turned quickly to Lanefenuu, her back to the others, spoke the sounds softly and moved her limbs with the minimum needed to communicate.
“Great Lanefenuu, Eistaa of Ikhalmenets who rules from strength, Vainte who served you abases herself. I obey your instructions always.”
“You did not obey the order to die, Daughter of Death,” she hissed.
“I would, but I cannot. I live to serve you.”
“I doubt that. I will order you killed.”
“Do not chance it.” There was cold menace now as Vainte spoke. “There are Yilane here who have forgotten Ikhalmenets, who have served me faithfully, who might even see me as their eistaa. Let us not tempt their loyalty — it might be a very dangerous thing to do.”
Lanefenuu was swollen with cold anger, ready to burst, looking at the deadly creature before her, weighing her threat.
Looking at the same time at the troubled Yilane below them. Remembering the threat to Ikhalmenets that had brought her here so far from her sea-girt city. There could be much truth in what this Yilane of venom had said. When Lanefenuu finally spoke she did so as silently as the other.
“You live. For the moment you live. We return to Ikhalmenets and you will leave with me. I do not trust you here when I am not present. The war against the ustuzou will end. Nor will I have you again in my city. You are banished from Gendasi, from Alpeasak, from my presence forever. If I could hurl you into the sea I would do that. I will not take that chance for others would know. You will be landed alone — very much alone — on the shore of Entoban *, far from any city of the Yilane. You will be as a fargi again. That is what I will do and that is your fate. Do you have anything to say?”
What Vainte felt she dare not say — or one of them would have to die. She could not chance it. So rigidly under control was her body now that her muscles vibrated with the strain as she raised her thumbs and signed acceptance.
“Good. Now we leave this place of the ustuzou and I count the passing days with joy until tomorrow’s tomorrow comes and I see the last of you.”
They climbed on their mounts, the fargi following on the uruktop, and rode away. When the dust had slowly drifted back to the ground they were gone, all of them, gone.
“I had a dream last night,” Armun said. “It was so real that I could see the colors of the leaves and the sky, even smell the smoke from the fire.”
She stood in the bow of the ikkergak, her eyes half-closed in the glare of the setting sun ahead. Kerrick stood behind her, his arms about her for the warmth and the pleasure of being close. She turned to look up into his windburned face.
“The alladjex would always listen when he was told about dreams,” she said. “Then he would tell you what they meant.”
“Old Fraken is a fool. A troublemaker.”
“You mean that my dream was not true?”
There was pain in her voice. He ran his finger over her long hair and reassured her. “A dream can be true — that is certain. We must dream for a reason. I meant only that you can tell for yourself, you don’t need that old one to tell what you know yourself. What was the dream?”
“We were back at the round lake. Arnwheet was there and eating the meat I had cooked. The girl Darras too, only she was bigger than I remember her.”
“She would be older now. Was Harl or Ortnar in your dream?”
“Ortnar was there, sitting and eating as well, with his bad arm hanging at his side. But the boy wasn’t there, Harl. Could the dream be telling me that he is dead?”
He caught the fear in her voice and answered quickly. “It sounds a very real dream. You said you saw the color of the sky so it was daylight in your dream. Harl would be away hunting during the day.”
“Of course.” She laughed aloud, relieved. “But maybe it was just a dream because I hope so much?”
“No! It was real. You saw ahead of us, saw the lake where we are going and all of those who wait for us there. Who wait in safety.”
“I want to be there.”
“The ikkergak sails well, the spring storms are over. We will be there soon.”
“Then I am happy. I did not want to have the new baby in the cold north.”
She spoke calmly, with happiness and acceptance and he laughed aloud with pleasure, sharing her thoughts and feelings, holding her tight to him. Never to be parted, never again. Stroking her hair gently he felt at peace, realized that he had felt that way ever since that morning in Ikhalmenets when he had bent the eistaa to his will, forced her to end the attacks on the sammads. This single effort had banished the fears that had possessed him for so long, driven out the demons that had perched in his head and darkened his thoughts.
They were going to the lake, going back to his sammad. They would be complete once again.
The ikkergak surged up and over the long rollers, its rigging creaking, spray flying from the bow. There was sudden laughter from the stern where the other Paramutan sat close to Kalaleq at the tiller. It was an easy voyage for them, good fun. They laughed again.
A red sky ahead, sign of good weather, a band of high clouds turned rose-pink by the setting sun.
A world at peace.
Far to the south, in the world they were leaving behind, Vainte stood in the sea, the warm waters surging about her. Looking out at the uruketo vanishing into the red-shot sunset. Her arms curled into a cry of hatred, her thumbs arched and aching to claw. She was alone, there were none to hear what she called aloud, none to aid her, to share with her. She was alone.
Perhaps it was better that way. She still had the strength of her hatred and that was all she needed. There was tomorrow and tomorrow’s tomorrow, days running far into the future like stones tumbled on a beach. Days enough for her to do what must be done.
She turned, strode out of the ocean, trudged up onto the trackless sand. The wall of the jungle was solid and impenetrable. She turned and walked along the beach, leaving a straight trail of footsteps on the sand, walking slowly and steadily into the falling dusk.
