shudder passed through the vessel as the half-sentient creature responded. The officer nodded and continued her climb down into the long cavern of the interior, her pupils expanding swiftly in the half-lit darkness.
Fluorescent patches were the only illumination here in the living-walled chamber that extended almost the full length of the uruketo’s spine. To the rear, in almost complete darkness, lay the prisoners with their ankles shackled together. Cases of supplies and pods of water separated them from the crew and passengers in the front. The officer made her way forward to the commander to give her report. Erafhais looked up from the glowing chart that she held and signed agreement. Satisfied, she rolled the chart and returned it to its niche, then moved off to climb the fin herself. She shuffled when she walked, a childhood injury to her back which was still scarred and wrinkled from the same wound. Only her great ability had enabled her to rise to this high rank with such a disfiguring handicap. When she emerged on top of the fin she also breathed deep of the fresh air as she looked about her.
Behind them the coast of Maninle was slipping out of sight. There was land barely visible on the horizon ahead, a chain of low islands stretching northwards. Satisfied, she bent over and spoke, expressing herself in the most formal way. When issuing orders she would be more direct, almost brusque. But not now. She was polite and impersonal, the accepted form of address to be used by one of lower rank to one of higher. Yet she was in command of this living vessel — so the one she spoke to must indeed be of exalted position.
“For your pleasure, there are things to be seen, Vainte.”
Having spoken she moved to the rear, leaving the vantage point in the front clear. Vainte clambered carefully up the ribbed interior of the fin and emerged onto the inner ledge, followed closely by two others. They stood respectfully to one side as she stepped forward. Vainte held to the edge, opening and closing her nostrils as she smelled the sharp salt air. Erafnais looked at her with admiration, for she was indeed beautiful. Even if one did not know that she had been placed in charge of the new city , her status would have been clear in every motion of her body. Though unaware of the admiring gaze Vainte still stood proudly, head high and jaw jutted forward, her pupils closed to narrow vertical slits in the full glare of the sun. Strong hands gripped hard while wide-spread feet balanced her; a slow ripple moved the bright orange of her handsome crest. Born to rule, it could be read in the very attitude of her body.
“Tell me what that is ahead,” Vainte said abruptly.
“A chain of islands, Highest. Their name is their being. Alakas-aksehent, the succession of golden, tumbled stones. Their sands and the water about them are warm all the year round. The islands extend in a line until they reach the mainland. It is there, on the shore, that the new city is growing.”
“Alpeasak. The beautiful beaches,” Vainte said, speaking to herself so that the others could not see or hear her words. “Is this my destiny?” She turned to face the commander. “When will we be there?”
“This afternoon, Highest. Certainly before dark. There is a warm current in the ocean here that carries us swiftly in that direction. The squid are plentiful so the enteesenat and the uruketo feed well. Too well sometimes. Those are some of the problems of commanding on a long voyage. We must watch them carefully or they go slowly and our arrival…”
“Silence. I wish to be alone with my efensele.”
“A pleasure to me.” Erafhais spoke the words, backing away at the same time, vanishing below the instant she had finished.
Vainte turned to the silent watchers with warmth in her every movement. “We are here. The struggle to reach this new world, Gendasi, is at an end. Now the greater struggle to build the new city shall begin.”
“We help, do as you bid,” Etdeerg said. Strong and solid as a rock, ready with all her strength to aid. “Command us — even unto death.” In another this might have sounded pretentious; not with Etdeerg. There was sincerity in every firm motion of her body.
“I will not ask that,” Vainte said. “But I will ask you to serve at my side, my first aide in everything.”
“It will be my honor.”
Then Vainte turned to Ikemend who drew herself up, ready for orders. “Yours is the most responsible position of all. Our future is between your thumbs. You will take charge of the hanale and the males.”
Ikemend signed ready acceptance, pleasure — and firmness of endeavor. Vainte felt the warmth of their companionship and support, then her mood changed to one of grimness. “I thank you both,” she said. “Now leave me. I will have Enge here. Alone.”
