ocean, then south again to the murgu city. His life would not be his own, not until he had offered it to Kerrick to take or refuse.
It was almost dawn before fatigue closed Kerrick’s eyes. Sleep would not come earlier. He had sat by the dead fire and looked out across the lake. At the calm water and the stars that marched slowly across the sky, tharms of dead warriors in their nightly progression. They moved overhead steadily until they vanished from sight in the waters of the lake. When the moon had set as well and the night darkened, that must have been when he fell asleep.
He awoke with a start, the grayness of dawn around him, aware of a touch on his shoulder. He rolled over to see the girl, Darras, there.
“What is it?” He choked out the words, filled with fear.
‘You must come now.” She turned and hurried away and he rose and ran after her, passed her and threw open the skin entrance to their tent.
“Armun!”
“It is all right,” her voice spoke from the darkness. “Nothing is wrong. Come see your daughter.”
He pulled the flap wide and in the faint light saw that she was smiling up at him.
“I was so worried,” she said. “I had the great fear that the baby would be like me, with my lip, but now that fear is gone.”
He dropped down beside her, weak with relief, and turned back the skins from the baby’s face. It was wrinkled and red, eyes shut, mewling faintly.
“It is sick — something is wrong!”
“No. That is the way babies always look when they are born. Now we will sleep, but only after you put a name to her. It is known that a baby without a name is in very great danger.”
“What will her name be then?”
“That is not for me to decide,” she said with firm disapproval. “She is your daughter. You must name her. A girl’s name, one that is important to you.”
“Armun, that is a name of great importance to me.”
“That is not done, two of the same name. The best name is of someone who died who was of importance.”
“Ysel.” The name came to his lips without his bidding; he had not thought of her for years. “She died, I lived. Vainte killed her.”
“Then that is a very good name. That she died so that you might live is the most important name I have ever heard. Ysel and I will sleep now.”
The sunshine was warm, the air fresh, the day new, all of existence as it should be. Kerrick strode with happiness to the shore to wash and plan for the day. There was much to be done before they left. But leave they would, just as soon as Armun was ready. She would decide. He must get everything ready for that day. He splashed water over his face, spluttered and rubbed. Wiped his eyes with his forearm and saw the first rays of sun shining between the trees, striking warmly across the sand.
To Imehei’s still form stretched out in the water. Nadaske was already at his side, sitting in frozen Yilane immobility.
The day was no longer bright. Kerrick walked over slowly, in silence, stood in silence and looked down at the immobile Imehei. He was breathing slowly through his half-opened mouth. A bubble of saliva formed, then vanished. Nadaske moved one eye to look at Kerrick, then away again.
“Attention to speaking,” Kerrick voiced and waited until Nadaske was looking at him again before he spoke.
“In some few days we will be leaving. We will hunt, leave you meat.”
“Do not. It will turn green and stink. I will fish, there will be enough for both of us. Why do you not leave now?”
Armun and the baby, the unconscious Imehei here with his unwelcome burden of eggs: there was an unwelcome similarity here that Kerrick did not wish to point out.
“The time is not appropriate, preparations to be made. Meat will be brought.”
Nadaske was silent again and there was nothing more that Kerrick could do here, nothing more to say. He went slowly back to his own encampment. Ortnar was awake and supervising Harl, who was fixing arrowheads to their shafts.
“More arrows will be needed,” Ortnar said. “When we hunt and travel arrows that miss cannot always be searched for. Now that the baby is born we can leave.”
“Only when Armun is ready. But we must make the preparations so we can go as soon as she says. And this we must consider as well — where shall we go?”
“Tighter, the thong tighter or the arrowhead will be lost. Use your teeth.” Ortnar shuffled about until he was facing north, then pointed with his chin. “That is the only way to go. I know the path well. And I think I know of a place where we can stay as long as we have the death-sticks. With them we cannot go to the snows for they die in the cold. Nor do we want to stay close to the city of the murgu. Now I will show you what I have been thinking of.”
He used his speartip to scratch a line in the sand, then stabbed the lower end of it. “This is the shore of the ocean and at the bottom the city of the murgu. Now we are here.”
He circled the lake into the sand. Then drew the spear up along the line and pushed it down again on the shoreline. “Here is a place I know of. We hunted there once. It is as far north from this lake as this lake is north of the city. Is that far enough?”
“It will have to be. Close or far they can find us if they want to. If they seek us out we can run to the snows and they will be right behind us every step of the way. What did you find when you hunted there?”
“A river of sweet water, then a shallow lagoon filled with flying birds. Then, beyond the water, there is an island. On the other side of it there is more water and narrow islands again along the ocean. I thought this. If we go to the large island we can kill the dangerous murgu there. The hunting and fishing is very good. But the large island is not on the ocean. If the murgu sailing creatures go along the shore, even if they land, they will not know we are there. It is the best I can think of now.”
“It is a far better plan than I could have made. We will go there — as soon as Armun is ready. Until then we must hunt and smoke meat, make ekkotaz. The less time we take to hunt when we are on the move the faster we will get to this place.”
From the tent behind him there came the sudden loud cry of a baby. Arnwheet came running over and took his hand, looked up with worried eyes. Kerrick smiled down at him and rubbed the tangle of his hair.
“Do not worry. All babies sound like that. You now have a sister and she must be very strong to cry like that.”
Arnwheet looked doubtful, but relieved. “I wish to talk with my friends.”
When he said “friends” he moved his arms to say the same thing in Yilane. It was obvious that they were of far greater interest to him than any little sister.
“Yes, go to them, Nadaske will like that. But you will not be able to talk to Imehei. He sleeps in the water. It is a thing that only Yilane do and it is hard to explain.”
“I will ask Nadaske, he will be able to tell me.” Perhaps he will, Kerrick thought, then turned and shrugged off his worries. There was much to be done here.
CHAPTER FIVE
enotanke ninenot efendasiaskaa gaaselu.
We all dwell in the City of Life .
