Ortnar rolled free of the travois and dragged himself to his feet, stumbled after it. They came to the lakefront in this way, pausing under the trees beside the immense stretch of sunlit water. Imehei and Nadaske were waiting in motionless silence under a canopy of green vines, hèsotsan clutched in their hands. The mastodon was pulled to a halt and Kerrick was aware of the Tanu behind him, stopping, standing as unmoving as the Yilanè males. In the silence a flock of brightly colored birds flew low over the water, calling loudly as they went.
“These are my efenselè,” he called out to the males, stepping out into the sunlight so he could be understood. “The large-gray-beast-unintelligent carries for us. There is no need for weapons.”
When he turned back he saw that the little girl had her face buried in Armun’s clothes: she and Arnwheet were the only Tanu not holding spears. “Ortnar,” he said, softly, “you marched with these males, they never harmed you. Armun, you don’t need that spear — you either, Harl. These murgu are no threat to you.”
Ortnar leaned his weight on his spear and the others lowered theirs. Kerrick turned away from them and crossed to the still rigid males.
“You have worked hard here,” he said, “have done much while I was away.”
“Are those small-ugly ustuzou young?” Imehei asked, weapon still at the ready.
“They are, and they are Yilanè even when small unlike your young. Do you stand all day like gaping fargi or do you bid me welcome, offer me cool water, fresh meat? A female would. Are males inferior to females?”
Imehei’s crest reddened and he put the hèsotsan aside. “It has been so peaceful here I have forgotten the sharpness of your female-male speech. There is food and drink. We make your ugly efenselè welcome.”
Nadaske with some reluctance put his weapon aside as well. Kerrick let out a deep breath.
“Pleasure-companionship,” Kerrick said. “Welcome-at-last.”
He fervently hoped that it would stay that way.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
For the moment the sammadar was happy to see the two halves of sammad Kerrick staying well apart from each other. They were too distant, too alien, separated by more than language. He had freed the mastodon from the travois and hobbled it under the trees where it grazed the young leaves happily. The creature was going to be a problem — since it was so large it was sure to be seen from the air. The answer was obvious; kill it and smoke the meat. They would have to do that, but not right now. There had been so much killing.
Armun had lit a small and smokeless fire under a spreading, wide-branched tree; the children played close by. Ortnar was sleeping, while Harl had gone off to hunt — carefully slipping into the forest far away from the other half of the encampment. There was peace for the moment, time to think. Time for him to talk to the males. Keeping to the shadows he walked over to their encampment close to the lake shore. He admired the thick, leafy covering overhead.
“You did this?” he asked. “Grew this cover so you could not be seen from the air?”
“Brute force is a female trait, intelligence male,” Nadaske said smugly, leaning back on his tail.
“Endless labor cutting fresh boughs,” Imehei added. “They dried and changed colors most quickly. So we cut poles and trained the ivy along them.”
“Work of intelligence, admiration-unbounded.”
Kerrick reinforced it with strong modifiers. The two males had worked in this unknown environment, facing difficulties they had never imagined in the security of the hanalè, They had secure cover now, and certainly had been eating well. “The hunting is good?”
“We are expert,” Imehei said. “In the art of fishing also.” He waddled over to a pit in the ground filled with wet leaves, rooted through the leaves until he found what he wanted, returned with two large freshwater Crustacea. “We catch these. Desire-to-eat?”
“Later. Hunger-dispersed-presently.”
“Better than meat,” Imehei said, putting one in his mouth and passing the second over to Nadaske. He chewed happily, his sharp, conical teeth making quick work of the creature, bits of shell pushing out between his lips as he ground away. Nadaske finished his quickly as well, spitting the bits of shell into the bushes. “Without these the food would not be as good. We do not know the secret of meat preparation — do you?”
Kerrick signed negative. “I have seen them do it in the city. The fresh-killed meat is put into tubs with a liquid, that is what changes it. I have no idea of what the liquid is.”
“Joyful-jellied-flesh,” Imehei said; Nadaske added qualifiers of agreement. “But perhaps that is all we miss of the city. Freedom of spirit and body makes all work worthwhile.”
“Have you seen other Yilanè — do you know anything of the city?” Kerrick asked.
“Nothing!” Imehei said with some vehemence. “That is the way we wish it. Free, strong — and forgetful of the birth-beaches.” His words were muffled as he used clamped thumbs to remove a large fragment of shell from his teeth. “We take pride in what we have done — but we have also talked of it often. Death and hatred to ustuzou for killing the city. Gratitude to Kerrick-ustuzou for saving of lives, freeing of bodies.”
“Reinforcement many times over,” Nadaske said. Both Yilanè were silent then, their bodies still formed into the shapes of gratitude. After the winter among the Paramutan the males looked squat and ugly, with their clawed feet and great teeth, eyes that very often looked in two directions at once. That was as a Tanu would see them. He saw them as steadfast friends, intelligent and grateful.
“Efenselè,” Kerrick said, unthinking, with overtones of gratitude and acceptance. Their agreement was automatic in return. When he returned to the Tanu encampment he walked slowly, bearing with him a strong feeling of accomplishment.
The feeling did not last. Once they were settled in he found that his thoughts returned always to the city and his concern over its fate. He had to see for himself what was happening there. He controlled his impatience, knowing that he dare not leave the two different groups alone until they had lost their fear of each other. Darras would not come near the two males, burst into tears when she saw them, for she knew that others of their kind had slaughtered her sammad. Harl was like Ortnar, wary and troubled when near the males. Only Arnwheet had no fear of the Yilanè, nor they of him, calling him small-harmless and fresh-from-sea. They knew that his connection with Kerrick was something close and of great importance, but could not understand how a parent could be related to a child. Yilanè were born from the fertile eggs carried by the males and entered the sea soon after they were hatched. The only relationships they knew were those of their efenburu, those they had grown up with in the ocean. Even the males’ memories of this were dim since they had been separated from the females as soon as possible. Arnwheet went with Kerrick whenever he spoke to the males, sat wide-eyed in appreciation of their twitching forms and grating voices. It was all great fun.
Days passed without the two groups growing any closer, and Kerrick despaired of any real progress. When the others were asleep he tried to talk to Armun about it.
“How can I like the murgu?” she said, and he felt her body grow rigid beneath his hand. “After the things they have done, all they have killed.”
“These males did not do that — they were in the city, imprisoned…”
“Good. Put them back in prison. Or kill them. I will do that if you do not want to. Why must you talk to them, be with them? Make those awful noises and shake your body? You don’t have to.”
“I do. They are my friends.”
He despaired of any explanation; he had said it all too many times before. He stroked her hair in the darkness, then touched her lovely forked lip with his tongue and made her giggle. That was better, this was better. But good as it was, he wished that the rest of his life could be as satisfying, that the two halves to his nature could be one.