yilanè, with the ustuzou this close, anger as well that they were not attacked. Malsas< would hear this talk as well, would see the pictures, would have to do something. The pressure was upon her now, not Vaintè, and this fact enabled Vaintè to control her impatience. It was still a very hard thing to do. But she had everything to gain and little to lose. When the fargi came for her she concealed her elation in unmoving stolidity.
"A message, Vaintè, from the Eistaa."
"Speak."
"Your presence is needed at once in the ambesed."
"Return. I come."
Vaintè had given much thought to this moment, considered how long an interval to leave between the message and her departure. Not long; there was no need to anger Malsas< without reason. She had considered applying formal arm designs, but then had rejected the idea. There must be no obvious display. She simply took a few drops of scented oil on her palms, rubbed some into her crest so that it shone slightly, used the rest on her forearms and the backs of her hands. With that she was done. She left then and did not hurry, but she did take the shortest route to the ambesed. There, in the heart of the city, she had once sat as Eistaa. She returned now—as what? Penitent, supplicant? No, not those, she would die before she asked a favor. She went prepared to accept commands, to serve Alpèasak, nothing more. This decision was in every movement of her body as she walked.
The ambesed was larger now, with all of Inegban* come to swell the ranks of the city's Yilanè. They stood in groups, talking, or milled about slowly from group to group. They were aware of her presence, moved casually to let her pass, but none caught her eye or gave her greetings. She was there—but not there until she had spoken with Malsas<.
The group around the Eistaa opened a path for her as she approached, not appearing to see her, but stepping aside as though by chance. She ignored these half-insults, walking stolidly forward to stand before Malsas<. Stallan was at the Eistaa's side. The hunter looked at Vaintè and her palms colored in recognition. Vaintè returned the greeting, vowing silently to herself to remember the bravery of this simple act of recognition, when all the others had turned away. She stopped before Malsas<, waiting silently until one eye moved in her direction.
"I am here, Eistaa."
"Yes you are, Vaintè." There was a blank neutrality in the statement, neither welcome or rejection. When Vaintè stayed in expectant silence Malsas< went on.
"There are ustuzou to the north, bold enough to approach the shore where they may be found and slain."
"I know of this, Eistaa."
"Do you also know that I have ordered Stallan to go there, to kill them?"
"I did not know that. But I do know that Stallan is the first killer of ustuzou and still the best."
"I am pleased to hear you say that. But Stallan does not agree with you. She feels she is too unskilled to lead and be sarn'enoto in the pursuit of the ustuzou. Do you agree?"
The answer had to be phrased with exactitude. There was great danger here and no latitude for mistakes. When Vaintè began speaking there was sincerity in her movements, followed by firmness of intent.
"Stallan has great skill in the killing of ustuzou and we all learn from her. As to her ability to be sarn'enoto—that is not mine to judge. Only the Eistaa can raise a sarn'enoto up, only the Eistaa can set a sarn'enoto down."
There, it was said. No rebellion, no attempt at argument or flattery, just a simple statement of fact. As always the decisions had to be made by the Eistaa. Others might advise; only she could decide.
Malsas< looked from one to the other while all those present watched in silence. Stallan stood solid as a tree as always, ready to obey the orders she was given. No one who saw her could believe she could ever disagree with the Eistaa. If she said she had not the ability to serve as sarn'enoto it was simply because she believed this to be true.
Nor was Vaintè rebelling against orders. She was here to receive them. Malsas< looked at them both and made her decision.
"The ustuzou must be destroyed. I am the Eistaa and I named Vaintè as sarn'enoto to bring about that destruction. How will you go about accomplishing that, sarn'enoto?"
Vaintè put all thoughts of victory from her, forced herself not to feel the jubilation rising up. Instead she signed simple acceptance of duty, then began to speak.
"All of the ustuzou now avoid the coast where others of their kind have been killed. But once a pack of them came and laid a trap for us. When I see this new pack on the shore I see this same trap again. This means that two things must be done. The trap avoided, the ustuzou trapped instead."
"How will you go about this?"
"We will leave the city in two groups. Stallan will command the first which will proceed north in boats to attack the ustuzou in the same manner that we have done in the past. Her group will spend the night on the shore before the morning of the attack. I will take the second group in fast uruketo out to sea, out of sight of the shore. We will land to the north of the ustuzou and strike suddenly before they are aware of our presence."
Malsas< signed understanding—but puzzlement as well. "That will rid us of the ustuzou pack, but what is to prevent other ustuzou, who may be in hiding, from attacking and killing Stallan and her fargi during the night, while they sleep on the beaches?"
"The Eistaa shows her wisdom in that most important question. When the ustazou watch Stallan's landing on the shore they will see only meat and water unloaded. Not until after dark will these supplies be opened to reveal our new night weapons. After this has been done, the Yilanè who are proficient in this operation will board the night-trained boats. If the attack comes the boats will leave; only death will remain on the beach."
Malsas< thought about this, then signed her agreement.
"Do it that way. It is a well-considered plan. I see that you have given much thought to this, Vaintè."
There was a note of mild admonition in this, that Vaintè while still in doubt about her status, had already been making plans. But it was a very small comment, and a deserved one, and Vaintè did not object. She was sarn'enoto again—that was all that mattered. Still keeping her elation under control, she spoke as calmly as she could.
"There is something else about the force under Stallan's command that I must tell you about. When we were developing the night weapons we found that there were only a few Yilanè who could operate in the dark, even with lights. It is these specialists who will release the weapons, then follow the light-markers to the boats. The rest of the fargi will have to remain on the shore. If there is an attack there is the strong possibility that all of them will be killed."
"That is not good," Malsas< said. "Too many fargi are already dead."
"I know that, Eistaa, I of all people know that. Therefore it is my strong desire to see no more fargi deaths. So I suggest, since they will not be expected to fight, that we replace the fargi with the Daughters of Death. Surely these parasites on the resources of our city should be good for something."
Malsas< was gracious in her show of appreciation for this suggestion, the color of her palms yellow-hued with pleasure. "You are sarn'enoto, Vaintè, because you produce ideas of this nature. Do it, do it at once."
"The arrangements will be completed this day, the supplies loaded. Both forces will leave at dawn."
The time was short, but Vaintè had been planning this assault for days, not knowing if she would ever be able to order it, but ready still if that opportunity should come. The hurried preparations were accomplished with the efficiency of all Yilanè cooperative ventures, only Enge causing any difficulties at all. She insisted on talking to Vaintè, was fiercely determined to stay until the audience was granted. She was surprised that her request was instantly granted.
"What are these orders you have issued, Vaintè? What do you wish to do with the Daughters of Life?"
"I am sarn'enoto. You will address me that way."
Enge drew herself up—then realized that personal pride was not important now.
"From one lowest to one highest, I spoke in haste, sarn'enoto. Please inform me of the nature of your commands."
"You and your companions will be sent north in boats. You will not be required to use weapons or to kill. We wish only your labors to aid your city."
"There is more to it than that. You have not told me all of your plans."
"No, I have not. Nor will I. You eat the food of Alpèasak, you are protected by those who are ready to die for Alpèasak. When your assistance is needed you will do as you are ordered."
