bent in a curve of inferiority. As it should be.
“On sand. Sit. Talk,” Vainte commanded, sitting uprightly on her tail as she did so. The fargi stumbled up onto the beach and sat, arms shaped in gratitude. This creature who had tried to bully her was now thanking her for issuing orders. Seeing this the others emerged slowly from the sea, huddled before her in a half-circle of staring eyes and gaping mouths. It was a familiar grouping and she was beginning to understand who they were and just what they were doing here.
It was a good thing that she did for Velikrei could explain very little. Vainte had to speak with her for she was the only one who was even slightly Yilane. The others were little more than large elininyil, immature young. None of them appeared to even have names. They communicated only with the simplest movements and colors that they had learned in the sea, with an occasional harsh sound for emphasis.
They fished during the day, she discovered that much. Slept on the shore at night. Where had they come from? A place, a city, she knew that without asking. Where was it? When Velikrei finally understood the questions she gaped out at the empty ocean and finally pointed north. She could add little more. Further questioning accomplished nothing. Vainte realized that this was the limit of the intelligence she could abstract from Velikrei. It was enough. She knew now who they were.
They were the rejected ones. From the birth beaches they had gone into the ocean. Lived there, grew there, until they had emerged from the sea at maturity, physically able at last to dwell on land, free to walk across the beaches for the first time to the city beyond. To be accepted by the city, fed by the city, absorbed by the city.
Perhaps. In every Yilane city existence was always the same. She had observed it for herself in all the cities that she had ever visited. There would be the Yilane busy about the manifold tasks, the fargi hurrying to their assistance. The eistaa above and the countless fargi below. These were everpresent, indistinguishable one from the other. Shuffling in crowds through the streets, stopping to look at anything of interest, faceless, nameless, identical.
But not always identical. Those of intelligence and ability learned to speak, improved their speech until they became Yilane. Once they possessed the power of communication they moved gradually from the mass of inchoate fargi to attain the status of Yilane, the speaking ones. To become a vital part of the city’s function. Those of even greater ability would rise even higher, to apprenticeship to the Yilane of science where they would learn skills and advance in work ability and status. Every eistaa was once a fargi on the beach; there was no limit to the heights a fargi might rise to.
But what of those of limited ability, who could not understand the fast speech and commands of the Yilane who spoke to them? Who remained yiliebe, incapable of speech. These were the silent ones who stayed always on the fringes of the crowds, moving continually away from the intercommunication of intelligence instead of towards it. Identical, indistinguishable, doomed to remain forever at the outer edge of Yilane existence. Eating and drinking and living, for the city gave life to all.
But just as the city accepted those of ability it must also reject those who lacked it. It was inevitable. There would always be those who stayed forever on the fringes of the crowds, who were the last to eat and got the smallest, castoff pieces of food. Who spent their days in gaping incomprehension. Their status was the lowest and they had just enough ability to understand that. Day by day they would be pushed aside, would stay further away from the crowds, would spend more and more time on the empty beaches where they would not be troubled by any feelings of rejection, returning to the city only to eat. Perhaps they would begin catching fish in the sea again, something they knew how to do, their only real ability. And whenever they went back to the city they would again face the humiliation of not even knowing why they were being humiliated. Going less and less often until one day they just did not return. It could not be called cruel. It was merely the ongoing process of natural selection. It could not be condemned or praised. It just was.
Vainte looked around at the uneven ranks of uncomprehending bodies and faces. Eager to understand: fated never to know. The city had not rejected them because the city could not do that. They had rejected themselves. Many, most undoubtedly, had died once they had moved away from the protected shores of the city. Taken in their sleep by the creatures of the night. So these were not the lowest of the low; those were already dead. These were the rejected ones who were still alive. Vainte felt a sudden kinship with them for she was also rejected and alive. She looked around at their simple faces and signed warmth and peace. Then, the simplest of simple signs.
“Together.”
“Have your Daughters finally learned to work together in harmony and peace as prescribed by Ugunenapsa?” Ambalasei asked suspiciously. Enge signed modified confirmation.
“Ugunenapsa did not express it in exactly that manner but, yes, we are learning to understand Ugunenapsa’s directives and have applied them to our daily lives.”
“Desire for observation of outcome.”
“Instantly available. I think that the preparation of food will be most suitable. Necessary for life, equally necessary cooperation.”
“You are not employing the Sorogetso again at this task?” Overtones of dark suspicion. Enge’s quick reaction was a sharp negative.
“The Sorogetso no longer enter the city.”
“Half of the problem. Does anyone visit them from the city?”
“Your orders were clear.”
“My orders were always clear — yet the vile Ninperedapsa, who you still insist on calling Far!, went there with her minions and her proselytizing enthusiasms.”
“And was badly bitten, as you know since you were the one who dressed her wound. She rests and still has not recovered; her followers stay close to her.”
“May her recovery be a slow one,” Ambalasei said with enthusiastic malice, then pointed to the giant eel thrashing feebly on the riverbank. “No shortage of these creatures yet?”
“None. The river teems with them. Now look, there, you will see a perfect example of the spirit of Ugunenapsa at work.”
“I see Daughters of Dilatoriness actually hard at labor. I am struck dumb.”
“You will notice that the one who directs the operation is Satsat who was my companion in Alpeasak. The workers chose her because of the punishment she received there for her beliefs, and for her survival in the face of every adversity.”
“Not exactly what I would call prime qualifications for leading fish-butcher.”
“As wise Ambalasei knows this is a fairly mindless occupation that any Yilane of intelligence could do. Since all of us labor equally in the cooperative spirit of Ugunenapsa, it is a great honor to be chosen to supervise the work of others. Satsat is doubly appreciated because she has organized the work so well that if all labor equally and enthusiastically, if that is done, then there is always the possibility that the work will be finished early and she will be able to speak to them in detail of the principles of Ugunenapsa. Today she will tell them of the eighth principle — which I know that you have not heard. See, they stop now to listen. You are very lucky.”
Ambalasei rolled her eyes towards the sky in appreciation of the opportunity. “Was my luck arranged by you?”
“Ambalasei sees everything, knows everything. I did speak of the fact you would be here and grateful for enlightenment concerning the eighth principle. Which I lacked the opportunity to reveal to you.”
Ambalasei saw no escape from the well-baited trap. She settled back on her tail with a grunt. “Time for brief listening since I am fatigued. Brief.”
Satsat spoke as soon as Enge signed to her, climbing onto one of the enzyme vats so all could see her clearly.
“The eighth, the last, and the principle that clearly guides our lives once we have accepted the words of Ugunenapsa ourselves. This principle states that the Daughters of Life bear the responsibility to help all others to know the spirit of life, and therefore discover the truth of the way of life. Think of the significance of this all-too- brief yet all-too-clear statement. We who know the Way must help others to learn and understand, to consciously follow the spirit of life. However as soon as this truth is perceived two immensely important questions arise. Firstly — how can we attempt to do this in the face of those who seek our deaths for speaking out? Secondly — how can
