"Geological refers to the earth on which we stand. There are beneath this solid ground great forces at work. I have seen, beyond the jungles of Entoban to the east, a range of high mountains that have burst open and give forth melted rock. I saw fire there as well. An event that can tear open solid mountains and melt solid rock is of geological magnitude."
"Was this tonight a geological event?"
Akotolp sat rigid and unmoving, wrapped in thought. It was some time before she stirred and spoke.
"No, I am certain it was not. It was too sudden. All of the events I watched began slowly, grew and proceeded. This came too quickly-And it was very large, though distant."
"Distant? Explanation needed." The Eistaa, while efficient at ruling and ordering her city, neither knew nor cared about the facts of science. Akotolp forced herself to proceed patiently.
"Distant because of the strong light that awakened us. A Yilane of science in the city of Yebeisk to the south conducted a series of experiments to discover at what speed light passes through the air. She told me that refine the experiments as she might the speed always seemed to be close to instantaneous. But the speed of sound is very slow. This is easily demonstrated. Therefore, since the sound of the event came a good time after we saw the light, the conclusion is that what happened was far distant in the ocean. And very large."
The Eistaa made motions of impatience-confusion. "As always I find your explanations impossible to follow. Now you will clarify-simplify."
"Something very large happened far out in the ocean."
"The light flared. Later there was the sound and the ground moved. Why?"
"The ground must have been moved by the movement of the sea—"
Akotolp gasped, her mouth opening wide with shock. She jumped to her feet and turned to look at the smooth water of the bay.
"It will happen!" She signed urgency and fear so strongly that the Eistaa recoiled.
"What is it? What is happening?"
"What will happen. You must order your fargi to go among the sleepers at once. Awaken every Yilane. Order them inland as quickly as possible, to the hills beyond the fields where the onetsensast graze. Order it, Eistaa."
"Why?"
"Don't you see? A force so distant that could shake the ground here must be very strong indeed. It will make waves such as we have never seen in the worst storm. Those waves are coming even as we speak."
The Eistaa reached an instant decision. "I will so order—"
It was already too late, far too late.
The water of the bay were draining away, pouring through the harbor enr^nce into the sea. And distantly, growing instantly louder, was the crashing rumble of water falling on water, churning and roaring. Drowning out all other sounds.
Striking and drowning the shore, filling the bay in an instant. Rising in a flood that engulfed the city tree, broke off the limbs, stripped away the smaller growth, hurtled inland.
Akotolp closed mouth, eyes, nostrils, struck out in panic at the saltwater that engulfed her. Felt the pressure of the water above her.
Swam upwards in the darkness. Was struck a terrible blow in her side that numbed her. Clutched her wounded arm with her other hand, thrust violently with legs and tail.
Burst into foam-filled darkness, gasped in air.
Was struck again in the darkness. Almost unconscious, weakened by pain, she swam on, knowing that this was her only chance of survival. If she sank below the surface again she would never emerge.
An unmeasurable, pain-filled time passed before she felt solidity beneath her feet. Muddy, debris-laden water streamed about her, dropped lower, to her midriff, then to her knees. She staggered and fell heavily, screamed with pain as a greater darkness closed over her.
Akotolp woke slowly to light and agony. A heavy, warm rain was falling. Black rain, streaming filthily across the skin. She blinked with incomprehension, felt the grit in her eyes. Sat up and her vision blurred red with pain. Arms and legs moved, apparently no bones broken. But the immense soreness in her side must surely be more than mere bruising; some ribs might be broken. It hurt to breathe. Alive and injured — but still alive. Only when she was gratefully aware of this did her scientific curiosity return.
She was standing ankle-deep in a plain of mud. Branches, entire uprooted trees were strewn about her. Two dead Yilane were nearby, broken and unmoving, one of them crushed by the bulk of an armored fish of some kind. Her arms crossed across her ribcage, Akotolp walked slowly and painfully up a rise to the top of a nearby mound, leaned gratefully against the broken trunk of a tree on its summit.
Nothing looked familiar; she was pinned in a nightmare landscape of mud and destruction. Only when she faced inland, blinking through the sheets of rain, did she manage to make out the familiar shapes of the range of hills. They ran down almost to the sea, almost to the outlet of the bay. Using this as a guide, she was horrified to see that the birth beaches were gone, gouged out by the sea and washed away. The far side of the bay was gone as well, the bay and lagoon now joined directly to the ocean.
Then that heap of dark debris must be all that was left of her city tree. She moaned in agony at the sight. If she were weaker she might have died. Yilane, when deprived of their city did die, she had seen it happen. But she would not. Others might. Not her; she was strong enough to bear the shock. Pushing herself upright, she stumbled toward the remains.
And she was not alone. Others were moving that way as well, fargi who signed respect and gratitude when they identified her. They moved close to draw strength from her presence. One of them, despite the bruises and filth caked to her skin, she recognized.
"You are Inlenu — she who commands the workers at the fish pens."
Inlenu signed gratefulness for attention. "We have happiness-magnified and greet you, Akotolp. Humbly request explanation of happenings."
"Your knowledge is as great as mine. Something disastrous occurred far out in the ocean. With it was a great light, a great sound. This something caused the earth to move, the sea to rise. What you see around you is the result."
"The city, everything is destroyed. What will become of us?"
"We will live. The waters will not have covered all of Entoban. There will be food, in the forests and in the sea."
"But our city—"
"Will be regrown. Until that time we will sleep on the ground under the stars, as countless others have done before us. Do not despair, strong Inlenu, we need your strength."
"As we need yours." She signed respect-admiration, a movement that was echoed by all the fargi watching and listening. They would survive now.
Surely they would — for when they were closer they saw that hidden behind the rubble was the sturdy trunk of the city-tree, some of its thick branches still intact.
And — wonder of wonders! — standing at its base was the solid form of the Eistaa. The fargi hurried forward, bodies and limbs writhing with pleasure and great awe at her presence. They signed gratitude and happiness as well. Pushed close, then moved back when she signed them this order, parted to let Akotolp through to join her.
"You have survived, Eistaa, and therefore the city shall survive as well."
"There has been great damage, many deaths." She signed the fargi away so that they could speak without being heard.
"Two out of three, possibly more, are dead. Others badly injured will die as well." With quieter words and smaller motions she revealed an even more terrible fact.
"The males are gone. Every one. The eggs they carried will never hatch*'
Akotolp swayed with agony, fought for control, spoke calmly and wisely. "It is not the end. We are only one city. There are other Yilane cities inland along the great rivers to the north. One even on the inland sea of Isegnet. When the time comes I will visit them and return with males. Yilane are as one when facing disaster. The city will be grown again."