afraid.”
“This is true!” Kalaleq called out excitedly, then covered his mouth with his hand when Angajorqaq and Kukujuk both turned to look in his direction. He was silent until they looked away again, then went on in a whisper. “I thought perhaps, because of the way he talks, but did not think that it could be true. How happy you must be.”
“Happy? What can you mean?”
“To have such good fortune. To have your own hunter who has been spoken to by the spirits of the ocean and the wind. They talk to very few — and very rarely. And those who can hear their voices can then speak with the rest of us. That is how everything is learned. That is how we learn to make the things that we do. They told us how to build the ikkergaks so we can catch the ularuaq and grow fat. Now they talk to Kerrick and he will tell us what they say.”
Armun did not know whether to laugh or cry. “Don’t you know what they say? They say only one thing over and over. Go south to the island. That is all that they say.”
Kalaleq nodded and chewed at his lip. “That is what they say? Well then, that is the way it must be. We shall just have to go south to the island.”
Armun could only shake her head in complete disbelief.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
yilanehesn farigi nindasigi ninban*
Until a fargi is yilane she has no city.
The new city had to come first, Ambalasi knew that, but she regretted every moment not spent studying the Sorogetso. That was what she had named these close relations of the Yilane, the silent ones, for though they could communicate it appeared that they could do so on only the simplest of terms, as though they were still young elininyil in the sea. Even this was only an assumption made after her first contact with them; this success had not been repeated. The Sorogetso did not come near the wasteland of the peninsula, but stayed hidden in the jungle beyond. And she was too occupied with the endless problems of growing a city, with the indifferent help of the Daughters of Desperation, to have any opportunity to seek them out. She was also feeling her age.
Now she lay in the shade of a quick-growing shrub and examined the culture specimens in her sanduu. The eyelens of the greatly mutated creature was in the sunlight, the projected image clear in the shadow. Most of the microscopic life was familiar to her. There were no pathogens to see, nor had any harmful fungi grown in the sterilized soil. Good.
“Send for Enge,” she ordered her assistant Setessei, who had been changing specimens for her.
Then she lay back on the resting board and sighed. Life was too short for all that she wanted to do. Lanefenuu had been generous to her and life in now-distant Ikhalmenets a pleasure of relaxed research. How many years had she stayed there? She had lost count. She would be there still had she not grown interested in the biological aspects of the Daughters’ philosophy. Then, on sudden impulse, she had thrown away all the comfort in exchange for this rude plank under a spiny shrub. No! — her body moved with the strength of her thoughts. Perhaps the study of the Daughters of Despair had been a mistake — but the voyage here had not been. What a wealth of new material she had discovered; how she would be revered for bringing it all to the attention of scientists in Entoban* still unborn. She savored the thought. Just the gigantic eels alone were important — not to mention an entire new continent. And one other thing of importance, many-times-amplified importance.
The Sorogetso. Patience, she must be patient. Proceed one step at a time. She needed security, peace, quiet to work. She needed the city to work in, the worthless sisters to provide her with necessities and comforts while she studied the Sorogetso. For this reason, if none other, the city must be grown quickly and perfectly. She sighed again, she had been over this chain of thought far too often before. Like it or not this was what she would have to do.
A shadow crossed her vision and she realized that Enge had appeared, was waiting patiently while she finished the interior conversation with herself. Ambalasi rolled one eye toward her and signed for close attention.
“We have reached an important moment in the development of this new city . The wall is strong, the worthless growth cleared away, shade shrubs growing. This patch of earth beside me has been dug and redug, sterilized and fertilized and is as ready as it ever will be. There is only one thing left to be done. Plant the city seed.”
She took it from its container and held it up. Enge dropped forward on her knees in silent admiration. She stared at the gnarled brown shape for long moments before she spoke.
“First and foremost in my life was my discovery of Ugunenapsa. Now, this is surely the next most important moment in my existence. For this we have only you to thank, great Ambalasi, and have called this entire new land in your name to honor you. You have brought us freedom, brought us across the ocean, brought us to Ambalasokei where you will grow our city for us. May I call the others to watch the planting?”
“The planting is important — not the moment. They should keep working.”
“They will want to honor the planting. Honor you.”
“Well — if you insist. But it is a dreadful waste of time.”
Word spread swiftly and the Daughters hurried from their labors, their mouths spread wide in the noonday heat. They grouped in silence around Enge, pushing close to see the depression that she had scooped in the soft ground. She was now soaking it with water under Ambalasi’s direction.
“That is enough, you don’t want to drown or rot it,” the old scientist said. She held up the seed and the Daughters swayed in silent reverence. “Now — which of you is going to plant it?”
To Enge’s chagrin a number of ardent discussions sprang up; arms moved swiftly and palms flashed color.
“We must discuss…”
“What would Ugunenapsa want done?”
“It is a matter of precedent. Those who came to Ugunenapsa first must be the wisest. So we should choose by precedent, question all…”
“Respectful request for silence,” Enge said, repeating it with modifiers of importance and urgency until they finally fell silent. “There is only one single Yilane suited for this momentous task: she who brought us here, she who brought the city seed, she is the one who shall plant it.”
“Stupid waste of time,” Ambalasi said, groaning as she rose to her feet, yet flattered despite her broadcast disdain. Garrulous and argumentative the Daughters might be — but at least they knew enough to respect intelligence and ability. She shuffled to the edge of the damp hole in the soil, the seed clutched between her thumbs.
“With this ceremony…” Enge began, and stopped, shocked, as the scientist simply dropped the seed into the hole, kicked some soil over it, then returned to her resting board, calling out as she walked.
“Water it some more — then all of you get back to work.”
In the horrified silence that followed Enge recovered first, stepped forward, fumbled for the right expressions.
“With thanks, great thanks, to Ambalasi highest among the highest. She has honored us by planting the seed for our city, the first city of the followers of Ugunenapsa. As we have discussed, many times over and over…”
“I am sure of that!”
“… there can be but one name for this city. It will be called Uguneneb, the City of Ugunenapsa , and will be honored forever by that name.”
Movements of pleasure, cries of happiness. Twitches of disdain from Ambalasi who now called out.
