Winter in Eden

CHAPTER TWO

Erafnais ordered everyone below, crewmembers and passengers alike, as the uruketo swam out into the open sea. But she remained there on top of the fin when the storm washed over them, transparent membranes closed over her eyes against the driving rain. Between showers she had a single glimpse of the burnt city, smoke roiling high above it, the beaches empty of life. The vision burned into her memory and she could see it clearly still even when the rain returned; would see it always. She remained there at her station until dark, when the uruketo slowed, swimming easily with the current as it would until daylight returned. Only then did she descend wearily to the base of the fin where she spent the entire night, sleeping at the vacant steering position.

When the transparent viewing disc above her grew light with dawn Erafnais unwrapped her sleeping cloak and climbed wearily to her feet. The old injury to her back hurt as she climbed slowly up the inside of the fin to the observation post above. The morning air was cool and fresh. All the clouds of the previous day’s storm had blown away and the sky was clear and bright. The fin swayed as the uruketo stirred and the ponderous creature moved faster in the growing light. Erafnais glanced down, checking that the crewmember was at her steering station, then looked out at the ocean again. There was a ripple of foam in front of the great beak as the pair of accompanying enteesenat surged ahead. All was as it should be with the voyage.

Yet nothing was as it should be. The dark thoughts that Erafnais had kept at bay while she slept surged up and overwhelmed her. Her thumbs grasped hard at the uruketo’s thick hide; the sharp claws on her toes sinking deep as well. Inegban‹ had come to Alpèasak at last, she had helped in this, and Alpèasak had grown strong. And had died in a single day. She had watched and not understood; in her lifetime at sea had never even heard of fire. Now she knew all about it, It was hot, hotter than the sun, and cracked and roared and stank and choked those who came close, grew bright then black. And had killed the city. The handful of survivors still reeking of the fire’s darkness lay below. The rest of the Yilanè and fargi were as dead as the city, dead in the city that lay behind them. She shuddered and stared resolutely ahead, afraid to look behind lest she see that place of sorrow again. If it had been her city she would be as dead as the others, for those whom the fire had not consumed had of course died when the city died.

But now she had other problems to face. The scientist Akotolp was below, still holding to the arm of the male that she had dragged aboard. But she had not moved since then, had just sat in motionless silence even when addressed. Sat and ignored the pleas and moans of the male to be released. What could be done with her? And what of those others below, the deathless ones? What was to be done? Finally, she must consider — the other. The one whose name no one spoke. Erafnais shuddered and drew back as Vaintè climbed up inside the fin. It was as though in thinking of her Erafnais had summoned her — the last creature she wished to see this sunbright morning.

Without acknowledging the commander’s presence, Vaintè went to the rear of the fin and stared out at their bubbling wake. Erafnais was aware of her actions and, despite her fears, turned as well and also looked out toward the horizon. It was darker there. The remaining shadow of the night, a storm perhaps, surely it could not be the land — and the city. That was too far behind them to be seen. One of Vaintè’s eyes rolled back in her direction; Erafnais spoke.

“You boarded in silence Vaintè and have remained silent since. Are they — dead?”

“All dead. The city dead as well.”

Even through the terror of the words, Erafnais was aware of Vaintè’s strange manner of speaking. Not as superior to inferior or even equal to equal, but instead in a flat and unfeeling manner that was most unusual. As though she were alone with no one else present, speaking her thoughts to herself.

Erafnais wished to be silent, but spoke despite this, the question coming as though of its own free will. “The fire — where did the fire come from?”

Vaintè’s rigid mask vanished in an instant and her entire body shivered in the grip of intense emotion, her jaw gaped so wide in the expression of hatred/death that her meaning was muffled and confused. “Ustuzou who came… ustuzou of fire… hatred of those… hatred of him. Death. Death. Death.”

“Death,” a voice said harshly, hands moving in the reflexive position of taking-back-upon-self. Erafnais only heard the sound for Enge had climbed up behind her. But Vaintè could see her and understood well enough and there was venom in every motion of her response.

“Daughter of Death, you and yours should be back in that fire-city. The best of the Yilanè who died deserve to be here in your place.”

In her anger she had spoken as one of equal to equal, as efenselè to efenselè. When you grew in the sea with others, emerged with them in the same group, your efenburu, it was a fact never considered; like the air one breathed. You were efenselè to the others in your efenburu for life. But Enge would not accept that.

