Melpon‹ cried aloud at the thought. She was very old and given to much sentimental thinking about the birth beaches. But her cry spoke for all of them, even Malsas‹ who was clutched by the same strong feelings. But she was too experienced to permit herself to be swayed by emotion alone.
“The threat seems to have been contained so far. You do well.”
“That is true — but I wish to do more.”
“What?”
“Let me first supply all here with more information about the ustuzou. I wish them to hear about it from the lips of the captive ustuzou itself.”
Malsas‹ pondered this and in the end signaled agreement. “If the creature has information that might be of value we will hear it. Can it really talk — respond to questions?”
“You will see for yourself, Eistaa.”
Kerrick must have been waiting close by, because the messenger returned with him very quickly. Inlènu* settled down to face the closed doors while Kerrick addressed himself to the assembly in silent expectancy of orders, one of the lowest facing those of the highest.
“Order it to speak,” Malsas‹ said.
“Tell us of your pack of ustuzou,” Vaintè said. “Speak so all can understand.”
Kerrick glanced quickly towards her when she said this, and as quickly away. Those last words were a signal. He was now to supply the listeners with the information that she had carefully drilled into him.
“There is little to say. We hunt, dig in the ground for insects and plants. And kill Yilanè.”
A murmur of anger and a quick shift of bodies followed instantly.
“Explain about killing Yilanè,” Malsas‹ ordered.
“It is a very natural reaction. I have been told that Yilanè feel a natural disgust towards ustuzou. Ustuzou react the same way to Yilanè. But being brutal creatures they seek only to kill and destroy. Their single aim is to kill all Yilanè. They will do this — unless they are killed themselves.”
It sounded stupid even as Kerrick said it. Who could believe such an obvious and contrived lie? But the answer to this was clear; it would be accepted at once by these Yilanè who could not lie themselves. He recoiled in fear at the threat of death in their movements and was relieved to be ordered from the chamber. Malsas‹ spoke as soon as the door was closed again.
“The ustuzou must be wiped out once and for all. Every single one of them. Sought out and destroyed. Pursued and killed just as they killed Alakensi who sat closest to me. Now, Vaintè, can you tell us how this will be done?”
Vaintè knew better than to let them see that she had won a major tactical victory. Keeping her thoughts carefully on the plans that she had made she leaned back solidly on her tail and numbered off the steps to victory.
“Firstly — there must be more armed fargi. We can never have too many. They guard the fields, push out along the paths into the jungle, keep the ustuzou at bay.”
“That will be done,” Malsas‹ agreed. “We have been breeding hèsotsan and training fargi in the use of these weapons. When you return the uruketo will carry as many armed fargi as it can hold. Two of the smaller uruketo are reported ready for a longer sea voyage. They will carry fargi as well. What else?”
“Creatures to spy, creatures to kill. Yilanè are not jungle killers, but Yilanè of science can breed those creatures that will do this to perfection.”
“This is being seen to as well,” Lekmelik said. “Much work has already been accomplished. Now that the sampling of the tissue of your ustuzou has been done the work will proceed to its conclusion. Ikemei who is supervising all of this work is waiting close by to be summoned. She will explain.”
“Then everything that can be done has been done,” Vaintè said, expressing pleasure and gratitude with every movement of her body.
“It has,” Malsas‹ said, but there was a touch of displeasure behind her words. “Started but not finished. And the flow of time is not kind to us. Those who care about such things have returned early from Teskhets. They report a cold summer, an early autumn. They fear for a long and violent winter. We must proceed always with care — but we must proceed.”
The emphasis in her words, the bitter anger and the fear was so strong that those who listened to her swayed backwards beneath the wave of emotion. They shared the fear for long moments before Malsas‹ broke the silence.
“Send for Ikemei. We will hear what has been done.”
They were not only to hear about the research progress, but were to see the results with their own eyes. Ikemei entered, followed by a train of heavy-laden fargi, who hurriedly put their burdens down and left. Ikemei pulled the covering from a cage that was large enough to hold a grown Yilanè.
“The ruler of the skies,” she said proudly, her single eye bulging. “A raptor of skill, strength — and intelligence.”
The great bird ruffled its feathers and turned its head about slowly to look at them. The hooked beak was made for tearing flesh, the long wings for flying high, fast, tirelessly. The bird’s toes were tipped with curled sharp claws designed only for killing. The creature did not like to be stared at. It shook its wings and screeched angrily. Ikemei pointed to an elongated, dark object that clung to one of the raptor’s ankles with tight-wrapped toes.
“This beast is a neurological image recorder,” she said. “Very much improved for this use. As I am sure you know an image from its eye is focused on a membrane within. Neurons then store the image in microganglia for future retrieval. Since single images are being stored, not memories of complex series or motions, there is almost no limit to the number of these images that can be recorded.”
“Images of what?” Malsas‹ asked abruptly, bored by the technical talk, little of which she understood.
“Images of whatever we wish to record, Eistaa,” Ikemei said. “This bird is almost immune to cold — the creatures fly at very high altitudes while searching for their prey. Therefore after its training had been completed this creature was instructed to fly north. The training has been most successful. Normally the creature has no interest in longtooth, carnivorous ustuzou that dwell far to the north. They offer it no threat and are too large to attack and eat. But the bird is well-trained and knows that it will be rewarded if it follows instructions. This one flew far to the north. And, here, we can see exactly what it saw.”
Ikemei opened one of the parcels and took out a bundle of prints. They were grainy, black and white, but very impressive. She had arranged them in dramatic order. First a field of white with black dots upon it. Then the swoop, the dots took shape, then were clear. Four-legged, fur-covered ustuzou. One of them grew, filled the print, looked up with snarling jaws, curved teeth protruding. Then jumped aside at the threat of the attacking bird. This last print was the most dramatic of all for the wing-spread shadow of the raptor lay across the longtooth and the snow. When Malsas‹ had finished looking at them Vaintè took the pictures with eager hands, excitement growing as she went through them.
“It can be trained to search for any creature?”
“Any.”
“Even the ustuzou I brought from Alpèasak?”
“Particularly that ustuzou. It will search and it will find and it will return. Where it has been can easily be determined by using the pictures of its flight to prepare a map.”
“This is the weapon I need! The ustuzou move in small packs, while the country is large. We found one pack and destroyed it easily. Now we will find the others…”
“And you will destroy them in the same way,” Malsas‹ said.
“We will. I promise you — we will.”
“I am pleased. Vaintè, remain. Everyone else will now retire.”
Malsas‹ sat in frozen silence until the heavy doors had closed behind their backs. Only then did she move, and as she turned to face Vaintè she expressed unhappiness and more than a suggestion of fear. The Eistaa of Inegban* unhappy and afraid? There could be only one cause. Vaintè understood, and her movements echoed those of Malsas‹ as she spoke.