Winter in Eden

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Kerrick had just finished eating the preserved meat and was wiping the grease from his fingers onto his furs when the door opened again. But this was no wide-eyed fargi; a Yilanè of age and substance entered and looked at him with signs of doubt and suspicion. Esspelei stood in a position of subservience and he copied her at once. The newcomer was heavy of jowl, her thick arms painted with a pattern of whorls even here in this crude place so far from the cities. She was very much in control of the situation. Fafnege, still armed with her hèsotsan entered behind her, also signing respect for her rank. Kerrick knew that this one would not be as easy to fool as the others. She examined his face closely with one eye, while at the same time looked him carefully up and down with the other.

“What is this piece of ustuzou filth? What is it doing here?”

“Lowest Esspelei to highest Aragunukto,” Esspelei writhed humbly, “the hunter found it in the forest. It is yilanè.”

“Is it? Are you?” An imperious order that Kerrick answered with all signs of deference.

“It is my pleasure to speak and not be dumb like other ustuzou.”

“Tear off those repellent coverings — the beast is difficult to understand.”

Esspelei hurried forward and Kerrick made no protest, stood with humble submission as she cut away his furs with her string knife. He was bleeding from a number of cuts before his clothing lay tumbled on the floor.

“Pink-ugly, disgusting,” Aragunukto said. “And obviously a male. Admit no fargi lest the sight of this one generate unacceptable thoughts. Turn! I knew it, no tail either. I have seen pictures of your kind, safely dead, in far-away sea-girt Ikhalmenets. How did it get here?”

“It fell from an uruketo during a storm, swam ashore,” Esspelei said. She said it as a fact; since he had spoken of it it must be a fact. Aragunukto’s features clouded with anger.

“When could this have happened? It is my certain knowledge that there is only one Yilanè ustuzou and that it has escaped and is feral. Are you that same ustuzou?”

“I am, great one. I was recaptured, sent in an uruketo across the ocean, then washed overboard.”

“What uruketo? Who commanded? Who captured you?”

Kerrick was becoming tangled in his own web of lies. Aragunukto was too shrewd to fool — but there was no way out now.

“This knowledge is not mine. I was struck on the head, a storm, night…”

Aragunukto turned away and signed Fafnege for attention-to-orders. “This creature of disgust speaks like it is Yilanè. It is not. There are shadows in its speaking that reveal its ustuzou nature. I feel dirtied by this communication. Kill it, Fafnege, and let us be done with it.”

With gestures of satisfaction and happiness Fafnege raised her hèsotsan, aimed it.

“No, you have no reason,” Kerrick called out hoarsely. But the order had been given, would be obeyed. He jumped sideways, away from the weapon, stumbled against the shocked scientist at his side. In an agony of fear he seized her heavy arms and pulled her before him, crouching so her body shielded him from any dart. “I can help you, give important information!”

But they could not understand him, for they could hear only the sound of his voice; because Esspelei’s solid body blocked any view of his limbs.

“Kill it! Instantly — instantly!” Aragunukto raged.

Fafnege crouched, weapon ready, stalking him like a wild prey. Esspelei was struggling, breaking away. Once his body was exposed he was dead. He glanced over the scientist’s shoulder as he felt her break his grip and fall forward. Saw the door opening.

Saw the shocked, brown-furred face of a Paramutan appear there.

“Kill the one with the death-stick,” Kerrick screamed aloud, his body exposed now to the raised weapon.

Even as he spoke he realized that he had called out in Marbak. He hurled himself to the floor as the hèsotsan snapped loudly. The dart came so close to his face that he felt the breath of its passage. Fafnege watched him fall, moved the weapon to follow him.

“What is happening?” Kalaleq cried out.

Fafnege spun about at the sound of his voice. Kerrick found the Paramutan words.

“Kill! The one with the stick!”

Kalaleq’s was the arm that sank the deadly harpoon into the giant ularuaq, now he hurled his spear with the same precision, the same strength. Catching Fafnege in the midriff, doubling her over with the force of the blow. The hèsotsan fired its dart into the floor as she fell.

Niumak surged through the entrance, his spear ready, Armun right behind him. Kerrick was starting to rise as she ran toward him.

“Don’t — not that one!” he cried. Too late. Esspelei screamed in pain, clutched at Armun’s spear where it had been thrust into her neck, fell still screaming out bubbles of blood, died.

“She was a scientist, I wanted to talk to her,” he said weakly, looking about. Armun had wrenched her spear free, turned to protect him.

But there was no need. Aragunukto was dead as well, Kalaleq turning from her body. The Paramutan was panting with emotion, his eyes blood red. “More?” he asked. “Are there more?”

“Yes, in the other structures. But…”

They were gone before he could even begin to explain about fargi. Tiredly he picked up his cut furs, looked at them. Armun touched soft fingers to the blood upon his skin, spoke quietly.

“When you did not come back I was heavy with fear. The Paramutan too. Niumak tracked you, found your spear, found the place where your prints joined those of the murgu. Then followed them here. Did they wound you?”

“No. Just these small cuts. Nothing more.”

As he pulled the dismembered furs together he tried to assemble his thoughts as well. By now the Yilanè would all be dead. So be it. Aragunukto had ordered his death simply because she did not like the way he spoke. Once again it was only death; peace was unthinkable. Perhaps it was better this way. He looked up as Kalaleq came back in, panting, his spear bloodied, blood drenching his hand and arm.

“What strange and horrible creatures! How they wriggled and screamed and died on our spears.”

“All dead?” Armun asked.