“Your memory is weak, inferior one.” She said this in the most insulting manner, the highest of the high to the lowest of the low. Erafnais, standing between them, moaned with terror, her crest flaming first red then orange as she fled below. Vaintè reeled back as though struck a physical blow. Enge was pitiless.

“You have been disowned. Your shame is upon me and I reject you as an efenselè. Your reckless ambition to kill Kerrick — ustuzou, all ustuzou, has destroyed proud Alpèasak instead. You ordered low-creature Stallan to kill my companions. Since the egg of time there has been no one like you. Would you had never emerged from the sea. If our entire efenburu had died there in the wet silence, myself included, it would have been better than this.”

Vaintè’s skin had first flared with rage when Enge spoke, but quickly darkened as her body grew still. Her anger was sealed inside now, to be used when needed — and not to be wasted on this inferior being who was once her equal.

“Leave me,” she said, then turned back to the empty sea. Enge turned away as well, breathing deeply and ashamed of herself for the unbidden anger. This was not what she believed in, what she preached to others. With great effort she stilled the movements of her limbs, the glaring colors of her palms and crest. Only when she was stonelike and as uncommunicative as Vaintè did she permit herself to speak. Below her was the crewmember guiding the uruketo through the sea; close behind her was the commander. Enge leaned down and made the sound of speaking-attention.

“From one-who-follows to one-who-leads, would Erafnais give pleasure by joining here?”

Erafnais climbed reluctantly up, aware of silent Vaintè, back turned and staring out at the sea. “I am here, Enge,” she said.

“My thanks and the gratitude of those with me, for saving us from destruction. Where are you bound?”

“Where?” Erafnais echoed the question, then felt shame. She was the commander yet had not thought of their destination at all. She blurted the truth with shallow movements of apology.

“We fled the fire, out to sea, our course as it always is east to Entoban*. This was done with the panic of flight and not the wisdom of command.”

“Dismiss the shame — for you have saved us all and there is only gratitude. Entoban* of the Yilanè must be our destination. But which city?”

The question brought the answer instantly.

“Home. Where my efenburu is, where this uruketo first entered the sea. Sea-girt Ikhalmenets.”

Though still staring out at the surging waves, Vaintè had turned one eye to follow the conversation. She asked for attention to communication but only Erafnais looked her way.

“Ikhalmenets-of-the-islands is not Entoban*. Respectfully request course to Mesekei.”

Erafnais acknowledged the request, yet politely but firmly reaffirmed their destination. Vaintè could see that her wrong-headedness could not be altered so was silent. There would be other ways to reach her destination — for reach it she must. Mesekei was a great city on a great river, rich and prosperous and far from the cold of the north. More important — they had aided her more than any other city in the war against the ustuzou. The future now was gray and impenetrable when she looked at it, her numbed mind empty of all thought. A time would come when the grayness must lift and she would be able to think once again of the future. At that time it would be good to be in a city among friends. There would be other uruketo in Ikhalmenets; some way would be found.

Companions there — but only enemies here. Through the grayness this ugly fact loomed large. Enge and her Daughters of Death still lived — while all those so deserving of life now lay dead. This should not be — nor would it be. There was nothing that could be done here at sea. She was alone against them all; could expect no aid from Erafnais and her crew-members. Once ashore this would all change. How could she change it? Her thoughts were stirring to life now and she concealed them by her rigidity of body.

Behind her Enge signed respectful withdrawal to the commander and climbed below. When she had reached the bottom of the fin she looked back at Vaintè’s motionless figure, then felt for an instant that she could almost see her mind at work. Evil, dark and deadly. Vaintè’s ambitions would never change, never. These thoughts filled Enge so strongly that her limbs stirred despite her attempts at control, even in the dim phosphorescent glow they could be easily understood.

She banished them and walked slowly through the semidarkness. Past the immobile Akotolp and her miserable male companion and on to the small group huddled against the wall. Akel stood and turned toward her — then drew back as she approached.

“Enge, follower-to-leader, what unhappiness moves your limbs so that I fear for my very life when you come close?”

