Armun did not like it when he spoke of these things because of the strange sounds he made and the jerking motions of his body. She turned away but he called to her.
“There, do you see the dry stream bed where it runs into the ocean? That is where we will land, where we will meet again. Steer for the shore, Kalaleq. This is the right place, it is close—but still outside the barriers that surround the city.”
The shore here was mud and sand, carried down from the hills during the rainy season. They grounded on a sandbank, gently rocked by the ripple of the tiny waves.
“We will stay here most of the night,” Kerrick said. “But we must leave while it is still dark. Armun, you will stay behind and wait until there is enough light before you try to climb.”
“I can go in the dark,” Armun said.
“No, it is too dangerous. There will be enough time. What you must do is climb up there until you are above the city. Make everything ready as I have told you.”
“Dry wood for a large fire, green leaves for smoke.”
“Yes, but do not put on the leaves until the sun is two hands above the ocean. The fire must be large and hot with white-hot coals. At the proper time all of the leaves must be put on, to burn and smoke. As soon as you have done that you must come back here. Quickly—but not so quickly that you fall. Kalaleq will be waiting. I will come along the shore and join you as soon as I can. Is everything understood?”
“I feel that this is all madness and I am filled with fear.”
“Don’t be. It is going to go just as I planned. If you do your part I will be safe. But you must do it at the right time, neither earlier nor later. Is that understood?”
“Yes, I understand.” He was distant from her then, his voice so cold, thinking like a murgu—and acting like one as well. He wanted only obedience. He would have it—if only to get this over and done with. The world was a lonely place.
She dozed fitfully in the rocking boat, waking to hear Kalaleq’s rasping snores, then dozing again. Kerrick could not sleep but lay, open-eyed, staring up at the slowly wheeling stars. The morning star would rise soon, and after that it would be dawn. By nightfall this work would be done. He might not be alive to see the end of the day, he knew that. He would be taking an immense risk and victory was not as certain as he had assured Armun. For a moment he wished that they were back on that frozen coast, safe in the paukaruts of the Paramutan, away from all danger. He brushed the thought aside, remembering, as though it had happened to another person, the darkness that had held his thoughts for so long. There were too many people inside his head. He was Yilanè and Tanu, sammadar and leader in battle. He had burnt Alpèasak, then tried to save it, lost it again to the Yilanè. Then he had fled from everything—and now he knew that he could flee from nothing. Everything was inside his head. What he was doing was the right thing, the only thing. The sammads had to be saved—and in this entire world he was the only one who could do it. All of his efforts, everything he had ever done, had led him to this place, to this city at this time. What must be done would be done. The stars lifted above the horizon and he turned to waken the others.
Armun waded ashore in silence. She had so much to say that it was easier to say nothing. She stood knee-deep in the sea, clutching the fire-box to her, watching as the dark shape of the boat moved silently away. The moon had set and the starlight was not bright enough to reveal his face. Then they were gone, a black blur in the greater darkness. She turned and waded wearily ashore.
“Oh we are dead, dead,” Kalaleq muttered between his chattering teeth. “Consumed by these giant murgu.”
“There is nothing to fear. They do not move at night. Now put me ashore for it is almost dawn. You know what you are to do?”
“I know, I have been told.”
“I will tell you again, just to be sure. Are you sure the ularuaq poison will kill one of these creatures?”
“They are dead. They are no bigger than a ularuaq. My stab is sure death.”
“Then do it, swiftly, as soon as I am ashore. Kill them—but just two of them, no more. Be sure of that because it is most important. Two of them must die.”
“They die. Now go—go!”
The boat moved swiftly away even before Kerrick had reached dry sand. The morning star was bright on the horizon, the first gray of dawn below it. Now was the time. He took off his hide coverings, the wrappings from his feet, until all that remained was a soft leather breechclout. His spear was still in the boat, he was unarmed. He touched the metal knife that hung about his neck, but it had no edge, was just an ornament.
Shoulders back and head high, limbs curved slightly into the arrogance of superiority, completely alone, he strode forward into the Yilanè city of Ikhalmenets.
ninlemeistaa halmutu eisteseklem.
