“Newcomers, they are not from our paukaruts. It is very exciting.”
“What’s happening now — all the loud talking and arm waving? They seem very worked up about something.”
“I can’t tell, they are all shouting at once. You have been walking too long. Go to the paukarut and I will find out what is happening and meet you there and tell you.”
Ortnar was alone in the paukarut for the Paramutan — Kerrick, Arnwheet, and Harl as well — were all at the boats. He sat down heavily and groaned aloud, since there was none there to hear, at the pain in his feet. He chewed on a piece of meat, grateful for the rest, as he waited for Armun to come.
“Something very good seems to have happened,” she said when she returned. “It is about the ularuaq. They talked about how bad it was all winter, how there were less and less. Now they seem to have found them again. It is very important.”
“What are ularuaq?” Ortnar asked.
“They hunt them, in the sea. I have never seen one but they must be very large, larger even than a mastodon.” She pointed at the arched ribs above. “Those are from the ularuaq. And the skin cover as well — all in one piece. Most of the meat we eat, the blubber too, comes from the ularuaq. The Paramutan will eat any kind of meat, anything at all.” She indicated the seabird hanging by its legs from the ribs above, rotting nicely. “But almost all of their food, the boats, everything comes from the ularuaq. They say that it is the weather, the long winters, that have been driving them away. The ice comes further south every year and something in the water, I don’t understand all of it, has changed. So the ularuaq have been harder and harder to kill and this is the worst thing that could happen to the Paramutan. We’ll have to wait to find out what has happened now.”
It was some time before anyone else returned to the paukarut. Kalaleq was first, crawling in through the entrance and pushing a lattice of thin bones before him, while the others followed. He waved it happily, an intricate array, tied by gut and secured in angles and curves. Armun made him talk slowly as he pointed out the importance of it, translating into Marbak as he spoke.
It was Kerrick who finally understood what Kalaleq was talking about.
“The bones are a chart of some kind — they use them to find their way about the ocean just as the Yilane do with their charts. Ask him to point out where we are now.”
After much reference to the skein of bones, questions and confused answers, what had happened finally became clear. Kerrick, who had crossed the ocean understood the significance.
“It is the winters. They have changed the ocean just as they have the land, changed the things that live in it. The ice sheet we are on stretches across the northern ocean to the land on the other side. I have been on the land there, though not in the north. For some reason the ularuaq are no longer on this side of the ocean but seem to be all over there now. The ikkergak that just arrived has actually crossed to the other side of the ocean and has seen them. What are the Paramutan going to do?”
Kalaleq was graphic in his demonstration when he understood the question. He pulled on invisible lines, rode over imaginary waves as he talked. They could almost follow without Armun’s translation.
“They are getting the ikkergaks into the water and preparing them for a long voyage. They want to cross over as soon as the ice begins to break and hunt the ularuaq — and return before winter sets in again.”
“Then it is time for us to leave as well,” Kerrick said. “We take their food and give nothing in return.” But as he said this he looked out of the corner of his eyes at Ortnar who smiled grimly.
“Yes, time to go south,” he said. “But it is a walk I do not look forward to.”
“You won’t have to walk,” Armun said impulsively, reaching out to touch his arm. “I know the Paramutan. They will help us. They brought me and the boys here without hesitating at all. They like us, they think we are so different. They will want us to stay but when we insist they will take us south in the spring. I know they will.”
“But won’t they need all the ikkergaks for the hunting trip?” Kerrick asked.
“I have no idea. I will just have to ask and find out.”
“We must leave as soon as we can,” Ortnar said. “We must go back to the sammads.”
Kerrick’s face hardened at these words and his mouth set grimly for the thought of their return brought memories flooding back. Bringing with them fears long forgotten, pushed aside.
And his first thought was of Vainte, she of eternal hatred. She was out there, planning the destruction of Tanu and Sasku, of all the ustuzou in the world. He had turned his back on the city and the Yilane that threatened it because he had to find Armun. Well he had done that. They were together again, all safe. Or would they ever be safe? Not while Vainte was alive, not while she lived on hatred. They would have to return to the city. Back to Yilane and hesotsan, the world of ustuzou and murgu, of a battle that had no ending. Or no ending that did not allow the destruction of the sammads.
Armun looked at him and his thoughts were clear to her, for while he thought the murgu words his body writhed their echo, his face worked and grew grim.
They would be going back.
But to what?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ambesetepsa ugunenapsossi, nefatep lemefenatep. epsatsast efentopeneh. deesetefen eedeninef.
Ugunenapsa taught that since we know death we know the limits of life, and that is the strength of the Daughters of Life who live when others die.
When the uruketo left the harbor of Yebeisk , Ambalasi ordered that it swim west, directly into the open sea. This was the quickest way for them to get out of sight of land — and would give no clue to the watchers on shore as to their possible future course. Elem clambered up to the top of the fin and found the scientist already there, staring out at the dark forms of the enteesenat swimming beside them. Elem made a courteous sound of speaking-attention desired.
“I have never commanded an uruketo, but have only served aboard. There are problems…”
“Solve them,” Ambalasi said firmly with modifiers end-of-participation, query-next. “Who is on steering duty?”
“Omal, a Yilane of calm intelligence who learned quickly.”
“I said you could command. Now we will examine the charts.”
As they left the bottom of the fin they passed Omal who stood with her hands close to the nodules of the nerve endings that guided the uruketo, peering out through the transparent disc at the sea. On the ledge before her perched a gray and pink bird which was looking in the same direction. Ambalasi stopped and ran her thumbs along the creature’s feathers; it cooed in response.
“A new compass,” Elem explained, “far more useful than the old ones.”
“Of course — my design. Accurate, reliable — and provides companionship on long voyages. Once it has been aligned in the right direction it will point that way until it dies.”
“I have never understood…”
“I have. Magnetized particles in the forebrain. Where are the charts?”
“In here.”
Although the alcove was barely illuminated, when the first chart was unrolled it glowed brightly under the dim purple patch on the wall of flesh above it.
“This is designed to the largest scale,” Elem said. “As well as being the latest. Here is Entoban* and across the wide ocean is Gendasi.”
“And these swirls of color?”
“These, of the cooler colors, are the winds of the sky that sweep like great rivers through the atmosphere. They rise here in the tropics where the sun heats the air, then move north and south affected by the rotation of this planet. These are of utmost importance to me in my studies, but for practical navigation these warm oranges