Vainte held tight to the leathery flesh as the uruketo rode up and over a large wave. Green water surged across its back and broke against the black tower of the fin. Salt spray flew, some splashing Vainte’s face. Transparent nictitating membranes slipped across her eyes, then slowly withdrew. She was not aware of the sting of the salt water for her thoughts were far ahead of this great beast that carried them across the sea from Inegban*. Ahead lay Alpeasak, the golden beaches of her future — or the black rocks that she would crash upon. It would be one or the other, nothing in between. In her ambition she had climbed high after leaving the oceans of her youth, leaving behind many in her efenburu, surpassing and climbing beyond efenburu many years her senior. If one wished to reach the peak one had to climb the mountain. And make enemies along the way. But Vainte knew, as few others did, that making allies was equally important. She made it a point to remember all of the others in her efenburu, even those of lowly station, saw them when she could. Of equal, or greater importance, she had the ability to inspire respect, even admiration,among those of the younger efenburu. They were her eyes and her ears in the city, her secret strength. Without their aid she would never have been able to embark upon this voyage, her greatest gamble. Her future — or her failure. The directorship of Alpeasak, the new city , was a great step, an appointment that moved her past many others. The danger was that she might fail, for this city, the furthest ever from Entoban*, already had troubles. If there were delays in establishing the new city she was the one who would be brought low, so low she would never rise again. Like Deeste whom she was coming out to remove as Eistaa of the new city . Deeste had made mistakes, the work was going too slowly under her leadership. Vainte was replacing her — and taking on all of the unsolved problems. If she failed — she too would be replaced in turn. It was a danger, but also a risk worth taking. For if it were the success they all hoped it would be, why then her star would be in the ascendancy and none could stop her.
Someone clambered up from below and stood beside her. A familiar presence yet a bittersweet one. Vainte felt now the comradeship of one of her own efenburu, the greatest bond that existed. Yet it was tempered by the dark future that lay ahead. Vainte had to make her efensele understand what would happen to her once they were ashore. Now. For this would be the last chance that they would have to talk in private before they landed. There were too many listening ears and watching eyes below to permit her to speak her mind before this. But she would speak now, end this foolishness once and for all.
“We have made our landfall. That is Gendasi ahead. The commander has promised me that we will be in Alpeasak this afternoon.” Vainte was watching out of the corner of her eye but Enge did not speak, merely signaled agreement with a motion of one thumb. The gesture was not insulting — nor was it revealing of any emotion. This was not going well, but Vainte would not permit it to anger her or stop her from doing what must be done. She turned about and stood face to face with her efensele.
“To leave father’s love and enter the embrace of the sea is the first pain of life,” Vainte said.
“The first joy is the comrades who join you there,” Enge added, finishing the familiar phrase. “I abase myself, Vainte, because you remind me of how my selfishness has hurt you…”
“I want no abasement or apologies — or even explanations of your extraordinary behavior. I find it inexplicable that you and your followers are not decently dead. I shall not discuss that. And I am not thinking of myself. You, just you, that is my concern. Nor do I concern myself with those misled creatures below. If they are intelligent enough to sacrifice their freedom for indecent philosophies, why then they are bright enough to make good workers. The city can use them. It can use you too — but not as a prisoner.”
“I did not ask to be unshackled.”
“You did not have to. I ordered that. I was shamed to be in the presence of one of my efenburu who was chained like a common criminal.”
“It was never my desire to shame you or our efenburu.” Enge was no longer apologetic. “I acted according to my beliefs. Beliefs so strong that they have changed my life completely — as they could change yours, efensele. But it is pleasing to hear that you feel shame, for shame is part of self-awareness which is the essence of belief.”
“Stop. I feel shame only for our efenburu that you have demeaned. Myself, I feel only anger, nothing more. We are alone now, none can hear what I say. I am undone if you speak of it, but I know you won’t cause me
