They listened intently, not noticing while he was talking that the sky was clouding over. Kerrick broke off as a few drops of rain struck his skin.

Herilak looked up at the sky and scowled. “If it rains then we cannot attack — for the city will not burn.”

“It is still the dry season,” Kerrick said, with more assurance than he felt. “This won’t last.” He did not dare consider what they would do if it did rain.

They spread out to find dry wood, glancing apprehensively at the sky as they went. It stayed dark and the wind increased; thunder rumbled on the horizon.

“We cannot wait until evening,” Herilak said. “We must start the fires before it rains.”

“There will be murgu about, we may be seen.”

“A risk we will have to take. Help me prepare a way through the thorn barrier while the others find wood.”

They tore thick branches from the trees and pressed them down over the tangled and poisonous vines. In the open field beyond great duck-billed creatures looked at them with widened eyes, before they bounded away. Herilak trampled down the branches and crossed first, waving the others after him as they came back with the dry wood.

They gathered inside this barrier and waited until all had returned. Only then did they start forward warily with Kerrick leading the way. After all this time he had returned to Alpèasak. Overhead the thunder rumbled closer and he broke into a run as the first drops of the coming storm spattered on his shoulders.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The baby slung on Armun’s back was awake and crying unhappily, soaked and chilled by the driving rain. Kneeling on the ground she was wet through herself, cold, black with mud on her arms and legs where she had been digging up the bulbs with her sharp stick. Lightning flared briefly in the sky and the crack of thunder that came immediately after it hurt her ears. Ermanpadar was displeased with something. It was time to return to the tents. The baby wailed even louder as she picked up the basket of bulbs and rose to her feet.

Something moved through the rain above and she looked up to see the bird silently floating by on widespread wings. It put out its legs and landed heavily on the high branch, then sat looking down at her with cold eyes set above its cruel, hooked bill. Armun could see the black bulge on its leg and she turned and ran with terror through the trees. Thunder, lightning, and the bird that told the murgu where they were. Fear choked her as she fled to the safety of the tents.

Vaintè was looking at the model of Alpèasak when the fargi brought her the word that an uruketo was coming into the harbor. She dismissed the messenger with a sharp movement of her arms, but her concentration had been broken. Looking at the model of the city did not help. The defenses were strong and Stallan was strengthening them. There were no weak spots that she could see, no places where the ustuzou could do any harm, other than killing some of the meat animals. She was only irritating herself standing here.

She would go greet the uruketo and see what cargo it held. More fargi were on their way from Entoban* as well as hèsotsan of increased power. Many of the cities of that great continent were responding with aid. Her army would be strong, the ustuzou would die.

When she reached the open way she was aware for the first time of the banked-up clouds and the distant rumble of thunder. There was the sudden patter of large raindrops around her. It looked as though a storm was on the way. It was no concern of hers; she had far more important matters to think about.

Krunat followed the group of fargi down the dusty path, her assistant hurrying behind with a bundle of wooden stakes. Each one of the fargi carried a young fruit tree from the nursery, roots balled and ready for planting. This time Krunat was going along with the working party to make absolutely sure that the trees were planted where they belonged. Some of the Yilanè in this city were as stupid as fargi, forgetting instructions and botching the simplest jobs. She had found a number of fields and plantations that did not match the model at all and had had to make corrections. Not this time. She would put in the markers herself and make absolutely sure that the trees were planted where they belonged. She rolled one eye up towards the darkening sky. It looked as though it might rain. Good, fine for the new trees.

A turning in the track took them to the edge of a green field. A line of fargi were coming across the grass towards them. That was Krunat’s first thought — but there was something wrong about them. They were too tall, too thin. Fur on them.

She halted, frozen with shock. Ustuzou here, in the city? It was not possible. Her assistant passed her just as the sharp crack of hèsotsan sounded across the field.

Fargi curled, fell, her assistant dropped the stakes with a clatter as a dart caught her in the side. Krunat turned in panic, ran back into the safety of the trees. She knew the city well, there were guards near by, they must be warned.

“One of them is getting away, there!” Herilak called out, starting forward.

“No time!” Kerrick called out. “We don’t have much farther to go — and we must start the fire before the rain comes.”

He ran now, gasping for breath, with the tired hunters running behind him. That row of trees ahead, that would be the place. He heard hèsotsan being fired behind him but he dared not look, ran on.

He stumbled and dropped beneath the tall oak tree, threw down his weapons, and dragged the carved box from the bag at his waist. There was more firing and loud shouting as Herilak ran up.

“They know we are here. Killed some, so did they. They are back in the trees now and we’re holding them.”

“Get me the branches,” Kerrick called out, forcing himself to move slowly as he knelt and took the fire stones from the box. When he took out a pinch of dried wood as well a sudden gust of wind blew it from his hand; raindrops spattered on the leaves above. A length of branch was dropped beside him, then another.

Slowly, go slowly! It must be done right the first time because there would be no second chance. With trembling hands he placed the wooden box on the ground, spilled all of the dried wood dust inside it. Stone against stone now, struck sharply together, just as he had done it countless times before. The long sparks shot out, again and again.

A thin curl of blue smoke drifted up from the box.

He bent over, blew on it gently, added the flakes of dried leaves to the tiny glow, blew again. A thin red flame flared brightly. Bit by bit he added all of the leaves, then dug the bits of bark and twig from his bag. Only when all of these were burning brightly did he risk looking up.

There were bodies behind him in the field, Tanu and Yilanè both. Not as many as he had feared. Herilak had driven the attackers away and had placed hunters as guards. They were crouching behind trees, weapons ready, preventing the murgu from coming back. Herilak hurried towards Kerrick now, his face running with sweat, smiling widely at the sight of the blaze.

The wooden box itself was burning when Kerrick pushed it into the stacked wood, then piled thicker branches on top. Heat flared out and drops of rain sizzled as they fell into the fire. He dared not look up at the approaching storm as he built the fire higher and higher. Only when the lengths of wood were burning brightly, the heat of them forcing him to keep his arm before his face, did he cry out as loudly as he could.

“Now! Everyone — to the fire! The city burns!”

His shout brought excited cheers, running feet. Branches were pulled out, carried away, crackling sparks falling in their wake. Kerrick seized up a branch himself and ran into the thicket, pushing it before him among the dry leaves. They smoldered and smoked — then burst into bright flame. He moved on, lighting other bushes, until the heat drove him back and the smoking branch burnt his hand. He threw it through the flames into the trees beyond.