YILANÈ APOTHEGM
Above the eistaa is only the sky.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The loud shouts woke Lanefenuu, sending her into an instant fury. The transparent disc in the wall of her sleeping chamber was barely lit; it must just be dawn. And who dared to make those sounds in her ambesed! It was the sound of attention-to-speaking, loud and arrogant. She was on her feet in the instant, tearing great gouges from the matted flooring with her claws as she stamped her way out of the chamber.
A single Yilanè stood in the center of the ambesed, of strange color, deformed. When she saw Lanefenuu appear she called out, muffled by her lack of tail.
“Lanefenuu, Eistaa of Ikhalmenets, step forward. I will talk with you.”
The insult of the form of address; Lanefenuu was roaring with rage. Sunlight spread across the ground and she stopped in her tracks, tail lifted with surprise. The Yilanè could speak—but it was no Yilanè.
“Ustuzou! Here?”
“I am Kerrick. Of great strength and great anger.”
Lanefenuu walked slowly forward, numb with disbelief. It was an ustuzou, pallid of skin, fur around its middle, fur on its head and face, empty-handed, glowing metal around its neck. The ustuzou Kerrick as Vaintè had described it.
“I have come with a warning,” the ustuzou said, arrogance and insult in its mode of address. Lanefenuu’s crest flared with her instant anger.
“Warning? To me? You ask only for death, ustuzou.”
She strode forward, menace in every movement, but stopped when he framed certainty-of-destruction.
“I bring only death and pain, Eistaa. The death is here already and more will come if you do not listen to that which I will tell you. Death doubled. Death twice.”
There was sudden motion at the ambesed entrance and they both looked at the hurrying Yilanè who appeared, mouth gaping wide with the heat of her rapid movements.
“Death,” the newcomer said, with the same controllers of urgency and strength that Kerrick had used. Lanefenuu was crushed back onto her tail, numbed by shock, silent while the Yilanè shaped what she had to say.
“Sent by Muruspe—urgency of message. The uruketo she command—death. It is dead. Suddenly dead in the night. And another uruketo. Dead. Two dead.”
Lanefenuu’s cry of pain cut the air. She who had commanded an uruketo herself, who had spent her life with and for the great creatures, whose city boasted more and better uruketo than any other. Now. Two of them. Dead. She turned in pain, twisted by pain, to look at the great carving of the uruketo above her, of her likeness high on its fin. Two dead. What had the ustuzou said? She turned slowly to face the terrible creature.
“Two dead” Kerrick said again with the grimmest of controllers. “Now we will talk, Eistaa.”
He signed instant-dismissal to the messenger, from highest to lowest and the Yilanè turned and hurried away. Even this presumption of power in her presence did not disturb Lanefenuu, could not penetrate the grief she felt at her irreplaceable loss.
“Who are you?” she asked, the question muffled by her pain. “What do you want here?”
“I am Kerrick-highest and I am Eistaa of all the Tanu whom you call ustu
zou. I have brought you death. Now I will bring you life. It is I who commanded the killing of the uruketo. Those I order did this thing”
“Why?”
“Why? You dare to ask why? You who have sent Vaintè to slaughter those I rule, to pursue them and kill them and keep on killing them. I will tell you why they were killed. One was killed to show you my strength, that I can reach wherever I wish, kill whatever or whoever I want. But the death of just one might have been thought to be an accident. Two dead is no accident. All could have died as easily. I did this thing so you would know who I am, what forces I command, so you will do what I will ask you to do.”
Lanefenuu’s roar of anger cut him off. She stumbled forward, thumbs outstretched and jaws and agape, teeth ready. Kerrick did not move but instead spoke with insult and arrogance.
“Kill me and you will not die. Kill me and all of your uruketo will be dead. Is that what you want, Eistaa? The death of your uruketo and the death of your city? If you want that—then strike swiftly before you can think and change your mind.”
Lanefenuu trembled with her inner conflicts, accustomed to a lifetime of command, holding the power of life and death, taking orders from no one. That this ustuzou could speak to her in this manner! She was losing control.
