Hastila waved back and leaned forward on his spear.

Something dark surged out of the surf behind him. Kerrick called out a horrified warning and Hastila spun about, spear ready. There was a snapping sound, like the breaking of a stout branch. The hunter dropped his spear and clutched at his midriff and fell face first into the water. Wet arms pulled him under and he vanished among the foam-flecked waves.

Kerrick screamed as he ran back to the encampment, met the others running towards him. He choked out what he had seen as he led them back along the beach, to the spot where the terrifying event had taken place.

The sands were empty, the ocean as well. Amahast bent and picked the hunter’s long spear out of the surf, then looked out to sea again.

“You could not see what it looked like?”

“Just the thing’s legs, the arms,” he said through his chattering teeth. “They reached up out of the sea.”

“Their color?”

“I couldn’t see. Wet, green perhaps. Could they have been green, father?”

“They could have been anything,” Amahast said grimly.

“There are murgu of all kinds here. We will stay together now, one will be awake always while the others sleep. As soon as we can we return to the sammad. There is only death in these southern waters.”

CHAPTER SIX

The storm had passed and the rain had stopped; the ground was steaming now in the heat of the fierce sunlight. Vaintè stood in the shade of the dead tree and looked on as the workers carefully planted the seedlings in neat rows. Vanalpè herself had marked the rows in the ground that the others were to follow. She came up to Vaintè now, moving slowly with her mouth gaping wide in the heat, to stand at her side in the shade.

“Are the seedlings dangerous to handle?” Vaintè asked. Vanalpè, still breathing heavily, signaled a negative.

“Only when the thorns begin to grow, and that is only after eighty days. Some of the animals will still graze them then, but not after the thorns begin to exude the toxins. The taste is bitter to the ruminants, deadly to anything smaller.”

“Is this one of your new modifications?” Vaintè asked, moving out into the sun.

“Yes. It was developed in Inegban* so we could bring the seed with us. We are so familiar with the thorn hedges around the city fields, always far higher than our heads, that we might forget that they have not been there since the egg of time. They were planted once, were small before they grew large and spread. Now the young branches grow over the old to make an impenetrable barrier. But a new hedge in a new city asks for a new answer.” She was speaking easier now with her mouth no longer gaping. Cool enough to move until part of her body was in the sun. “This new hedge I have developed is fast growing, short lived — and toxic. But before it dies we will have seeded the usual thorn hedge to grow and eventually take its place.”

“And the trees?” Vaintè asked, looking in the direction of the leafless dead trees that stood gauntly about the new field.

“They are already being destroyed — see where the limbs have fallen from that large one. They are riddled with wood-consuming beetles, most voracious. When the supply of wood is gone the beetles will enter a larval stage. Then we can gather the coarctate pupae which preserve themselves in hardened cuticula. They can be stored until needed again.”

Vaintè had moved back into the shade and she noticed that most of the workers had done the same. The afternoon was hot and comfortable, but not a time for getting any work done.

“When these seedlings have been planted send the workers back to the city,” Vaintè said.

Enge was working alongside the others; Vaintè waited until she caught her eye, then signaled her over. Enge expressed gratitude before she spoke.

“You have taken the shackles off your prisoners. We are most thankful.”

“Don’t be. The reason that I had them shackled on the uruketo was so they could not attempt to seize the craft and escape.”

“You don’t understand the Daughters of Life, do you? Violence is not our way…”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” Vaintè said dryly. “My way is to take no chances. Now that the uruketo has gone there are only forests and jungle to escape to should anyone not be satisfied with her lot. Not only that, your companions will work better unshackled.”

“Yet we are still prisoners.”

“No,” Vaintè said firmly, “you are not. You are free citizens of Alpèasak with all the rights and duties of other citizens. Do not confuse what happened with what will happen. The council of Inegban* deemed you unworthy of citizenship in that city and sent you here. To make new lives in a new city . I hope you will not repeat the same mistakes here that you did there.

“Is that a threat, Vaintè? Does the Eistaa of Alpèasak think that we are different from other citizens here — that we will be treated differently?”

“It is not a threat, but a warning, my efenselè. Learn by what happened. Believe what you will among yourselves — but keep your secrets to yourselves. You are forbidden to talk of these matters to others. The rest of us do not wish to know.”

“You can be that sure?” Enge asked sternly. “You are that wise?”

“Wise enough to know that you are trouble-makers, Vaintè snapped. “Sure enough of that fact to take the precaution that you shall be watched closely. You’ll not make the trouble here that you did in Inegban*. I shall not be as patient as the council there.”

Enge’s body scarcely moved while she spoke, her words neutral and unoffensive. “We make no trouble, intend no trouble. We just believe…”

“Fine. Just as long as you do your believing in dark places where others cannot hear. I will brook no subversion in my city.”

Vaintè knew that she was beginning to lose her temper, as she always did when faced with the rock-like immobility of Enge’s strange beliefs. She therefore welcomed the sight of the fargi hurrying towards her with a message. Though the youngster did not speak very well her memory was good.

“The city… comes one… name of Stallan. Things of importance to be said… presence requested.”

Vaintè waved her off, then turned her back rudely on Enge and made her way into the city. Stallan was there, awaiting her arrival, success obvious in every attitude of her hard body.

“You have done that which I asked you to do?” Vaintè said.

“I have, Eistaa. I followed the killer-beasts until I came upon them. Then I shot and killed one myself and have returned with the body. It is close by. I left the worthless one Hèksei to look after it. There are strange things about this ustuzou that I find disturbing.”

“Strange? What? You must tell me.”

“I must show you so that you will understand.”

Stallan led the way in silence to that part of the city closest to the river. Hèksei waited here, standing watch over a tightly wrapped bundle. Her skin was filthy and scratched and she began to wail in protest as soon as they appeared. Before the first words had been spoken Stallan struck her on the head and hurled her to the ground.

“Worse than useless,” Stallan hissed. “Lazy, noisy on the hunt, filled with fear. Slowed me down and almost got us both killed. I want nothing more to do with her.”

“Nor does Alpèasak,” Vaintè said in quick judgement. “Leave us. Leave the city. Join the ambenin.”

Hèksei started to protest, but Stallan kicked her cruelly in the mouth. Hèksei fled, her screeches of agony rebounding from the aerial roots and leaves overhead. Vaintè put the worthless creature instantly from her mind and pointed at the bundle.