Merrith laughed loudly. “You are telling me wicked stories. How can you load a tree behind a mastodon when you move to another campsite?” The rest of the women around the fire were looking their way, listening as well, and there was much giggling at this thought.

“It is the truth — because they stay in the same place all of the time so they do not have to move their sleeping trees.”

“Now I know that you are telling me stories. If they stayed in one place they would hunt and kill all of the animals there. They would pick all the fruit and then they would die of starvation. Such a funny story!”

“This is true,” Herilak said. “That is the way that they live. I have been there and I have seen them, but I did not understand them. They do not need to hunt because they keep all of their animals in one place so they cannot escape, then kill them whenever they want to. Is that not the way it is?” he asked Kerrick.

Merrith had shrugged her shoulders at such useless stories and gone back to her fire, but the other women remained, eyes wide as they listened to this wild talk. True or not, the stories were worth hearing.

“That is only part of it,” Kerrick said. “A lot of things happen, and different murgu do different things. Some clear the land and build the fences so the animals can be kept safe, yet kept apart. Then there are the guards who take care of the males during the breeding season so the young are born safe. Some raise food for the animals, others kill them when the time comes. Others fish. It is all very complex.”

“The males take care of the babies?” one of the women asked in a quiet and nasal voice. The older woman beside her struck her.

“Be quiet, Armun,” she said.

“It is a good question,” Kerrick said, trying to see who had spoken, but she had her face turned away with her hair held over it. “The murgu lay eggs and the males hatch the eggs. Then when the young ones come out of the eggs they go into the ocean to live. They do not take care of babies the way we do.”

“They are filthy and should all be killed!” Merrith called out, for she had been listening all the time. “It is not right that women should hear these kind of stories.”

Their audience scattered at her command and the two men finished their food in silence. Herilak licked the last fragments of meat from his fingers, then touched Kerrick lightly on the arm.

“You must tell me more of these things because I want to know all about these creatures. I am not like the woman — I believe every word that you say. Like you I was their prisoner. Only a short time — but that was long enough. If you lead, I will follow you, Kerrick. A strong arm and a quick bow are what a hunter needs. But the Tanu need knowledge as well. We are Tanu because we can work stone and wood and know the ways of all the beasts that we hunt. But now we hunt murgu and you are the only one with the knowledge that we must have. It is you alone who can show us the way.”

Kerrick had not thought of it this way before, but now he had to nod reluctant agreement. Knowledge could be a strength — and a weapon. He had the knowledge and Herilak respected it. This was high praise from a hunter as wise and strong as Herilak. Kerrick felt the beginning of pride. For the first time he began to believe that he was not the complete outsider here.

CHAPTER NINE

Merrith had been correct; after talking far into the night the hunters had decided, with great reluctance, that they must go south to find grazing for the mastodons. With this decision made they had to face the next problem. How were they to go about doing this?

It was just after dawn when Herilak emerged from their tent. He was building up the fire when Ulfadan and Kellimans approached him. The two sammadars greeted him formally, then sat down beside him at the fire. Herilak poured them wooden mugfuls of bark tea and waited for them to speak their minds. Behind his back Ortnar looked out of the tent, then quickly pulled his head back inside.

“You would think after last night they would have enough of talking, but they are still at it,” he told Kerrick. “I don’t see any problem. Kill murgu, that is all we have to do.”

Kerrick sat up in the sleeping bag and shivered as the cold air hit him. He quickly pulled his leather shirt over his head, then ran his fingers through his short hair, yawned and scratched. Through the open flap of the tent he could see that the three hunters were still talking. He felt as Ortnar did; they had had enough of this the night before.

But this final meeting could not be avoided. Herilak rose from the fire and went to the tent and called to him.

“There is need of you, Kerrick. You will join us.”

Kerrick went and sat beside them at the fire and sipped the hot, bitter brew while Herilak told them what had been decided.

“The sammads will go south because they have no other choice. However they do not know what to do when we reach the murgu. But one thing is certain, the murgu must be killed, therefore there must be a battle leader. They have asked me to be sacripex.”

Kerrick nodded agreement. “That is as it should be. You led us in victory when we killed the murgu on the beaches.”

“An attack is a single thing and I know well how to lead in that. But we are now planning more than an attack. We are planning to leave the forest and go south into the grasslands where there are only murgu. Murgu of all kinds. Then we must kill these murgu with the death-sticks. Now I will tell you the truth. I know little of murgu and I know nothing of death-sticks. But you do, Kerrick. Therefore I have said that you must be the sacripex.”

Kerrick could not think of an answer. This was too unexpected. He turned it over and over in his head, then reluctantly spoke.

“It is a great trust, but I do not feel I know enough to be sacripex. Yes, I know much about the murgu, but little about hunting and killing. Herilak is the proven leader here.”

They were silent then, waiting for him to continue. The sammads were looking to him for leadership and he could not refuse. Ortnar had heard what had been said and had emerged from the tent and joined the waiting hunters. They wanted him to lead, but he did not have the skill. What could be done? What would the Yilanè do in this situation? Once he had asked himself this question an answer began to appear.

“Let me tell you how the murgu order these things,” he said. “In their cities there is a sammadar who is first in everything. Under this sammadar there is a sammadar of the hunters, another for the food animals, and others for the different work of the city. Why do we not arrange things in the same way? Herilak will be the sacripex as you have asked. I will serve under him, advise him on the ways of the murgu. But he will be the one who decides what must be done.”

“We must think about this,” Ulfadan said. “It is a new thing.”

“These are new times,” Kellimans said. “We will do as Kerrick has told us.”

“We will do it,” Herilak said, “but it is I who will serve. Kerrick will tell us about the murgu and what must be done to hunt them and to kill them. He will be the margalus, the murgu-counsellor.”

Ulfadan nodded agreement and stood. “That is the way it must be.”

“I agree,” Kellimans said. “The hunters of the sammad will be told and if all are in agreement we will go south when the margalus says.”

When they had gone, Herilak turned to face Kerrick. “What must we do first, margalus?” he said.

Kerrick pulled at the strands of his thin beard while the two hunters waited. The answer to this was easy, and he hoped that all the other problems would be as simple to solve.

“To kill murgu you must learn about the death-sticks. We will do that now.”

Herilak and Ortnar were armed with spears and bows as always, but Kerrick put his aside and took up a hèsotsan and a supply of darts instead. He led them upstream away from the tents, to a clear space beside the river. The trunk of a dead tree lay trapped here among the boulders, where it had been left behind by the high waters of spring.