Kerrick dare not step away from her or change the arrogance of his stance. A moment’s weakness on his part and she would strike. Perhaps he had pushed her too far—but he had had no choice. He shot a quick glance up at the hill above them. Nothing.
“There is something else I wish to tell you about, Eistaa,” he said. He must talk, keep her attention, not let her passions carry away her judgment. “Ikhalmenets is a great city, a jewel among Yilanè cities, sea-girt Ikhalmenets. You are Ikhalmenets and Ikhalmenets is you. Your responsibility and your reward. You rule here.”
He chanced another glance at the hill. There was a cloud above it—or was it a cloud? No. Smoke. And Lanefenuu was shuffling towards him. He shouted loudly to cut through her ham of anger.
“You are Ikhalmenet—and Ikhalmenet is about to be destroyed. Look behind you, up there, on the ridge. Do you see that cloud that is not a cloud? It is smoke. And you know what smoke is? Smoke comes from fire and fire burns and destroys. Fire burnt Alpèasak, killed all there. You know about that. Now I have brought fire to Ikhalmenets.”
Lanefenuu turned, looked, wailed in agony. Smoke burst up from the ridge, climbing high in roiling clouds. Kerrick called for attention to speaking and she looked at him with one eye, the other still staring at the smoke.
“I have not come alone to your sea-girt Ikhalmenets, Eistaa. My forces have killed your uruketo while I was making my way to the ambesed. My forces now surround you on all sides—and they are masters of fire as you know. They have fire ready and wait my signal. If I give it—Ikhalmenets burns. If I am injured in any way—Ikhalmenets burns. So choose, and quickly, for the fire is greedy.”
Lanefenuu’s cry of rage turned to one of pain. She was defeated, slumping back on her tail, forearms hanging. Her city and all her uruketo must come first. The death of this creature was not important. Ikhalmenets was.
“What is it you wish?” she asked. Not humbled, but weak in defeat.
“I want for mine only what you want for yours, Eistaa. Continued existence. You have driven us from Alpèasak. You and your Yilanè and fargi will stay there for it is a Yilanè city. None will harm you there. I see the snow on the mountain above us, snow that is lower every year. Before the snow reaches you Ikhalmenets will go to Alpèasak and be safe there under a warmer sun. Ikhalmenets will live there.
“But my ustuzou must live safe as well. Even now Vaintè acts under your command, pursues and kills them. You must order her back, order her to return, order her to cease killing. Do that and Ikhalmenets lives. We do not want what you have. You will keep your city. We ask only for our lives. You must stop Vaintè. You will do that and Ikhalmenets and all of your uruketo will live in tomorrow’s tomorrow as they lived in yesterday’s yesterday.”
For a long period Lanefenuu did not move, sat slumped in silence, fighting to find a way through her maze of conflicting thoughts. Finally, when she stirred, some returned and she spoke with the voice of authority once again.
“It will be done. Vaintè will be stopped. There was never a need for her to attack across your world of ustuzou. She will be recalled. You will leave. You will stay in your place and we will stay in ours. I do not wish to talk to you or to see you ever again. I wish that your egg had been stepped upon and that you had never emerged.”
Kerrick signed agreement. “But there is one other thing you must do to stop Vaintè. You know her and I know her. She is capable of disobeying your order to stop. She is capable of that—is she not?”
“She is,” said Lanefenuu grimly.
“Then you must go to her, find her and order her return. Then she must stop what she is doing for her Yilanè are your Yilanè, her fargi your fargi. That is what must be done.”
Lanefenuu’s eyes were glinting with hatred—but she kept her body under control. “I will do that.”
“Good.” Kerrick reached up to the ring around his neck, to the knife hanging there. He seized it and pulled it free, handed it over to Lanefenuu. She would not reach out for it so he dropped it into the dust at her feet.
“You will take this to Vaintè. She knows it, she knows what it will mean. She will know that it is I who have done this thing and why I have done it. She will know that you had no choice in what you did.”
