The novelty quickly wore off for Kerrick since there was little to see and nothing at all to do. Most of the interior was taken up by the dead-alive bodies of deer and stalakel. The stalakel lay heaped in piles, small forelimbs limp, horn-beaked jaws gaping open. Some of the deer, though unmoving, had their eyes wide open, and this was clearly visible in the light from the luminescent patches. He had the uneasy feeling that they could see him, that they were crying out at their paralyzed state. They couldn’t be, he was putting his own feelings into theirs. The sealed interior closed in on him and he clenched his fists with unknown terror, made worse by what seemed to be an endless storm. The uruketo’s fin stayed sealed and the air grew musty and foul.
In the darkness the Yilanè grew torpid and slept. There were only one or two on watch at any time. Once he tried to talk to the Yilanè at the helm, but she would not answer; all of her attention was focused on the compass.
Kerrick was asleep when the storm ended and the heavy seas died down. He jerked awake as the chill, salty air washed over him. The Yilanè stirred and reached for the cloaks — but the air and the shaft of light were pure pleasure to him. He tugged at his lead until the sluggish Inlènu* woke up and had wrapped herself in a cloak, then pulled her after him towards the opening in the fin. He scrambled quickly up the corrugations and pulled himself up beside Erafnais who stood there, wrapped tightly in a large cloak. Inlènu* stayed below, as far as the lead would permit her. He held tight to the edge and looked out at the green waves rolling towards them and frothing over the uruketo’s back, laughing when salt spray splashed his face. It was different, wonderful, exciting. Rays of sunlight cut through the clouds lighting up the vastness of the sea that stretched to the horizon in all directions. He shivered with the chill and wrapped his arms about him, but would not leave. Erafnais turned and saw him, and wondered at his emotions.
“You are cold. Go below. Take a cloak.”
“No — I like it like this. I can understand now why you cross the sea in the uruketo. There is nothing else like it.”
Erafnais was very pleased. “Few others feel this way. Were the sea to be taken from me now I would feel very strange.” Strange had overtones of unhappiness and despair, with just the slightest suggestion of death. The scar on her back made it difficult to express this with exactitude, but so powerful were her feelings that the meaning was clear.
A flight of seabirds floated by overhead and Erafnais pointed in their direction.
“We are not far from the land now. In fact there, low on the horizon, that dark line. The coast of Entoban *.”
“I have heard the name spoken, but never understood its meaning.”
“It is a great land mass, so large that it has never been sailed around for the sea gets cold to the south. It is the home of the Yilanè where one city stretches to the fields of another city.”
“That is our destination?”
Erafnais agreed. “On the northern coast. First through the passage known as Genagle into the warm waters of Ankanaal on whose shores is Inegban*.”
When she spoke the word, there were mixed overtones of pleasure and pain. “Be pleased it is now midsummer, for the past winter was the worst in the city’s history. Crops died. Animals died. Beasts from the north raided the herds. And once, briefly, hard water fell from the clouds and was white on the ground before it melted.”
Hard water? The meaning was clear — but what was it? Before he could ask for an explanation Kerrick had a vision, clear and sharp, of snow-covered mountains. But accompanying it was a terrible pang of apprehension and fear. He rubbed at his eyes — then looked out at the sea and thrust the memory from him. Whatever it was it did not bear considering.
“I am cold,” he said, half-lie, half-truth, “so return to the warmth inside.”
One morning Kerrick awoke to warm air and sunlight, a beam that poured down from the open fin. He climbed quickly to join Vaintè and Etdeerg who were already there, He was surprised at their appearance, but since they said nothing about it he did not comment. Vaintè had an aversion to being questioned. He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. Her forehead and the strong angles of her jaw had been painted red with pigment, neatly applied in scrolls and turns. Etdeerg did not have any coloring on her face, but black vines appeared to twist about her arms, ending with leaf patterns on the backs of her hands. Kerrick had never seen a Yilanè decorated in this manner before, but managed to contain his curiosity and looked towards the shore instead. The coastline moved slowly by, green wooded hills clearly visible above the blue of the sea.
“Inegban*,” Etdeerg said, a wealth of mixed emotions behind the single word.
Grassy fields were mixed in among the forests now, with the dark figures of beasts grazing upon them. As they moved past a point of land a grand harbor opened out. Upon its shores were the beaches of Inegban*.
Kerrick, who thought Alpèasak a city of wonder, now saw what a real city was and allowed his feelings to show, to the immense pleasure of Vaintè and Etdeerg.
“Alpèasak will be this one day,” Vaintè said. “Not during our lives, for Inegban* has been growing since the egg of time.”
“Alpèasak will be greater,” Etdeerg said with calm assurance. “You will make it so, Vaintè. You have an entire new world to build it in. You will do it.”
Vaintè did not answer. Nor did she deny it.
As the uruketo approached the inner harbor Erafnais climbed to the top of the fin, then called down orders. The great creature slowed and stopped, lay wallowing in the clear water. The pair of enteesenat swam ahead, then turned about sharply before they reached the floating boom of large logs. They had no desire to brush against the long stinging tentacles of the jellyfish that were suspended from the logs. They hurtled back and forth, anxious for the boom to be opened so they could reach their waiting reward, the treated food they were longing for. This was delayed until the uruketo in the harbor were driven away. Smaller than normal, still half trained, they were slow to obey. When they were safely restrained a harnessed uruketo tugged the boom open and the enteesenat instantly darted inside. Their own uruketo proceeded at a more leisurely pace.
Kerrick could only gape in silence. The dock area was vast — yet was still crowded with Yilanè awaiting their arrival. Behind it rose the trunks of ancient trees, their branches and leaves high above seemingly touching the sky. The pathway leading from the docking area into the city was wide enough to drive an urukub down. The Yilanè that were crowding it now parted to let a small procession past. At its head were four fargi carrying a construction made of gently curved wood and hung with colored fabrics. Its function was revealed when the fargi placed it carefully onto the ground, then squatted beside it. A hand pushed the fabric aside and a Yilanè, resplendent with golden face coloring, stepped down to the ground. It was a figure that Vaintè instantly recognized.
“Gulumbu,” she said with carefully controlled lack of emotion that allowed just a small measure of her distaste to show through. “I know her of old. So she is the one who now sits at Malsas‹’s side. We will meet her.”
They had disembarked and were waiting on the dock when Gulumbu walked slowly up. She made the humblest of greetings to Vaintè, acknowledged Etdeerg’s presence — and let her unseeing eyes move slowly past Kerrick.
“Welcome to Inegban*,” she said. “Welcome to your home city, Vaintè, now builder of Alpèasak across the storm-filled sea.” Vaintè acknowledged this with equal formality.
“And how fares Malsas‹, Eistaa of our city?”
“She has ordered me to greet you and take you to attend her in the ambesed.”