Winter in Eden

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

When the weather warmed in the spring and the winter storms died away, there was greater activity at sea south of the city. More of the poison plants had been found to the south, though none in the city itself for some undetermined reason. It was as though the Yilanè had made all of their preparations, tested the efficacy of their attack — and were now waiting for some signal to begin. Yet days passed and there was still no sign of it; even Kerrick was beginning to doubt his earlier fears. Not really doubt, just cover up and hide them. He knew that sooner or later the final battle would begin. Vaintè was out there. She would never stop until they were all destroyed. So, despite the complaints, Kerrick saw to it that all of the approaches to the city were watched and guarded, night and day, while armed parties made longer patrols north and south along the shore to look out for any Yilanè activity. Kerrick himself led the sweeps south, he had the certainty that the attack would come from this direction, but other than the ever-growing wall of death there was still no sign of activity on shore. It was a hot afternoon when he returned from one of these scouting expeditions and saw Nenne waiting for him on the trail.

“There is a hunter from the north, a Tanu who has come and says only that he will talk with you. Sanone has gone to him but he will not speak with the mandukto, other than to repeat that his words are only for you.”

“Do you know his name?”

“He is the sammadar, Herilak.”

When he spoke the name a chill of apprehension washed over Kerrick. Armun — something had happened to Armun. There was no reason for this fear, but it was there, filling him so full that his hands were shaking.

“He is alone?” Kerrick asked, not moving.

“None are with him — though it can be seen that there are other hunters who wait outside the city, among the trees.”

Alone, others in the forest, what could the reasons be? And Armun, what of her? Nenne stood waiting, half turned away as Kerrick’s body moved with his thoughts, in the Yilanè way with physical echoes. With an effort Kerrick broke the paralysis of inaction and fear. “Take me to him — at once.”

They trotted through the city, gasping in the hot air, their bodies running with sweat, to the open space of the ambesed where Herilak stood waiting. He was leaning on his spear but straightened up when Kerrick came close, speaking before Kerrick could.

“I have come with a request. It is our death-sticks that are…”

“We will talk of them after you tell me of Armun.”

“She is not with me,” he said, unsmiling and grim.

“I see that, Herilak. She is well, the baby?”

“I have no knowledge of that.”

All Kerrick’s fears had been true. Something had happened to her. He shook his hèsotsan angrily.

“Speak clearly, sammadar. You took her to your sammad, to protect her, you told me that. Now why do you say you have no knowledge?”

“Because she is gone. She did that alone, although I ordered her not to, ordered that none should help her. What she has done, she has only herself to blame. Though the hunter, Ortnar, disobeyed me and helped her to leave. It was last year at this time. He is no longer in my sammad. I sent hunters after her but they could not find her. Now we will talk of other matters…”

“We will talk of Armun. She asked you for aid and you did not give it. Now you tell me that she is gone. Where has she gone?”

“She went south to join you. She must be here.”

“She is not — she never arrived.”

Herilak’s words were as cold as winter. “Then she is dead on the trail. We will talk of other things.”

In a red haze of anger and hatred Kerrick raised his hèsotsan with shaking hands, aimed it at Herilak who stood unmoving and unafraid, his spear butt on the ground. Herilak shook his head and spoke.

“Killing me will not bring her back to life. And Tanu does not kill Tanu. There are other women.”

Other women. These words disarmed Kerrick and he lowered his weapon. There were no other women for him, just Armun. And she was dead. And Herilak was not to blame. It was his fault, his alone. If he had returned to the sammads she would be alive now. It was over. There was nothing else to say about it.

“You want to talk about the death-sticks,” Kerrick said, all feeling gone from his voice. “What of them?”

“They are dead, all of them. It was the cold of winter. Even though we tried to keep them warm many died the first winter, the rest were dead before this spring. Now we must go and hunt in the land of the murgu for there is no game to the north. We need more of the death-sticks. The sammads need them to live. You have more here. Will you share them?”

“I have many here, young ones growing here. Where are the sammads?”

“North, on the beach with the mastodons, waiting. Half of the hunters stay to guard them, the other half are here waiting in the forest. I came alone. It was my feeling you would kill me and I did not want them to see this happen.”

“You were right in that. But I give you no death-sticks for hunting on the plains.”

“You what?” Herilak shook his spear in anger. “You will refuse me, refuse the sammads? You could have had my life if you wished it. I gave you that — for the sammads — and now you refuse me?”

Without realizing it he half-raised the spear and Kerrick pointed to it, smiling coldly.

“Tanu does not kill Tanu — yet you raise your spear.” He waited until Herilak had conquered his anger, lowered his spear, before he spoke again. “I said there would be no death-sticks for hunting in the plains. There is danger in this city and hunters are needed to defend it. The Sasku are here. As they once aided the Tanu I now ask you to aid them in turn. Stay and help them here. There are death-sticks for all.”

“That is not for me to decide. There are other sammadars, and all in the sammads as well.”

“Bring them here. A decision must be made.”

Herilak scowled darkly with anger, yet had no choice. In the end he turned on his heel and stamped away, brushing past Sanone without even a sideward glance.

“There is trouble?” Sanone asked.

Trouble? Armun dead. Kerrick still could not accept this reality. It took an effort to speak to Sanone.

“The sammadars of the Tanu are coming here. I have told them if they want death-sticks they must stay in the city. They must bring the sammads here. We will band together to defend each other — there is no other way.”

Nor was there. The sammadars talked, long and angrily, sucked smoke from the pipe and passed it on. They would decide to stay; they had no other choice. Kerrick did not take part in the discussion, ignored the angry looks from them when Herilak told of his ultimatum. How they felt was of no importance to him. Tanu and Sasku would stay here, would leave only if they were driven out. Through the haze of his troubled and angry thoughts he became aware that a hunter stood before him. It took him a moment to realize that it was Ortnar. When he saw this he waved the hunter forward.