“I care nothing of how Vaintè feels, what she knows.”
“Of course, Eistaa.” Kerrick spoke slowly, with controllers of cold anger. “It is just that I want her to know that I, Kerrick, have done this to her, stopped her in her tracks. I want her to understand exactly what I have done.”
With this Kerrick turned on his heel and stalked away. Out of the ambesed and past the gawking fargi who had gathered in terrified crowds. They moved away from him in fear, for all had seen the talking from afar. They did not know what was happening—only that it was terrible beyond belief. Two uruketo were dead and this ustuzou-Yilanè walked with death all around him.
Kerrick walked through Ikhalmenets to the shore, turned to the Yilanè and fargi there.
“In the name of your eistaa I order you from here. All of you. She commands you to attend her in the ambesed. Leave.”
Incapable of lies themselves, they understood what he had spoken as a command and hurried to the ambesed.
As soon as he was alone, Kerrick jumped down to the sand and made his way out of the city.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“You sent for me,” Enge said. “The message stressed great urgency.”
“Any order that I issue is urgent, though your slothful creatures fail to realize that. If I do not stress urgency then the would-be-messenger would discuss the probity of her acting as my fargi and other irrelevancies.”
“There is truth in that, for as Ugunenapsa said . . .”
“Silence!” Ambalasi roared the command, her crest rising and falling with rage. Her assistant, Setèssei, fled in panic, and even Enge bowed before the storm of the elderly scientist’s wrath. She signed apologies and obedience then waited in silence.
“A slight improvement. From you at least I expect some attention, a slight amount of courtesy. Now, look here, at this splendid sight.”
Ambalasi indicated the Sorogetso who rested in the shade—a splendid sight only to Ambalasi for she shivered with fear and had curled herself into a ball, eyes closed and waiting for her death.
“Not you, foolish creature, my anger is for others,” Ambalasi said, then controlled her temper with a great effort and spoke in the Sorogetso manner. “Attention, little one. Friendship and aid.” She caressed Ichikchee’s green crest until she fearfully opened her eyes.
“Very good. See, here is Enge who has come to be with you, to admire how well you are. Quiet there will be no pain-accompaniment.”
Ambalsi gently rem
oved the nefmakel that covered and protected the stump of Ichikchee’s leg. The Sorogetso shivered but made no protest.
“Look,” Ambalsi ordered. “Gaze with admiration.”
Enge bent to look at the puckered flesh of the stump where flaps of skin had been folded over the exposed bone. In the center was a yellowish growth of some kind. It meant nothing to her. But she dared not say so and bring Ambalasi’s ready wrath down upon her again.
“It heals well,” she said finally. “Ambalasi is a mistress of the healing science. The amputation not only heals but there, in the center, something emerges. Can it be object-of-admiration?”
“It certainly can be—but in your ignorance I cannot expect you to appreciate its significance. That is a new foot growing there, a yellow-mottled foot on a green Sorogetso who is a head shorter than we are. Does any of the awesome importance of this penetrate the solid bone of your skull to the submicroscopic brain that sleeps inside?”
Enge swallowed the insult, always the wisest course if communication were necessary with Ambalasi. “Importance-not-understood. Ignorance admitted.”
“Close attention demanded. Earlier theories discarded. Forget any mention of plate tectonics or continental drift. That period of separation is far too large. I doubted it first when I discovered that we could communicate with the Sorogetso, even at a basic and primitive level. Tens of millions of years cannot separate our species, even a million years is too great. We may appear superficially different, but genetically we are one. Or that foot would not be growing. The mystery deepens. Who are the Sorogetso—and how come they here?”
Enge made no attempt to answer, knowing that the elderly scientist’s unfocused eyes were looking through her, beyond her, at wonders of knowledge she could scarcely imagine.
“It disturbs me. I sense dark experiments that should not have been done. I have found evidence of failed experiments before this, but more often in the seas than on the land, work that has gone astray, ugly creatures that should never have been born. You must realize—not all scientists are like me. There are warped minds as well as warped bodies in this world.”
Winter in Eden Page 35