Enge halted at this and conveyed apology. “Loyal Akel, what I was feeling was not for you — or for any of you others as well.” She looked around at the four remaining Daughters of Life and let her movements show how pleased she was with their companionship. “Once we were many. Now we are few so each of you is more precious than a multitude to me. Since we lived when all others died I feel that this has given us a mission — and a strength to carry out that mission. We will talk of that another time. There are other things that must be done first.” With her thumbs against her ribcage she signed listening-ears/watching-eyes. “The sorrow I brought with me is not my own. I will now give thought to the cause of that sorrow.”

She sought out a dark angle behind the bladders of preserved meat where she would be hard to see, then lay facing the living wall of the uruketo and forced her body into silent rigidity. Only when this exercise was complete did she let her thoughts return to Vaintè. Inner thoughts that were not echoed in her outer stillness.

Vaintè. She of immense hatreds. Now that Enge was free of any affection for her former efenselè she could see her for what she was. A dark power for evil. And once this fact was realized it became clear that her first act from this darkness would be directed against Enge and her companions. They had lived where all others had died. They would speak out in Ikhalmenets and what they would say would not be to Vaintè’s advantage. Therefore in her simple equation of cause and effect they would have to die; nothing could be plainer than that.

Dangers known could be avoided, threats seen counteracted. Plans must be made. The first one was the easiest. Survival. She stirred and rose and went to the others. Akel and Efen greeted her, but Omal and Satsat were asleep, already sinking into the comatose state that would see them through the long, dark voyage.

“Waken, please, we must talk,” Enge said, then waited until the others had stirred and were attentive again. “We cannot discuss, so I ask compliance/obedience. Will you do as I ask?”

“You speak for us all, Enge,” Omal said simply and the others signed agreement.

“Then this is what we will do. While four sleep one must always be awake — for there are great dangers. That is what must be done. If one is sleepy then another must be awoken. One will always sit awake beside the sleepers.” She looked about as they all communicated understanding and agreement. “Then all is well. Now sleep my sisters and I will remain awake at your side.”

Enge was sitting in the same position some time later when Vaintè climbed down from the fin, a shiver of hatred running the length of her body when she caught Enge’s watching eye. Enge did not respond — nor did she turn away. The placidity of her gaze irritated Vaintè even more so that she was forced to lie at a distance, her back turned, in order to calm herself.

It was a fast and uneventful crossing, for all aboard were so shocked by the death of Alpèasak that they escaped their remembered terrors in sleep, waking only to eat, then sleep again. But one of the appointed five was always awake, always watchful.

Enge was asleep when land was sighted, but she had left her orders.

“It is there, the greentree shore of Entoban *,” Satsat said, touching Enge lightly to awaken her.

Enge signed grateful thanks and waited in silent stolidity until the time came when the commander was alone on top of the fin: she joined her there and they both looked in silent appreciation at the line of white breakers that were drawn against the greens of the jungle beyond.

“Respectful request for knowledge,” Enge signed, and Erafnais let acceptance be known. “We are looking at the shore of warm and eternal Entoban*. But is it known at what position on the coast we see?”

“Somewhere here,” Erafnais said, holding out the chart tight-clamped between the thumbs of one hand, the thumbs of the other spanning a distance on the coast. Enge looked closely at it.

“We must proceed north along the shore,” Erafnais said, “then on past Yebèisk to the island city of sea-girt Ikhalmenets.”

“Would impertinence be assumed if I asked the commander to point out warm-beached Yebèisk when we are close?”

“Communication will be made.”

Another two days passed before they came to the city. Vaintè was also interested in Yebèisk and stood at the far end of the fin while Erafnais and Enge remained at the other. It was late afternoon when they passed the high trees, the golden curve of the sands on each of the city’s flanks, the tiny forms of the fishing boats returning with the day’s catch. Surprisingly, after all her earlier curiosity, Enge showed scarcely any interest at all. After one long glance she signed her gratitude for information and went below. Vaintè permitted herself a spasmodic glare of hatred as she passed, then stared back at the shore.

In the morning she listened as a crewmember addressed the commander, and could not control the tremors of anger that shook her body. She should have known — should have known.

“They are gone, Erafnais, all five of them. I saw their sleeping positions vacated when I awoke. They are not here in the uruketo or in the fin.”

“Nothing was seen?”

“Nothing. It was my duty to awaken first this day to take the guiding position. It is a mystery…”

“No it is not!” Vaintè cried aloud and they drew back from her. “The only mystery is why I did not see what was going to happen. They know that no good will come to them in the bold city of Ikhalmenets . They seek hiding places in Yebèisk. Turn about, Erafnais, and go there at once.”