"There is something wrong here and I do not like it. What if we refuse?"
"You will still go. Bound and tied together if necessary, but you will go. Now you will leave my presence. The choice is yours and the decision of no importance to me at all. Leave me. I have much to do."
Vaintè's firmness of mind—and indifference to their decision—must have convinced Enge that the Daughters would be bound and loaded that way if they did not do as they had been ordered. In the first light of dawn the Daughters of Life labored to load the supplies aboard the boats, then boarded themselves without further protest.
Vaintè herself made sure that all the night defenses were there, but she turned away instantly when Stallan hurried up with a file of pictures clamped between her thumbs.
"These are the enlarged pictures you ordered, sarn'enoto."
"Did you see him? Is he with this pack?"
Stallan's movements were ambiguous. "There is one creature that it might be, but they all have fur, they all look the same to me."
Vaintè seized the pictures and went through them quickly, throwing them to the ground one by one—until she found what she wanted. She held the picture up in triumph.
"Here, without a doubt, it is Kerrick! The fur has grown back as you said, but that face, there is no mistake. He is there, on that shore, and he shall not escape. You know what you are to do?"
"I do. It is a good plan."
Having said this, Stallan permitted herself one of her rare demonstrations of good humor. "A very happiness-making plan. It is the first time that I have welcomed an ustuzou attack."
The loading done, Stallan led the boats north. Only at the end of the day did she discover that all of the effort had been wasted. Although they did everything as planned, sailed all day north to reach the appointed beach at dusk, unloaded and prepared the trap, it was not to be sprung. In the last light of day an uruketo appeared beyond the breakers, the accompanying enteesenat sporting about it. A Yilanè waved for attention from the top of the great fin. Stallan commanded one of the night boats to take her out to it. When she was close the Yilanè called down to her.
"I speak for Vaintè. She tells you to return to Alpèasak in the morning. Bring everything back. The attack is not to go ahead as planned."
This was the last thing that Stallan expected. She moved in interrogation and dismay.
"The reason," the Yilanè said, "is that the ustuzou are gone. They have left the beach and returned inland as fast as they can crawl. There are none left for us to destroy."
It was late afternoon before the raptor flew south. The great bird had killed a rabbit earlier in the day, then had flapped up to the top of a tall dead tree with its prey still kicking in its talons. Perching there, it had torn the creature apart and had eaten it. When it was done it remained, sated. The dark lump on its leg was obvious to anyone who might have looked up at it from the huddle of tents below. The raptor wiped its hooked beak clean on the bark, preened its feathers—and finally launched itself into the air. Rising in ever higher circles it turned and flew away to the south.
One of the boys who had been ordered to watch the bird ran at once to tell Kerrick, who shielded his eyes and looked at the sky, saw the white speck vanishing in the distance.
"Herilak, it is gone," he called out.
The big hunter turned from the deer's carcass that he was butchering, arms red to the elbows. "There may be others."
"There may be, we can never be sure. But that flock of seabirds is gone and the boys say that there are no other large birds to be seen."
"What do you think that we should do, margalus?"
"Leave now and not wait for dark. We have all the food we need, there is nothing to be gained by staying here any longer."
"Agreed. We go."
Inside the tents all of their belongings had already been bundled and tied, ready for departure. As the tents came down the travois were lashed to the mastodons and quickly loaded. Everyone was eager to leave the menace of the coast for the security of the mountains. Even as the last loads were being tied into place the first protesting mastodon was trudging heavily away. The hunters looked over their shoulders as they left, but the beach was empty, as was the sky. The fires still smoked on the shore, the half-gutted deer hung from the frame. The sammads were gone.
They walked until dark, stopped and ate cold meat, lit no fires, then went on. The march continued through the night with only brief halts to rest the animals. By dawn they were in the forested hills, distant from the route they had taken on their westward trek to the beaches. The mastodons were freed of the travois so they could graze while the weary sammads slept under the trees.
When Armun opened her eyes the slanting beams of light through the branches showed that it was afternoon. The baby's hungry, fretting crying had woken her. She sat with her back to the bole of the tree and put him to her breast. Kerrick was no longer sleeping at her side; she saw him in the glade talking with the sammadars. His face was set and serious when he trudged back up the hill, but it lit up with a smile when he saw her there. Her smile mirrored his and she took his hand in hers when he sat next to her.
"We are leaving soon," he said, turning away as he saw the loving smile fade from her lips; her hand clenched hard.
"You have to do this?" she said, and it was halfway between a statement and a question.
"You know that I must. It was my plan—I cannot let the others go to the attack without me."
"You'll be leaving me…" There was a hoarseness to her voice, all the pain of her lonely life behind her words. "You are all that I have."
"That is not true. You have Arnwheet now and you will keep him safe until I return. I am doing this, all of us are going for the same reason, so that the sammads will be safe. There is no security as long as the murgu can hunt and slay us. When they are dead, only then can we live in peace as we once did. Go with the sammads to the meadow at the bend in the river. We will join you there before the winter is out. Stay safe until I return."
"You will come back to me, tell me that."
She had her head down and her rich hair fell across her face just as it had done when he had first seen her. The baby sucked and smacked lustily, looking up at him with round blue eyes. Kerrick reached out and held Armun lightly by the chin, raised her face to his. He brushed the hair aside and ran his fingertips down her face, then lightly across her divided lips.
"Like you, I lived a life alone," he said, quietly so only she could hear. "Like you, I was different from all those around me, hated them all. That is all past now. We are together—and we shall never be apart again after I return. That I promise you."
The loving caress on her lips disarmed her, for she knew that he truthfully meant what he had said, that he could look at her face like this without laughing. The tears welled up and she could only nod agreement as he rose and left. She looked at the baby, holding it and rocking it back to sleep, not raising her eyes again until she knew that the hunters were gone.
Herilak led the way up into the hills, staying in the shadow of the trees all the while. He walked at a fast and steady pace and the others followed. They were all strong and fit, had eaten well before the march began. They were bent now under the weight of the burdens on their back, but most of this was food so their packs would become lighter as they went. It was important at this time not to take the time to hunt, but to put as much distance between themselves and the sammads as they could. When the birds flew, as fly they would, their departure must not be noted. They must vanish into the wilderness.
They went on without stopping until it was too dark to see the track, until they were stumbling with fatigue. Only then did Herilak call a halt. He dropped his burden to the ground and the others did the same, grunting with pleasure. Kerrick came and sat next to him and shared his meat. They ate in silence as the darkness thickened and the stars appeared. Above them in the trees an owl called.
"Are they watching us already? Will that owl tell the other birds that we are here?" Herilak asked, concerned.
"No. That is just an owl. The birds that spy us out talk only to the murgu, not to one another. The raptor that saw us yesterday will not have returned to Alpèasak yet, so they still believe that we are camped on the shore. By the time they discover that we have gone and send others to look for us, we will be far distant. They will find the sammads and track them. They will not think to look for us here. Our danger of being seen will only come again when we are close to their city."
"Then it will be too late."
"Yes, then it will be too late for them."
