“You have heard, Etdeerg. See that it is done.”

Etdeerg signed acceptance of the command and hurried away. Vaintè turned her attention back to Stallan.

“We will attack in a different manner in the future. Night defenses must be prepared as well. It will take much thought. This must never happen again.”

“We will need many more fargi,” Stallan said.

“That is one problem that already has a solution. While you were away we received the glorious news that all of the preparations have been completed. Inegban* comes to Alpèasak before the end of summer. The two cities will be one again, strong and complete.

“We will have all the resources we need to sweep the ustuzou from the face of the earth.”

Both Akotolp and Stallan signed happy acceptance of this fact, as did Vaintè herself. If this had happened any time before she had been wounded she would have had to find more formal ways of speaking of it, around it. Then her desire to rule Alpèasak had been her drive in life, her only and strongest ambition. Her hatred of Malsas‹ had been extreme because the Eistaa of Inegban* would be Eistaa of Alpèasak in her place when the two cities became one.

Now she welcomed Malsas‹’s arrival. The spearthrust that had driven her into darkness, illness, and pain had changed everything. As first dim consciousness had returned after her injury, she had remembered what had happened. What that ustuzou had done to her. The ustuzou whose life she had saved, the one that she had raised up to stand close beside her and to do her bidding. The ustuzou that had repaid all of this by attempting to kill her. This brutal act would not go unpunished. Thinking of Kerrick only made her more resolute in her desire to rid the earth of the blight of his kind of creature. All Yilanè would feel the same when they discovered what had been done to the fargi who had been sent north. When Inegban* came to Alpèasak the Yilanè would realize that existence here was far different from the life that they had known before this, at peace in a city of peace. When their own lives and future were threatened as well by the ustuzou there would be an upswelling of support.

All of the might, the science, and the energy of the Yilanè would then be united behind a single idea. Destroy the ustuzou. Wipe all trace of them from the face of the earth. Mount a crusade that would sweep them away like the blight, the obscene disease that they were.

A crusade that could have but a single leader.

Vaintè saw her destiny at last.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The air was so still beneath the tall trees that the cold fog hung there, unmoving. This chill silence was broken only by the dripping of water from the leaves, the distant calling of a bird. A rabbit hopped cautiously from under a bush and began nibbling at the thick grass in the clearing. It stopped suddenly and sat up, ears turning to listen, then disappeared in a single frightened bound.

The heavy, slow footsteps were like the sound of distant thunder, coming closer. The creaking of leather bindings could now be heard and the loud rustling of wooden poles being dragged across the forest floor. Moving silently ahead of the column of mastodons, two hunters appeared at the edge of the clearing, eyes searching, spears ready. Although they were wearing fur robes and leggings, their arms were bare and beaded with moisture. Other hunters came from under the trees and advanced across the clearing. Then the first mastodon appeared, a great hump-backed bull. His trunk reached up and broke a branch from a tree; he stuffed the leaves into his mouth as he walked, chewing them contentedly.

One by one the other mastodons emerged from the forest, the poles of the travois they pulled cutting deep grooves into the soft loam. The women and larger children walked between them while another party of hunters brought up the rear. The Tanu were on the march that never ended.

It was late afternoon before they reached the campsite at the bend in the river. In the dark twilight the first snow was already swirling down through the trees. Ulfadan looked north and sniffed the cold wind.

“Early,” he said. “Even earlier than last year. The snow will be as thick here in the valley as it will be in the mountains. We must talk of this tonight.”

Kellimans nodded reluctant agreement. After the slaughter of the murgu the decision to return to this last campsite had been taken without any discussion or real thought. Once they had loaded the murgu weapons and supplies they had all been in a hurry to get away from the shore, suddenly frightened of the possibility of murgu revenge. It had been the most natural and easiest thing to do to retrace their steps. This also put off the need for any more decision making until they were safely away from the coast. Their old pattern of life had been broken; they could no longer winter in the mountains. Then what should they do? The question was spoken often — but never answered. Now they would have to face up to it and come to some agreement. Once the tents were set up and they had food in their stomachs they gathered around the fire and the talking began.

Unlike the settled, city dwelling, crop-harvesting Yilanè, the Tanu were hunters. They lived a nomadic life with no fixed base, constantly on the move, going to the place where the hunting was best, or the fish were running, or where seasonal fruit or tubers could be found. They claimed no single stretch of land for the entire earth itself was their home. Nor did they form large social groups like the Yilanè. Their sammads were small bands of individuals who were joined together for mutual aid. This enabled the older women to show the young girls where the best places were to dig for food. Boys could learn the skills of the hunt, while all the hunters could join together to bring down more game than each could individually.

Their sammadar was not a leader who issued orders, but rather the hunter who made the most sensible plans, the one who found the most game, the one who made sure that the sammad thrived. He wore no badge of office and was not marked out from the other hunters in any way. His rule was by mutual agreement. Nor could he issue unpopular orders; a hunter, and his family, could vote with their feet, vanishing into the trackless forest to join with another sammad if they were not pleased with the sammadar.

Now there were decisions to be made. The fire blazed high as more wood was loaded onto it, while the circle of hunters grew larger. They laughed and called to each other as they tried to get the best places near the fire, where they could be warm but out of the smoke. Their stomachs were full, there was food for the winter, and that was enough for the moment. Still, there were important decisions that must be made. There was much argument about what must be done which died away when Ulfadan stood and turned to face them.

“I have heard many say that they want to winter here in this place that we know. The hunting is bad here, but we have food enough to last until spring. But that is not what we should be thinking about. If we stay here will the mastodons be able to survive? Is there enough grass, are there enough leaves on the trees? This is the important question that should be asked. If we live through the winter but they die, then we will die too when the time comes to move on — and we cannot. That is what we must think about.”

This began the discussion in earnest for the fate of the mastodons had been in the back of all their minds. Those who wanted to be heard stood and spoke to all of the hunters and there was very little crosstalk now. Herilak and Kerrick listened but did not say anything themselves. Herilak was sacripex as long as there were battles to be fought. Now, with the battle won, he sat among the others. As for Kerrick, he was pleased enough to be admitted to their circle and not have to sit on the outside with the women and children. It was enough to be here and to listen.