There was command in Vaintè’s voice, authority in the stance of her body. Yet Erafnais made no move to obey, instead stood in immobile silence. The watching, listening crewmembers were rigid, each with an eye turned toward one of the speakers. Vaintè signed urgency and obedience and wrath, hovering like a destructive thundercloud over the smaller commander. Bentback, dragfoot Erafnais.

With a will of her own. She had had more than a hint of the motives involved here. Enge had been kind to her and never offended her — while she knew little of the Daughters of Life, cared even less. What she did know was that there had been enough killing. And it was obvious that death lay behind every one of Vaintè’s venomous movements.

“We will proceed. We will not turn back. Dismissal of presence from commander to passenger.”

Then she turned about and walked away, letting her limp muffle the positions of pleasure and superiority in her body movements.

Vaintè was rigid with anger, paralyzed by impotence. She did not command here — did not command anywhere echoed back darkly from her thoughts — nor could she use violence. The crewmembers would not permit that. She was locked in a silent, internal battle with her anger. Logic must rule; cold thought must vanquish. The inescapable fact was that there was absolutely nothing that could be done at the present time. Enge and her followers had escaped from her for the moment. That was of no importance. In the fullness of time they would meet again and instant justice would follow. Nor could anything be done now about the commander of the uruketo. These things were all too petty to be considered. What she should be thinking about was the riverine city of Mesekei and the important tasks that must be undertaken there. If she were to achieve her ends careful planning would be needed, not mindless anger. For all of her life she had kept her anger carefully in check and she wondered now at the newfound strength of it. It was the ustuzou that had done that, destroyed her calm and turned her into a creature of intemperate justice. Kerrick and his ustuzou had made her like this. It would not be forgotten. In the future her anger would be kept under control at all times, for all things. Except one. Hatred treasured was hatred that grew strong in a hidden place. One day to be released.

With the working of these thoughts the tension eased and her body was hers again. She looked around and found that she was alone. Erafnais was in the fin above with the crewmembers who were on duty; the rest were comatose and asleep. Vaintè looked toward the place where Enge and her followers had slept and it was just an empty area that meant nothing to her. This was as it should be. She was back in control of her body and her emotions again. There was a movement in the darkness beyond and she could clearly hear the sounds of communication-desired. Only then did she remember the presence of the fat scientist and the male. She approached them.

“Aid a helpless male creature, great Vaintè,” the captive pleaded, squirming in Akotolp’s unyielding grasp.

“I know you from the hanalè,” Vaintè said, amused by the thing’s mewling. “You are Esetta‹ who sings — are you not?”

“Vaintè is first-always because she recalls the name of everything, smallest to highest. But now miserable Esetta‹ has nothing to sing of. The heavy one who now holds me, she pulled me from the hanalè, dragged me through smells and fog that hurt my breathing, half-drowned me on the way to this uruketo, now holds me in her unbreakable grip of great pain. Speak with her I entreat, suggest she release me before death of arm.”

“Why aren’t you dead completely?” Vaintè asked with brutal candor. Esetta‹ recoiled and squealed.

“Oh, great Vaintè — why do you wish this one of no importance dead?”

“I do not, but all the others died. Brave Yilanè of Alpèasak. Cast out by their dead city to die with it.”

Even as she spoke Vaintè felt the crushing wave of fear. They were dead — not she. Why? She had told loyal-dead Stallan that this was because of their hatred of the ustuzou. Was it? Was that reason enough to stay alive when all others died? She looked at Akotolp as these dark thoughts embraced her and realized for the first time what the scientist was experiencing. Doubt-in-life, avoidance-of-death. Akotolp had labored in many cities, so felt no life-destroying loyalty to any single one. But she was scientist enough to know that the death of rejection could be triggered in an instant. That was what her rigid, silent battle was about. By the force of her will she was keeping herself among the living.

This knowledge was a flow of strength to Vaintè. If this fat one could live by will alone then she, with an eistaa’s strength of will could live, survive — and rule once more. Nothing was beyond her!

Before the unseeing eyes of Akotolp, the fear-filled eyes of the male, Vaintè raised clenched thumbs in a forceful gesture of victory, trod strongly with outstretched claws upon the resilient surface. A moan of fear penetrated her consciousness and she looked down with growing pleasure at the cowering Esetta‹: desire came instantly.

