“Nothing, we have all that we need.”
“You do not speak of personal need, but I know you can use assistance. Therefore it is my wish that the strength of my hand, first to me in everything, my efensele Alakensi, be attached to your following. To be your first aide and share your labors.”
Vainte would not permit herself the slightest movement, the softest word, for that would have revealed the spate of instant anger that engulfed her. But she did not have to speak. Malsas‹ looked her directly in the eyes, and eye to eye they both understood. Malsas‹ permitted herself just one little mocking gesture of victory, then turned and led her followers to the uruketo.
Had Vainte possessed a weapon at that moment she would have sent a dart of death into that retreating back. Malsas‹ must have planned every moment of this even before she arrived. She had her spies in Alpeasak reporting on everything that happened here. She had known that as Eistaa here Vainte would be reluctant to turn over power. Therefore the repulsive Alakensi had been brought here. She would sit at Vainte’s side and watch and spy — and report everything that happened. Her presence would be a constant reminder of Vainte’s certain fate. She would labor and build this city — and in the end she would be pulled down. For on that black day it would all belong to Malsas‹. Now she realized what had been done; her past was laid clear by her future. From the very beginning Malsas‹ had had it all planned. Let Vainte work and struggle and build the city — and in the building construct her own fate.
Unknowingly Vainte raked her foot along the floor, her thick sharp nails tearing at the wood. No! It was not going to be that way. In the beginning she had just wanted to rise through her own labors, to join those that led the city. No more. Malsas‹ would never rule here. Alakensi would die; her appointment had been her death notice. The details were not clear — but the future was. As winter closed in on Inegban* the sun shone on Alpeasak. Weakness ruled there while strength grew here. Alpeasak was hers — and none would ever take it from her.
In her rage Vainte left the presence of others, walked through the city by the most circuitous route where only a few fargi could see her — and upon seeing her flee from the anger that radiated from the very impact of her stride. Death was in every movement of her body.
There was a guardpost, now deserted, high above the port. Vainte went there and stood in the lengthening shadows while the loading of the uruketo was completed. The last cargo taken into it were the limp bodies of a number of deer. Vanalpe had improved upon the toxin, normally used to stun large animals so they could be moved. The new drug did not stun — nor did it kill — but rather brought the creatures to the very brink of death. Their heartbeats could barely be detected, their breathing was immensely slowed. Treated in this manner they could cross the ocean to Inegban*, needing neither food nor water, to provide needed meat for the hungry citizens there. It was Vainte’s fervent wish, and she spoke it aloud though none could hear, that Malsas‹ be treated in this way. To lie dead but not-dead until the end of time.
When the uruketo left at dusk Vainte returned silently and alone through the growing darkness and, despite the anger still possessing her, fell instantly asleep.
Sleep cleansed her mind of hatred, but in the morning it still lurked there at the edge of her thoughts. To those that saw her in the ambesed she appeared as always. But she had one glimpse of Alakensi across the ambesed and she had to turn away, rigid with hatred. Her temper was short as many discovered. It was Enge’s ill luck to approach her at this time.
“I have a small request, Eistaa,” she said.
“Refused. From you and your walking-dead creatures I want only work.”
“You were never cruel without a reason before this,” Enge said calmly. “It is my understanding that to the Eistaa all citizens are equal.”
“Precisely. It is my decision that the Daughters of Death are no longer citizens^. You are work animals. You will labor until you die; that is your fate.” The memory surfaced, long put aside by the pressure of work, brought up now by the sight of Enge standing before her.
“The ustuzou you were teaching to talk. What of them? Time has passed, a great deal of time.”
“More time is needed, that is the request that I have. More time — or no time.”
“Explain yourself.”
“Each morning I begin to work with the ustuzou with hope that this will be the day of comprehension. Each evening I leave them with the strong sensation that it is all a wasted labor. The female is intelligent — but is it just the intelligence of an elinou that prowls the city seeking out and killing mice? The actions look intelligent but certainly are not.”
“What of the male?”
“Stupid, like all males. He will not respond, even when beaten. He just sits and stares in silence. But the female, like an elinou, responds to kindness and is pleasant to be with. But, after all this time, she can speak only a few phrases, usually wrong, and always bad. She must have learned them as a boat learns and they are surely meaningless to her.”
“I am not pleased at this news,” Vainte said, nor was she. Enge could have been working in the fields all this time; her labors had been lost. The reasons for attempting to communicate with the ustuzou were no longer important. There had been no further threat from the creatures — while trouble from other sources was bad enough. But if the danger was gone the intellectual interest was still there. She voiced the question aloud.
“If the creatures cannot learn Yilane — have you taught yourself their language?”
Enge signaled despair and doubt with a convulsive movement of her body. “That is another question I cannot answer. At first I thought of them as ambenin, speechless things that could not communicate. But now I see them as ugunin…”
“Impossible!” Vainte rejected the idea completely. “How can a creature of any kind communicate but not give or receive information? You are giving me puzzles — not answers.”
“I know, and I am sorry, but I see no other name for them. Their sounds and movements reveal no pattern at all, and I say this knowing I must have memorized thousands of their movements and sounds. All are meaningless. It was difficult, they are so waxy and move so little. In the end, I came to believe — as a theory only — that they must have another level of communication that will remain forever closed to us. I have no idea of what it might be. I have heard of the theory of mental radiation, one brain talking directly to another. Or radio waves perhaps. If we had a physicist in the city that might be answered.”
She fell silent as Vainte expressed despair, doubt, and disbelief.
“You never cease to amaze me, Enge. A first-class mind was lost to this city when you devoted your existence to your repellent philosophy. But now I think that your experiments and expectations are at an end. I will see your ustuzou and decide what will be done.” Vainte saw Stallan near by and signaled her to come as well.
She led the way with Enge and Stallan following after. When they approached the prison chamber Stallan hurried ahead to open the barred entrance. Vainte pushed past her and stared down at the young ustuzou while Stallan stood ready in case they should attack. The female was squatting, but her lips were drawn back to reveal her teeth and Vainte grew angry at what was obviously a threat. The small male stood in waxy, motionless silence against the rear wall.
Vainte called out to Enge. “Make them do their tricks,” she ordered.
When Kerrick heard the scraping of the bolt that secured the door he jumped about to place his back against the wall, sure as always that this would be the day of death. Ysel was beginning to laugh at him for it.
“Stupid boy,” she said, rubbing at the scratches on her bare skull. “Still baby-afraid. The marag brings us food and plays games…”
“Murgu bring death and they will kill us one day.”
“Stupid.” She threw a fruit rind at him and turned with a smile to face the one who visited them.
It was a strange marag who entered first, stamping heavily, and her smile faded. But the other familiar one was right behind, along with the brutal one, and the smile returned. It was another day just like any other.
She was a lazy and not-too-bright little girl.
“Speak to me,” Vainte ordered, standing before the ustuzou. Then with emphasis, slowly and clearly as though addressing a young fargi, “Speak… to… me!”
“I beg, let me try first,” Enge requested with supplication. “I can get a response.”
