He could not return. Not after what he had done. The past was dead. He was an exile now, a Yilanè among ustuzou. More alone than he had ever been before. The voice cut across his thoughts and it was long moments before he could understand the words.

“You did it well, Kerrick, a good clean thrust. Killed the one in command.”

Kerrick’s voice was numb with loss. “More than just the one in command. Leader, head of the city, sammadar of the city.”

“Even better.”

“Better? Her death will bring about my death!”

“Her? That ugly marag was female? It’s hard to believe.”

“They are all female. The males are kept locked away.”

Herilak struggled up onto his elbows and looked coldly at Inlènu*. “That one too, a female?” he asked.

“All of them.”

“Give me the spear. Then there will be one less.”

“No!” Kerrick pulled the spear back before Herilak’s groping fingers could find it. “Not Inlènu*. She’s harmless, as much a prisoner as I am. You’ll not kill her.”

“Why not? Was it not her kind cut down my sammad, killed them all, every one? Give me the spear. I’ll kill her and then you will be free. How far do you think you will be able to go bound to her like that?”

“You will not harm her, do you understand?” Kerrick was surprised at the warmth of his feeling towards Inlènu*. She had meant nothing to him before this. He had been aware of her only as a hindrance to his movements. But now her presence was somehow reassuring.

“If you won’t kill her then use the edge of the spearhead. Cut yourself loose from the thing.”

“This lead cannot be cut. See, the stone edge won’t even scratch it.” He sawed at the smooth, hard surface to no effect. “Some of your sammad escaped.” Talk of this might make Herilak forget Inlènu* for the moment. “I was told this. I was also told that they were being followed.”

“Do you know who they were? How many?”

“No. Just that some fled.”

“Now I must think. Whoever they are, they will not go any further south. They will know better than that. They will return, back the way we came. Yes, that is what they will do. Backtrack, to the nearest water, the stream where we camped last night. We must go there as well.” He looked up at Kerrick. “Have we been followed?”

“I have been watching. I don’t think that any of them saw us escape. But they will come. They are good trackers. I will not be allowed to escape after what I have done.”

“You worry without cause. They are not here yet. But we will not be safe until we are well away from the shore. They could still find us in these hills if, as you say, they know anything about tracking.” He struggled to rise, and could only get to his feet with Kerrick’s help. He rubbed the clotted blood from his eyes and looked about. “We go in that direction, along that valley. If we follow it north, then cross the ridge, we will come to the campsite by the stream. Now we leave.”

They made slow progress the rest of the afternoon, since they were forced to proceed at Herilak’s limping pace, going on steadily even though there was no sign of any pursuit. They were working their way up a grassy valley when Herilak stopped suddenly and raised his head to sniff the air.

“Deer,” he said. “We need food. I don’t think that we are being followed — but even if we are we must take the chance. You will bring a good-sized buck, Kerrick.”

Kerrick looked at the spear, tested its weight in his hand. “I have not thrown a spear since I was a boy. I no longer have the skill.”

“It will return.”

“Not this day. You have the skill, Herilak. Do you have the strength?” He held out the spear and Herilak seized it.

“When I lack the strength to hunt I will be dead. Go to the stream there, under the trees, keep watch and wait until I return.”

Herilak’s back straightened as he tested the balance of the spear, then he trotted swiftly and silently away. Kerrick turned and led the way down to the stream where he drank his fill, then poured handfuls of water over his dusty body. Inlènu* knelt down and sucked water noisily between her pointed teeth, then squatted comfortably on the bank with her tail in the stream.

Kerrick envied her peace of mind, her stability at all times. It must be pleasant to be so stupid. She didn’t question their presence here at all, had no concept of what might happen to her.

Kerrick knew what he had left behind — but the future was only a blank. He must come to terms with it: but it was too early to do that yet. How could he live away from the city? He knew nothing about this kind of rough existence. A boy’s memories did not fit him for Tanu life. He wasn’t even able to hurl a spear.

“A Yilanè comes,” Inlènu* said and he sprang to his feet, terrified. Stallan and her hunters! This was his death. He drew back from the crackling in the underbrush — then swayed with relief when Herilak pushed his way through, a horned buck draped across his shoulders. He dropped it heavily and fell beside it.

Kerrick turned angrily to reproach Inlènu* — then realized that it was not her fault. To Inlènu* all those who talked were Yilanè. What she really meant to say, though she knew no way to express it, was that someone, some person, was approaching.

“I saw murgu,” Herilak said, and Kerrick’s fear returned. “They were in the next valley, going back towards the sea. I think that they have lost our trail. Now we will eat.”

Herilak used the spear to open and gut the still-warm deer. Since they had no fire he cut out the liver first, divided it, and handed a piece to Kerrick.

“I am not hungry, not now,” Kerrick said, looking down at the raw and bloody lump of flesh.

“You will be. Do not discard it.”

Inlènu* was facing away from them, but her nearer eye moved and followed every motion Herilak made. He was aware of this and after he had eaten his fill he pointed a bloody finger at her.

“Does that thing eat meat?”

Kerrick smiled at the question and spoke swiftly, ordering Inlènu* to open her mouth. She did so, only her jaw moving. Herilak looked at the rows of glistening, pointed teeth and grunted.

“It eats meat. Should I feed it?”

“Yes, I would like that.”

Herilak hacked off a forelimb and stripped most of the skin from it, then handed it to Kerrick.

“You feed it. I don’t like its teeth.”

“Inlènu* is harmless. Nothing but a stupid fargi.”

Inlènu* closed her thumbs about the deer leg, then chewed slowly and powerfully on the tough meat, gazing blankly into the distance.

“What did you say it was?” Herilak asked.

“Fargi. It, well, I cannot say what the word means. Something like one who is learning to speak, but is not very good at it.”

“Are you a fargi?”

“I am not!” Kerrick was insulted. “I am Yilanè. That is, although I am Tanu, I speak like a Yilanè so I am considered one. Was considered one.”

“How did this happen? Do you remember?”

“Now I do. But I didn’t, not for a long time.”

His voice was halting, the words difficult to say, as he spoke aloud for the first time about what had happened to sammad Amahast. Relived the slaughter, the captivity, the fear of certain death and the unexpected reprieve. He stopped then because the words he spoke now did not seem capable of describing his years since that day.

Herilak was silent as well, understanding a little of what had happened to the boy Kerrick who had managed to live when all the others had died. A lone survivor who had somehow found a way to come to terms with the murgu. Who had learned their language and learned to live among them. He was a lot like them now, though he would not be aware of that. He moved about when he talked, then sat immobile when he was finished. They had done something to him; there was not a hair on his body. And he wore that pouch, made to look like his skin, as though they had taken away his maleness as well. Herilak’s thoughts were interrupted by a sudden splash of water.