Kerrick was not too tired or sore to notice the elision in Vaintè’s words, the obvious leaving out of a statement. Vaintè must know what he had said to Stallan to make her drop the leash. Enge did not notice, but he did. He saw that knowledge and wondered at it, then forgot it. He hurt too much.
One of Vanalpè’s students came and dressed his wounds — and after that he was left completely alone for many days while they healed. The student brought food every morning, then checked the progress of his healing. There were no more language lessons — nor did he have to suffer the attentions of the dreaded Stallan. His manacles were removed, but the door was always securely locked.
When the pain lessened enough he thought about his attempt to escape — and what had gone wrong. He would not be trapped that way next time. He would avoid the false vines, leap over them, and flee into the jungle.
Had he really seen the bearded face there among the leaves? Or was it just wishing, hoping, that had placed it there? He could not be sure. Maybe it was only his desire that someone be there, waiting. It did not matter. He did not need any help. Just the chance to run. The next time they would not stop him.
Day after slow day passed until his wounds had healed and the scabs had fallen away, leaving white scars in their place. The student still examined him closely every morning when she brought the food. When all the bruises on his skull were healed she brought the unutakh to remove the long stubble of hair that had grown. After this he became used to the creature’s slimy ministrations once again. The door was always sealed when the student was with him, and he could feel the ominous presence of Stallan on the other side of it. There was no escape that way. But they would not keep him in this chamber forever.
On the day the student came in, moving with excitement, he knew that something was going to happen. She washed him and carefully inspected his body, saw that his skin pouch was decently in place, then crouched and watched the door. Kerrick knew better than to ask the creature what was happening. She never spoke to him or answered his questions. So he sat back and looked at the entrance as well.
It was indeed an important day. When the door opened next Vaintè entered, followed by the waddling fat body of Zhekak. Fargi and aides followed them bearing containers.
“It has escaped once,” Vaintè said. “It must be arranged that it shall never happen again.”
“An interesting problem, Eistaa, and one that has given me many happy moments of contemplation. I believe that I have the answer, but I shall show you rather than tell you in the hopes that you will take pleasure from the revelation.”
“I take pleasure in any work of Zhekak’s,” Vaintè said formally, but allowed an extra feeling of satisfaction to show through. Zhekak waved a fargi over and took the container from her.
“This is very new,” she said, drawing out a length of flexible material. It was thin, darkish red in color — and immensely strong. Zhekak demonstrated that it could not be broken by having two fargi tug at the ends of it, struggling and slipping to the amusement of all. As a final test she took up a string-knife and pulled it back and forth across the taut length. When it was handed to Vaintè she looked close and saw that it had scored the shining surface, but no more than that. She expressed admiration — and puzzlement.
“I shall be happy to elucidate,” Zhekak said with immense self-esteem. “A string-knife, as you know, is a single long molecule. It cuts because of its small diameter, it is virtually unbreakable because of the strength of the intramolecular bonds. And here we have like attempting to cut like. The flexible length is made of fibers of molecular carbon grown in that medium. They, will bend but not break, and cannot be cut.”
Vaintè radiated approval. “So you have a leash that will certainly secure the beast. So I ask the next obvious questions. How do you fasten it to the ustuzou — and to what do you fasten the other end?”
Zhekak wriggled her soft flesh with pleasure. “Eistaa, you do understand these things so well. Here is the creature’s collar-to-be.”
An assistant produced a semi transparent, jellyfish object the length and thickness of her arm. It writhed sluggishly as Zhekak draped it about Kerrick’s neck. He disliked the cold touch of it but knew better than to protest in the slightest. Zhekak issued brisk orders as the assistant brushed the ends of the creature with some salve, then pressed them together to form a thick collar about Kerrick’s neck.
“Quickly!” Zhekak ordered, “the secretion process is beginning.”
With careful touch they looped the end of the leash about the creature, then pulled on it so that it sank into the thing’s transparent flesh, to the very center.
“Lean close, Eistaa,” Zhekak called out, “and you will see the process begin.”
The transparent flesh was beginning to discolor deep down, congealing about the alien object in its core.
“This animal is a simple metal secretor,” Zhekak said. “It is depositing molecules of iron about the flexible core. Soon it will stiffen and grow strong. We will feed the creature until a complete metal collar is formed about the ustuzou’s neck. A metal collar too strong to be broken or cut.”
“Admirable. But what will you affix to the other end?”
Zhekak’s pendant flesh wriggled with pleasure as she walked across the room to the watching fargi and pulled one forward. This creature was taller and wider than most; strong muscles rippled under her skin as she walked. Zhekak pinched one muscular arm between her thumbs and could not dent it.
“This fargi has served me many years and is the strongest I have ever found. She is barely able to talk, but she still does all the lifting and heavy work in the laboratory. She is yours now, Eistaa, for a more important service.” Zhekak’s little eyes, almost lost in the folds of flesh, looked around at her silent and expectant audience.
“This is what her service will be. A collar will be grown about her neck as well — with the other end of the lead firmly grown into it. The ustuzou and the fargi will be joined together for life like two fruits growing from the same bough!”
“Your mind is like the mind of no other,” Vaintè said, and all of the aides and assistants signaled agreement. “Joined together, forever inseparable. I am told our ustuzou runs very fast. Tell me, ustuzou, how far can you run pulling this little fargi?”
There was no answer to this so Kerrick was silent, while all of the others were much amused. He looked at the stupid features of the creature at the other end of the lead and felt nothing but burning hatred. Then he noticed that Vaintè was looking closely at him and he silently expressed resignation and acceptance. She approved.
“This fargi has a new name,” Vaintè said, and they all grew silent. “From this moment on she shall be named Inlènu* for her mighty body shall make the entire world a prison for the ustuzou. Do you know your name, strong one?”
“Inlènu*,” she said with great satisfaction, knowing that she had been named by the Eistaa herself and would now serve the Eistaa.
Kerrick’s posture of acceptance was as false as the pleasure of all the rest in the chamber was true. He reached out slowly with his toe and rolled it over the length of the lead where it lay on the floor, already thinking of possible ways to sever it.