Brave words, Kerrick thought to himself, and smiled wryly in the darkness. Could this little band of hunters really destroy that mighty city with all its teeming inhabitants? It did not seem possible. How many were there here? Less than the count of three hault, the count of three men. Armed with hèsotsan—but so were the Yilanè. Hesotsan and arrows and spears to fight a powerful race that had filled the world since the egg of time. The impossibility of this brought a darkness to his thoughts even darker than the night around them. How could it be done?
Yet even as he felt these doubtful thoughts his fingers found the wooden chest he had brought with him from the valley. Inside the chest was the stone with the fire trapped inside it. With fire it might be done, could be done—would be done. With this firm resolve, held to him as tightly as he clenched the chest, he lay on his side and was asleep.
"The first birds that we sent out have returned," Vaintè said. "The pictures have been examined and we think that the ustuzou pack from the shore is close to these mountains now, farther to the north."
"You are sure?" Malsas< asked.
"There is never certainty with the ustuzou since one of the creatures is very much like any other. But we do know that they are on the beach no longer, nor are there any packs of them still to the south."
Stallan stayed behind them, silent, listening. No packs had been found, she agreed with that. But nothing still meant nothing. There was something wrong in all this. She had that feeling, a hunter's feeling, but did not know what was causing it. Malsas<, though not a hunter, all unknowingly shared her sense of unease.
"I don't understand it. Why did the beasts make that long march to the shore—then leave almost at once?"
Vaintè moved with uncertainty. "They hunt for food that they must have for the winter. They fish in the sea."
"They had time for little hunting," Stallan said.
"Exactly," Malsas< said. "Then what was their motive in doing this thing? Do they have motives—or do they simply run about like animals? You kept one for a long time, Vaintè, you must know."
"They think. They reason. They have an animal cunning that can be very dangerous. We must never forget the way they killed the fargi on the beaches."
"Your ustuzou escaped, didn't he?" Malsas< asked. "Was it with that pack on the beach?"
Vaintè spoke as calmly as she could. "I believe so. That one is dangerous for it not only has the animal cunning of an ustuzou but some of the learning of Yilanè as well." So Malsas< was spying on her, knew of her interest in the enlarged pictures. That was only to be expected: she would have done the same herself.
"The creature must be destroyed, its skin hung from the thorns."
"My wish as well, Eistaa."
"Then what do you plan to do?"
"As much as I would like to see that one ustuzou destroyed, I think it is of greater importance to kill all the ustuzou. In the end it will accomplish the same thing. All dead, he is dead."
"That is a wise plan. How will you go about implementing it?"
"With the Eistaa's permission I wish to launch a trumal that will end this menace completely."
Malsas< registered appreciation and doubt in equal parts. She had taken part, as they all had, in trumal in the ocean of their youth—when different efenburu joined together, worked together in harmony against a single object. Many times a school of squid would be too large for one efenburu to handle.
When they attacked like this the trumal would always end in complete destruction. There would be no survivors.
"I understand your doubt, Eistaa, but it must be done. More fargi must be obtained from the cities of Entoban*. More uruketo, more weapons. Then we will go north as spring ends, land, move west. Killing them all. By the end of summer we will have reached the mountains and will turn south then to the warm southern sea. Supplies will be brought to us during the winter. When the next spring comes we shall strike west of the mountains. By the following winter this species of ustuzou will be extinct. Not a single pair will be left to breed in some dark and noisome place. That is what I feel must be done."
Malsas< heard this, accepted it. But she was still concerned about the possibility of such an ambitious plan. Could it be done? She looked at the model, thought of the vast distances, of the ustuzou teeming there. Could they really all be exterminated?
"They all must be killed," she said, answering her own question aloud. "That is what must be done, this fact cannot be escaped. But can it be done this next summer? Would it not be better to send smaller parties, seek out and destroy these packs that we have found?"
"They will hide, they will go north into the frozen lands where we cannot follow. I wish it could be done in that way. But I am afraid that it cannot. An army of fargi, a sweep across the country. An end to this menace."
"What do you say, Stallan?" Malsas< said, turning to the stolid, silent hunter. "You are our killer of ustuzou. Will this plan do what Vaintè says it will do? Shall we attempt it?"
Stallan looked at the immense model, ordering her thoughts so that she could speak them clearly.
"If there is a trumal the ustuzou will die. I do not know if enough force can be gathered together to do it. I do not rule so I cannot say. What I can say is that if the force is strong enough then the trumal will succeed."
There was silence then as Malsas< weighed everything that had been said while the others waited. When she finally spoke it was a command.
"Trumal, sarn'enoto. Destroy the ustuzou."
"Excuse the interruption of one so hard-working and important by one of little consequence," Krunat said, hesitating as she approached Vaintè. Vaintè was standing before the model of Gendasi, concentrating and preoccupied, with the coming attack filling her thoughts. Her greeting was an automatic acknowledgment and it took a moment for her to place the intruder. They had met before, yes, this was Krunat, she had taken over from Sokain in the design of the expansion of the city. It was her assistants who had built this model of Gendasi, and Krunat had helped in the planning. Now she stood before Vaintè, humble as the lowest fargi. She was an excellent designer although she had too low an opinion of her own worth. With an effort Vaintè drew her thoughts away from the campaign plan and forced warmth into her speaking, despite her annoyance at the interruption.
"It is always an honor to speak with Krunat. How may I help you?"
Krunat shuffled the pictures she had brought, humility in every movement of her body.
"First, gratitude of the greatest order, Vaintè, for your development of the bird-picture technique. It has been of the greatest importance in city planning and expansion. My gratitude is endless."
Vaintè permitted herself only a brief sign of acceptance since she did not wish her growing impatience to show. Krunat went slowly through the pictures as she talked.
"To the north of Alpèasak there are pine forests, but the soil is poor and sandy. I have been considering extension of canals to bring water to the area, perhaps the creation of wallows for some of the larger food-beasts. So there have been many pictures made of this area, all of course of no interest to you. Except, perhaps, this one. It could be of little worth, but we are interested in the native life forms for possible exploitation, so I had this one enlarged…"
Vaintè's irritation was so great that she dared not speak, but some of her feelings seeped through when she tore the picture roughly from Krunat's thumbs; the designer cringed back.
A single glance changed Vaintè's manner completely. "Good Krunat," she said warmly, "you were right to bring this to me. Can you point out the place on this model where the picture was made?"
As Krunat turned to the model Vaintè examined the picture again. An ustuzou, there could be no doubt, carrying a stone-pointed stick in one paw. This fool had stumbled upon something of importance.
"Here, Vaintè, it is near here that the site of the picture is located."
So close! It was just an ustuzou, an animal, but its presence so far south was annoying. Even worrying. There might be others with it. Yilanè had been murdered before by these creatures near the city. She signaled a fargi to her.
"Bring the hunter Stallari here at once. And for you, wise Krunat, my thanks and the thanks of Alpèasak. This creature is up to no good and it will be taken care of."
Stallan was as concerned by the picture as Vaintè had been. "Is this the only picture?"
"Yes, I went through them all before Krunat took them away."
