“Excellent,” Ambalasei said, gesturing success of endeavor with her right hand. This turned instantly to a modifier of distaste/displeasure as sharp pain shot through her bandaged thumb.
“Pleasure of presence,” Enge said. “Unhappiness at injury hopefully soon healed.”
“A hope that I share. Infection from accidental cut by stringknife during dissection. Slowness of healing indication of advanced age of organism.”
“Ambalasei is heavy with years of wisdom.”
“Heavy with years of years as well, Enge. Signs of age cannot be denied. But can be forgotten in pleasures of research/discovery. Did you see that creature run?”
“I did. Though reasons for captive/release flight were unclear, the creature itself unclear. It has the feathers of bird, but also teeth, no beak.”
Ambalasei signed appreciation of observation. “Abandon your pursuit of Ugunenapsa’s invisible theorizing and I shall make you into a true scientist. No? I did not think so. Complete waste of intelligence. As you have observed the pertinent thing about the ninkulileb are its teeth, that is why it is so named. That creature is a living fossil. I have seen beasts like it in rock from ages long gone. Yet on this isolated continent, so far from Inegban*, its descendants still live. You saw the teeth and the feathers. It is a link between early sauria and the estekel* who fly so well. Though perhaps not. Parallel evolution I believe. These creatures are more closely related to modern birds. Wings and feathers, yet not capable of being truly airborne yet, you witnessed that. Still a fast runner, aided by the wings, to capture insects and to escape predators. This continent is a revelation, the flora and fauna worth lifetimes of study.”
Ambalasei peeled the nefmakel from her hand as she talked, glared angrily at the healing wound, signed Setessei for a fresh wrapping. While her assistant was fitting it into place Ambalasei indicated query of presence to Enge.
“Concern over injury, desire for assistance.”
“The injury heals, but hurts. Assistance in aid of what?”
“Omal reports misfortune in containers. Meat rots.”
“Failure of enzyme. Setessei will take care of that as she always does. And why does Enge bear a message that Omal herself could bring? Or any yilanè fargi for that matter.”
“Ambalasei always penetrates another’s thoughts even before they are spoken. Although the matter is of no importance to you, I seek clarity of thinking for aspects of truth that escape me.”
“There are times when I feel like the only yilanè among yiliebe fargi. Where would this world be without my intelligence?”
Although the question was rhetorical Enge answered with solemn reassurance. “I do not speak for the world but only for myself and my companions. We would be dead. In the fullness of time this will not be forgotten.” She signed subservience, lowest to highest.
“Well spoken. Flattering yet completely true. Now what is the latest application needed for my mighty wisdom?”
“I have had queries from many, the same question expressed in different ways, yet the same query and the same worry from all.”
“The lazy creatures should work harder, think less. Your new fargi called Daughters of Life, yet still fargi of immense unreasoning stupidity, do most of the labor in this city. Giving the rest too much time to talk and argue.”
“Ambalasei is correct, as always. But the query is one that I feel within myself as well. A fear for the future that cannot be placated. The fear of the ending. The fear of the death of this city.”
Ambalasei snorted in anger. “Abstract thought breeds abstract fears. You are all healthy, the city grows well, there are few dangers and a great sufficiency of food. A Yilanè of real intelligence would take pleasure from this and not seek distant pain. You are all young and at the very beginning of what could be long and productive lives. Why concern yourselves now with the distant future? Don’t bother to answer that for I can easily answer for you. You are all Daughters of Contentiousness and will never find true wisdom or true pleasure. Your continuous arguments about means to an end are a means in an end to themselves.”
“Yet the future will be here one day…”
“Well I won’t. You have made your own problems. Now you must seek your own solutions. I am nearing the end of my work here and when it is done I will leave.”