“Here, sit in the shade beside me and tell me about Armun.”

“You have spoken of this to Herilak already?”

“He told me that he ordered her to stay in the encampment, ordered that she not be helped. Yet you went to her aid. What happened?”

Ortnar was not happy. He spoke in a low whisper, his head lowered, his long hair hanging over his face. “This has pulled me in two directions at the same time, Kerrick, still pulls me. Herilak was my sammadar, we two are the only two still alive from the sammad killed by the murgu. That is a bond that is hard to break. When Herilak ordered none to help Armun I obeyed for it was a good decision. The path was long and dangerous. Yet when she asked me to help her I felt that she was right too. This pulled me apart and in my stupidity I gave her only half the help she needed. I should have given her all, gone with her, I know that now. I told her the path and gave her my death-stick. Half help.”

“The others gave her none, Ortnar. You were her only friend.”

“I told Herilak what I had done. He struck me down and I lay as one dead for two days, this I have been told. Here is where he struck in his anger.” Ortnar’s fingers crept to the crown of his head, fingered the scar there on his scalp. “I am no longer of his sammad; he has not spoken to me since.”

He raised his face and interrupted before Kerrick could speak. “I had to tell you this first, so you would know what happened. Since then I have looked for traces of her, scouting as we came east. I could find nothing — no bones or skeletons of any of them. There were three of them who left together, Armun and your son, and a boy who she took with them. There should have been some trace. I asked all the hunters we met but none had seen them. But there was one, a hunter who traded stone knives for furs, who traded with the Paramutan to the north. He understands some of their talk. He was told that a woman with hair like ours was with them in their place, a woman with children.”

Kerrick seized him by the arms, pulled him to his feet and shook him wildly.

“What are you saying — do you know what you are saying?”

Ortnar smiled and nodded his head. “I know. I came south to tell you this. Now I go north while it is still summer to find the Paramutan, to find Armun if I can. I will bring her to you…”

“No, no need for that.”

In an instant everything had changed for Kerrick. He straightened up as though an invisible weight had slipped from his shoulders. The future was suddenly as clear as a path, stretching sharply marked out ahead of him, like Kadair’s footsteps stamped into stone that Sanone always talked about. He looked past Ortnar, to the city street that led to the north.

“There is no need for you to go — I will do that myself. The sammads will stay here; the city will be defended. Herilak knows how to kill the murgu — he won’t need any instructions from me for that. I will go north and find her.”

“Not alone, Kerrick. I have no sammad except yours now. Lead and I will follow. We will do this together for two spears are stronger than one.”

“You are right — I will not stop you.” Kerrick smiled. “And you are the better hunter by far. We would go hungry if we depended upon the skill of my bow.”

“We will go fast with little time for hunting. If there is the gray murgu meat we will take that to eat.”

“Yes, there is still a good supply. Fresh meat is much preferred by the Sasku.”

Kerrick had found a large stock of bladders of preserved meat, had been bringing it to the hanalè for the males. And what would become of them? Certain death if he left them, that was clear. They deserved better than that. He must think about that as well. Much had to be decided.

“We will leave in the morning,” he said. “We will meet here when it is light. By that time the sammadars will have come to an agreement since they have little choice.”

Kerrick went to the hanalè, closed the heavy door behind him and called out his name. Nadaske hurried down the corridor toward him, claws clattering on the wood, making motions of greeting and happiness.

“Days without number have passed, loneliness and starvation batter at us.”

“I will not ask which comes first, hunger or companionship. Now where is Imehei? There is important talking to be done before I leave the city.”

“Leave!” Nadaske wailed with agony and signed death-by-despair. Imehei heard the sounds and came hurrying up.

“I’ll not leave you to die,” Kerrick said, “so stop your bad imitation of a mindless fargi and listen closely. We are going for a walk around the city now. The Sasku will take no notice, they have seen us walking before and have been ordered not to harm you. They obey their mandukto far better than you obey me. We will walk to the edge of the city and beyond. Then you will go south by yourselves until you see the island I have told you about, and the place of death. You will find Yilanè and uruketo there and you will be safe away from ustuzou forever.”

Nadaske and Imehei looked at each other, signed agreement and firmness of purpose. It was Nadaske who spoke, indicating that what he said was spoken for both of them.

“We have talked. In the many hours alone we have talked. We have seen the city and the ustuzou here and walked about it and have talked. I will tell you what we have talked about. How strange it has been to be away from females and to walk with Kerrick-ustuzou-male-female. Very strange. We have marveled at what we have seen, eyes as wide as fargi fresh from the sea, for we have seen ustuzou living as Yilanè in this city. Strangest of all we have seen the ustuzou males with hèsotsan and the females with the young. We have talked and talked about this…”

“And you talk too much,” Imehei interrupted. “Not only did we talk, we decided. Decided that we did not want to go to the beaches ever again. Decided that we never wanted to see a female-grasping-painly-deadly Yilanè ever again. We will not walk south.”

They signalled firmness-of-decision together and Kerrick marveled. “You have a braveness I have never seen — for males.”

“How can it be seen when our lives are in the hanalè,” Nadaske said. “We are as much Yilanè as the females.”

“But what will you do?”

“We will stay with you. We will not go south.”

“But I am leaving here in the morning. Going north.”

“Then we go north as well. It will be better than the hanalè, better than the beaches.”

“There is cold, certain death to the north.”

“There is warm, certain death on the beaches. And this way we will at least have seen something more than the hanalè before we die.”