Vaintè looked at her coldly and spoke with minimum movements, rejection without insult. “I am commanded only by those of power: I speak only to those with grace.”
Ostuku gasped, angered and confused. The sureness of the visitor was real, her presence imposing. She turned away from Vaintè, not willing to go on with the exchange.
“An accomplished Yilanè,” Saagakel thought, and of course communicated this thought to those around her. Vaintè heard it as well and signed respectful gratitude, pleasure of presence. All of the others were watching now and Vaintè was suddenly the center of attention. She saw this, stood and spoke.
“Apologies, Saagakel Eistaa of power. I did not mean to impose myself on your presence, wishing just to experience the pleasures of your ambesed, the strength of your presence. I withdraw for I have caused an interruption.”
“A welcome one, for events of the day are boring beyond belief. Come forward and tell us of yourself and of your visit to Yebèisk.”
Vaintè did as she had been commanded, moving closer to the Eistaa. “I am Vaintè, she who was Eistaa of Alpèasak.” When she spoke the city’s name she added modifiers of darkness and termination. Saagakel responded with knowledge of circumstance.
“We have heard of your city and those who died there. Killer ustuzou, event of great unhappiness.”
“Happiness restored. Ustuzou driven out, the city Yilanè once again — for Ikhalmenets has gone to Alpèasak.”
Saagakel signed knowledge and memory. “I have heard of that great event from uruketo of Ikhalmenets that called here. I also heard of one who drove out the ustuzou. Coincidence of great importance, for that Yilanè also bore the name of Vaintè.”
Vaintè lowered her eyes and tried to speak humbly, succeeded slightly.
“There is only one Yilanè of small importance who bears the name Vaintè.”
Saagakel expressed great pleasure. “Doubly welcome to my city, Vaintè. You must tell me of this new land of Gendasi * across the ocean and of all the things that have happened there. Here, sit close to my right thumbs, and speak to us. Move, fat Ostuku, and make room for our new comrade.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Each day after that Vaintè would go the ambesed and join the circle of confidantes that ringed the Eistaa. It was a pleasure to watch the flow of a great city again, the problems being brought to Saagakel, her orders issued. She delegated authority easily, but always in limited terms; have these fields prepared, those animals moved, the fishing catch to be improved. Those who acted for her would then be ignored — until they reported success of assignment. It was always success because any Yilanè who did not carry out the Eistaa’s directions, precisely and completely, was never seen again in the ruling half of the ambesed. Vaintè admired this, as well as the not too obvious fact that none of the assistants were ever delegated power in more than one area — or for more than a limited amount of time. Saagakel was the Eistaa and saw to it that no other had the experience or opportunity to aspire to that place.
When her day’s work was finished, the Eistaa would bathe in the pool of warm water hidden by the trees behind her place of power. Once she was refreshed and cleansed, meat would be brought to her and she would eat with great pleasure. Then, on most days, she would sign to Vaintè to tell them more about Gendasi* distant across the sea, of Alpèasak the city that grew and was Yilanè, was burnt and infected by ustuzou, was reclaimed again in the end. There was so much to tell that Vaintè could choose the content and manner of telling. Her listeners noticed no gaps in her history for she told it in separate units and each unit was complete. They were entertained, horrified, fascinated and grateful. They, like Vaintè, wanted the story to be long in the telling in order to extract the maximum amount of diversion.
Vaintè for her part wanted to learn everything she could about the city and the Eistaa. After the long, bleak time of silence it was pleasure magnified to speak and to listen. By avoiding those topics that caused her pain of memory she healed herself. Yebèisk was a fine city to be in. Like all other cities it was centered on the ambesed. Around and above the ambesed there grew the city tree, the complex web of life that nourished and formed the city. To one side, there was the sea, as in all cities, always ocean or river, where the birth beaches were. On all the other flanks the fields and forests stretched away until they reached the outermost rampart of the city. A living wall of trees and poisonous plants — and great indestructible animals like nenitesk and onetsensast, living fossils of bygone ages, that protected the city from the creatures of the wild forests. The city ended at the wall. Beyond it were the mountains, deserts and dry plains, unsuitable for Yilanè, stretching into the unmeasurable distance, uncharted and unmapped; although there were those few who knew ways across them. Then, when the soil and the climate became amenable again, there would be another wall and another city. All across the great continent of Entoban* the wild country stretched between the cities of the Yilanè.
