“Firstly — there must be more armed fargi. We can never have too many. They guard the fields, push out along the paths into the jungle, keep the ustuzou at bay.”
“That will be done,” Malsas‹ agreed. “We have been breeding hèsotsan and training fargi in the use of these weapons. When you return the uruketo will carry as many armed fargi as it can hold. Two of the smaller uruketo are reported ready for a longer sea voyage. They will carry fargi as well. What else?”
“Creatures to spy, creatures to kill. Yilanè are not jungle killers, but Yilanè of science can breed those creatures that will do this to perfection.”
“This is being seen to as well,” Lekmelik said. “Much work has already been accomplished. Now that the sampling of the tissue of your ustuzou has been done the work will proceed to its conclusion. Ikemei who is supervising all of this work is waiting close by to be summoned. She will explain.”
“Then everything that can be done has been done,” Vaintè said, expressing pleasure and gratitude with every movement of her body.
“It has,” Malsas‹ said, but there was a touch of displeasure behind her words. “Started but not finished. And the flow of time is not kind to us. Those who care about such things have returned early from Teskhets. They report a cold summer, an early autumn. They fear for a long and violent winter. We must proceed always with care — but we must proceed.”
The emphasis in her words, the bitter anger and the fear was so strong that those who listened to her swayed backwards beneath the wave of emotion. They shared the fear for long moments before Malsas‹ broke the silence.
“Send for Ikemei. We will hear what has been done.”
They were not only to hear about the research progress, but were to see the results with their own eyes. Ikemei entered, followed by a train of heavy-laden fargi, who hurriedly put their burdens down and left. Ikemei pulled the covering from a cage that was large enough to hold a grown Yilanè.
“The ruler of the skies,” she said proudly, her single eye bulging. “A raptor of skill, strength — and intelligence.”
The great bird ruffled its feathers and turned its head about slowly to look at them. The hooked beak was made for tearing flesh, the long wings for flying high, fast, tirelessly. The bird’s toes were tipped with curled sharp claws designed only for killing. The creature did not like to be stared at. It shook its wings and screeched angrily. Ikemei pointed to an elongated, dark object that clung to one of the raptor’s ankles with tight-wrapped toes.
“This beast is a neurological image recorder,” she said. “Very much improved for this use. As I am sure you know an image from its eye is focused on a membrane within. Neurons then store the image in microganglia for future retrieval. Since single images are being stored, not memories of complex series or motions, there is almost no limit to the number of these images that can be recorded.”
“Images of what?” Malsas‹ asked abruptly, bored by the technical talk, little of which she understood.
“Images of whatever we wish to record, Eistaa,” Ikemei said. “This bird is almost immune to cold — the creatures fly at very high altitudes while searching for their prey. Therefore after its training had been completed this creature was instructed to fly north. The training has been most successful. Normally the creature has no interest in longtooth, carnivorous ustuzou that dwell far to the north. They offer it no threat and are too large to attack and eat. But the bird is well-trained and knows that it will be rewarded if it follows instructions. This one flew far to the north. And, here, we can see exactly what it saw.”
Ikemei opened one of the parcels and took out a bundle of prints. They were grainy, black and white, but very impressive. She had arranged them in dramatic order. First a field of white with black dots upon it. Then the swoop, the dots took shape, then were clear. Four-legged, fur-covered ustuzou. One of them grew, filled the print, looked up with snarling jaws, curved teeth protruding. Then jumped aside at the threat of the attacking bird. This last print was the most dramatic of all for the wing-spread shadow of the raptor lay across the longtooth and the snow. When Malsas‹ had finished looking at them Vaintè took the pictures with eager hands, excitement growing as she went through them.
“It can be trained to search for any creature?”
“Any.”
“Even the ustuzou I brought from Alpèasak?”
“Particularly that ustuzou. It will search and it will find and it will return. Where it has been can easily be determined by using the pictures of its flight to prepare a map.”
“This is the weapon I need! The ustuzou move in small packs, while the country is large. We found one pack and destroyed it easily. Now we will find the others…”
“And you will destroy them in the same way,” Malsas‹ said.
“We will. I promise you — we will.”
“I am pleased. Vaintè, remain. Everyone else will now retire.”
Malsas‹ sat in frozen silence until the heavy doors had closed behind their backs. Only then did she move, and as she turned to face Vaintè she expressed unhappiness and more than a suggestion of fear. The Eistaa of Inegban* unhappy and afraid? There could be only one cause. Vaintè understood, and her movements echoed those of Malsas‹ as she spoke.
“It is the Daughters of Death, is it not?”
“It is. They will not die — and their numbers grow.”
“Nor will they die in Alpèasak. In the beginning, yes, the work was hard and the dangers many. But now that we have grown and prospered it is not the same. They are injured, some die. But not enough.”
“You will take some of the worst offenders with you in the uruketo when you return. The ones that talk in public, who make converts.”
“I will. But each one I take means one less armed fargi. In Alpèasak these deathless creatures impede me because they will not aid in the destruction of the ustuzou. They are a burden.”
“Equally so in Inegban*.”
“I will take them. But only in the new and unproven uruketo.”
