that passed between the two Yilane of science.
The three vanished from sight and Vainte’s eye rolled back and came to focus on Enge who had come up silently and now stood before her, bent in a gesture of supplication.
“Leave me,” Vainte said, as curtly as she could. “I speak with no one.”
“A matter of greatest importance. I implore you to listen.”
“Go.”
“You must listen. Stallan beats the ustuzou. I am afraid she will kill it.”
Vainte gave Enge her full attention now, demanding an instant explanation.
“The creature tried to escape but was recaptured. Stallan beats it terribly.”
“This is not my wish. Command her to cease. Wait — I will do it myself. I want to hear more about this escape. How did it happen?”
“Only Stallan knows. She has told no one.”
“She will tell me,” Vainte said, grim authority in her gesture.
When they reached the prison chamber they saw that the door was open and could hear the thudding sound of blows, the moans of pain, as they came down the corridor. “Stop,” Vainte ordered, halting in the doorway, speaking the word with such strength that Stallan halted, her arm still raised, the blood-drenched leash in her hand.
At her feet Kerrick lay twisted in agony, his back raw bloody flesh, beaten half unconscious.
“Tend the creature,” Vainte ordered and Enge rushed forward. “And you, put that thing down and give me an instant explanation.”
There was such certain death hovering behind her words that even the strong and fearless Stallan quavered before it. The leash fell from her powerless fingers: it took all of her will to force her body to answer. Knowing that Vainte had but to speak the few words more and she was doomed.
“The creature escaped from me, ran. Very fast. No one could catch it. We followed it to the fields, keeping close behind it. But never close enough. It would have escaped had it not been caught by one of the traps placed around the fields to stop the ustuzou night raiders.”
“That close,” Vainte said looking down at the small form. “These wild animals have abilities we are not aware of.” Her anger was dying away and Stallan quivered with relief. “But how did it escape?”
“I do not know, Eistaa. Or rather I know what happened but cannot explain it.”
“Try.”
“I shall. It walked beside me, obeying my commands. When we had gone some distance it stopped and raised its hands to the collar of this leash, choking and saying it was being strangled. This was possible. I reached to the collar but before I could touch it the ustuzou ran away. And it was not choking.”
“But it told you it was choking?”
“It did.”
Vainte’s anger was gone now as she thought hard about what the hunter had said. “Were you not holding the leash?”
“I had released it when I reached for the collar. The beast was choking, it could not escape.”
“Of course. You did the only thing possible. But it was not choking. You are sure of that?”
“Positive. It ran a long way and breathed well. When it was captured the first thing I did was look at the collar. It was just as it had been when I put it on.”
“These things are unexplainable,” Vainte said, looking down at the unconscious ustuzou. Enge was bent over it, cleaning the blood from its back and chest. Its eyes were discolored and bruised, there was blood upon its face as well. Surprising that it was alive after Stallan’s attention. The inescapable fact was that the collar had not been choking it. But it had said it was being choked. That was impossible. But it had happened.
Then Vainte stiffened into immobility. It was a thought, an impossible thought, one that would never have occurred to a crude hunter like Stallan. Vainte controlled the thought, held it at bay for the moment as she spoke rudely and stiffly.
“Leave at once.”
Stallan hurried out immediately, expressing relief and gratitude, knowing that her life was out of danger for the moment, happy to put everything that had happened out of her mind.
But not Vainte. Enge’s back was still turned so she was able to seize the thought, examine it, and not be concerned about anyone observing her own thinking processes.
It was simply an impossible idea. But it had happened. One of the first things that she had learned in the science of thought was that when all other explanations have been rejected, the remaining explanation, no matter how illogical or apparently false, must be the only explanation.
The ustuzou had said the collar was choking it. The collar was not choking it.
The statement of a fact was not a fact.
The ustuzou had said a fact that was not a fact.
There was no word or expression for this in Yilane so she must make one up. It was a lie. The ustuzou had lied.
No Yilane could lie. There was only immobility, or lack of expression to conceal one’s thoughts. A statement was a thought and a thought was a statement. The act of speaking was one with the act of thinking.
But not with the ustuzou.
It could think one thing and speak another. It could appear quiet and docile, then say it was choking — when all of the time it was only thinking of escape. It could lie.
This creature must be kept alive, cherished, guarded — and prevented from escaping. The future was gray and formless and Vainte was not sure of the details. But she knew with positive assurance that the ustuzou was her future. She would use it and its ability to lie. Use it to climb, use it to reach the summit of her ambitions.
But now she must put all thoughts of this impossible talent from her own mind. She must order things done so that none of the others should know. She would order all discussion of the escape forbidden. Should Stallan die? For a moment she considered it — then rejected it. The hunter was too valuable. Stallan would obey the order for silence, would enjoy obeying it since she would certainly remember how close she had been to death before Vainte’s anger. When she had composed herself Vainte drew Enge’s attention.
“Is the creature badly hurt?”
“I cannot tell. It is bruised and cut, but that could be all. See, it stirs, its eyes are open.”
Kerrick looked up blurredly at the two murgu standing above him. He had failed to escape, he hurt, and he had failed. There would be another time.
“Tell me what you feel,” Vainte ordered, and he was surprised at the worry in her words.
“I hurt. All over.” He moved his arms and legs. “That is all. I hurt all over.”
“That is because you tried to escape,” Vainte said. “You took your chance when Stallan let go of your leash. I will arrange matters in the future so that this will never happen again.”
Kerrick was not too tired or sore to notice the elision in Vainte’s words, the obvious leaving out of a statement. Vainte must know what he had said to Stallan to make her drop the leash. Enge did not notice, but he did. He saw that knowledge and wondered at it, then forgot it. He hurt too much.
One of Vanalpe’s students came and dressed his wounds — and after that he was left completely alone for many days while they healed. The student brought food every morning, then checked the progress of his healing. There were no more language lessons — nor did he have to suffer the attentions of the dreaded Stallan. His manacles were removed, but the door was always securely locked.
When the pain lessened enough he thought about his attempt to escape — and what had gone wrong. He would not be trapped that way next time. He would avoid the false vines, leap over them, and flee into the jungle.
Had he really seen the bearded face there among the leaves? Or was it just wishing, hoping, that had placed it there? He could not be sure. Maybe it was only his desire that someone be there, waiting. It did not matter. He did not need any help. Just the chance to run. The next time they would not stop him.
Day after slow day passed until his wounds had healed and the scabs had fallen away, leaving white scars in their place. The student still examined him closely every morning when she brought the food. When all the bruises on his skull were healed she brought the unutakh to remove the long stubble of hair that had grown. After this he became used to the creature’s slimy ministrations once again. The door was always sealed when the