"The picture is at least two days old," Stallan said, then pointed to the model. "If the ustuzou is still coming south it—or they—could be at this place by now. What are your orders, sarn'enoto?"
"Double the guards around the city. Be sure the alarms are functioning as they should. Then tell me what the terrain is like here. If these creatures are coming towards Alpèasak can you get in front of them, stop them?"
Stallan pointed her joined thumbs at the model, towards the wooded scrubland beyond the city. "Thorn bushes and thick brush here, almost impossible to get through unless the game trails are followed. I know these tracks well. Let the birds fly, the owls will be best, and find where the ustuzou are. When they have been located I will take my best hunters and lay a trap."
"Do that." Vaintè's crest was erect, vibrating. "I think that Kerrick is out there. Only he would have the temerity to come this close to Alpèasak, to bring other ustuzou with him. Kill him for me, Stallan. Bring back his hide. Pin it with thorns to this wall where we can watch it dry."
"Your wish is my wish, Vaintè. I want this death just as you do."
"This is the last of the smoked meat," Kerrick said, using a twig to clear the maggots from the hard lump. "A few of the hunters have ekkotaz left, not very much though."
Herilak chewed firmly on his leathery fragment of meat, maggots and all. "There is game closer to the city. We'll have fresh meat then."
Even here, in the shade of the pine trees, the air was close and hot. Flies buzzed about their heads, landed in the corners of their eyes. It had been a long march, and a tiring one. Yet weary as the hunters were, there were no complaints. Only a few of them were visible beneath the trees, the rest out of sight. But Kerrick knew they were there in the forest, tough and ready. His only fear was that he was leading them to their certain deaths. He had this morbid thought more often now, the closer they came to the city.
"We march," Herilak said, climbing to his feet and slinging his bow over his shoulder where it rested against the hèsotsan in its carrying bag. The big hunter felt more secure with his spear in his hand when they walked.
Kerrick signaled to the nearest hunter who passed on the order. The march began again with Herilak leading as he always did. They followed him across the rolling, brush-covered plain, then along the edge of a tree-hung swamp where stinging insects rose up in swarms. The swamp had its outlet here, through a gorge between low hills. Herilak slowed, nostrils flaring, then signaled a halt. When the command had been passed he walked over and sat by Kerrick under the shade of a willow at the water's edge.
"Did you see the birds ahead? They circled the trees, then flew away without roosting."
"No, Herilak, I never noticed."
"You must notice everything in the forest if you wish to remain alive. Now smell, breathe in deep. What do you smell?"
"Swamp." Kerrick smiled, but Herilak's face remained grim.
"I smell them ahead. Don't turn to look. Murgu."
Kerrick felt his heart beat wildly and it took an effort of will not to turn his head. "You are sure?"
"There is no doubt."
"What do we do?"
"Kill them before they kill us. Stay here. Wait until I send word, then go slowly into the valley. Keep your death-stick ready."
"Do I go in there alone?"
"No. The Sasku will be with you. The hunters will be with me. They know how to stalk."
Herilak slipped silently back along the trail, spoke quickly to the hunter sitting there. They both vanished among the trees. Soon after that Sanone appeared leading his spear-armed Sasku.
"What is happening?" he asked. "Herilak signaled us forward speaking your name. Where have he and the hunters gone?"
"Keep spread out along the trail," Kerrick called out. "Don't bunch up." Then in a lower voice he told Sanone what was happening. The mandukto was not happy.
"Are we bait for a trap then? When we have been killed will their deaths be our vengeance?"
"I think that we can trust Herilak to stalk them among the trees. He has done it before."
They waited in silence, looking around at the dark wall of the jungle that concealed unknown dangers. Something moved and Kerrick raised his weapon before he realized that it was one of Herilak's hunters. The hunter waved them forward before vanishing among the trees again.
Kerrick led the way, trying to ignore the fear that gripped them all. The dark gorge looked menacing; an army of Yilanè might be concealed there. Weapons ready, aimed, about to fire… He took step after slow step, clutching the hèsotsan so hard that he felt it stir in his grip.
There was a sudden scream of pain from among the trees, then another, followed instantly by the sharp crackling fire of hèsotsan. Kerrick hesitated, should they go forward? What was happening in the gorge? He waved the Sasku down, ordered them to seek cover and keep their weapons ready.
There was the sound of breaking brush, running footsteps coming towards them. Kerrick raised his weapon as a dark figure came into view under the trees ahead, burst out into the sunlight.
A Yilanè! He aimed, fired, missed when the dart was deflected by a bush. The Yilanè turned and looked at him.
Time stopped. He was close enough to see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she fought for breath, the wide-gaping mouth and rows of teeth. To look into her face and recognize her. There was recognition in her eyes as well, a change in posture that revealed naked hatred.
The moment ended as one of the Sasku spears slammed into a tree at her side. She dived sideways and vanished between the trees before Kerrick could aim his weapon and shoot again.
"Stallan!" he cried, "It is Stallan!"
He crashed wildly after her, heard the Sasku following him, but stopped again when he saw how thick the undergrowth was. He would never find her in there—though she might find him. He went back to the game trail just as Herilak came trotting up. Soaking in sweat, but smiling and shaking his spear victoriously.
"We hit them from behind, stupid murgu. They lay in hiding and never stirred until we reached them. All are dead."
"All but one. The leader, Stallan. I shot and missed."
"That happens. It does not matter. They know we are here but there is little that they can do about it. But we are warned now and they won't get that close a second time."
"What do we do?"
"Take their death-sticks. Go forward. I think that the battle for this city has begun."
Vaintè was conferring with Malsas< over details of the planned trumal when they heard the rising sounds of the ambesed. Yilanè, turning to look, were brusquely pushed aside by Stallan as she made her way towards the Eistaa. As she came close the reason for the disturbance was obvious. Her skin was scratched and filthy with mud; some of the cuts still ran with blood. She came on until she stood before Malsas<—then slumped in defeat. This in itself was shocking for no one had ever seen her other than erect and proud. They listened in silence as she spoke.
"Disaster, Eistaa. All dead. I alone have returned."
"I do not understand. Dead, how?"
Stallan raised her head and her back straightened with anger. "I set a trap. We were to kill the ustuzou when they came close. But they are animals, I should have known better. They came behind us and we were not even aware that they were there. Every hunter and fargi, killed. I fled. If I had stayed to fight I would be dead. You would not know what happened. I have told you. Now I die for I am shamed. You have only to speak the words, Eistaa…"
"No!" Vaintè called out as loudly as she could, angry and demanding, the negation rude in its intensity. Stallan gaped, alarmed, her death request forgotten for the moment. Even Malsas< reacted only with shock at this interruption. Vaintè spoke quickly then, before surprise turned to anger.
"I mean no insult, Eistaa. I spoke as I did only to save the life of Stallan. Do not command her to die. She is too loyal to the city, the city must be loyal to her. I ordered her to take her hunters and trap the ustuzou. If there is blame then the blame is mine. We need this brave fighter. The deaths were not her fault. We war with the ustuzou. Do not let her die for taking that war to them. I know I spoke in haste. I now await your judgement."