She bent and her strong thumbs pried loose the scientist’s grip on the male’s wrist. His repeated sounds of gratitude changed quickly to moans as she pressed him over backward, painfully excited him, mounted him brutally.

Akotolp’s tight-locked muscles never relaxed — but her nearest eye moved slowly to gaze at the entwined couple. Even more slowly her stiff features moved with unreadable expressions.

After this Vaintè welcomed deep sleep, slept comatose until the following morning. When she awoke the first thing that she saw was the fat scientist climbing breathlessly up into the fin. Vaintè looked around but did not see the male; hiding from her without doubt. She moved slightly with humor at the thought, then found herself awake, excited by thought of Esetta‹. The uruketo rolled as it encountered a large wave and a shaft of bright sunlight from the fin illuminated the interior. The sun looked warm and attractive and Vaintè came fully awake, standing, yawning and stretching. The sunlight drew her on and she went to the fin, climbed slowly up to its top. Akotolp stood there, her eyes in the bright sunshine mere vertical slits in her round face. She glanced at Vaintè and acknowledged grateful presence.

“Come bask in the sun, kind Vaintè, to take pleasure while I thank you.”

Vaintè signed acceptance, pleasure — and question of source. Akotolp laced her fat thumbs together in relaxed companionship and spoke.

“I thank you, strong Vaintè, because your example was instrumental in saving my life. The logic of science rules my existence, but I know too well the part the body plays, irrespective of the brain’s control. I know that an eistaa’s command can trigger the metabolic changes in a Yilanè that will cause her certain death. Then I saw, when all died in tragic Alpèasak, that the death of a city could start this response as well. When I realized what was happening I feared for myself, despite my superior knowledge, feared that I too would be mortally stricken. The male’s survival helped. When he remained alive so might I. That is the reason that my hand stayed tight-clamped to him while I fought for survival. Then you came and took him from me and I was aware and vision returned. I saw you magnificently alive, so feminile that I took strength from you and knew that my death was averted. I thank you for my life, strong Vaintè. It is yours to dispose of: I am your fargi and will do as you command.”

At this moment another long wave rocked the uruketo and Akotolp’s ample form fell sideways. Vaintè reached out and took her arms, stopped her from falling, held her and expressed sincere thanks of equal to equal.

“Now it is I who thank you, great Akotolp. I have much to do and a long way to go. I will need aid. I welcome you as my first follower in that which I must accomplish.”

“I take pleasure in that Vaintè, and am yours to command.”

They swayed in unison now as the uruketo rose over a greater wave: a shadow blotted out the sun for an instant. They looked up and Akotolp signed joy-of-vision.

“See there, see how they launch themselves into the air,” Akotolp cried with pleasure. “I have studied these animals. If you examine them you will see that their wingspan is so great, their legs so short, that it is impossible for them to take flight other than from an estuary like this. Here high waves form and march into the wind rather than away from it. So the estekel*, after eating their fill, launch themselves from the crest of the wave into the wind — and are airborne. Wonderful!”

Vaintè did not share the scientist’s enthusiasm for the fish-stinking, fur-matted flying creatures. They dived too close and their shrieking hurt the ears. She left Akotolp there and climbed below and, despite the rocking, fell asleep again. She spent the rest of the voyage this way, comatose and unmoving, was still asleep when Erafnais sent a crewmember to inform her that they had reached their island destination and soon would be coming to Ikhalmenets.

Vaintè climbed the fin to see that the ocean behind them was empty. They had traveled most of the day away from the shores of Entoban* to reach this archipelago, isolated here in the vastness of the sea. They were now passing a large island with a ridge of high mountains in the center of it. The summits were topped by snow, wreathed with clouds and swept by sheets of rain, a grim reminder of the winter that was the enemy of them all. These rocky islands were too far to the north for Vaintè’s liking and she felt chill at the thought, looked forward to leaving just as soon as it was possible.

Or should she? They were coming to sea-girt Ikhalmenets now, the city backed by green jungles, flanked by yellow sand beaches, a high, snow-topped mountain rising above. This was their destination. She looked at the snow-capped peak of the island, stared at it, unmoving, her body rigid, letting the new idea grow and mature. Perhaps coming to Ikhalmenets had been a good thing after all.