It was a true and practical answer. She understood his feelings — but did not share his sense of responsibility for all the others. What she had received in her life she had fought for. He, their son, this tiny sammad, this was her world and the only thing of any importance to her. To live in peace with them, to survive, that was her only desire. The sammads were not her concern.
Nothing was that simple and straightforward for Kerrick. He rolled and turned and finally fell asleep.
He awoke at dawn, went to sit at the lake’s edge and looked across the still water. The surface rippled as unseen fish arrowed under it. A flight of great coral-colored birds flew by in line, calling to each other. The world, here, at this moment at least, was at peace. Arnwheet had left the Yilanè charts blowing about the camp so Kerrick had picked them up as he walked, gathered them together. Now he spread out the top one and tried to make sense of it. It was useless. Perhaps some colors meant land, some meant ocean, yet they turned and twisted over each other in a manner quite impossible to understand. In this they resembled the Paramutan frames of joined bone. But those were just possible to comprehend. Kalaleq had pointed out the ice cap, the distant land, and Kerrick had understood that much. But other things about them were beyond him. Perhaps the Paramutan might understand these masses of color, he certainly could not. Maybe he should give them to the males to hang up for decorations. He tossed them to the ground and looked unseeing and uncomprehending at their swirls.
What could he do? When he looked at the future he saw only blackness. To remain here by the lake provided only temporary salvation; it had no future. Here they were like animals burying themselves in the ground, hiding from the enemy outside. The spy-birds flew, the Yilanè watched, and one day they would be seen. It would end then. But what other choice had they? To trek west to the valley? A dangerous trip — yet at the other end there would be friends, all of the sammads. Under a threat of disaster because Vaintè was on her way there as well. So what should he do? What could he do? In all directions he saw nothing, nothing but certain despair, despair ending in certain death. There was nothing he could do, nothing at all, no way out. He sat in the shadows beside the water until the sun was high in the sky and the flies busy around his nose and eyes. He brushed his hand across his face but was really not aware of them at all, so deep and intense were his fears.
Later they ate most of the leg of the deer Harl had killed, admiring it and his skill greatly so that the boy was red with pleasure and turned away. Only Ortnar disagreed.
“You should be ashamed. You needed three arrows.”
“The undergrowth was thick and there were leaves in the way,” Harl protested.
“The brush is always heavy. Come over here and bring your bow. We will say that tree is a deer. Now you will kill it for me.”
Ortnar moved only with a great effort. He could no longer use his bow — but was still deadly with his spear. And he knew how to hunt: there were many things that he could teach Harl. Arnwheet too Kerrick thought, as the smaller boy ran over to join the fun, to watch and learn.
“It is not yet time for Ortnar to go alone into the forest,” Kerrick said to Armun. She followed his eye and nodded agreement.
“The boys must learn. Ortnar is a hunter who knows all the important things.”
“And I am one who doesn’t.”
She was angry in his defense. “You know things stupid hunters will never know! You can speak with the murgu and have crossed the ocean. You are the one who led the sammads in battle to victory. Any hunter can shoot a bow or throw a spear — but did they know how to use the death-sticks until you showed them? You are more than all of them.” Her anger faded as fast as it had come and she smiled at him. “All of those things are true.”
“If you say so. But you must know that nothing now is clear to me. I look at the sunshine and I see only darkness. If we stay here we will certainly be found by the murgu one day. If we go to the other sammads we join them in death when Vaintè attacks them. What shall we do?” He thought of what she had said, searching her words for some help. There was a glimmering there. “What you said just now about crossing the ocean. I did that in the belly of a murgu beast. But there are others who cross on top of the water.”
Armun nodded. “The Paramutan. They sail the ocean to spear the uluruaq, that is what they told us.”
“Yes, they must be able to do that. The Paramutan who brought us south, they said that they would return here to fish. If only we could go with them. But we don’t know what is on the other side of the ocean. Death could wait there as well as it waits here. We should not cross until we know what is there. By then it could be too late. What should we do? Perhaps I should join them. Cross with them to the other side of the ocean. They said that there was a cold land there. But south of the cold land it will be warm; I know because I have been there. It is the land of the murgu and they only live where it is hot. But perhaps I can find a land between the heat and the ice where we could live and hunt. Perhaps.”
He seized her hands, trembling with excitement. “I could go with the Paramutan now and search for a place of safety over there, find somewhere to the south of the ice and north of the murgu. It might be all right, there might be hunting. Then I would come back for you. We would be able to leave here and find a place that is safe. While I am away you will be all right as long as you stay under cover and watch out for the birds. You will have food and you will be safe until I return. Don’t you think this is something that I could do, that might save us all?”
Kerrick was so absorbed with his new plans, at the thought that there might be a way out of this trap, that he was not aware of the coldness that replaced the warmth in her face, the stillness of her features, was unaware of how she felt until she spoke.
“No. You cannot do that. You will not leave me.”
He looked at her, shocked at the rebuff, his temper rising.
“You cannot order me. I do this for all of us and it is I who will risk crossing the cold sea…”
He grew silent as she reached over and placed her fingers gently over his mouth.
“You take the wrong meaning from my words and that is my fault. I spoke quickly out of fear. My true meaning is that I will not leave you, ever again. Where you go, there will I go also. Once we were apart and each came to the very edge of death seeking the other. That was too terrible and must never happen again. You are my sammadar — and I am your sammad. If you wish to cross the sea, we will cross the sea. But you will not go alone. I will go with you wherever you want to go. I will aid you with my strength and ask only a single thing. Never leave me again. We will both go together.”
He understood for he felt the same way. Had been alone all of his life — as she had been — until he had found her. He had no words to speak his feelings and held to her tightly, as she did him.
But there were still dangers that must be considered.
“I must go,” he said. “If you will go with me that will be better. But we cannot bring all the others until we are sure there is a safe place for them to go to.”
For Armun this was a bad thought, a tearing thought. Must she leave her son here and cross the sea? Was there no alternative? She could think of none. It would have to be done this way. It was not a good answer — but it was the only answer. She would have to be the strong one and the practical one now. She considered carefully before she spoke.
“You yourself have said how safe it is here. Harl will hunt, he is no longer a child. Ortnar is needed to watch over everything until we return. Arnwheet and the girl will be no trouble — she is already learning to find plants in the forest, to cook and to do woman’s work.”