Malsas‹’s sign of assent had small overtones of respect.
“You are hard and dangerous, Vaintè. If the young uruketo fail to cross the ocean, their failure will also be a success.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Good. We will talk of these matters again before you return to Alpèasak. Now — I am tired and the day has been long.”
Vaintè made a most formal withdrawal — but once the door had closed she had to fight to prevent her elation from being revealed. She was filled with thoughts of the future as she walked through the city, and her body moved to mirror those thoughts. There was not only elation, but death was very present as well, so much so that the fargi she passed moved quickly away from her. She was hungry now and went to the nearest place of meat. Many were waiting and she ordered them from her path. Vaintè ate well, then washed the meat from her hands and went to her quarters. They were both functional and comfortable, yet also highly decorated with woven and patterned cloth.
The fargi hurried away at her abrupt command. All except the one that she signaled to her.
“You,” she ordered. “Seek out my ustuzou with the leashed neck and bring it here.”
It took some time because the fargi had no idea where to look. But she spoke to fargi she met who spoke to others and the command passed through the living fabric of the city until it reached one who saw Kerrick.
Vaintè had almost forgotten the order by the time he arrived, was deeply involved in planning the future. Memory returned instantly when he entered.
“This has been a day of success, a day of my success,” she said. Speaking to herself, not knowing or caring what he responded. Inlènu* settled down comfortably on her tail, facing the woven cloth on the wall, enjoying its patterns in her own almost mindless way.
Vaintè pulled Kerrick down beside her and stripped away his fur coverings. Laughing when he tried to draw away from her, exciting herself as she excited him.
Kerrick was no longer frightened by what happened. It felt too good. When it was over and she pushed him from her he went regretfully. Hoping already that this thing would happen again and again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Thunder rumbled ominously behind the dark-clouds as the torrential rain lashed the surface of the ocean. The uruketo moved slowly away from the shore, with the two smaller uruketo close behind. The enteesenat, happy to be in the open ocean again, raced ahead, surging up and out of the water as they dived through the waves. Inegban* soon fell behind, grew dim, then was lost from sight in the rain.
It was not an easy voyage. After the excitement and unexpected pleasures of Inegban*, the return trip in the uruketo was a constant torment to Kerrick. The interior was filled to capacity, the bottom so covered with fargi that it was impossible to walk without treading on them. Food and water were in short supply and carefully rationed. This was no hardship for the Yilanè who simply grew torpid and slept most of the time. Not so Kerrick. He felt closed in, trapped, unable to breathe. Nor was there any respite in sleep, for he would dream of suffocating, drowning, and wake with a cry, running with sweat. He could not move around at will, and only twice during the seemingly endless voyage did he manage to make his way up inside the fin to gasp in lungfuls of the life-giving salt air.
There was a storm in mid-ocean that prevented the fin from opening for so many days that the foul-smelling air became unbreathable. In the end the fin had to be opened, just a slit, but this was still more than enough to admit a dripping shower of cold sea water along with the air. Damp and sticky, first cold then warm again, Kerrick suffered in silent misery.
When the storm finally ended and the fin could be opened again, Vaintè ordered the others away and climbed to the top alone. The seas were still heavy and white-tipped waves stretched out on all sides. Empty seas. The two small uruketo had vanished; they were never seen again.
Kerrick’s seasickness ended only when they were in the harbor of Alpèasak . The sickness and the days without food had weakened him so greatly that he could barely climb to his feet. The caged raptor had suffered almost as much as he had; its head hung low and it cried out weakly when they carried it away. Kerrick was the last ashore, and had to be lifted bodily up the fin by Inlènu* and two of the fargi.
Vaintè breathed deeply of the moist, warm air, rich with the odors of the living city, and felt immense pleasure as she shook off the lethargy of the voyage. She slipped into the first cooling tank she came to, rubbed away the salt and crusted filth from the uruketo’s interior, emerged into the sunlight again refreshed and fit.
She had no need to summon the city leaders because they were all waiting for her in the ambesed when she arrived.
“Alpèasak is well?” she asked, and felt even more refreshed when they all communicated well-being. “What of the ustuzou, Stallan, what of those vermin that gnaw at the fringes of our city?”
“A nuisance, little more. Some of our meat animals have been stolen, others butchered during the hours of darkness, their flesh carried away before morning. But our defenses are strong, there is little they can do.”
“The smallest amount is too much. They must be stopped. And they will be. I bring more fargi, trained in the use of their weapons. The ustuzou will be followed and killed.”
“They are hard to track,” Stallan said doubtfully. “They have an animal’s skill in the forest and leave no sign of their passing. Or if there is a trail it leads only to an ambush. Many fargi have died that way.”
“No more,” Vaintè said, and expressed pleasure as the raptor screeched as though in response. Its cage had been brought forward by its handlers and the bird was now preening its feathers in the sunlight.
“All will be explained,” Vaintè said. “This flying creature will enable us to find the ustuzou den where they hide their cubs and females. But first I want the reports in detail of everything that has passed while I have been away.”