“I have never considered…”
“But I have. I have given you your lives and your city. They are yours to enjoy. After I have gone. Study the thoughts of Ugunenapsa, seek your answers from her and not from me. Setessei, stir up another one of the ninkulileb. Their flying that is not flying is most revealing, as are their feathers that are closer to scales than feathers. Records must be made. Science goes forward steadily, although your Daughters of Life are obviously unaware of that.”
Saagakel looked around at her attentive circle of advisers, signed for closest attention, spoke. “Daughters of Life. I speak their name and, though it angers me, I do not feel the destroying rage that once possessed me, possessed us all. I speak that detested name now because there is new knowledge brought to us by Fafnepto, brought to us by Vaintè. We must now find a way to use this new knowledge, to take my vengeance on those who wronged this city, wronged your Eistaa.”
There were shouts of agreement when Saagakel spoke, angry promises of vengeance, heated queries for elucidation. It was all quite enjoyable. Vaintè sat in stern silence at Saagakel’s right hand, spoke only when the Eistaa signed permission.
“Your Eistaa has spoken to me of what happened here when those creatures were unjustly freed, then fled in a proud uruketo of this city. This is a wrong that must be righted. To right this great wrong two things must be considered. Leading this uncivilized pack of animals was one named Enge. I know much of Enge and will tell you of that. The uruketo has gone and none knows where. But strong Saagakel here has knowledge of that. She has knowledge that the uruketo has not been seen in any of the cities of Entoban*. When you hear that you may think that they have escaped your Eistaa’s justice. This is not so. I believe that I have the knowledge that will lead us to them.”
There was an interested hum of surprise at this, and pleasure at mysteries about to be unfolded. Across the stream the distant watchers tried to understand what was happening on Eistaa’s side of the ambesed, could not, stayed and watched intently anyway. It was obvious that matters of great import were being discussed. They moved aside at shouts for attention as Gunugul pushed her way through, two burdened fargi following her. Vaintè pointed to the newcomer.
“You all know Gunugul, eldest and most senior commander of the uruketo that serve this city. She has brought something of importance to show us. Reveal your charts, wise Gunugul, and tell us of their meaning so we may understand.”
With sharp commands Gunugul had the containers lowered and opened, a chart removed and rolled out upon the grass. The fargi stood, one to each side, stolid and unmoving, their claws hooked over the chart to hold it in position. The onlookers stirred and pushed each other aside to see it. Though of course they understood nothing. Gunugul pointed to the shaded green area to one side.
“This is Entoban*, where this great city lies. And here, on the ocean’s edge, is the city of Yebèisk itself.” There was a murmur of appreciation as they stared hard at the fleck of gold. Gunugul moved her thumb from the city across the blueness of the chart. “The ocean stretches away from Yebèisk. We have had the privilege of hearing Vaintè tell us how she has crossed it in an uruketo to the land on the other side, to Entoban* and the city of Alpèasak . Put this away, give me the other chart.”
They watched in expectation as this chart was unrolled in turn, presented for their inspection. As mysterious and indecipherable to them as the first, but perhaps more fascinating because of that. Gunugul pointed again.
“Entoban*. A large and empty continent. Empty that is of Yilanè, though it crawls with ustuzou as Vaintè has said. I have now shown you what Vaintè asked me to.”
Gunugul stepped back but l
eft the chart displayed for their fascinated gaze. Most of them listened to Vaintè with only one eye, still staring at this map of distant mysteries.
“I have told you of the city of Alpèasak . What I have not told you, since the matter was of greatest distaste to your Eistaa, therefore not fit for public discussion, was that there were Daughters of Life in that city. Many of them died while the city was growing, though not enough. Still more died when the city was destroyed, for unlike true Yilanè they do not die at the correct predestined time, but instead live on like vermin. I will tell you no more of this, it is too disgusting, but I will tell you this much so you will know how one of them lived when many died. How one lived who should have died. How one lived to come to this city to flee it again. One named Enge.”
The chart was forgotten now. Every eye on Vaintè. Every voice hushed so they could hear clearly everything that she might say.