One day there appeared, out of the trackless forest, a hunter of great skill by the name of Fafnepto. She was not of Yebèisk, or of any city that anyone knew of, for she moved from one to the other as it pleased her. Fafnepto had just arrived from one of these distant cities and all present listened to her with eagerness.
“You have returned, Fafnepto,” Saagakel said, with modifiers of appreciation, rewards pending.
“I have, Eistaa, as I said I would.” She touched the container on the grass next to her with one foot. Tall and strong, her skin scarred by her years beyond the cities, she reminded Vaintè of one who had been very close to her, one Stallan, once her staunchest ally and friend. A hunter as well; it was no chance resemblance. Although Fafnepto did bear a disfigurement that made her unique. Some creature, she never spoke of it and none dared ask, had lashed her across the head and rib cage, leaving an immense length of scar. This cut across her face and had removed her left eye. It was said that she saw better with the remaining eye than others did with two, which was undoubtedly true.
“I have brought that which you requested, Eistaa. The eggs lie safe in here.”
Saagakel moved with gratitude and pleasure. “Fafnepto, first among Yilanè of strength and wisdom, do you speak of the eggs of the okhalakx?” She signed pleasure unbounded at Fafnepto’s affirmative answer. The listeners echoed the pleasure, all except for Vaintè.
“You are not familiar with the okhalakx?” Saagakel asked.
“Apologies for ignorance,” Vaintè said.
“Lack of information, one day to be replaced by pleasure. It is one of the older animals, found in very few cities. Solid of body, strong of skull — and most important — tasty of flesh. We had a small herd, they grow slowly, but they were destroyed by disease. A tragedy turned now to a happiness by Fafnepto, for whom the city’s gratitude is boundless. Requests of any magnitude granted.”
“One,” Fafnepto said in a plain-spoken, rough but not impolite manner. She turned a penetrating eye on Vaintè. “I have been told that this visitor has great knowledge of Gendasi*, land across the sea. And of the ustuzou and other animals there. I have questions about them I would ask.”
“My knowledge is yours,” Vaintè said, and Saagakel was gratified by her loyalty and clarity of speech. Fafnepto signed her away from the group and they walked by the stream.
“The ustuzou I know are small and covered with fur,” Fafhepto said. “It is said that they are different in Gendasi*.”
“Some are just as you have said. But there are larger ones with branching horns that make the best eating. We kept them in the city for that. Then there are the others of some intelligence and much guile. Poisonous creatures, fit only to be destroyed. As they destroyed Alpèasak, though it grew again.”
“Those are the ones of which I heard. Are they yilanè?”
“No. It has been said that they converse with each other, but none can understand it. There was one once who was yilanè, a creature of great destruction.”
When she talked now of K
errick Vaintè felt her body move with expressions of great loathing and hatred. So strong were these that she had to stop and force herself into silence to regain control. Fafnepto waited, patient and unmoving, until Vaintè could speak again.
“You have seen how I feel. That one ustuzou has destroyed everything that I have worked for.”
“I will kill it for you if I can find it.”
Vaintè felt a great warmth of feeling towards this stolid, scarred Yilanè and it shaped her speaking. “I believe you, strong Fafnepto, and thank you. I will tell you all that I know about the creatures and Inegban*, for they are different in many ways.”
Fafnepto was a good listener and asked only for amplification and clarification on points of particular interest. Vaintè spoke of things that she had not even thought about since returning to Gendasi*. This calmed her and made the speaking all that more pleasant. When she had finished she hesitated and Fafnepto caught the suggestion of question unspoken.