Vaintè stood with lowered head. She had taken a terrible risk speaking out like this and might very well die herself for her temerity. But Stallan was too valuable to lose now. Stallan, the only Yilanè who had greeted her when she was the outcast within this city.
Malsas< looked at the two figures bent before her and considered what they both had said. In the silence the only sound was the shuffling rasp of feet as every Yilanè in the ambesed pressed forward to listen. A decision must be made.
"You spoke with crude haste, Vaintè. At any other time that would have been unforgivable and your death would have followed. But I smell too many other deaths in the wind and I would have you live to defend Alpèasak, just as you would have Stallan do the same. There is need for you both. Now tell me the meaning of this cruel event."
"First my thanks, Eistaa. Like Stallan I live only to serve Alpèasak. The meaning is clear, and the meaning of past events are clear as well. An armed and dangerous force of ustuzou marches on Alpèasak. They must be stopped. The meaning of the visit by the creatures to the coast is now known as well. It was a ruse to distract us. When they returned to the mountains they separated and this pack of savage animals came south, secretly, determined. As soon as I found out about their presence hunters were sent to attack them. We were defeated. It must be our last defeat or I fear for our city."
Malsas< was shocked by her words. "What harm can these beasts cause to Alpèasak?"
"I do not know—but I fear. The determination of their advance, the strength of their attack causes that fear. Would they dare risk so much if they did not plan damage of some kind? We must see to our defenses."
"That we must do." Malsas< turned to Stallan. "I understand even more why Vaintè risked her own life to save yours. You were the one who designed the defenses of this city, Stallan, is that not true?"
"It is, Eistaa."
"Then strengthen them, reinforce them. You speak for the Eistaa. Demand anything you need. The safety of our city is between your thumbs."
"I shall not let it slip, Eistaa. With your permission I shall see to it now."
Malsas< looked after her retreating back with confusion and disbelief. "It is hard to understand affairs in this new land of Gendasi. Nothing is as it was in Entoban*. The natural order has been violated with ustuzou killing Yilanè. Where will this end, Vaintè? Do you know?"
"I know only that we will fight these creatures. And we must win."
Yet try as hard as she could, Vaintè still could not keep the movements of doubt from what she said. All there could see the fear clearly in what she said.
Herilak held up his arm when he heard the shrill scream from the forest ahead. The hunters stopped as well—then looked around in fear as the scream echoed again: a heavy thudding shook the ground beneath their feet.
"Do you know what that is?" Herilak asked.
"I think that I do," Kerrick said. "Go forward slowly now because the first fields should be just ahead."
The trees were close together here and the game trail that they were following wound between them. Herilak led the way with Kerrick close behind him. The thudding sounded again and more screams—then Kerrick called out.
"Stop here! See those vines ahead, across the trail? They stick to the skin and can't be pulled off. I was caught by them once. Warn the others. We are at the outermost fringes of the city now."
They went forward cautiously, though any sounds they might have made would surely have been drowned out by the tumult in the meadow ahead. At the forest edge they stopped and looked with awe at the open field beyond.
Two immense creatures, each larger than the largest mastodon, were circling each other in the high grass, while a third looked on. Their wrinkled hide was yellowish-brown, their wide heads were heavily armored, while blood-red, bony plates covered their backs. One of them lunged at the other, snapping a horny, toothless beak, screaming loudly. The other turned sideways, swinging its tail around so that the great bony club at its tip lashed out. It hit the earth with a ground-shaking thud as the first creature moved aside to avoid it.
"Ruutsa," Kerrick said. "They do that when they are fighting over a mate. That's the female, there, eating grass. I know this field—I know where we are!"
He stamped a flat spot into black soil, then bent and scratched lines on it with the tip of his stone knife.
"Herilak, look—this is what the city is like. They have a model there that I have studied so long that I know it by heart, even now. This is what it looks like. The sea is here, these are the beaches, then the wall. Here is the ambesed, a big empty space where they all meet."
Herilak watched intently as Kerrick sketched the city, then the fields about it.
"The fields surround the city in circles, wider and wider, and the ruutsa are right here."
Herilak looked closely at the scratched lines, tugging at his beard in thought. "Are you sure that is where we are? It has been a long time since you left this place, they might have changed the fields, moved the beasts around."
"Never, not the Yilanè. What is, is, and never changes. Little things may be different from day to day, but once a thing is set it is that way forever."
"Then I believe you, since you are the only one who knows the murgu so well…"
A cry of pain cut him off and they turned to see one of the Sasku hunters rear up, then fall heavily to the ground. They ran to his aid and Herilak reached to tear the thorn-tipped vine from his arm: Kerrick stopped him.
"Don't touch that—or you are dead too. It is too late to help him. The poison is in his body."
The Sasku's back arched with pain and there was foam on his lips, pink with blood where he had bitten his tongue.
He was paralyzed and unconscious—but it took him a long time to die.
"Unless you want this kind of death, don't let anything touch you until we are well inside the fields," Kerrick said. "Watch where you walk, don't brush against any kind of plant. Some of the vines will stick to you, or as you have just seen—others will kill."
"Is all of the city like this?" Herilak asked.
"No, just the outer edge. To keep marauding animals—and Tanu—away. Once we get past this barrier the only danger will be from armed guards. They are protected and hidden behind walls and may be hard to see."
"But they must sleep at night," Herilak said.
"They must, but there may be night alarms here now. We will find their positions and stay well clear of them."
"What is the plan then?"
Kerrick went back to the diagram on the ground and pointed to the outer circle. "We must get past these fields. Most of these creatures, grass-eating ones like the ruutsa in this field, won't attack unless they are disturbed."
He lifted his head and sniffed the air. "The wind is from the west, so we must circle around to this spot, to have the wind behind our backs. Once past the fields the trees of the city begin. They are close together there. Once the fire starts and spreads there will be nothing to stop it."
"Is there any dry wood to be found there?" Herilak asked.
"No, I don't think so."
"Then we will search for it now, take it with us."
"Wait until we have reached the fields to the west of the city. The wood can be collected then, everything made ready. We want to get through the outer barrier around sunset. All of the Yilanè, other than the guards in their outposts, will have returned to the city by then so we will not be seen. We will avoid the guards and reach the place where the trees begin by dark. Then we will start our fires."
All three ruutsa were grazing quietly when they left, their battle forgotten!
It was late afternoon before they had worked their way around the outermost fields. None of the game trails seemed to go in the right direction, so they had to force their way through the groves of trees and thick, tangled undergrowth.
When they carne to a sluggish stream Kerrick called a halt, then passed the word for them to gather together. The water ran clear towards the center of the stream so they waded out there to drink. When they had drunk their fill Kerrick told them what was to be done, stopping often to translate his orders to the Sasku. They all listened with grim attention for this was journey's end. Victory or certain death.
They listened intently, not noticing while he was talking that the sky was clouding over. Kerrick broke off as a few drops of rain struck his skin.
Herilak looked up at the sky and scowled. "If it rains then we cannot attack—for the city will not burn."
"It is still the dry season," Kerrick said, with more assurance than he felt. "This won't last." He did not dare consider what they would do if it did rain.