“This was one known as Enge, a Daughter of Life, who has a great if perverted intelligence. She has knowledge of far Entoban*. She has knowledge of crossing the ocean.”
Vaintè looked around at their gaping attention. So unusual was all this that she could see none but the Eistaa knew what she was going to say, where this connected trail of knowledge would lead. They leaned forward in silence, the perfect audience, every curved line of their bodies begging for her to speak.
“You have heard that the uruketo that fled this city cannot be found. Gunugul, could this uruketo cross the ocean?”
“Where the ocean currents flow the uruketo swim.”
“Could it have crossed to distant Entoban*?”
“Other uruketo have done this. This uruketo could do this.”
Vaintè leaned back, turned to the Eistaa, spoke. “It is my belief, Saagakel, Eistaa of Yebèisk, that your uruketo has crossed the ocean and has gone to Entoban*. Not to the city of Alpèasak , for the eistaa there has little love for the Daughters of Death. The uruketo is not at that city, but it must be somewhere there along the shore. There is no place else that it could possibly be.”
“Gone!” a councillor wailed in anguish. “Gone!” Others took up the cry but the Eistaa signed for attention and the silence was instant.
“You are Yilanè of small intelligence, even less enterprise. Which is why I lead and why you follow. Why you do not even consider for a moment that we can indeed go after these creatures, take them, slay them, wreak vengeance, bring back our uruketo in triumph.”
When the meaning of this struck home their silence turned to cries of pleasure and astonishment, gratitude to the Eistaa, and certainty of victory. The Eistaa accepted the applause, which was only her due, while Vaintè stayed modestly and motionlessly behind her. Vaintè wanted no acclaim. She wanted revenge.
Saagakel wanted this as well, but revenge tempered by reticence. She wanted to pursue the uruketo, track it to the ends of the world where it had fled. Seize it and kill that ancient Ambalasei who had caused her this great ill. This was what she wanted to do.
This was what she knew she dare not do. She was Eistaa and this was her city. If she went away another would act for her, rule for her, and would surely replace her. When she returned there would be a new Eistaa sitting in her place. Revenge or rule — it was a simple choice.
“All leave,” she ordered, signing instant dismissal across the water. “Vaintè stay. Gunugul stay. Fafhepto stay.”
She wanted no discussion and no advice, even from her most trusted advisers. She had made a decision and what she ordered would be done. Now she leaned back in silent thought while the crowd dispersed, waited until the last of them had crossed the bridges before she spoke.
“Gunugul, you have told us that your uruketo can cross the ocean. When can you leave?”
“When you command, Eistaa. It is well fed and fat, my crew is ready. We can load the preserved meat and water in the time between a sunrise and a sunset. Then we can leave. You have seen the charts, the course is clear.”
“Good. You shall command your uruketo as you always have. You will find your way to distant Entoban*. When you reach those shores Vaintè will lead the search. She will tell you of the land and ocean there and you will search where she tells you to search. Will you do that for me, Vaintè?”
“I will do as you command, Eistaa. It will be my greatest pleasure to do as you order, for I seek the same thing that you seek. And when we find the uruketo — what then? What will you have me do with those who stole it from you?”
Vaintè’s enthusiasm was greatly diminished when Saagakel spoke again, but she hid it beneath her posture of firm attention.
“When the uruketo is found you will turn to Fafhepto for your orders. Though you are not of this city, Fafnepto, will you act for this city? Will you seek out those who have wounded me and bring my stern justice to them? You are a hunter — will you hunt now for me?”
Fafnepto shaped her stance in rough obedience. “I will do as you order. It will be my pleasure. I have hunted all kinds of creatures before this, but never another Yilanè. I think they will make good sport and will be excellent game to track down.”
“Well spoken. Now stay, while the others leave, and hear my instructions.”
Vaintè was overly careful to let none of her displeasure show. She signed gratitude and respect before she turned away, for she surely felt those things towards the Eistaa who was giving her this opportunity. Only when she had crossed the silver bridge did she move with some bitterness. She should have been in command and the Eistaa knew that.
