Winter in Eden

CHAPTER SIX

Vaintè looked at the activity in the port with great interest. Up until this moment Ikhalmenets had just been a name to her, sea-girt Ikhalmenets, almost always expressed that way and now she could see why. Ikhalmenets had grown along a curving natural harbor — the reason for the city’s existence. All of the other islands in this group were rocky and barren. But not this one. It lay on the shore, at the base of the high mountain that caught the moist winds, cooled them to cloud as they rose up, until heavily burdened they released their moisture as snow and rain. The snow tipped white the mountain top while the rain ran down the slopes until it was funneled into the city.

But Ikhalmenets was more of the sea than of the land. Uruketo lined the shore, mixing with the smaller fishing boats heavy-laden with their catch. Erafnais called down instructions to guide the uruketo through the rush to a berth at the dock. Vaintè stood aside as the crewmembers climbed down from the fin and made the creature secure.

“All to remain on board,” Erafnais ordered as she prepared to leave. Vaintè listened, then was careful to express no antipathy when she spoke.

“Is your order addressed to me as well, commander?”

Erafnais was immobile with thought; then she spoke. “I do not wish wild accounts of what occurred in Alpèasak to be spread through the city. I will talk with the Eistaa first and await her commands. But you — I cannot command you Vaintè. I can only ask you to…”

“The need to ask is superfluous/close-to-insult, commander.”

“Never my intent!”

“That I realize, so no insult is taken. Vaintè does not gossip in the ambesed.”

There was a wheezing behind them as Akotolp pulled her bulk to the top of the fin, laboring even harder as she hauled the protesting Esetta‹ after her. She signed dutiful-request to Erafnais.

“It is required that I relieve myself of the burden of this male creature. Your discussion was overhead, so take my assurance that in the doing of this labor in the city none shall hear from me of Alpèasak’s destruction.”

“It will be my duty to aid you,” Vaintè said. “The male shall proceed between us to the hanalè. This will cause the least amount of disturbance/attraction among the fargi.”

“I am in Vaintè’s debt,” Akotolp said with pleasure-of-gratitude. “A single male is a sight rarely seen. I do not wish to arouse unseemly emotions.”

Erafnais turned her back, closed her mind on the matter. The stories would get out soon enough, though not from Vaintè and the scientist. But her crewmembers would be quick to gossip. Before this happened she had to seek out Lanefenuu, the Eistaa of Ikhalmenets, to report everything that she knew, everything that she had seen. It was a burden for an eistaa not for her and she yearned to be free of it.

While Akotolp climbed slowly down, Vaintè waited on the scarred wood of the dockside, her nostril flaps open wide to the drifting smells of the city, almost forgotten during the days at sea. Pungent odor of fish, warm breath of fargi, hints of decay from the undergrowth, while over it all lay the lush embrace of the growing city itself. Unexpected pleasure to be ashore moved through her body.

“Truly felt, Vaintè, and I share your emotion,” Akotolp said as she came wide-mouthed to her side. Esetta‹, held firmly by the wrist, looked around at the city with interest — though he shied away with quick fear when Vaintè took his other arm. Vaintè felt pleasure at this reaction and squeezed both of her thumbs together harder than she need. In this way they proceeded toward the main avenue leading into Ikhalmenets. Fargi turned to look at them with eye-widened interest and soon joined together and walked in a train behind. Vaintè examined her followers with one backward-turned eye, then signalled for attention.

“Whichever of you is with perfection-of-speaking and knowledge-of-city come forward.”

There was a milling about as the gap-mouth youngsters in front pushed back with fear of confrontation. They were shoved aside by an older fargi.

“From one below to her highest with male attached. I have some knowledge and wish to be of aid.”

“You know where the hanalè is?”

“The location is known to me.”

“Lead us.”

The fargi, swollen with importance, waddled quickly to the fore and the procession wound its way along the avenue. Large boughs overhung it, providing protection from the sun, but the cool north wind made the sun desirable. They proceeded along the sunlit strip to one side, to a great structure with a sealed door. Two fargi, holding dried and preserved hèsotsan as symbols of their status, stood before it.

“Summon the esekasak who is in charge of all affairs here,” Vaintè ordered. The guards writhed with inferior confusion until Vaintè snapped a clarification to the command.

“That one will go; that one will remain on guard.”

The esekasak radiated lack-of-knowledge of arrival and willingness-to-obey when she appeared and saw them waiting. Vaintè, every movement of her body demanding obedience and respect, addressed her.

