her wrong-headedness could not be altered so was silent. There would be other ways to reach her destination — for reach it she must. Mesekei was a great city on a great river, rich and prosperous and far from the cold of the north. More important — they had aided her more than any other city in the war against the ustuzou. The future now was gray and impenetrable when she looked at it, her numbed mind empty of all thought. A time would come when the grayness must lift and she would be able to think once again of the future. At that time it would be good to be in a city among friends. There would be other uruketo in Ikhalmenets; some way would be found.
Companions there — but only enemies here. Through the grayness this ugly fact loomed large. Enge and her Daughters of Death still lived — while all those so deserving of life now lay dead. This should not be — nor would it be. There was nothing that could be done here at sea. She was alone against them all; could expect no aid from Erafnais and her crew-members. Once ashore this would all change. How could she change it? Her thoughts were stirring to life now and she concealed them by her rigidity of body.
Behind her Enge signed respectful withdrawal to the commander and climbed below. When she had reached the bottom of the fin she looked back at Vainte’s motionless figure, then felt for an instant that she could almost see her mind at work. Evil, dark and deadly. Vainte’s ambitions would never change, never. These thoughts filled Enge so strongly that her limbs stirred despite her attempts at control, even in the dim phosphorescent glow they could be easily understood.
She banished them and walked slowly through the semidarkness. Past the immobile Akotolp and her miserable male companion and on to the small group huddled against the wall. Akel stood and turned toward her — then drew back as she approached.
“Enge, follower-to-leader, what unhappiness moves your limbs so that I fear for my very life when you come close?”
Enge halted at this and conveyed apology. “Loyal Akel, what I was feeling was not for you — or for any of you others as well.” She looked around at the four remaining Daughters of Life and let her movements show how pleased she was with their companionship. “Once we were many. Now we are few so each of you is more precious than a multitude to me. Since we lived when all others died I feel that this has given us a mission — and a strength to carry out that mission. We will talk of that another time. There are other things that must be done first.” With her thumbs against her ribcage she signed listening-ears/watching-eyes. “The sorrow I brought with me is not my own. I will now give thought to the cause of that sorrow.”
She sought out a dark angle behind the bladders of preserved meat where she would be hard to see, then lay facing the living wall of the uruketo and forced her body into silent rigidity. Only when this exercise was complete did she let her thoughts return to Vainte. Inner thoughts that were not echoed in her outer stillness.
Vainte. She of immense hatreds. Now that Enge was free of any affection for her former efensele she could see her for what she was. A dark power for evil. And once this fact was realized it became clear that her first act from this darkness would be directed against Enge and her companions. They had lived where all others had died. They would speak out in Ikhalmenets and what they would say would not be to Vainte’s advantage. Therefore in her simple equation of cause and effect they would have to die; nothing could be plainer than that.
Dangers known could be avoided, threats seen counteracted. Plans must be made. The first one was the easiest. Survival. She stirred and rose and went to the others. Akel and Efen greeted her, but Omal and Satsat were asleep, already sinking into the comatose state that would see them through the long, dark voyage.
“Waken, please, we must talk,” Enge said, then waited until the others had stirred and were attentive again. “We cannot discuss, so I ask compliance/obedience. Will you do as I ask?”
“You speak for us all, Enge,” Omal said simply and the others signed agreement.
“Then this is what we will do. While four sleep one must always be awake — for there are great dangers. That is what must be done. If one is sleepy then another must be awoken. One will always sit awake beside the sleepers.” She looked about as they all communicated understanding and agreement. “Then all is well. Now sleep my sisters and I will remain awake at your side.”
Enge was sitting in the same position some time later when Vainte climbed down from the fin, a shiver of hatred running the length of her body when she caught Enge’s watching eye. Enge did not respond — nor did she turn away. The placidity of her gaze irritated Vainte even more so that she was forced to lie at a distance, her back turned, in order to calm herself.
It was a fast and uneventful crossing, for all aboard were so shocked by the death of Alpeasak that they escaped their remembered terrors in sleep, waking only to eat, then sleep again. But one of the appointed five was always awake, always watchful.
Enge was asleep when land was sighted, but she had left her orders.
“It is there, the greentree shore of Entoban *,” Satsat said, touching Enge lightly to awaken her.
Enge signed grateful thanks and waited in silent stolidity until the time came when the commander was alone on top of the fin: she joined her there and they both looked in silent appreciation at the line of white breakers that were drawn against the greens of the jungle beyond.
“Respectful request for knowledge,” Enge signed, and Erafnais let acceptance be known. “We are looking at the shore of warm and eternal Entoban*. But is it known at what position on the coast we see?”
“Somewhere here,” Erafnais said, holding out the chart tight-clamped between the thumbs of one hand, the thumbs of the other spanning a distance on the coast. Enge looked closely at it.
“We must proceed north along the shore,” Erafnais said, “then on past Yebeisk to the island city of sea-girt Ikhalmenets.”
“Would impertinence be assumed if I asked the commander to point out warm-beached Yebeisk when we are close?”
“Communication will be made.”
Another two days passed before they came to the city. Vainte was also interested in Yebeisk and stood at the far end of the fin while Erafnais and Enge remained at the other. It was late afternoon when they passed the high trees, the golden curve of the sands on each of the city’s flanks, the tiny forms of the fishing boats returning with the day’s catch. Surprisingly, after all her earlier curiosity, Enge showed scarcely any interest at all. After one long glance she signed her gratitude for information and went below. Vainte permitted herself a spasmodic glare of hatred as she passed, then stared back at the shore.
In the morning she listened as a crewmember addressed the commander, and could not control the tremors of anger that shook her body. She should have known — should have known.
“They are gone, Erafnais, all five of them. I saw their sleeping positions vacated when I awoke. They are not here in the uruketo or in the fin.”
“Nothing was seen?”
“Nothing. It was my duty to awaken first this day to take the guiding position. It is a mystery…”
“No it is not!” Vainte cried aloud and they drew back from her. “The only mystery is why I did not see what was going to happen. They know that no good will come to them in the bold city of Ikhalmenets . They seek hiding places in Yebeisk. Turn about, Erafnais, and go there at once.”
There was command in Vainte’s voice, authority in the stance of her body. Yet Erafnais made no move to obey, instead stood in immobile silence. The watching, listening crewmembers were rigid, each with an eye turned toward one of the speakers. Vainte signed urgency and obedience and wrath, hovering like a destructive thundercloud over the smaller commander. Bentback, dragfoot Erafnais.
With a will of her own. She had had more than a hint of the motives involved here. Enge had been kind to her and never offended her — while she knew little of the Daughters of Life, cared even less. What she did know was that there had been enough killing. And it was obvious that death lay behind every one of Vainte’s venomous movements.
“We will proceed. We will not turn back. Dismissal of presence from commander to passenger.”
Then she turned about and walked away, letting her limp muffle the positions of pleasure and superiority in her body movements.
Vainte was rigid with anger, paralyzed by impotence. She did not command here — did not command anywhere echoed back darkly from her thoughts — nor could she use violence. The crewmembers would not permit that. She was locked in a silent, internal battle with her anger. Logic must rule; cold thought must vanquish. The inescapable fact was that there was absolutely nothing that could be done at the present time. Enge and her followers had escaped from her for the moment. That was of no importance. In the fullness of time they would meet again and instant justice would follow. Nor could anything be done now about the commander of the uruketo.
