“I do not know you — tell me your name!”
Far! signed negative, then gasped with pain as the big guardian closed hard thumbs on her thin arms. Akotolp looked to the circle of Yilane. “Does anyone recognize her? Who here knows her name?”
There was only silence, and it was Lanefenuu who spoke next.
“Her name — unknown. Then she is not of this city and is a stranger. Where are you from, stranger? Someone must know you if you came with us from Ikhalmenets.”
Far!’s limbs moved as she listened and, with no intention of speaking, she still signed not Ikhalmenets. There was no way for her to avoid the truth for, like all Yilane, she lacked the ability to lie. What she thought, she said, and it was clear for all to understand. Lanefenuu was relentless.
“You attempt to hide who you are and where you are from. But you cannot. You cannot hide from me. I will name a city and you will answer. I will ask you until you tell me. I will find out.”
Far! looked about, writhing now with panic, not wanting to speak but knowing that she would be forced to. Her glance fell on Ambalasei’s rigid body for a moment, hesitated, moved on. Understood.
For an instant, unnoticed by any of the others who had eyes only for the questioning Akotolp and the prisoner, Ambalasei had spoken. A single, simple nonverbal expression. Far! understood. She writhed in understanding and hatred, so strong that the Eistaa recoiled.
Death, Ambalasei had said. Death.
Far! knew that she would eventually have to convey information. And in doing so she would reveal the existence of the city and of the Daughters of Life. They would be found, captured, killed, their newfound freedom doomed. She would speak and everything she had lived for would die. The hatred was for Ambalasei who would live on. For her there could be only one thing.
Death.
Hers — or all the others’. At the thought of all the deaths she would cause Far! writhed with agony. Her eyes closed and her body sagged. Ambalasei watched, immobile and expressionless.
“Dead,” Lanefenuu said with disgust, as the esekasak opened her thumbs and Far! dropped to the ground. “Now we will never know.”
Akotolp waddled over and nudged the limp body with her foot, signalled to the nearest fargi. “We will do a dissection, Eistaa. Perhaps there is a disease, an infection of the brain, that may explain this unusual happening.”
Lanefenuu signed termination of presence and the corpse was hurried from her sight. Most of the onlookers left as well since the Eistaa, still moving with anger and affront, was obviously in no humor for conversation. Forgotten for the moment, Ambalasei moved away with the others, determined not to be noticed again. The fargi milled about in the dusk, seeking sheltered sleeping places, and she stayed close to them. When darkness fell they took no notice of her presence in their midst. She slept, as well as she could on the hard ground, and was awake and on her way to the waterfront at first light. She walked past the tethered uruketo to the open space at the dock’s end and waited there, forcing herself into stolid silence. Very soon after this an uruketo appeared from the sea haze and she saw, with great relief, that Elem was on the fin. Their presence was not noticed among the other uruketo: a crewmember helped her aboard and Ambalasei ordered instant departure.
“You sign great worry, great unhappiness,” Elem said when she had climbed up to join her.
“I have good reason to. I will speak of it later. Because right now you and your crew have no time for listening since you will be working as hard as you can to get this creature to the beach just as quickly as possible.”
They were waiting on the sand, the four Daughters of Life and a huddled group of frightened fargi. There was a great deal of milling about before the fargi could be urged into the surf, to swim out to the uruketo. But once started they came strenuously on, strong swimmers since they were but recently emerged from the sea. They swarmed aboard and were gaping about stupidly long before the Daughters arrived. Satsat was the first to pull herself out of the water, to face an enraged Ambalasei.
“What happened out there? What possessed that idiot Far!? Do you know what she has done?”
“I do. She could not be dissuaded. Our work here was finished, she said, for we had talked to the fargi and had given them food. Those who understood us stayed with us and listened, but the ones that were still yiliebe drifted away. Those who learned of Ugunenapsa are with us now. Our city shall grow and prosper…”
“Cease rambling? Speak of Far!.”
Satsat looked with great unhappiness at the fargi and her companions now climbing into the uruketo, fought to order her thoughts. “She said that we had new Daughters of Life — but only daughters. For our city to grow and prosper in the natural way males were needed, as she has always said. We urged her not to go, spoke of the danger, but she would not listen to us…”
“I can well believe that.”
“Although she risked death she took the risk gladly. She felt that if she could but bring a single male to the wisdom of Ugunenapsa no sacrifice would be too great. She left us, did not return. Not last night nor this morning.”
“She did as she desired,” Ambalasei said coarsely, “her greatest wish has been granted. She is dead. She died to stop herself from speaking. Probably the only intelligent thing that she ever did in her entire life.”
Ambalasei turned away from the horrified Satsat and made her way into the interior of the uruketo and sought a dark and quiet spot to rest. She remained there for most of the return voyage, eating little but sleeping a great deal, ignoring the others. Although she did talk to some of the fargi, slowly and quietly with none of her usual brusqueness. Most of the time she slept. It was midday , warm and humid, when they returned. She was first ashore and left the unloading to the others. They had been seen upon the river and it seemed that the entire city was there.
“Looking instead of working. Typical of Daughters of Dissitude.” She ignored Enge’s respectful signed welcome and turned instead to her assistant, Setessei. “I am sure many tragedies befell during my absence?”
“A few accidents—”
“Any fatal?”
“None.”
“Too bad. Otherwise the city grows in order?”
“It does.”
“That at least is appreciated.” She turned to Enge and signed for attention and obedience. “Walk with me along the shore where I can avoid sight of the Daughters and all thoughts of Ugunenapsa.”
“With pleasure. I see fargi aboard, so all was successful.”
“I would hardly say that. One has stayed behind in Alpeasak. Far!.”
“I do not understand. Why did she do that?”
“She had no choice. She was dead.”
Ambalasei spoke with enjoyable malice, then walked in silence until Enge had recovered some of her composure. When she spoke again her explanation of events was brief and unflattering.
“She died from applied stupidity, that is what I believe.”
“You are too harsh on the dead, Ambalasei. She will never trouble you again. She died in the hopes of seeing this city live. We will long remember her death with our sorrow.”
“I would suggest that you remember it with joy — because if she hadn’t died that would have ended everything for you. Nor will you be happy with your new converts. I have talked with them and find them barely Yilane and incredibly stupid. They are like trained animals. They know nothing of Ugunenapsa, care even less. They learned to repeat certain phrases that they had been taught. They did this so they would get food in return.”
“They will grow in understanding.”
“If they don’t they will still make good workers. But this will be the last missionary attempt. It is too dangerous to go near other cities. You must find another way to ensure your survival. Try the Eight Principles again.”
“I will, though not at the present time. I am too filled with the despair of our lost sister. I know, Ambalasei, you don’t have to say it, she was foolish and headstrong. But what she did she did for us all and we shall mourn her.”
“That is your choice. Mine is to further my studies of this new continent. I will be going up the river again as
