“I grow tired,” Hanath said one evening, looking up at the darkening sky. “I think it would be better if we stopped now.”
“I am going on,” she said firmly. “I am tired too — but if we reach the camping place by the stream tonight, then we will be back on the island before dark tomorrow. I will go on by myself if you do not wish to. Give me one of the death-sticks.”
“We go on, we go on,” Hanath muttered leaning his weight against the straps.
It rained during the night but cleared before morning. Armun woke them, laughing at their complaints. But once on the trail they were all eager to return. They did not stop, but instead ate some of the cold meat as they walked. Not drinking anything since they were all able to go without water until dark. Kerrick did not notice the side trail until Morgil pointed it out, pushed newly grown branches aside to turn into it. Before they reached the river crossing they heard shouts ahead and met a hunting party. There were warm greetings and cries of appreciation at the fur and hides. The hunters were happy to help carry these new possessions and they went the faster.
Herilak called a loud greeting as they arrived among the sammads. Malagen came from their tent holding the baby. She laughed and called out to them and Armun seized up Ysel and held her high.
“The Paramutan were there and you traded well,” Herilak said, feeling the softness of the furs.
“Better than you realize, sammadar,” Kerrick said. “There is a thing they make called takkuuk, and we now know how to make it ourselves. It is going to be very important for all the Tanu.”
“Where is Arnwheet?” Armun said, holding the baby tight to her as she looked around at the children who had run up. “Where is he?”
“He is not here — but I know where he is,” one of the boys said. “He goes to the forbidden island by himself and wiggles like this with the marag there.
He shook back and forth, but his laughter turned to a cry of pain as Armun slapped out and sent him sprawling.
“You would not know that if you had not gone there yourself — and that is forbidden. He should not be there alone.” She looked angrily at Kerrick when she said this.
“I will bring him back,” he said, taking up his death-stick. “Walk with me, Herilak, for there are many things to tell you.”
“I will,” he said and went to get his bow and quiver.
“Have we reached the proper place?” Vaintè asked, holding the image sheet in the sunlight, then looking from it over to the nearby shore.
“We have,” Akotolp said, touching it with her finger. “We are here. Close to these small islands on the coast. The one you see out there conceals the larger island inland, where the ustuzou lair is.”
“Will the uruketo take us to it?”
“Unhappily, no. The water between the islands is too shallow.”
“Understood. Now where is the place where the Yilanè is found?”
“There, on that island facing the sea.”
“Then that is where we will land. We will speak with her. The ustuzou creatures are deadly. When we attack them it will be only to kill them. She will be able to help me, tell me if the one I seek is here, aid me in finding him. The others can live or die, it does not matter to me. It is his death that I must have.” She signed brusque instructions to Elem. “Towards that island, go close. Order Enge up here.”
They were just outside the breakers when Enge joined them on top of the fin.
“Swim to the shore,” Vaintè commanded. “Akotolp will go with you. Do not forget that she brings her hèsotsan. I will join you with mine. If Elem has any thoughts of leaving once we are on the beach we will kill you. Is that understood?”
Enge signed understanding of filth, rejection of speaker, then climbed down to the uruketo’s back. She was in the water and swimming towards shore long before the gasping Akotolp could follow. She made no attempt to escape knowing that Vaintè would kill those in the uruketo if she did. Instead she waited on the beach until Akotolp arrived. Vaintè, swimming swiftly, was close behind her. “I go first,” she said. “Stay close behind me.” She climbed slowly up the dune, her sharp claws digging deep. Tough grass was rooted on the summit; she stopped and parted it slowly to see what lay on the other side. Halted, motionless, with only her hand behind her signing sharp communication of silence. Looked down at the two figures below her, listened as they talked.
“Try it again,” Arnwheet said, holding the hardalt by one tentacle, holding it before Nadaske.
“Grardal’,” Nadaske said, holding his hand out at the same time just as Arnwheet was doing.
“Not grardl’,” Arnwheet said. “Hardalt, just hardalt — and don’t hold your arm out like that.”
“You did.”
“Of course I did. But when you talk Marbak you do not move, just make the sound.”
“Stupid/ugly speech. Fit only for ustuzou.” Nadaske caught the movement from the bank above, looked with one eye — dived forward towards the shelter.
“Instant cessation of motion,” Vaintè ordered, striding down the slope. “If you have a hèsotsan in there touch it only if you wish to die. Emerge — empty of hand!”
Nadaske turned slowly, reluctantly, came into the sunlight again with his hands hanging limply at his sides. Vaintè looked at him closely, leaned forward and sniffed with delight.
“It is a male! One of a familiar aspect.”
“We have met before, Vaintè. You would not remember. I do. You were Eistaa of Alpèasak when you sent me to the birth beaches. I returned.”
Vaintè expressed cold amusement at the obvious and presumptuous anger of a mere male. Signed coarsely that she would be happy to send him to the beaches again, instantly if needed. But her attention was on Arnwheet who stepped back, eyes wide with fear, looking from her to the other murgu that came down the slope. The two of them who held hèsotsan moved with harsh angularity, not at all like Nadaske. He took another step backwards but stopped when the first one signed cessation of movement.
“I heard you speaking to this male. You are yilanè and that is unusual/impossible. But it has happened. Approach me, that is a command. Do you understand?”
Arnwheet shuffled forward, shivering with fear, signed understanding of meaning. Vaintè bent close, he could smell the foulness of her breath, reached out one thumb and touched the metal knife that hung around his neck.
“What does this artifact of metal signify? This one is smaller, but I have held another like this in my hand. And this smaller one, I have held it too, long ago. I was sent the larger one as a sign I should end the war that I was winning. It hung from the neck of the ustuzou of death, Kerrick. Explain instantly.”
Arnwheet understood what this Yilanè was saying, although he did not understand the name she mentioned since the way Vaintè spoke Kerrick was incomprehensible. But the meaning was clear.
“There is only one other knife like this. It hangs about the neck of my… efensele.” This was the nearest he could get, could think of no term for father in Yilanè.
“Then you are efensele of the one I seek. But where is he, why are you here alone? Inform me quickly of the meaning of this, male,” she ordered, looking at Arnwheet with one eye, Nadaske with the other.
Nadaske did not bother to answer. Freedom was ended, life was ended. This was Vaintè, known for her cruelty. She would be immensely displeased at his escaping the hanalè and the death of the city, then living as free as any female. She would see that he suffered in many ways before he died on the beaches. All was ended. There was a movement in the shrubbery and he glanced that way. An animal of some kind, it did not matter, nothing mattered now.
Kerrick and Herilak had just reached the inlet when Dall burst from the bushes on the other side and hurled himself into the water, thrashed across it sobbing and gasping. Herilak pulled him from the water and shook him.