They spread out to find dry wood, glancing apprehensively at the sky as they went. It stayed dark and the wind increased; thunder rumbled on the horizon.
"We cannot wait until evening," Herilak said. "We must start the fires before it rains."
"There will be murgu about, we may be seen."
"A risk we will have to take. Help me prepare a way through the thorn barrier while the others find wood."
They tore thick branches from the trees and pressed them down over the tangled and poisonous vines. In the open field beyond great duck-billed creatures looked at them with widened eyes, before they bounded away. Herilak trampled down the branches and crossed first, waving the others after him as they came back with the dry wood.
They gathered inside this barrier and waited until all had returned. Only then did they start forward warily with Kerrick leading the way. After all this time he had returned to Alpèasak. Overhead the thunder rumbled closer and he broke into a run as the first drops of the coming storm spattered on his shoulders.
The baby slung on Armun's back was awake and crying unhappily, soaked and chilled by the driving rain. Kneeling on the ground she was wet through herself, cold, black with mud on her arms and legs where she had been digging up the bulbs with her sharp stick. Lightning flared briefly in the sky and the crack of thunder that came immediately after it hurt her ears. Ermanpadar was displeased with something. It was time to return to the tents. The baby wailed even louder as she picked up the basket of bulbs and rose to her feet.
Something moved through the rain above and she looked up to see the bird silently floating by on widespread wings. It put out its legs and landed heavily on the high branch, then sat looking down at her with cold eyes set above its cruel, hooked bill. Armun could see the black bulge on its leg and she turned and ran with terror through the trees. Thunder, lightning, and the bird that told the murgu where they were. Fear choked her as she fled to the safety of the tents.
Vaintè was looking at the model of Alpèasak when the fargi brought her the word that an uruketo was coming into the harbor. She dismissed the messenger with a sharp movement of her arms, but her concentration had been broken. Looking at the model of the city did not help. The defenses were strong and Stallan was strengthening them. There were no weak spots that she could see, no places where the ustuzou could do any harm, other than killing some of the meat animals. She was only irritating herself standing here.
She would go greet the uruketo and see what cargo it held. More fargi were on their way from Entoban* as well as hèsotsan of increased power. Many of the cities of that great continent were responding with aid. Her army would be strong, the ustuzou would die.
When she reached the open way she was aware for the first time of the banked-up clouds and the distant rumble of thunder. There was the sudden patter of large raindrops around her. It looked as though a storm was on the way. It was no concern of hers; she had far more important matters to think about.
Krunat followed the group of fargi down the dusty path, her assistant hurrying behind with a bundle of wooden stakes. Each one of the fargi carried a young fruit tree from the nursery, roots balled and ready for planting. This time Krunat was going along with the working party to make absolutely sure that the trees were planted where they belonged. Some of the Yilanè in this city were as stupid as fargi, forgetting instructions and botching the simplest jobs. She had found a number of fields and plantations that did not match the model at all and had had to make corrections. Not this time. She would put in the markers herself and make absolutely sure that the trees were planted where they belonged. She rolled one eye up towards the darkening sky. It looked as though it might rain. Good, fine for the new trees.
A turning in the track took them to the edge of a green field. A line of fargi were coming across the grass towards them. That was Krunat's first thought—but there was something wrong about them. They were too tall, too thin. Fur on them.
She halted, frozen with shock. Ustuzou here, in the city? It was not possible. Her assistant passed her just as the sharp crack of hèsotsan sounded across the field.
Fargi curled, fell, her assistant dropped the stakes with a clatter as a dart caught her in the side. Krunat turned in panic, ran back into the safety of the trees. She knew the city well, there were guards near by, they must be warned.
"One of them is getting away, there!" Herilak called out, starting forward.
"No time!" Kerrick called out. "We don't have much farther to go—and we must start the fire before the rain comes."
He ran now, gasping for breath, with the tired hunters running behind him. That row of trees ahead, that would be the place. He heard hèsotsan being fired behind him but he dared not look, ran on.
He stumbled and dropped beneath the tall oak tree, threw down his weapons, and dragged the carved box from the bag at his waist. There was more firing and loud shouting as Herilak ran up.
"They know we are here. Killed some, so did they. They are back in the trees now and we're holding them."
"Get me the branches," Kerrick called out, forcing himself to move slowly as he knelt and took the fire stones from the box. When he took out a pinch of dried wood as well a sudden gust of wind blew it from his hand; raindrops spattered on the leaves above. A length of branch was dropped beside him, then another.
Slowly, go slowly! It must be done right the first time because there would be no second chance. With trembling hands he placed the wooden box on the ground, spilled all of the dried wood dust inside it. Stone against stone now, struck sharply together, just as he had done it countless times before. The long sparks shot out, again and again.
A thin curl of blue smoke drifted up from the box.
He bent over, blew on it gently, added the flakes of dried leaves to the tiny glow, blew again. A thin red flame flared brightly. Bit by bit he added all of the leaves, then dug the bits of bark and twig from his bag. Only when all of these were burning brightly did he risk looking up.
There were bodies behind him in the field, Tanu and Yilanè both. Not as many as he had feared. Herilak had driven the attackers away and had placed hunters as guards. They were crouching behind trees, weapons ready, preventing the murgu from coming back. Herilak hurried towards
Kerrick now, his face running with sweat, smiling widely at the sight of the blaze.
The wooden box itself was burning when Kerrick pushed it into the stacked wood, then piled thicker branches on top. Heat flared out and drops of rain sizzled as they fell into the fire. He dared not look up at the approaching storm as he built the fire higher and higher. Only when the lengths of wood were burning brightly, the heat of them forcing him to keep his arm before his face, did he cry out as loudly as he could.
"Now! Everyone—to the fire! The city burns!"
His shout brought excited cheers, running feet. Branches were pulled out, carried away, crackling sparks falling in their wake. Kerrick seized up a branch himself and ran into the thicket, pushing it before him among the dry leaves. They smoldered and smoked—then burst into bright flame. He moved on, lighting other bushes, until the heat drove him back and the smoking branch burnt his hand. He threw it through the flames into the trees beyond.
All along the edge of the grove shouting hunters were setting more and more trees alight. Flames were already shooting up through the branches of the oak before him, jumping to the next tree. A single branch remained in the fire that he had lit and Kerrick grabbed it up and ran with it, past the others. Past Sanone at the far end who was in among the trees, firing them. Kerrick went on a good distance before he jabbed the torch into the undergrowth. The wind whipped the sparks away and in an instant the brush was alight.
Flame and smoke were shooting high into the air now, roiling darkly against the already darkened sky. The trees crackled and blazed, thunder rumbled. The storm had still not broken.
The fargi were having difficulty in rounding up the beasts for the daily slaughter. Something was disturbing them, they kept rushing from one side of the pen to the other, even knocking down one of the fargi, their eyes rolling so that they shone whitely. The Yilanè in charge was shouting loud orders to no avail. She was suddenly aware of a crackling noise and a strange, pungent smell. She turned about to see the sheets of sunlight climbing skywards, black stormclouds behind them.