“All. We went into each of these big paukaruts and found them and speared them. Some ran, but they died as well.”

“Here is what must be done,” Kerrick said, forcing himself to think, to plan. “We must leave no trace of our presence here. If the murgu even suspect that we are on this side of the ocean they will seek us out and kill us.”

“Put the bodies into the ocean,” Kalaleq said practically. “Wipe up blood.”

“Will others come?” Armun asked.

“Yes, in their boats that swim, the dock is here. If they find them all missing it will be a mystery — but we will not be suspected. Take nothing, disturb nothing.”

“Want nothing!” Kalaleq cried out, shaking his spear. “Nothing that these things have. We must carefully wash their blood from our spears or we will have the worst bad fortune. You spoke of how terrible and strong and different these murgu were, and I marveled. But you did not tell me how I would tremble with anger and hatred at sight of them. This is a very strange thing and I do not like it. Into the ocean with them, then we return to pleasure of cold north.”

No, south… Kerrick thought, but did not speak the words aloud. This was not the proper moment. But he did turn to look at the chart one last time before he left. Reached out and touched it lightly just over the irregular dark green circle set into the light green sea. Sea-girt Ikhalmenets.

Armun saw his body writhe with the name and she took him by the arm. “We must leave. Come.”

Darkness had fallen before they were done. The sea received the bodies and the blood-stained fragments of his furs. The tide was on the ebb; the corpses would be carried out to sea. The fish would take care of the evidence.

Niumak had little difficulty in leading them back in the darkness. But the track was steep and they were all tired when they finally saw the light of the fire flickering between the leaves. There were shouted greetings when they finally stumbled out onto the sand.

“You are here! All is well?”

“Things have occurred, terrible things!”

“Death and blood, creatures unbelievable.”

Kerrick dropped onto the sand, then drank greedily of the cold water that Armun brought to him.

“You are safe,” she said, touching his face as though to reassure herself. “They took you but they are dead. You are alive.”

“I am safe, but what of the others?”

“We will return across the ocean to them. They are safe there by the lake. Do not fear for Arnwheet.”

“I do not mean them. What about all the other sammads, the Sasku — what of them?”

“I know nothing of them, care nothing. You are my sammad.”

He understood how she felt, wished that he could feel the same. They were secure here with the Paramutan — as long as they stayed far to the north and avoided this dangerous coast. In the spring they would be able to cross the ocean again, to bring the rest of their small sammad here. Then they would all be safe. They would do that. The other sammads were strong and could guard themselves, fight the Yilanè if they were attacked. Their existence was not his responsibility.

“I cannot do it,” he said, teeth clamped tight, fists hard, shaking with the strength of his emotions. “I cannot do it, cannot leave them all to die.”

“You can. You are one — the murgu are many. All of this is not your doing. The fighting will never end. We will stay away from it. We need the strength of your arm and spear, Arnwheet needs it. You should think of him first.”

He laughed at that, a laugh without humor. “You are right — I should think of nothing else. But I cannot stop my thoughts. I discovered something in the murgu camp, saw a chart very much like the murgu one that we have, saw on it the place, the murgu city, where the killers come from…”

“You are tired, you must sleep.”

He angrily brushed her hands away, stood and raised his fists to the sky.

“You just don’t understand. Vaintè leads them — and she will follow the sammads until they are finally destroyed. But I know where Ikhalmenets is. Now I know where she gets her weapons and her strength and her fargi.”

Armun fought to control her fear, did not understand the invisible pains that wracked him.

“You have this knowledge — but there is nothing you can do. You are one hunter against a world of murgu. There is nothing that you alone can do.”

Her words disarmed him and he dropped down to sit at her side again. Quieter now, more thoughtful. Anger alone would not drive away the Yilanè.

“You are right, of course, what can I do? Who would help me? All the sammads in the world would be of no help against that distant city on its island in the sea.”

The sammads could not help — but others could. He looked at the dark outline of the ikkergak, at the Paramutan talking excitedly around the fire while they tore at their raw meat with sharp white teeth. Remembered how Kalaleq had looked, how obsessed by hatred of the Yilanè, the murgu, the new, repulsive and unknown creatures.

Could that hatred be somehow harnessed? Was there something that could be done?

“We are tired and must sleep,” he said and held Armun tightly to him. Yet tired as he was he did not sleep at once, heard her breathing softly and regularly beside him as he looked up unseeingly at the stars, his thoughts rushing around in circles.

In the morning he sat in silence looking at the Yilanè chart while the Paramutan loaded the ikkergak for departure. When they were ready to leave he called Kalaleq over.

“You know this chart?” he said.

“It must be thrown into the sea like the rest of the murgu.” His anger had faded during the night, his eyes no longer reddened with rage, but the disquiet was still there. Kerrick shook his head.

“It is too valuable. It tells us things we have to know. Let me show you. Here is where our paukaruts are — here is where we are now. But look, south along this coast, see across this narrow bit of ocean to the large land…”

“Murgu land, you told me so, I do not like to think of it.”

“But here, look here, just off the coast are these islands. That is where the murgu are who kill my brothers. I would like to kill those murgu. This ikkergak could reach the island easily enough.”

Kalaleq stepped back and raised his hands before him. “This ikkergak can sail in only one direction. North. This ikkergak goes quickly away from murgu — not toward them. Do not speak of this to me again for it is not a thing to even think about.” Then he laughed and shuffled in a circle. “Come, we go to the paukaruts. Think of all the rotten meat to eat, the blubber to lick. What good fun! Do not think of these murgu. Never think of them or see them again.”

If he could. If he only could.