“That is not true. You have Arnwheet now and you will keep him safe until I return. I am doing this, all of us are going for the same reason, so that the sammads will be safe. There is no security as long as the murgu can hunt and slay us. When they are dead, only then can we live in peace as we once did. Go with the sammads to the meadow at the bend in the river. We will join you there before the winter is out. Stay safe until I return.”
“You will come back to me, tell me that.”
She had her head down and her rich hair fell across her face just as it had done when he had first seen her. The baby sucked and smacked lustily, looking up at him with round blue eyes. Kerrick reached out and held Armun lightly by the chin, raised her face to his. He brushed the hair aside and ran his fingertips down her face, then lightly across her divided lips.
“Like you, I lived a life alone,” he said, quietly so only she could hear. “Like you, I was different from all those around me, hated them all. That is all past now. We are together — and we shall never be apart again after I return. That I promise you.”
The loving caress on her lips disarmed her, for she knew that he truthfully meant what he had said, that he could look at her face like this without laughing. The tears welled up and she could only nod agreement as he rose and left. She looked at the baby, holding it and rocking it back to sleep, not raising her eyes again until she knew that the hunters were gone.
Herilak led the way up into the hills, staying in the shadow of the trees all the while. He walked at a fast and steady pace and the others followed. They were all strong and fit, had eaten well before the march began. They were bent now under the weight of the burdens on their back, but most of this was food so their packs would become lighter as they went. It was important at this time not to take the time to hunt, but to put as much distance between themselves and the sammads as they could. When the birds flew, as fly they would, their departure must not be noted. They must vanish into the wilderness.
They went on without stopping until it was too dark to see the track, until they were stumbling with fatigue. Only then did Herilak call a halt. He dropped his burden to the ground and the others did the same, grunting with pleasure. Kerrick came and sat next to him and shared his meat. They ate in silence as the darkness thickened and the stars appeared. Above them in the trees an owl called.
“Are they watching us already? Will that owl tell the other birds that we are here?” Herilak asked, concerned.
“No. That is just an owl. The birds that spy us out talk only to the murgu, not to one another. The raptor that saw us yesterday will not have returned to Alpèasak yet, so they still believe that we are camped on the shore. By the time they discover that we have gone and send others to look for us, we will be far distant. They will find the sammads and track them. They will not think to look for us here. Our danger of being seen will only come again when we are close to their city.”
“Then it will be too late.”
“Yes, then it will be too late for them.”
Brave words, Kerrick thought to himself, and smiled wryly in the darkness. Could this little band of hunters really destroy that mighty city with all its teeming inhabitants? It did not seem possible. How many were there here? Less than the count of three hault, the count of three men. Armed with hèsotsan — but so were the Yilanè. Hesotsan and arrows and spears to fight a powerful race that had filled the world since the egg of time. The impossibility of this brought a darkness to his thoughts even darker than the night around them. How could it be done?
Yet even as he felt these doubtful thoughts his fingers found the wooden chest he had brought with him from the valley. Inside the chest was the stone with the fire trapped inside it. With fire it might be done, could be done — would be done. With this firm resolve, held to him as tightly as he clenched the chest, he lay on his side and was asleep.
“The first birds that we sent out have returned,” Vaintè said. “The pictures have been examined and we think that the ustuzou pack from the shore is close to these mountains now, farther to the north.”
“You are sure?” Malsas‹ asked.
“There is never certainty with the ustuzou since one of the creatures is very much like any other. But we do know that they are on the beach no longer, nor are there any packs of them still to the south.”
Stallan stayed behind them, silent, listening. No packs had been found, she agreed with that. But nothing still meant nothing. There was something wrong in all this. She had that feeling, a hunter’s feeling, but did not know what was causing it. Malsas‹, though not a hunter, all unknowingly shared her sense of unease.
“I don’t understand it. Why did the beasts make that long march to the shore — then leave almost at once?”
Vaintè moved with uncertainty. “They hunt for food that they must have for the winter. They fish in the sea.”
“They had time for little hunting,” Stallan said.
“Exactly,” Malsas‹ said. “Then what was their motive in doing this thing? Do they have motives — or do they simply run about like animals? You kept one for a long time, Vaintè, you must know.”
“They think. They reason. They have an animal cunning that can be very dangerous. We must never forget the way they killed the fargi on the beaches.”
“Your ustuzou escaped, didn’t he?” Malsas‹ asked. “Was it with that pack on the beach?”
Vaintè spoke as calmly as she could. “I believe so. That one is dangerous for it not only has the animal cunning of an ustuzou but some of the learning of Yilanè as well.” So Malsas‹ was spying on her, knew of her interest in the enlarged pictures. That was only to be expected: she would have done the same herself.
“The creature must be destroyed, its skin hung from the thorns.”
“My wish as well, Eistaa.”
“Then what do you plan to do?”
“As much as I would like to see that one ustuzou destroyed, I think it is of greater importance to kill all the ustuzou. In the end it will accomplish the same thing. All dead, he is dead.”
“That is a wise plan. How will you go about implementing it?”
“With the Eistaa’s permission I wish to launch a trumal that will end this menace completely.”
Malsas‹ registered appreciation and doubt in equal parts. She had taken part, as they all had, in trumal in the ocean of their youth — when different efenburu joined together, worked together in harmony against a single object. Many times a school of squid would be too large for one efenburu to handle.
When they attacked like this the trumal would always end in complete destruction. There would be no survivors.
“I understand your doubt, Eistaa, but it must be done. More fargi must be obtained from the cities of Entoban*. More uruketo, more weapons. Then we will go north as spring ends, land, move west. Killing them all. By the end of summer we will have reached the mountains and will turn south then to the warm southern sea. Supplies will be brought to us during the winter. When the next spring comes we shall strike west of the mountains. By the following winter this species of ustuzou will be extinct. Not a single pair will be left to breed in some dark and noisome place. That is what I feel must be done.”
Malsas‹ heard this, accepted it. But she was still concerned about the possibility of such an ambitious plan. Could it be done? She looked at the model, thought of the vast distances, of the ustuzou teeming there. Could they really all be exterminated?
“They all must be killed,” she said, answering her own question aloud. “That is what must be done, this fact cannot be escaped. But can it be done this next summer? Would it not be better to send smaller parties, seek out and destroy these packs that we have found?”