The smell came again, and a wave of warm and delightful air. What was happening, what could this mean? She could only stand and stare as the flames came close, licking at the nearby trees. Wonderfully warm. The animals were screaming behind her as she walked over and held her hand to the warmth and light. Then she screamed as well.
Ikemend opened the hanalè door a crack and looked out. Akotolp made a peremptory gesture of command, ordering her to open it wide.
"First you send for me—then you block my way," the fat scientist said, her jowls waggling at the affront. "Admit me at once."
"I abase myself," Ikemend said, ushering Akotolp in, then sealing the entrance behind her. "The males have been quarreling again, it is the weather perhaps. There is an injury…"
"Bring the creature here at once."
The firmness in her voice and the abrupt movements of her body sent Ikemend scurrying away. She returned almost at once pulling a truculent Esetta* after her.
"This is the one," she said, pushing the male forward. "Starts fights, causes trouble, got what he deserves."
Akotolp ignored this as she seized Esetta*'s arm and turned it over to examine it. Her thumbs gave an extra squeeze when she did this and Esetta*, his back turned to the guardian, half-closed one eye in a sultry gesture. Akotolp always enjoyed these visits to the hanalè.
"Scratches, nothing more, antiseptic will take care of this. Males will be males…" She broke off suddenly and raised her head, her nostril flaps opening wide as she sniffed the air.
"That smell—I know that smell," she said, agitation and worry in the movements of her limbs. She hurried to the outer door and opened it despite Ikemend's protests. The smell was stronger now, the air filled with it.
"Smoke," Akotolp called out, worry and concern strongly present. "Smoke comes from one chemical reaction only—fire."
Esetta* drew back trembling at the strength of Akotolp's feelings, while Ikemend could only signal stupidity and lack of understanding. The smoke thickened suddenly and a distant crackling could be heard. There was now urgency and the necessity for speed in Akotolp's command.
"There is a reaction called fire and we could be in danger. Assemble the males at once, quickly, they must be taken from here."
"I have no orders!" Ikemend wailed.
"I am ordering it. A matter of urgent health—need, threat of death. Bring them all, follow me, to the shore, to the ocean."
Ikemend did not hesitate, but hurried away at once. Akotolp paced back and forth, worried and concerned, unaware that she still held Esetta*'s trembling arm and dragged the frightened male after her. A gust of wind sent smoke roiling through the open door that started them both coughing.
"We cannot wait," Akotolp said. "Follow!" she called out loudly, hoping the sound could be understood, then hauled the wailing Esetta* after her.
When Ikemend came back into the corridor, the reluctant males trailing after her, she experienced great satisfaction when she saw that it was empty. She hurried to close and seal the outer door, ordering the males back to their quarters, relieved that there was no longer a conflict of orders. What place could be safer than the hanalè?
A warmth began to penetrate the walls which was most soothing and satisfying. She only felt a pang of fear when the first flames burnt through the entrance.
It was late by then to do anything to save her charges. She died with their pained cries in her ears.
Alpèasak burned. The wind-whipped fire sprang from tree to tree, the leaves of one igniting the leaves of the other. The shrubbery below blazed up, the walls, the floor matting, everything caught fire, everything burned.
For the Yilanè it was an inconceivable disaster, a physical fact that they could not understand. There is no natural fire in a tropical rain forest so they had no knowledge at all of fire. Some of their scientists did, but only as an interesting laboratory phenomenon. But not like this, nothing like this. For here was smoke and flame, burning on all sides. Attractive at first, an enjoyable source of heat, then an inescapable pain. So they died. Burnt, consumed, blackened. The fire swept on.
Confused, fearful, the Yilanè and fargi converged on the ambesed, seeking guidance. They filled it to bursting yet still more came, pressing forward until the great open area was jammed solid. They sought advice from Malsas<, pressed close to her, were pushed against her until she ordered them back. Those closest tried to obey, but to no avail against the panic-stricken hordes behind.
There was even greater panic when the flames reached the ambesed. The crowded Yilanè could not escape; they crushed back in fear. Malsas<, like many others, was trampled and dead long before the flames swept over her.
In the sky above the storm still rumbled distant thunder; the clouds built up in darkened mountains. There was salvation there, though the Yilanè were not aware of it. Never having seen fire they had no knowledge that water could stop it.
Alpèasak died, the Yilanè died, From the fields to the ocean the flames raced, burning everything before them. The clouds of smoke rose up to the black clouds in the sky and the roar and crackle of the flames drowned the cries of the dying.
The hunters sprawled on the ground, blackened by the fire, exhausted. The armed Yilanè they had been battling had either been killed or driven back into the flames. The fighting was over—the war was over, but they were too tired to understand this yet. Only Kerrick and Herilak stood, swaying with fatigue but still standing.
"Will there be survivors?" Herilak asked, leaning heavily on his spear.
"I don't know, possibly."
"They must be killed as well."
"Yes, I suppose so."
Kerrick was suddenly sickened by the destruction of Alpèasak. In his need for revenge he had not only killed the Yilanè—but this wonderful city as well. He remembered the pleasure he had taken in exploring it, in discovering its secrets. Talking with the males in the hanalè, watching the myriad animals that filled its pastures. No more, gone. If there had been a way to kill the Yilanè and save the city he would have taken it. There had been no way. The Yilanè were dead and so was Alpèasak.
"Where will they be?" Herilak asked and Kerrick could only gape, too tired to make out his meaning. "The survivors. You said there might be some."
"Yes. But not in the city—that is gone. Some in the fields with the animals perhaps. On the shore, the beaches, they might have survived there. When the flames die down we can go see."
"That will take too long. I have seen forest fires before. The big trees will smolder and burn for days. Can we get to the beaches along the shore?"
"Yes, there are sandbanks most of the way, all of them exposed at low tide."
Herilak looked at the sprawled hunters, then grunted and sat down himself. "A short rest first, then we go on." Above him lightning flashed and thunder rumbled distantly. "Ermanpadar likes the murgu as much as we do. He holds back the rain."
When they finally went on they skirted the blackened, smoking trees, then made their way beyond them through the unburnt fields and pastures. Though the smoke had disturbed them at first, the animals in the fields here now grazed quietly. Deer bounded away at their approach and gigantic horned and plated creatures watched them pass with little curiosity. When they came to a stream of fresh water they found it covered with floating ash; the hunters had to push it aside to drink. The stream led down to the sea.
The tide was out and they could walk along firm, cool sand, the ocean to one side, the blackened, smoking ruins of Alpèasak on the other. They went with weapons ready, but there was none to oppose them. When they rounded a headland they stopped. There was a river ahead and something large and black just barely visible through the drifting smoke, coming in from the sea.
"An uruketo!" Kerrick called out. "It is going towards the harbor. There may still be some of them alive there, near the river." He broke into a run and the others hurried after him.
Stallan looked at the bodies of the Yilanè, sprawled on the river bank or floating in the water. She pushed one that lay nearby with her foot; the fargi rolled over, eyes closed and mouth gaping, barely breathing.
"Look at them," Stallan said, disgust and repugnance in every movement. "I brought them here, forced them to safety in the water—and still they die. They close their stupid eyes, roll back their heads, and die."