“If Vaintè has need of something — tell me.”
“Not need, curiosity that is more than curiosity. You, who are both of this city and of other cities, might speak to me of it. Yebèisk has made me welcome and I am privileged to talk often with the Eistaa. There is freedom of speaking — yet there is one thing that no one talks of. Something that if it is suggested to exist is rejected. Since this is a strong rejection I have not mentioned it here. May I speak of it to you?”
“Tell me what it is.”
“The Daughters of Life.”
The hunter signed for respectful silence even before Vaintè had finished speaking the name. She looked on all sides as she said it, saw that none were close enough to hear, then led Vaintè further away, to a sunny spot behind low hedges where the others were out of sight.
“We are here,” Fafnepto said, “so no possible interpretation can be placed upon body movements. You were right to come to me for none other here would dare speak of what happened. Do you know much of the Daughters?”
“Far too much. Endless trouble/pain caused by them. I wish them all dead.”
“As does the Eistaa. There were many here, imprisoned in a fruit grove to prevent their poison from spreading. Then more of the same arrived from outside the city and were also imprisoned. Their cause was taken up by one of science named Ambalasei. This is the one whose blood the Eistaa wishes to taste upon her teeth. Ambalasei freed them all and took them from here.”
“Not easy to do.”
“There was an uruketo. She ordered that without the Eistaa’s knowledge, took it and all of the prisoners and has not been heard of since.”
“Gone? But how?”
“That is beyond my knowledge. When no others were permitted to mention it, the Eistaa still spoke to me of the matter. In all the cities I visited I was to ask about the uruketo and its cargo. It has never reappeared. There is no trace.”
Vaintè was still with internal thought for some time, before turning to Fafnepto and speaking again. “I think that you have deep reasons under your other reasons for speaking with me. Is that true, Fafnepto?”
“It is.”
“You asked about the ustuzou of Gendasi*. And you search for an uruketo. Is it your belief, do you think it possible, that the uruketo has gone to Gendasi*?”
“I have searched and spoken to many. Now I believe that the uruketo has left Inegban*. If it has — where could it be?”
Vaintè thought carefully before she spoke again. “We ask each other questions. We swim around an answer but do not go near it. I will speak clearly. I think your uruketo has crossed the ocean. The only question remaining is — do you tell Saagakel of this? Or do I?”
“She has forbidden me to speak of the matter to her ever again.”
“Then the responsibility is mine for I have not been forbidden. Were you in the city when all this happened?”
“No.”
“I will need to know more of what occurred before I dare mention it to the Eistaa. Who will talk to me about it?”
“Talk to Ostuku. Behind the fat is a Yilanè of intelligence. She will aid you.”
They parted in friendship, leaving Vaintè with much to think about. She knew better than to hurry a matter as delicate as this one. By putting it from her mind completely she let none of her new knowledge color any of her speaking. But she was aware of Ostuku’s movements and one morning saw her opportunity. The Eistaa had been speaking to her advisers. After the conference Ostuku waddled from the ambesed. Vaintè left at the same time and was her friendliest.
“Ostuku closest to Saagakel. May I walk with you — or are you embarked on matters of great urgency?”
“Matters of importance but not urgency.”
“Then request of wisdom from one of greatest wisdom. With privacy of conversation.”
Ostuku considered this closely before she spoke. “The pleasure will be mine. There exists a garden grove of sunshine and shade where I take much comfort.”
“Gratitude magnified multifold.”
They strolled in silence to the grove which was indeed as Ostuku had said. Sunwarmed, ornately carved boards were there for sitting or reclining. Green grass and flowers surrounded the trunks of tall trees. They sought cool comfort in the shadows for the sun was getting high. When they were seated Vaintè went right to the point.
“I am in need of advice. I spoke to Fafnepto of my need and she said that your counsel was the wisest in the city — after the Eistaa’s of course. It is a matter of great delicacy. I understand that all have been forbidden to speak of it with the Eistaa in hearing. I have special knowledge I wish to report. May I talk to you?”
