The uruketo had been secured to the wharf where its cargo was still being unloaded. Its commander stood to one side, but when she saw Vainte approach she signed one of her officers to take command and went to meet her.
“Greetings, Vainte,” signs of greatest respect. “Information to be conveyed, privacy important.”
They moved out of sight of any watchers before Naalpe spoke again.
“As requested I stopped at Yebeisk upon our return voyage from Ikhalmenets. I spoke with many there and it was easy to learn of the one whose name you gave me because none talk of any other matter.”
“Clarification of meaning requested.” Vainte was polite and concealed her growing impatience.
“This Enge, the Daughter of Death of whom you spoke, she went boldly to the eistaa and told of her beliefs, and for this she was imprisoned with others of her kind…”
“Excellent, most excellent and warming information, kind Naalpe—” She broke off as she saw the commander’s signs of agitation and alarm.
“Not like that, not at all. How it happened does not seem to be clear, the details confused by time-elapsed and many opinions. What did happen I can vouch for with sincerity, because I myself talked to the commander of the uruketo. She spoke to me as she would to no other since ours is the same labor, told me what happened.”
“But — what did happen?”
“The Enge you inquired after, she and all of the others, the others being all of the Daughters of Death in the city of Yebeisk, they boarded the uruketo and left. They could not be followed. No one knows where they have gone.”
Vainte froze, incapable of speech, her thoughts racing in circles of unknowingness. What could it mean? How had they done it? Who had aided her? How many were they? Gone where?
She spoke this last aloud but there was none to answer her.
“Gone… but where!?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
This island in the river delta was low-lying and half swamp. But a cypress tree had taken root on the southern tip, grown high and wide, its leafy branches creating a welcome pool of shade and relief from the blistering sun. Most of the Daughters were assembled here now, luxuriating in close study of Ugunenapsa’s words. The circle of intent students sitting rigid with the effort of concentration, following Enge’s every gesture and sound. When she had finished her explanation there was only silence as each looked inside herself, seeing if Ugunenapsa’s words were hers as well.
“Questions?” Enge said.
Long moments passed before one of the students, a young, slim Yilane, a recent convert, tentatively made a motion of attention. Enge signed authority-for-speaking. The student sought for clarity of expression, then spoke.
“Before Ugunenapsa recorded her thoughts, made this momentous discovery, were there others who, perhaps, contribution-of-effort…” She stumbled over her question and Enge came to her rescue.
“Are you asking if Ugunenapsa, our teacher was first in everything — or did she learn from earlier teachers and thinkers?” The student expressed grateful agreement. “If you study Ugunenapsa’s works closely you will find her discussing just this question. She did seek guidance from all the Yilane thinkers who were concerned with the questions of life and death, but found none to aid her, no prior reference to the problem of its possible solution. When she sought for an explanation of this, for she was humble and would not think that she alone had been graced with singular knowledge, she reached a certain conclusion. What lives and what dies? she asked herself. A Yilane may die, but a Yilane city lives forever. Yet at just this time a Yilane city had died, the first one ever recorded for she searched and searched and found no mention of any other. Yet a city had died of the cold. Then she turned the question over and asked it from the other side. If a city can live and not die — why cannot a Yilane live and not die? A city had died, just as a Yilane dies. She was humble and did not believe that the city had died just to lead her to her discoveries. But grateful also in that from death she had discovered life…”
“Attention, information of importance.”
There was a murmur and movement of horror as Ambalasi blocked their view of Enge, interrupting her while she was speaking. Only Enge remained undisturbed by the discourteous act.
“How may we be of aid to Ambalasi, she who saved us.” Reminding them all that the scientist deserved respect above all others.
“I wait patiently for your talking to finish, but finally observe it is endless. Therefore interruption. There is work that needs doing before dark. I need strong thumbs to help me.”
If Enge was eager to help, her cooperative mood was not shared by the Sisters. They had obviously not relished the interruption and had no desire to substitute heavy labor for heady philosophizing. None moved, though one briefly communicated importance-of-teaching. Enge was embarrassed, not angered, by their reluctance.
“I have failed you as a teacher,” she said. “Ugunenapsa has taught us that all life is equal, so all Yilane are equal, and a request for aid is to be honored as if it were a request for life.” She turned to Ambalasi and signed humility-of-submission. “I shall be the first to hurry to assist you.”
At this the students forgot their pique and pushed forward to show their understanding and compassion.
“Without Enge’s guidance you are stupid as fargi,” said Ambalasi unappreciatively. “I need five of you to carry and assist in planting.” She looked them up and down critically for many were thin and cerebral; selected the ones who looked the strongest and sent them off with her assistant for the supplies.
“You must excuse them,” Enge said. “In their excitement of seeking knowledge they forget the labors of the day.”
“Time-wasters, the lot. Walk with me, there are things we must discuss.”
“Pleasure in obedience to desires.”
“That is true, you sincerely feel that way. But you alone, Enge, you alone. I have never tried to work with creatures as resistant to orders as your Daughters of Lassitude.”
Enge signed understanding and apologies. “There is a reason for this — as there is for everything. Pleasures of association and mutual discovery, without persecution for beliefs, is a strong mixture. It is hard to descend from the heights of cerebration to the depths of manual labor.”
“Perhaps. But it must be done. To eat we must work; I wish you would tell them that with strength-of- argument. Did not Ugunenapsa once say that?”
“Never!”
“Better for all of us if she had. Now come to the shore here and look outward. Can you see the peninsula over there?”
“Not too clearly,” Enge said, peering across the muddy rush of the river. This island was low and flat, as were all the islands of the estuary. Ambalasi made gestures of distaste then indicated the uruketo nearby.
“We can see better from the top of the fin.”
Since there was no dock on this ready shore, the uruketo had been encouraged, by tempting it with fresh fish, to push a channel into the mud with its toothed beak. Now that it was well fed it kept its head wedged into the opening it had made. They stepped carefully onto its slippery, muddy hide and clambered toward the dorsal fin above. The uruketo’s round, bone-reinforced eye moved slightly when they passed, but this was the creature’s only response. They hooked thumbs and toe-claws into the rough skin and climbed. Enge going very slow to match the efforts of the elderly scientist.
“At times… I am that sorry I ever decided to leave Yebeisk…” Ambalasi said, gasping with the effort. “But no sacrifice is too great to advance knowledge. You and I know that, but this intelligence is lost upon your followers.”
Enge made no response, other than signing agreement, respecting Ambalasi’s age and intelligence — and knowing from experience that if anything were to be accomplished, other than interminable arguments, it was better to agree with her most of the time. Ambalasi gaped in air, looked about and registered displeasure, finally
