beasts cared for their eggs and their young. Boats were pulled up on the shore ahead where a working party of fargi labored in the sun. They drew up their own boats beside them and Vainte turned to the supervisor, Zhekakot, who watched from the shelter of a large tree.
“Tell me of your work,” Vainte said.
“Much progress is being made, Eistaa. Two boatloads of eggs have been sent to the city. We are netting all the young we can. They are very stupid and easy to catch.”
She leaned over the pen at her side and made a quick grab, then straightened up, holding out at arm’s length the baby alligator suspended by its tail. It twisted and hissed and tried to reach her with its tiny teeth.
Vainte nodded approval. “Good, very good. A menace removed and our stomachs full. I wish all of our problems had such an agreeable solution.” She turned to Stallan. “Are there other breeding grounds?”
“None between this place and the city. When we have cleared here we will work upriver and out into the swamps. It will take time, but it must be thorough.”
“Good. Now we will look at the new fields before we return to the city.”
“I must return to the other hunters, Eistaa. Zhekakot will be able to show you the way if that is agreeable.”
“Agreeable,” Vainte said.
The air had become wonderfully stifling hot as the wind died away completely. The boats pulled out into the river and Vainte noticed that the sky had an odd yellow color to it that she had never seen before. Even the weather was different here in this strange part of the world. As they moved back downstream the wind began to rise again — but it had changed direction and was blowing from behind them. Vainte twisted about and saw the dark line that had appeared on the horizon. She pointed.
“Zhekakot, what is the significance of that?”
“I do not know. Clouds of some kind. I have never seen anything like it before.”
The black clouds rushed towards them at unbelievable speed. One moment they had just been a smear above the trees, then they rose up, came closer, darkening the sky. And with them came the wind. It struck like a sudden fist and one of the boats, caught sideways, overturned.
There were cries, suddenly cut off, as its occupants were hurled into the choppy water. The boat dived and splashed and managed to right itself, while the Yilane in the water swam away in all directions to avoid the boat’s thrashing. None of them appeared to be injured as, with great difficulty, they were dragged from the choppy water and helped aboard the other boats. All were many years from the oceans of their youth and swam awkwardly. Vainte shouted instructions until one of the more adventurous fargi, eager for higher status even if it meant risking injury, swam over to the still agitated boat and managed to clamber aboard. She spoke to it sharply, kicking it in a tender spot, and finally managed to get it back under control.
The wind howled viciously about them, threatening to swamp the other boats. All of the Yilane now had their membranes drawn over their eyes and their nostril flaps closed against the driving rain. Then, audible even over the screaming wind, was the sound of a great crackling from the forest as a giant tree blew down, taking smaller ones with it.
Vainte’s voice could not be heard above the wind, but they understood her instructions to keep the boats away from the river banks lest they be crushed by any more falling trees.
The boats bobbed wildly in the breaking waves; the Yilane huddling close together in an attempt to keep warm under the cold, driving rain. It seemed a very long time before the wind began to be gusty, then lessened a slight bit. The worst of the storm appeared to have passed.
“Back to the city!” Vainte ordered. “As fast as possible.”
The unbelievable wind had torn a track through the jungle, toppling even the largest trees. How widespread was this destruction? Had the wind struck the city? It must have. And the trees that formed the city were still young, still growing. But were they well-rooted? How much damage might have occurred! It was a terrifying thought yet one that could not be escaped. Vainte had a terrible vision of destruction before her eyes as she kicked her boat into ever greater speed.
Stallan held the bound animal by the neck as she released the trap that secured its kicking limbs, then dropped it into the cage. So intent had she been on this operation that she did not notice the change in the weather until she straightened up. Her nostril flaps opened as she sniffed at the air. Something was familiar — and wrong. She had been with the first exploring party that had crossed the ocean to Gendasi, when they came seeking a site for the new city . When they had agreed on the shores of Alpeasak she had been one of the group that had remained behind when the uruketo had returned to Inegban*. They were armed and strong and well aware of the dangers hidden in the unexplored jungle. But it was the unknown danger that had almost destroyed them, wiping out their supplies of food and forcing them to either hunt or starve. It had been a storm of wind and rain of a ferocity they had never known before.
And it had begun in just this manner with yellow sky, the air unmoving and close. Stallan sealed the animal cage and called out “Danger!” as loud as she could. All the nearby fargi spun about at the sound, for it was one of the first words they learned.
“You, to the ambesed, you others spread out. Tell everyone. A storm with high winds is almost here. To the beaches, open fields, the water — away from the trees!”
They ran, none faster than Stallan. As the first gusts of wind hit, Yilane by the hundreds were hurrying to safety in the open. Then the storm struck with its full fury and the driving sheets of rain hid the city from sight.
Stallan found a group of fargi huddled together on the riverbank and she pushed in among them to escape the cold rain. They stayed like that as the wind burst upon them, some of the younger ones hissing with fear until Stallan’s sharp command silenced them. Stallan’s authority kept them there while the storm raged about them, forcing them to wait until it had passed before she ordered them back into the city.
When Vainte’s tired boat drifted up the debris-strewn shore Stallan was there waiting for her. Long before words could be spoken she signaled that things were good. Not perfect, but good.
“Tell me of the damage,” Vainte called out as she jumped ashore.
“Two fargi dead and…”
Vainte silenced her with an angry gesture. “The city, not the citizens.”
“Nothing major has been reported yet. A good deal of minor damage, branches torn down, some parts of the city blown to the ground. Fargi have been sent to inspect the new fields and the herds but none have returned yet.”
“Far better than I hoped. Reports will be coming to the ambesed.”
The damage was obvious as they pushed their way through the city. The living roofing had blown down in many places and the walkways were strewn with the broad leaves. There was a wailing from a foodpen as they passed and Stallan saw that one of the deer had broken its leg in panic during the storm. A single dart from her ever-present hesotsan silenced it.
“It is bad, but not as bad as it could have been,” Vainte said. “This is a strong city and growing well. Will the windstorm strike again?”
“Probably not — at least not until next year. There is wind and rain at other times, but only at this time of year does the windstorm blow.”
“A year is all that we need. The damage will be repaired and Vanalpe will see that all the growth is strengthened. This new world is cruel and hard — but we can be just as cruel and hard.”
“It will be as you say, Eistaa,” Stallan said, and her words were not simple agreement but were strongly colored with the knowledge that Vainte meant exactly what she said — and would accomplish what she set out to do.
At any cost.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Alpeasak grew — and healed its wounds at the same time. For days Vanalpe and her assistants had
