“Thank you for your help — that is all I ask. Now let me tell them what has been decided.”
Kerrick waited until the screams of agony had turned to wails of despair before he silenced them.
“Wet-from-ocean — or fearless-males? Which are you? Here is your opportunity to live, to be free of the females and the hanalè. To be strong and independent. We will build a shelter against the rain. Before we go you will be shown how to use the hèsotsan, to hunt and to fish. And when I return from the north I will come for you. Meanwhile all you have to do is stay alive.” They trembled with fear. “A female could do it,” he added maliciously.
Ortnar cut branches with his knife to make a shelter, then cut poles to place them upon. The two Yilanè watched him with great interest.
“I could do that as well, even better,” Nadaske said. “Ustuzou hands are clumsy, not enough thumbs.”
“Try it then,” Kerrick said, passing over his flint knife. Ortnar saw the motion and jumped away from them, his own knife ready before him. Kerrick sighed.
“Ortnar — it is only fit that they build their own shelter. I think your skills would be better used if you took your death-stick and hunted some fresh meat for us.”
“That I will do,” Ortnar said, happy to be away from them. Nadaske and Imehei were equally pleased when he left.
“Waxy-uncommunicative,” Imehei said. “And I fear the stone tooth on the stick.”
“He is hunting for us — so let us finish this work. Take my stone tooth and cut more branches. We will use them to finish the shelter. But first I will show you the secrets of the hèsotsan so you will be able to defend yourselves and kill fresh meat. There are fish and shellfish in the lake and they will be easy to catch — if you know how.”
Kerrick finished the instruction on the hèsotsan well before the hunter returned, knowing that Ortnar would have reacted strongly if he had seen the Yilanè holding weapons. They were hidden out of sight in the completed shelter before Kerrick issued his final instructions.
“Only use the preserved meat when there is no fresh meat or fish, since there is not a big enough supply to last very long.”
“Pain-in-hands, fatigue-of-body,” Nadaske signed. Imehei flashed palm colors in agreement. Kerrick controlled his temper.
“Forceful-demand for all of your attention. You must do as I have said — or you will die of starvation. A slow death as the flesh wastes away, the skin hangs in loose folds, the teeth decay and drop out…”
Nadaske’s wail of agony and movements of submission meant he had their attention.
“That won’t happen if you are wise, for there is plenty of game about. Your biggest danger may be the female Yilanè who will find you unless you take precautions.” He had their wide-eyed and silent attention now. “You know of the birds that fly and return with pictures. So keep under cover as much as you can — and look out for the large birds. When the boughs on the shelter die replace them with fresh ones. Do these things, and you will not be found and returned to the hanalè — and the beaches.”
Kerrick and Ortnar left at dawn, the two Yilanè watching their departure with widened, fright-filled eyes. Yet they were here by choice. Kerrick had done what he could for them, supplied them with food and weapons. He hoped that they would learn how to hunt before the preserved meat ran out. If it did, they at least had a choice the Tanu did not. They could return to their own. Enough. He had done what he could for them. Now he would think of himself and the long trek ahead of them. Think of Armun somewhere in the north, somewhere there. Alive.
The lake and the shelter vanished behind them, hidden by a curve in the trail.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
efenabbu kakhalabbu hanefensat sathanaptè.
Life is the balance of death, just as sea is the balance of sky. If one kills life — then one kills oneself.
Enge had woven a shelter for herself from the broad leaves of the palms, then had secured it between the tree trunks to protect her from the nightly storms. The rainy season had begun here on the coast of Entoban * and the ground under the trees never dried out. To keep off the damp she had also made a platform of branches and was sitting on this now, facing out into the sun-filled clearing. Large and colorful dragonflies, each as long as her arm, drifted through the air before her — yet she did not see them. She was looking instead inside herself, at her memories of Ugunenapsa’s words, at the multilayered truths behind their apparent simplicities. She had water in a gourd from the nearby stream, as well as food that her followers had brought from the city. She needed nothing else — not when she had the words to examine. She was grateful for this opportunity for uninterrupted meditation, day after warm day, and could have asked for nothing else.
So great was her attention to this inner voice that she was not aware when Efen and Satsat came from the forest and crossed the clearing before her. Only when they stood close and their bodies came between Enge and the bright sky did awareness penetrate.
“You are here,” she said, signing welcome with her thumbs.
“We bring you fresh meat, Enge,” Satsat said. “That beside you has gone rotten from the heat.”
Enge moved one eye downward. “So it has. I did not notice.”
“You did not notice, nor did you eat any part of it. Your flesh is going — and from your arms down to your legs I can see each bone of your ribcage clearly. To eat is to live.”
“I have been eating the words of Ugunenapsa so living a life of endless splendor. But you are right, the flesh needs life as well. Tell me of the city.” She listened attentively as she ate the cool, limp flesh.
“As you have told us we mingled with the fargi and have gone through the city and have seen the life of Yebèisk. There is a stream that flows through the ambesed, crossed by many golden bridges, and fargi crowd into the ambesed in large numbers. The fields are rich, the animals are beyond counting, the harbor busy with uruketo, the sun warm, a city of delights.”
“What of the Daughters of Life? Are there any in the city?”
Efen sat back on her tail with motions of unease and unhappiness, as did Satsat. “I spoke of the day things first in order to bring light to events of the night. The Daughters are here, we have seen them but cannot talk to them. They work in the orchards, are imprisoned there as well, behind a tall wall of poison thorns. Each day they bring fruit for the beasts to the exit, but may not leave. The fruit is taken away and meat put in its place. There are many guards there. We asked and were told only that inside were the Daughters of Death, no further questions permitted, prompt orders to leave. When Omal heard this she touched our thumbs and told us to bring this message to you. Those within must not be kept from the truth of Ugunenapsa and the truths of her teaching that we have received. She said that you would understand. She went forward then and spoke with the guards who struck her to the ground and then locked her in with the others.”
Enge recoiled at the thought of the violence done in the name of Life, but made motions of appreciation at the same time. “Omal is the strongest of us and she has done what I would have done myself had I her strength.”
“Yours is the strength that carries us all, Enge. She knows your will, knew you would go. So she went in your place so you would not be the one who was trapped. You must be free to teach the words of Ugunenapsa.”
“And I shall — and Omal will be freed. Tell me of the eistaa.”
“She is much liked and respected,” Satsat said. “All may approach her in the ambesed if there is need.”