“You would leave the boy?” he asked, stunned. This is not what he would have expected.
“I would. He is everything to me and I do not wish to be parted from him — but I will leave him. I can go away from him, leave him in another’s care until I return, I can do that. It is you whom I will never leave.”
“I must think about this,” Kerrick said, shocked by the granite-like hardness of her feelings, her resolve.
“There is nothing to think about,” she said with steadfast determination. “It has been decided. Now you will make the detailed plans and we will do as you say.”
The strength of her support forced him to believe that it could be done. What were the alternatives? Follow the sammads to the valley? And if they did not die during the march they would die there when Vaintè brought her poison thorns and darts, her numberless fargi. Stay here? It was a life with no future. There would only be a lifetime hiding here with the Yilanè city close by, and they would surely be discovered one day. It was all right for the two males, they had no choice, had nowhere else to go. Yet he would have to think about them as well; he must talk to them about his plan.
Imehei moaned aloud when he went to speak to them. “Do not leave again, too terrible to consider.”
“Satisfactory here, desire you stay,” Nadaske said firmly.
Kerrick shaped his limbs into orders from her-on-high to lowest-creatures-below. “You will not be eaten or killed. Now all I ask you to do is simply to cross over with me to the other camp now and talk about this thing. I want you all there when I speak of the future. You do not fear fresh-from-sea, Arnwheet, and have marched with Ortnar. Nothing will happen to you. Now come.”
It took a long time for him to convince them — but he was firm. His plans were made; he must cross the ocean and find a safe haven for his sammad. He was not going to let these two stand in his way. He forced them to go with him then, but they sat as far from the others as they could, leaning against each other, filled with fear.
Kerrick stood between the two groups. He looked at the two Yilanè males to one side, rigid with terror — or at least pretending to be. On the other side Ortnar sat slumped against a tree and glowered. The rest of the Tanu beside him seemed accustomed to the murgu now, particularly when Arnwheet crossed over and showed Imehei his latest treasure, a bone whistle that Ortnar had made. And there were no weapons present, he had seen to that.
It was going to be all right. It had to be all right. Perhaps this was only a plan born of desperation. That did not matter. He must see it through.
“What I am going to tell you now is important — to all of us,” he said in Tanu, then turned to the Yilanè.
“A speaking-of-importance. Attention and obedience.”
Then he told them all that Armun and he were going away for a time, but they would be back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
umnuniheikel tsanapsoruud marikekso.
Good meat cannot be prepared without the death of a beast.
“And what are these,” Vaintè asked, laying the pictures out on the work area before her.
“Just received — just formed,” Anatempe said, sorting the prints in order in a line, then pointing at the nearby model of the Gendasi landscape with her thumb. “A high-flying bird which went along this part of the coastline here, almost due west of us. The fleeing ustuzou could be along the shore here.”
“But nothing is visible!” Vaintè made sharp snapping motions of disgust and annoyance. “There are only clouds in the picture.”
“Unhappily that is true. But another bird has been dispatched—”
“And by the time it gets there the ustuzou will be long gone. I want them — not pictures of clouds!” Her hands shook with the violence of her emotions and she dashed all of the pictures to the ground with a sweep of her thumbs.
“I control the birds, but cannot control the clouds,” Anatempe said, as meekly as she could, yet some of her true feelings penetrated her movements. She no longer enjoyed being the butt of Vaintè’s foul moods. Vaintè saw this and her anger became cold and dangerous.
“You take issue with my orders? You find them offensive?”
“I obey your orders implicitly for I have been ordered to do so by Ukhereb who obeys the Eistaa. I seek only to do my duty.” This last spoken with modifiers of eternal-service, obedience.
Vaintè started to remonstrate, then grew rigid and silent, signing only a curt dismissal to the scientist, letting her displeasure show only when the other had turned away. When she had been eistaa that sort of insult would have carried certain death as its reward. But there was too much truth in what the creature conveyed. Lanefenuu was Eistaa who ordered others and who ordered her. It was a situation she must live with. Turning about with disgust she saw the fargi standing just inside the entrance of the landscape model building. She had stood patiently for some time, waiting to catch Vaintè’s attention.
“Message for Vaintè highest,” she said, her meaning muffled by her weakness of language. Vaintè controlled her temper: the creature would forget the message or die of despair if she let it know just how she felt.
“I am Vaintè. Speak, carefully-slowly, I attend you.”
“Yilanè Naalpè uruketo presence harbor communication requested.”
It was almost to much to bear, but Vaintè still controlled her temper and wondered at her own patience. “Need for clarification. Are you informing me that Naalpè is now in the harbor aboard her uruketo and wishes to talk with me?”
“Agreement!” The fargi writhed with pleasure of communication and turned away at Vaintè’s sign of dismissal, therefore she did not see Vaintè’s glare of displeasure at the abominable quality of her speech. As she left her place was taken by a second fargi also signing desire-to-communicate.
“Do.” Vaintè said curtly. “And strongly-desired superiority of speech over last messenger.”
Far better indeed, because this one was from the Eistaa and she only used fargi whose speech was yilanè most of the time.
“Request from highest through lowest to Vaintè of rank. Warm salutations and upon completion of present labors presence desired in the ambesed.”
“Return pleasure-of-acceptance to Eistaa, soonest arrival.” No matter how politely it was expressed an order from the Eistaa was an order instantly obeyed. As much as she wanted to talk to Naalpè the meeting would have to wait.
But Vaintè was not going to hurry and arrive breathless and speechless. She moved along shadowed walks in the direction of the ambesed, knowing the messenger would be there first to report her compliance with the order.
Walking these familiar ways had a bitter-sweet taste for Vaintè. Sweet, in that the city was again Yilanè: bitter in that much of it was still in ruins — and the ustuzou had escaped. That they must never do. They would flee, but they would be found.
The large ambesed was quite empty, for only the advance forces had arrived from across the sea. The city must be repaired and regrown and further preparations made before Ikhalmenets came to Alpèasak. Its defenses strengthened, that was the first priority. No ustuzou must set foot in this city ever again. Lanefenuu was sprawled back in the warm sunlight in the place of honor against the far wall. There nobly dead Malsas‹ had sat, there Vaintè herself had sat and ruled once long ago when the city had been young. It was strange to see another there — and Vaintè instantly wiped away the feeling of jealousy that came to the fore. Never! She was no longer an eistaa nor did she want to rule ever again. Lanefenuu was an eistaa of power, one to respect and obey. In her generosity to Vaintè she had permitted her to prepare armed forces and enlist the genius of science to recapture this city. To kill ustuzou. Lanefenuu was an eistaa of two cities, a leader among leaders.