Which was exactly why she was not. None would ever rule in Saagakel’s place as long as she lived. She would make all of the decisions and others would obey. Gunugul would cross the ocean, Vaintè would find their prey. And then — what?
She turned and looked at the two distant figures. Saw their limbs move, could make out nothing of their conversation. What were Fafnepto’s orders? Vaintè possessed nothing. But had she any possessions, power, position, she would have given them all up to overhear that distant conversation. But she could not. She turned away and hurried after the uruketo commander.
In addition to food and water she must see to it that hèsotsan were taken aboard.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“I have been here before,” Vaintè said. “It was a lifetime ago. Or perhaps it was in another lifetime. I stood just where I am standing now. Where you now stand, Fafnepto, was the commander of the uruketo. She has since died. Erafnais was her name. I have not thought of her in a very long time. Her uruketo died so she died as well.”
It had been an easy crossing. Some rain, no real storms. Vaintè had not slept continually like the others but had been here, high on the fin, for most of the time. Her thumbs, now gripped tight to the scarred skin, could feel the writhing movement as the creature surged through the sea, the powerful tail muscles driving it forward. With each thrust moving closer to Entoban* — from which she had twice been driven. There would be no third time. Fafnepto had emerged from the dark interior and stood beside her in the warm sunlight. She did not speak much, but was a good listener. She wanted to learn all there was to know about this new continent and respected Vaintè’s knowledge. Vaintè was happy to share it.
The pupils of Fafnepto’s eyes were thin slits as she looked into the bright sun, she shaded them even further with one hand as she pointed to the horizon. “I see something there, distant in the water. More than one. Are they islands?”
“They are. Yesterday, when you were below, we passed a large island. That is the first thing to be seen after crossing the ocean. Now we come to this island chain. Their name is their being. Alakas-aksehent, the succession of golden, tumbled stones. Their sands and the water about them are warm all the year round. The islands extend in a line until they reach the mainland. There you will find the city of Alpèasak . That is the one place we shall not go, the one place where the uruketo we seek would not have gone.”
“These islands — could those we seek possibly be there?”
“I thin
k not. I was told there is little vegetation, less water. Those who flee will look for a shore where there are animals to hunt and eat.”
“I understand that. Do you understand that to hunt an animal you must think like that animal?”
“I have never heard that before, but now that you say it I believe it. And thank you. We hunt fleeing Yilanè, we must think as these Yilanè would.”
“You must try to think as those you hunt would think. I have talked many times with the scientist whose name is Ambalasei. I understand the parts of her that think as I do, for she wishes to know of all living things. I have brought her specimens, answered her questions. What I cannot understand is why she should have freed the prisoners, aided their escape.”
“That question I cannot answer. It is inconceivable to me that any Yilanè of wisdom would voluntarily aid the Daughters of Death. But I can tell you of Enge, who is their leader. She has impressive intelligence, although greatly misdirected now.”
“If she leads — then where would she lead them?”
“That is the very important question that must be answered. Answer that and we have found our prey.”
“Would she go to the large island you mentioned now, that we passed yesterday?”
“Maninlè? I know nothing of it, other than its name, she would know even less…”
Vaintè broke off in sudden silence, turned and looked back at the froth of wake behind the uruketo, looked beyond it into the distance. Turned back to Fafnepto and signed respect and gratitude.
“You are indeed a hunter, and you have spoken what is indeed an important thought. We must send for the commander. Because none that I know of have ever visited that island, that does not mean that no one ever will. We must search its coastline. If the uruketo is there it will be found.”
Gunugul agreed at once. The enteesenat that accompanied and fed the uruketo came swimming back at great speed when it made a long, slow turn in the sea. They leapt clear of the water, splashed back down, swam ahead of it until darkness. During the night they drifted with the current, as did their immense charge, and in the morning they followed as it approached the island’s sandy shore.
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