An idea began to form and the more he thought about it the more possible it became. It was clear by morning and he slept on it.
Ortnar was waiting for him in the ambesed, with all of his weapons, his pack upon his back.
“We go later today,” Kerrick said. “Leave your things here and come with me for I want to study our track north.” They went to the still-intact model that the Yilanè had built, of the land on all sides of the city, and Kerrick looked at it closely.
“There is no need,” Ortnar said. “I know the track well, have been over it many times.”
“We will go a different way, at least at the beginning. Tell me, Ortnar, will you obey my orders, even if they do not suit you, or will you go to another sammad?”
“It may be that one day I will, since a hunter only obeys a sammadar who is right in what he says. But not now, not until we have gone north to find Armun and your son. For I feel I did wrong in not helping her when she first asked for aid. Because of that I will follow wherever you lead until we have done that thing.”
“Those are hard words to say and I believe every one of them. Then you will go north with me — even though the two murgu males come with us?”
“They mean nothing to me. They will die in the snow in any case.”
“Good. We will go after midday , when the hunters have gone, since I feel that the Tanu who leave now would enjoy using their new death-sticks on the males.”
“I would enjoy doing that myself — were you not my sammadar.”
“I can believe that. Now let us get a large supply of murgu meat from the store. If anyone asks you why we are taking the murgu north with us, it is because they will carry much meat for us so we can go faster and not stop to hunt. Tell them that we will kill the males when the meat is used up and we no longer need them.”
“Now I understand, sammadar. It is a good plan and I will let you kill them yourself when the time comes.”
They went to the hanalè then, and when they entered the two Yilanè eyed the newcomer with great fright.
“Act like males,” Kerrick ordered. “We all travel together and you must get used to one another. This is Ortnar who follows me.”
“He smells of death-smoke, horrible,” Imehei said, shuddering delicately.
“And he thinks that your breath is foul from eating raw meat. Now be still while I fit these on you.”
Ortnar had made leather packs to hold the meat and the two Yilanè were already wailing over the weight of their loads.
“Silence!” Kerrick ordered, “or I will give you more to carry. You are like still-wet fargi and have never worked in your lives. Outside the hanalè there is much work to be done and you will have to share it. Or do you wish to go south — to the birth-beaches?”
They were silent after that, though Imehei made a movement of extreme hatred when he thought Kerrick had looked away. Good. A little anger would be of big help to them. Nadaske turned and reached up to the niche in the wall and took down the metal sculpture of a nenitesk that long-dead Alipol had made.
“Where we go this goes,” Nadaske said firmly. Kerrick signed agreement.
“Wrap it well and put it in the pack. Then remain here with the ustuzou until I return,” he said, then turned to Ortnar and spoke in Marbak. “I am going for my pack and weapons. Remain with these murgu until I return.”
“With these?” Ortnar said, worried, grasping his spear. “They have teeth and claws — and are two to one.”
“They are more afraid of you than you are of them. You will all have to be together without me at some time. Now is that time.”
“We die, death is upon us,” Nadaske moaned. “When you go through the door the ustuzou will spear us. I sing my death song…”
“Silence!” Kerrick ordered, speaking as mightiest on high to lowest below. “I tell you this now, and will tell him the same words. We will stay together. You will all obey me. You will be my fargi. He will be my fargi. You will be efenselè to each other. This is our efenburu.”
When he had told Ortnar the same thing he turned on his heel and left. Sanone was waiting for him when he came out of the hanalè.
“You leave us,” Sanone said.
“I will come back — with Armun.”
“We all follow the footsteps of Kadair. Do you go alone?”
“Ortnar goes with me. He is a good hunter and knows the path. And we take the murgu to carry food.”
“That is well, for I could not promise their safety once you were gone. We will be here when you return.”
There was little enough to take for Kerrick had few possessions. The unbreakable ring was always around his neck, the little knife and the big one hung from it. He would need all the furs he had for the north and he rolled these carefully and tied them to his pack and pulled it on.
Back in the hanalè he was relieved to discover that his small sammad was still intact — although Ortnar stood against one wall, the two Yilanè against the other. They all moved with relief when he entered.
The word had spread, and it seemed that every Sasku was there to watch the strange procession when they emerged. Kerrick went first, looking neither to right nor left, while the two males stumbled after him, bent under the weight of their packs, fear in every movement of their bodies. Ortnar came last looking as though he wished he were somewhere else. He carried two of the hèsotsan, as did Kerrick — the extra weapons in case the first died, Kerrick had explained. Through the city they went, to the northernmost exit among the fields, where the nenitesk turned placid eyes upon them as they passed. Only when they had marched for some time, were well clear of the city, did Kerrick order a stop. Ortnar merely stood and waited but the males fell to the ground, writhing with expressions of fatigue and despair.
“Death is better — the birth-beaches are better!”
“The hanalè is our home, we belong there.”
“Useless males be still,” Kerrick ordered. “Rest while you can, then we go on.”
“Why do they moan and shake like that?” Ortnar asked.
“They are like children. They have never been out of the city before — nor have they ever done any work like carrying those packs.”
“That is not work,” he said scornfully. “They are big and ugly and strong. We’ll make them work before we kill them.”
“They are my friends — and we will not kill them.”
“Then the winter will. It is the same to me.”
“That will not happen either. When we looked at the plan of the land — did you notice the large lake north of here?”
“We call it Round Lake . I have been there.”
“Good. We go there first — if you will lead the way.” Because of the complaints of Nadaske and Imehei, and their slow gait, it was not until the third day that they reached the lake. There was swamp to the south of it, but Ortnar knew the path that took them around it to the lakeshore.
“Good fishing here,” Ortnar said. “Hunting as well.”
“All for the best,” Kerrick said. “Because we are leaving the murgu here with a supply of meat. We go on alone. We will go faster that way.”
“We do not kill them? I cannot understand this.”
“I won’t kill them — because they are my friends. And they are of my sammad. They do not ask me to kill you.”
Ortnar found this difficult to understand. “But you are Tanu — and they are just filthy murgu. I will kill them for you, do not worry.”
“Part of me is filthy murgu too, Ortnar, you must never forget that. I grew up with them — and do not see them as you do. Put aside thoughts of hatred for a short while. Help me make this place safe for them, then we will go on.”
Ortnar looked at the murgu: one of them yawned and he stepped back at the sight of the rows of conical teeth. “If this is what you want, sammadar, then I will help you. But I cannot lie and say that I like it — or even understand your reasons for doing this thing.”