"Their city is dead," Vaintè said wearily. "So they are dead. They have been cast out. There are your deathless ones if you wish to see who lives." Her movements were rich with disgust when she indicated the group of Yilanè standing knee-deep in the river.
"The Daughters of Death," Stallan said, her disgust just as clear. "That is all that remains of Alpèasak? Just those?"
"You forget us, Stallan."
"I remember that you and I are here—but I do not understand why we are not dead with the rest."
"We live because we hate too much. Hate the ustuzou who did this. Now we know why they came here. They brought their fire and they have burned our city…"
"There, look, a uruketo! Coming towards the beach." Vaintè looked at the dark form slipping through the waves. "I ordered them away when the fire came close, told them to return when it was gone."
Enge saw the uruketo as well and left the other survivors and waded ashore. Vaintè saw her coming and chose to ignore her attitude of inquiry. When Enge saw this she stood before Vaintè and spoke.
"What of us, Vaintè. The uruketo comes close yet you choose not to speak to us."
"That is my choice. Alpèasak is dead and I wish you all dead as well. You will remain here."
"A harsh judgement, Vaintè, to those who have never harmed you. Harshly spoken to one's efenselè."
"I disown you, want no part of you. It was you who sowed weakness among the Yilanè when we needed all of our strength. Die here."
Enge looked at her efenselè, at Vaintè who had been the strongest and best, and rejection and distaste were in every line of her body.
"You whose hatred has destroyed Alpèasak, you disown me? I accept that and say that everything that has been between us will be no more. Now it is I who disown you and will obey you no longer."
She turned her back on Vaintè and saw the uruketo close offshore, called out to the Daughters.
"We leave here. Swim to the uruketo."
"Kill them, Stallan!" Vaintè screeched. "Shoot them down."
Stallan turned and raise her hèsotsan, ignoring Enge's cries of pain, aimed, and fired dart after dart at the swimming Yilanè. Her aim was good and one after another was hit and sank beneath the water. Then the hèsotsan was empty and she lowered it and looked about for more darts.
The survivors had reached the uruketo, the scientist, Akotolp, and a male among them, when Enge turned away. "You bring only death, Vaintè," she said. "You have become a creature of death. If it were possible I would abandon all of my beliefs just to end your life."
"Do it then," Vaintè said mockingly, turning and raising her head so the skin was taut on her neck. "Bite. You have teeth. Do it."
Enge swayed forward, then back, for she could not kill, not even one so deserving of death as Vaintè.
Vaintè lowered her head, began to speak—but was stopped by Stallan's harsh cry.
"Ustuzou!"
Vaintè spun about, saw them running towards her waving hèsotsan and pointed sticks. With instant decision she closed her thumbs and clubbed Enge to the ground with her fist. "Stallan," she called out as she dove towards the water, "to the uruketo."
This was what Kerrick saw as he ran up the river bank. The dead Yilanè on all sides, the living in the water. A single one standing, looking towards them, a Yilanè he would never forget.
"Don't shoot!" he called out loudly, then again in Sasku. "That marag is mine." Then he spoke in Yilanè as he went on, his meaning blurred by his running but still clear.
"It is I, Stallan, the ustuzou who hates you and means to kill you. Do you flee, great coward, or do you wait for me?" Stallan did not need these taunts, barely heard them. For her the sight of Kerrick's running figure was enough. This was the creature she hated more than anything else in the world, the ustuzou that had destroyed Alpèasak. She dropped the empty hèsotsan and roaring with rage she charged at him.
Kerrick raised his spear, his hèsotsan forgotten, pushed it hard at Stallan's body. But Stallan knew wild animals well and moved aside so it slipped past her harmlessly, hurled herself on Kerrick and bore him to the ground. Her thumbs clutched into his hair and pulled his head back. Her solid muscles were rock-hard, he struggled but could not move. Straight at his neck she lunged, jaws gaped wide, rows of pointed teeth plunging down to tear his life out.
Herilak's spear hummed past, caught Stallan full in the mouth, in between her jaws and into her brain. She was dead even before she slumped to the ground. Kerrick pushed her gross weight from him and climbed shakily to his feet.
"Well thrown, Herilak," he said.
"Get down, move aside!" Herilak shouted in return, tearing his bow from his shoulder. Kerrick turned about and saw Enge climbing to her feet.
"Put your bow up," Kerrick ordered. "All of you, lower your weapons. This one will not hurt me."
There was a heavy splatter of raindrops, then more and more, then a downpour of rain. The threatening storm had finally broken. Too late to save the city of Alpèasak. Now it thundered down, a heavy tropical rain, hissing into clouds of steam when it struck into the smoldering ruins.
"You have brought us death, Kerrick," Enge said, her voice loud enough to be heard above the hammering rain, sorrow in her every movement.
"No, Enge, you are wrong about that. I have brought life to my ustuzou, because without me creatures like this dead meat before me would have killed us all. Now she is dead and Alpèasak is dead. That uruketo will leave and the last of you will be gone. I will bring my ustuzou here and it will be our city. You will go back to Entoban* and you will stay there. They will remember with fear what happened here and will never come back. You will remind them about the death here. See that they never forget it. Tell them how they all burned and died. The Eistaa, her advisors, Vaintè…"
"Vaintè is there," Enge said, indicating the ship. Kerrick looked but could not tell her from the others who were climbing onto the creature's broad and wet back. She had not died after all. The one he hated the most, still alive. Yes, he hated her—then why this sudden feeling of pleasure that she had not died?
"Go to her," he shouted, the loud words drowning out his mixed feelings. "Tell her what I have told you. Any Yilanè that comes here again shall die here. Tell her that."
"Can I not tell her that the killing is over? That there is life now, not death? That would be best."
He signed a simple negative. "I had forgotten that you were a Daughter of Life. Go tell her, tell them all that if they had listened to you all the dead in Alpèasak would now be alive. But it is too late for peace now, Enge, even you must realize that. There is hatred and death between us, nothing more."
"Between ustuzou and Yilanè, yes, but not between us, Kerrick."
He started to protest. There could only be hatred. This cold creature could mean nothing to him. He should raise his spear and kill it right now. But he could not. He smiled crookedly.
"That is true, teacher. I will remember that there is at least one marag I have no desire to kill. Now go with that uruketo and do not return. I will remember you when I have forgotten all of them. Go in peace."
"Peace to you as well, Kerrick. And peace between ustuzou and Yilanè as well."
"No. Simple hatred and a wide ocean. As long as you stay on your side you will have your peace. Go."
Enge slipped into the water and he leaned on his spear, drained of all emotion, and watched as she swam to the uruketo and climbed aboard. Then, as the uruketo moved out to sea he felt a great weariness pass over him.
It was over, ended, through. Alpèasak was gone and all with her.
His thoughts went to the mountains to the north, to the circle of hide tents in a bend of the river. Armun was there waiting for him. Herilak came slowly to his side and he turned to the big hunter and took him by the arms.
"It is done, Herilak. You have had your vengeance, we have all had ours. Let us take our spears and go north before winter comes.
"Let us go home."