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 left 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.