There were not enough fargi in the depleted force to enable Stallan to assign one to each boat. She was forced to leave some of the wounded boats to fend for themselves. As soon as all of the transfers had been completed she ordered the depleted flotilla south.
They sailed without stopping for the entire day. Stallan did not want to go near the shore until she was forced to by darkness. There could be other ustuzou there, watching from concealment, waiting to attack. They went on steadily with the shocked fargi collapsed in numb apathy, until the sun was below the horizon. Only then did Stallan order them towards the land, to the place where a stream ran into the sea. The fargi stirred with thirst when they saw the fresh water, but Stallan kept them in their boats while she scouted inland. Only then did she permit them to come ashore, a few at a time, to drink their fill. She held her hèsotsan ready and stood guard over them, the arch of her body stiff with her contempt for the stupid creatures. Hers was the only weapon they had. The rest of them had simply panicked and fled, their weapons completely forgotten.
“Lowest to highest,” one of the fargi said after she had drunk her fill. “Where is there food?”
“Not here, you of little talk, less brains. Perhaps tomorrow. Get back into your boat. We do not sleep on shore tonight.”
There were no cloaks to keep up their body temperature during the night so that all the fargi were sluggish and incapable of movement until the sun had warmed them in the morning. Their retreat continued.
On the third day, when there still had been no sign of pursuit, Stallan took the chance of going ashore to hunt. They needed food if they were to return alive. She picked the spot carefully, where a river delta had formed countless swamps and small islands. It was in the swamps that she managed to stalk some multicolored animals that were grazing among the reeds. They looked like urukub, only much smaller, with the same long necks and small heads. She managed to kill two of them before the herd fled. They were too large for her to move so she went back for the fargi and had the bodies dragged to the beach. They ate well, if primitively, tearing at the flesh with their teeth since they lacked cutting instruments of any kind.
Two of the injured fargi died during the voyage. Their only other losses were the pilotless and wounded boats which drifted off one by one during the nights that followed. Only Stallan’s strength of will and firm command kept the survivors together until they finally reached familiar waters. It was midday when they passed some fishing boats, then rounded the headland that opened out into the harbor of Alpèasak . Their approach must have been seen and their depleted numbers noted, for there was no committee of welcome at the harbor when they arrived. It was deserted save for a single figure, Etdeerg who was now fulfilling the functions of Eistaa. She stepped forward when Stallan climbed from the boat, but said nothing. It was Stallan who spoke first in a most formal manner.
“When we stopped one day on a beach we were attacked during the night by the ustuzou. They move well in the dark. There was nothing we could do to defend ourselves. You see here the only survivors.”
Etdeerg looked coldly at the fargi who were urging the boats towards their pens. “This is a disaster,” she said. “Did this happen before or after you made your own attack on the ustuzou?”
“Before. We gained nothing. Lost everything. I did not expect an attack, I posted no sentries. I am at fault. I die now if you order me to.”
Stallan did not breathe as she waited, unmoving. Death was just a single, short command away. She looked stolidly out to sea, but one eye rolled back to watch Etdeerg.
“You will live,” Etdeerg finally said. “Although you are at fault there is still need of your services in Alpèasak. Your death is not yet.”
Stallan signaled acceptance and gratitude and her relief was clear.
“How could this possibly have happened?” Etdeerg asked. “Such a disaster is beyond my understanding.”
“Not beyond mine,” Stallan said, hatred and anger in every motion of her body. “It is very clear to me how it was done.”
A movement caught her eye; she stopped speaking and turned to face the city as the palanquin was carried from beneath the trees. Four large fargi moved smoothly beneath its weight, while the fat figure of Akotolp waddled after them. The fargi placed the palanquin carefully on the ground and stepped back. Akotolp hurried up behind it, mouth wide open, then bent over the figure that rested there.
“You are to move only slightly, speak little, for there is still danger,” Akotolp said.
Vaintè signed agreement, then turned to face Stallan. She had lost a great deal of weight, so much so that her bones could be clearly seen beneath her skin. The spear wound had healed, was now only a puckered scar, but her internal injuries had been great. When she had been brought to Akotolp she had been torpid for many days with all of her body activities slowed to a small fraction of their normal function. Akotolp had repaired the injuries, stopped the infection, transfused blood, done everything possible to keep the Eistaa alive. It had been a very close thing and only Akotolp’s immense scientific kills, combined with Vaintè’s own strength and will, had enabled her to survive. Etdeerg had taken her place in command and had served as Eistaa during the long illness, but Vaintè would soon resume her full functions. It was as Eistaa that she spoke now.
“Tell me what happened,” she ordered.
Stallan did, leaving out nothing, speaking as carefully and unemotionally as she could about every detail of the expedition, the landing and the massacre, ending with their flight back to Alpèasak. When she was done she finished with the same words that she had spoken to Etdeerg.
“I am at fault. I die now if you order me to.”
Vaintè waved the suggestion aside with a sharp motion that had Akotolp leaning forward and hissing with alarm.
“Fault or not, we need you, Stallan. You live. We need you for revenge if nothing else. You will be my arm. You will kill the one who did this. There can be only one.”
“The Eistaa is correct. There was no second group of ustuzou to be seen in the pictures from the raptor. Everything about the ustuzou group looked as it should. But it was not. Someone knew of the raptor and ordered the night movements of the ustuzou. Someone knew we would land on the beach the night before we attacked. Someone knew.”
“Kerrick.”
There was death in the name, so much so that Akotolp protested.
“You risk your own life, Eistaa, speaking in that manner. You are not well enough yet for such emotions.”
Vaintè leaned back on the soft coverings and signaled agreement, resting before she went on.
“I must give this much thought. When we attack the ustuzou in the future we must do it in a new and different manner. Our knowledge has been diminished because now we can believe the raptor’s pictures just half of the time. The daylight half. The ustuzou can move concealed by the darkness of night.” She turned to Akotolp. “You know of these things. Can pictures be made during the night?”
Akotolp stroked her fat wattles as she thought. “Such a thing may be possible. If it is, there are certain birds that fly at night. Something may be done.”
“You will start at once. Another question — is there a way to look at the pictures from the raptor in greater detail?”
“The meaning of your question escapes me, Eistaa.”
“Then listen again. If the ustuzou Kerrick arranged the attack, then he must have been with the band. Therefore he will be in one of the pictures. Can we discover that fact?”
“The question is clear. Details in the pictures may be expanded, enlarged so that a small detail will be many times bigger.”