The raptor recovered quickly from the sea voyage: Vaintè waited impatiently for the next ustuzou raid. When the report reached her she issued rapid orders and went at once to the outlying pasture where the attack had occurred. Stallan was there first, pointing out with disgust the butchered corpses on the blood-stained grass.
“Wasteful. Just the rich hindquarters have been taken.”
“Very practical,” Vaintè said, showing little emotion. “Easy to carry, little to waste. Which way have they gone?”
Stallan indicated the opening that had been torn in the thorn fence, the trail beyond that vanished under the tall trees.
“North, as always. An easy trail to follow which means we were meant to see it. The meat is gone and only death, traps, and ambushes will be on that trail if we dare to follow it.”
“The bird will go where we cannot,” Vaintè said as the raptor was brought up. The captive creature screamed angrily and tore at the shackle that held its leg. It was not caged now but sat instead on a wooden perch mounted on a platform. Long poles supported this so that the fargi that carried it could not be reached by claw or beak. Kerrick arrived at the same time, wondering at this early summons.
“Do your work,” Vaintè ordered the handlers.
Kerrick found himself suddenly no longer a spectator as hard thumbs seized him and dragged him forward. The raptor was excited by the sight and smell of the bleeding carcasses, screeching and flapping its wings thunderously. One of the handlers carved a lump of flesh from the flank of a butchered beast and threw it towards the bird. It seized the red meat greedily with its free foot, clamped it to the perch with its claws and tore bloody gobbets from it. Only when it was done did they continue. Kerrick struggled as he was pushed forward, almost within reach of that gory, hooked beak.
“Follow, find. Follow, find,” the handler shouted, over and over, while they forced Kerrick even closer.
The raptor did not attack, but turned its head instead to fix one cold, gray eye upon Kerrick. It stared unwaveringly at him while the commands were shouted at it, only blinking and bobbing its head when the orders ceased.
“Turn the perch until it faces the trail,” the handler ordered, then reached out from behind and swiftly released the shackle.
The raptor screamed, bent its legs — then hurled itself into the air with the thunderous beat of great wings. Kerrick fell back as the bird looked in his direction and the handler shouted instructions.
It had been well-trained. It mounted swiftly into the air, soared about in a single lofty circle-then started north.
“It has begun,” Vaintè said with great satisfaction.
But her enthusiasm ebbed as day after day went by — and the raptor did not return. The worried handlers avoided her, as did everyone else at the sight of the anger in her movements. As long as Kerrick was not summoned to her presence he stayed as far away as he could. The hanalè offered a quiet retreat where he could not easily be found; he had not been there since their return from Inegban*.
Ikemend opened the door at his approach. “You have been to Inegban*,” she said, her words a question and an answer at the same time, excitement in the movements she spoke.
“I have never seen such a city.”
“Tell me of it, for I will never see it again with my own eyes.”
While he spoke she fitted the leash into a groove that had been worked into the wood of the doorway, then closed the door against it. Kerrick knew what she wanted to hear and told her only of the glories of the city, the crowds and the excitement — and nothing of the hunger and cold of the winters. He valued his visits to the hanalè so made sure that Ikemend would always look forward to seeing him. She listened as long as she could, hurrying away only when the urgency of her work demanded it. The males did not like Ikemend and carefully avoided her company. None of them were in sight now. Kerrick looked down a dark hallway, to the interior he would never see, then called out when someone passed at the far end.
“It is I, Kerrick, I would speak with you.”
The bait was too strong to be resisted. The Yilanè came slowly forward into the light and Kerrick recognized him. Esetta*, a moody creature whom he had talked to once or twice. All of the other males admired Esetta*’s singing, though Kerrick found it monotonous and a little boring. Though he had never said this aloud.
“Inegban* is a real city,” Esetta* said, in the abrupt, breathless fashion that all the males used. “There we could sit high up among the leaves and watch everything that happened in the crowded walkways below. We were not forever trapped in boredom as we are here, with little to do other than to think of the fate of the beaches. Tell me…”
“I will. But first send for Alipol. I want to tell him too.”
“I cannot.”
“Why?”
Esetta* took a perverse pleasure in his answer. “Why can’t I? You want to know why I can’t? I will tell you why I can’t.” He hesitated over the answer, flicking his tongue between his teeth to dampen his lips before he spoke.
“You cannot speak to him because Alipol is dead.”
Kerrick was shocked by this news. Sturdy Alipol, as solid as a treetrunk. It did not seem possible.
“He was taken ill — an accident?”
“Worse. He was taken, taken by force. He who has been to the beaches twice before. And they knew, those crude beasts, they knew, he told them, pleaded with them, showed them the lovely things he makes but they just laughed at that. Some of them turned away, but the hideous one with the scars and that rough voice, the one who leads the hunters, she found the protests exciting and seized Alipol and stifled his cries with her ugly body. All day they were there, she made sure, all day, I saw it. Sure of the eggs.”
Kerrick understood that something terrible had happened to his friend, but did not know what. Esetta* had forgotten him for the moment, was swaying with his eyes closed. He hummed a dirge-like tone, then began to sing a hoarse song that brimmed with dread.
West of Eden e-1 Page 20