Ostuku had been listening in silence until this moment. She looked briefly around the empty grove, then back to Vaintè.
“Does it concern the Daughters of Life?”
“It does.”
Ostuku signed great worry, great distaste. “The Eistaa will not have them spoken of in her presence. But you and I may talk of them — if you assure me it is of the greatest importance.”
“It is. Fafnepto has information about them she wishes Saagakel to know. Since she has also been forbidden to talk of this matter I will speak for her. But there are some things I must know of first that will clarify what I must say. Will you help?”
“For the sake of the Eistaa I will help. It was a matter of greatest anger for us all.”
“I know that one named Ambalasei aided the escape of the prisoners that you had here. In an uruketo.”
“She did. I never suspected the old creature of such effrontery and trickery. Fooled me, fooled us all. The Eistaa will never forgive her.”
“Now the question. There were among the prisoners those who had but recently come to the city.”
“There were.”
“I must ask, although it was long ago. Do you remember their names?”
“Just one. An intelligent and strong Yilanè who had the courage to argue with the Eistaa. Bold but foolhardy. Her name was Enge.”
Vaintè writhed with anger and other strong emotions, so much so that Ostuku leaned away. Seeing this Vaintè apologized quickly.
“Lowest to highest, none of what I feel is directed at you. Rather do I know this Enge creature, know her far too well because we-were/ended-now efensele. This, and what Fafnepto has told me, comes together to form a possible answer. Knowledge/probability where Ambalasei and the uruketo have gone.”
Ostuku signed gratitude. “To Fafnepto for sending you to me, to you for speaking your thoughts clearly. If you have this knowledge then, despite the ban, you must tell Saagakel at once. You are the only one who can do it. Will you — although you risk the Eistaa’s anger?”
“For the kindness she and her city have shown me I would risk death.”
“Well said. Gratitude from all. This matter has troubled the Eistaa for too long. Gratitude magnified many times if you can aid her.”
“It will be done, this day. Request if possible to locate one with skill in painting for I must have a
rms of greatest importance before I speak.”
“I will send for one. It will be done this day.”
Saagakel, having seen to all the pressing matters of the city, leaned back on the sunwarmed wood and felt tired. Responsibility was no easy thing. She was aware of motion as those about her drew away and she looked and saw Vaintè slowly approaching. Her arms were painted and her body stiffened in signs of some importance/privacy of talking needed. Saagakel found this of great interest because it was the triviality of city affairs that fatigued her. She stirred and rose to her feet.
“I go to the pool in the trees where none will disturb me. Come with me Vaintè and we shall talk.”
When they were alone she took a slab of cool meat from the container, that always rested there in case of sudden hunger, bit into it and made the signs of sharing to Vaintè. Vaintè took a token ceremonial piece, chewed it slowly and swallowed before she spoke.
“I who was Eistaa, speak to you as Eistaa. We have both been made to suffer from the same source. I will speak of painful matters, but speak only because I see future termination of past difficulties. I would speak of the Daughters of Life whom I call the Daughters of Death. Will you hear me?”
Saagakel’s body writhed with anger, as did Vaintè’s in instant sympathy. There was hatred as well, and there can be no greater bond than hatred shared.
“Speak,” Saagakel commanded, “for I can see that we are as one in this. Tell me what you know — and what you can do. Rid me of the burden that possesses my days and you will clasp my right thumbs as highest in all things. Speak!”
Vaintè signed gratitude and submission. “I must tell you of things past that bear on things present. We are born into an efenburu. We do not choose it. I had an efensele whom I now reject. I wish her dead. Her name is Enge and she leads others in the Daughters of Death.”
“An Enge came to this city, was imprisoned by me for she talked sedition. She talked of it to a respected scientist of advanced years named Ambalasei. What she said turned her from the natural way. She freed all of those deadly creatures and took them from here in one of my uruketo. They have not been seen or found since that day.”
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