“The warmth of the sun and the growth of this city has taken the winter from behind my eyes. I will return to Inegban* with this news. It will make the coming winter less cold for our citizens there. Eremais reports that the uruketo has been loaded and is well-fed and ready to swim at any time. We will eat, then I will leave.”
Vaintè communicated her grief at the sudden parting. Malsas‹ thanked her, but dismissed any thought of staying longer.
“I understand your feelings. But I have seen enough to know that the work here is in good hands. But the uruketo is slow: we must not waste a single day. Let us eat. You know Alakensi, my first advisor and efenselè. She will serve you meat at this time.”
“I am honored, highly honored,” Vaintè said, thinking only about the privilege of this offer, not letting her thoughts dwell at all on Alakensi whom she knew of old. A creature of devious mind and unkind plots.
“Good.” Malsas‹ gestured Vanalpè over. “Now we will eat. Alakensi, who is closest to me in all things, will serve Vaintè meat. You, Vanalpè, for what you have done in growing this city, in designing and expanding it so well, you are chosen to serve me.”
Vanalpè was as speechless as a youngster fresh from the ocean at this, radiating pride with every movement of her body.
“For this special occasion there are two meats,” Vaintè said. “One from the old world, one from the new.”
“Old and new shall blend in our interiors the way Inegban* shall blend into Alpèasak,” Malsas‹ said.
There were cries of appreciation at this from those who stood close, for she had spoken so well and the idea was so novel that they would tell each other about it and talk about it for some time. Vaintè did not speak again until those closest had repeated what Malsas‹ had said so that everyone would know.
“The meat from Entoban* is urukub, grown from the egg brought carefully to these shores, hatched in the Gendasi sun, grown large on Gendasi herbiage. There are others, but this one is the biggest, you have all seen it when you have passed the pasture at the swamp. You have all admired the sleekness of its hide, the arched length of its neck, the full-flesh of its flanks. You have seen it.”
There were murmurs of appreciation at this, for they all had seen the tiny head at the end of that long neck rising high up from the water with a great mouthful of dripping green vegetation.
“The first urukub to be slain, yet one so large that all here will eat their fill of it. Then for Malsas‹ and those who have traveled with her from Inegban* there will be a creature they have never eaten before, sharp-footed deer of the kind found only in this place. The eating will now begin.”
The two who would serve hurried away to return with the gourds of meat, each kneeling before the Eistaa she was to serve. Malsas‹ reached out and took up a long bone with a tiny black hoof attached, cool sweet flesh hanging loosely from it, tore a large bite from it, then held it up so all could see.
“Urukub,” she called out and all who heard her made comment on her humor. For the smallest bone in a urukub was bigger than this entire beast.
Vaintè was pleased. The eating went well. When they had finished, washing their hands in gourds of water that their servers held up to them, the ceremony was over and the others went to eat before darkness came.
With no one listening or watching for the moment Malsas‹ could speak in confidence to Vaintè. Her voice was soft and the motions of her limbs merely hints of movement.
“Everything said here today was more than true. Everyone has labored hard, you hardest of all. Therefore I know you can use the labors of the Daughters of Death I brought with me.”
“I saw them. They will be used.”
“Use them until they die!” Malsas‹’s teeth clacked together loudly with the force of her expression. “There are more and more of them, like termites eating away at the base of our city. See that they do not attempt to eat this city as well.”
“No possibility, not the slightest, of that happening here. I have hard and dangerous work for all of them. That is their fate.”
“We are of a single mind then. Good. Now about you, work-hardened, never-weary Vaintè. What can be done to help you more?”
“Nothing, we have all that we need.”
“You do not speak of personal need, but I know you can use assistance. Therefore it is my wish that the strength of my hand, first to me in everything, my efenselè Alakensi, be attached to your following. To be your first aide and share your labors.”
Vaintè would not permit herself the slightest movement, the softest word, for that would have revealed the spate of instant anger that engulfed her. But she did not have to speak. Malsas‹ looked her directly in the eyes, and eye to eye they both understood. Malsas‹ permitted herself just one little mocking gesture of victory, then turned and led her followers to the uruketo.
Had Vaintè possessed a weapon at that moment she would have sent a dart of death into that retreating back. Malsas‹ must have planned every moment of this even before she arrived. She had her spies in Alpèasak reporting on everything that happened here. She had known that as Eistaa here Vaintè would be reluctant to turn over power. Therefore the repulsive Alakensi had been brought here. She would sit at Vaintè’s side and watch and spy — and report everything that happened. Her presence would be a constant reminder of Vaintè’s certain fate. She would labor and build this city — and in the end she would be pulled down. For on that black day it would all belong to Malsas‹. Now she realized what had been done; her past was laid clear by her future. From the very beginning Malsas‹ had had it all planned. Let Vaintè work and struggle and build the city — and in the building construct her own fate.
Unknowingly Vaintè raked her foot along the floor, her thick sharp nails tearing at the wood. No! It was not going to be that way. In the beginning she had just wanted to rise through her own labors, to join those that led the city. No more. Malsas‹ would never rule here. Alakensi would die; her appointment had been her death notice. The details were not clear — but the future was. As winter closed in on Inegban* the sun shone on Alpèasak. Weakness ruled there while strength grew here. Alpèasak was hers — and none would ever take it from her.
In her rage Vaintè left the presence of others, walked through the city by the most circuitous route where only a few fargi could see her — and upon seeing her flee from the anger that radiated from the very impact of her stride. Death was in every movement of her body.
There was a guardpost, now deserted, high above the port. Vaintè went there and stood in the lengthening shadows while the loading of the uruketo was completed. The last cargo taken into it were the limp bodies of a number of deer. Vanalpè had improved upon the toxin, normally used to stun large animals so they could be moved. The new drug did not stun — nor did it kill — but rather brought the creatures to the very brink of death. Their heartbeats could barely be detected, their breathing was immensely slowed. Treated in this manner they could cross the ocean to Inegban*, needing neither food nor water, to provide needed meat for the hungry citizens there. It was Vaintè’s fervent wish, and she spoke it aloud though none could hear, that Malsas‹ be treated in this way. To lie dead but not-dead until the end of time.
When the uruketo left at dusk Vaintè returned silently and alone through the growing darkness and, despite the anger still possessing her, fell instantly asleep.
Sleep cleansed her mind of hatred, but in the morning it still lurked there at the edge of her thoughts. To those that saw her in the ambesed she appeared as always. But she had one glimpse of Alakensi across the ambesed and she had to turn away, rigid with hatred. Her temper was short as many discovered. It was Enge’s ill luck to approach her at this time.