too stupid to live. So — prove me wrong. If you can.”
Lanefenuu, Eistaa of Ikhalmenets, sat in her place of honor in the ambesed, the great carving of uruketo and waves rising up behind her, and was not happy. Not at all. This was her ambesed, her city, her island. Everything that stretched before her or around her was hers. Cause for pleasure once, cause for blackness of humor now. She looked past the walls of the ambesed to the trees beyond, where they climbed up the slopes of the long-dead volcano. Up to the snowcapped summit, hideously white all of the way through the heat of summer. Her body arched and writhed with movements of hatred, so much so that Elilep who was painting her arms had to move aside quickly or be struck. The other male, who had carried the tray of pigments, shivered delicately at Lanefenuu’s strong emotions.
She saw the movement, looked at him with one eye, then back to the mountain peak. An attractive male, delicate. Perhaps she should take him now? No, not this day, not the day when it all ended.
Elilep was trembling now as well, so much so that the brush in his hands was unsteady and he could not control it.
“Finish the painting,” Lanefenuu ordered. “I wish the mountain and the ocean there on my chest, in the greatest of detail.”
“Great Eistaa, it was said that we leave this island today.”
“We do. Most are gone. When we board the uruketo we will be the last.”
“I have never been in a uruketo. I am afraid.”
Lanefenuu fingered his crest and signed abandonment of fear/reasonless. “That is only because you are a simple male, plucked from the sea, raised in the hanale, which is the right and proper thing. You have never left this island — but you shall now. All of us. We will cross the ocean and I command you to abandon fear. We go to the city of Alpeasak which is larger than Ikhalmenets, is rich in new/ delicious animals, has a hanale of pleasurable size.”
Elilep, who was sensitive to others’ feelings, as were most males, was still not calmed. “If this distant city is so fine why does the Eistaa show anger and grief?”
“Anger at the whiteness of winter that drives me from my city. Grief that I must leave. But enough. What is done is done. Our new city awaits us on the shores of distant Gendasi*, a city of golden beaches. Far superior to this rock in the ocean. Come.”
She stood and stamped across the ambesed with the males scurrying after her. Head lifted, filled with pride and strength. Perhaps it was best to leave this ambesed forever, leave this place where the ustuzou had humiliated her, ordered her obedience. She snapped her thumbs at the memory, but remembered as well that there had been no choice. Two of her uruketo dead. She had had no choice. Better the conflict to end. Enough had died. If she had not listened to Vainte’s counsel none of this would have happened. Her body writhed as strong emotions seized her. It was part of the past and could be forgotten along with this city and this island.
Her uruketo waited, the others had already left as she had commanded. She ordered the males aboard, started to follow them, turned back to look despite herself. The green below, the white above.
Her jaw gaped with powerful emotions — until she snapped it shut. Enough. It was over. Her city was now warm Alpeasak. Winter could come to Ikhalmenets. It was no longer her concern.
Yet she stayed on top of the fin, alone, until Ikhalmenets finally sank into the sea and was gone.
CHAPTER SIX
Es alithan hella, man fauka naudinzan. Tigil hammar ensi tharp i theisi darrami thurla.
If the deer go, the hunters follow. An arrow cannot kill a beast in the next valley.
Sanone did not approve of this kind of meeting. Among the Sasku they ordered things differently. It was the manduktos who labored with their minds and not their hands, who studied Kadair and his effect on this world, as well as other important things, it was they who met and considered and decided. When consideration and decision were needed. Not in this disorganized manner where anyone at all could give an opinion. Even women!
None of these thoughts showed on Sanone’s lined, dark face; his features were calm and unrevealing. He sat crosslegged by the fire, listened and observed but did not speak. Not yet. He had good reason to be here, though he was Sasku and not Tanu, and he could see the reason for his presence there behind the seated hunters, among the women. Malagen felt his eyes upon her and moved unhappily back into the darkness. Sanone’s expression did not change at the sight of her — though his nostrils did flare with annoyance when a horde of screaming children ran by and kicked sand upon him. He brushed it off and turned his attention to Herilak who rose to speak.
“Much has been done. Fresh poles have been cut for the travois, leather harnesses have been repaired. Meat has been smoked and is ready. I think all has been done that needs to be done. Speak if anything has been left unfinished.”
Merrith climbed to her feet, made insulting gestures at the hunters who tried to shout her down. As big as a hunter — as strong as one too — she had been on her own since Ulfadan’s death.
“You speak of leaving this valley of the Sasku. I speak of staying.”
The women behind her were silent, the hunters noisy in their disagreement. She waited until the shouts had died down, then spoke again. “Hunters you have mouths at the wrong end — when you talk it sounds like farts. We have good food here and there is good hunting in the hills. Why should we leave?”
Some of the women called out in agreement with this and the discussion became heated and confused. Sanone listened, expressionless, guarding his thoughts. Herilak waited until he saw that it would not end easily, then shouted them into silence. They obeyed since he had led them in war against the murgu and they had survived.
“This is not the place to discuss these things. Tanu does not kill Tanu. It is also true that Tanu cannot command Tanu. The hunters who wish to come when we leave will come. Those who wish to stay will stay.”
“Hunters only?” Merrith called out brazenly. “Is it that women no longer have a voice?”
Herilak controlled his temper and wished that one woman at least had lost hers. “A woman will talk to her hunter, they will decide what they must do. We are here now because those of us who wish to leave this valley must get all in readiness…”
“Well here is one who does not wish to leave,” Merrith said, standing and pushing her way through the crowd, then stopped to look back. “Unless I am not welcome to remain here. What do you say, Sanone, mandukto of the Sasku?”
They turned to Sanone now, with great interest. He raised his hands as high as his shoulders, palms outward, and spoke in accented but good Marbak. “Sasku and Tanu fought as one in the city on the shore, came to this valley and fought side by side again. The Tanu are welcome to stay, free to go. We are as brothers.”
“And sisters,” Merrith added brusquely. “This one is staying.” She turned her back and left.
If any of the other women felt as she did they kept their silence. They were free, as all Tanu are free, to live their lives just as they wished. If a sammadar displeased them they would go to a new sammad. But the bonds to a hunter who had fathered their children were not as easily broken. And the hunters yearned for the forests; they could not be prevented from leaving.
The discussion went on for a long time. The fires died down and children fell asleep. Sanone waited patiently and when it was time he rose to his feet.
“I am here because of two matters — may I speak?”
“Do not ask,” Herilak said firmly. “The bonds of battle tie us close.”
“Then I have a request. The mastodon who was born here, that is named Arnwheet and through which Kadair speaks to us. Is it clear that this mastodon will stay when you leave?”
“This was never in doubt.”