“Here is a new male for your loyal protection. We will bring him into the entrance for you.”

Once inside, with the heavy door closed behind them, they could not be overheard.

“This is what must be done,” Vaintè said. “This is Esetta‹ and he has just crossed the ocean from a far city. He is tired and needs rest. He also needs privacy-without-end until your eistaa commands different. You will bring his meat and he will speak only to you. If you are asked who issued these orders, you will say that Vaintè has done this. Do you understand?”

“Great Vaintè crossed the ocean to be eistaa in a distant city,” Akotolp said, humbly and proudly, deliberately speaking of things past in such a manner a listener might consider them things present as well. Vaintè appreciated the adroit assistance.

“As Vaintè has ordered — so shall it be,” the esekasak said instantly, signalled request for permission to leave, then took Esetta‹ away as soon as she received it. Esetta‹ knew better than to express the hatred and fear of the recent events that he felt, instead he looked about at the warm security of the hanalè and let his motions show pleasure-at-arrival — which was certainly true enough.

There was still a small crowd of fargi waiting outside; nothing new had caught their attention and they waited dimly at the site of their last interesting observation. The older one who had led them here stood to one side, signing respective obedience when Vaintè looked her way. Vaintè waved her over.

“Your name?”

“Melikelè. Is low one permitted to know identity of high one who is speaking?”

“This is Vaintè,” Akotolp said, making sure that all the highest marks of respect were associated with the name.

“Do you wish to follow me, Melikelè?” Vaintè asked.

“Wherever the path goes; I am your fargi.”

“To the place of eating first. Then I wish to know more of this city.”

Akotolp had seen Vaintè’s radiant leadership before, yet respected it anew. In this city on a rock in the sea, where she had never set foot before — she still commanded instant obedience. And she spoke of food, excellent idea. Akotolp snapped her jaws together loudly at the thought.

Melikelè led the way back down the hillside to the shore, and along it to an enclosure beside the beach. Since it was not the usual time for eating, the open area under the translucent cover was empty. Tanks lined the wall and the attendant fargi were pulling large fish from them, slicing them with string-knives, gutting and cleaning them and putting the resultant slabs of meat into enzyme solutions.

“A waste,” Akotolp pronounced. “For hundred-year-old nenitesk steaks this treatment might be needed — not for fish. Let me see what they have in the tanks. Small Crustacea, delightful when fresh — behold!”

She seized a large one between her thumbs, snapped off its head and limbs and shelled it in one practiced movement, popped it into her mouth and chewed with pleasure. Vaintè cared little for the food she ate and took a slab of fish on a leaf instead. Melikelè did the same as soon as Vaintè had turned away.

Akotolp muttered to herself with happiness while a mound of discarded husks grew at her feet. Radiating pleasure-with-eating she took no notice of the fargi working around her, or of the Yilanè who emerged from an adjoining structure. Who looked at her, then looked again more closely, who then approached.

“Passing of time — ending of separation,” the newcomer said excitedly. “You are Akotolp, you must be Akotolp, there is but one Akotolp.”

Akotolp looked up in amazement, a fragment of white flesh caught on her mouth, the nictitating membranes of her eyes fluttering with surprise.

“A voice familiar, a face familiar — can that be you, thinner-then-ever Ukhereb?”

“Fatter-as-always, years-since-parting.”

Vaintè watched with interest as Akotolp and the newcomer laced thumbs in the affectionate embrace of efenselè, though the gesture contained a modifier that slightly altered that relationship.

“Vaintè, this is Ukhereb. Though we are not of the same efenburu we are as close as efenselè. We grew together, studied and learned with ancient Ambalasi, she who was old as the egg of time, who knew everything.”

“My greetings to you, Vaintè, and welcome to sea-girt Ikhalmenets. Friend-of-friend is doubly welcome. Now away from this public place to my private one of great comfort for pleasure-of-eating there.”

They passed through the adjoining laboratory, Akotolp making a great fuss over all of the equipment, and on to the comfortable chamber beyond. Soft places to lie or sit, decorative hangings around them to relax the eye. Vaintè did just that, leaning back and listening to the two scientists as they talked. She was patient and waited until the conversation left the area of old associates and new discoveries, until Ukhereb asked a more pointed question.

“I have heard that you were in Alpèasak, when all of Inegban‹ went there. I have read of some of the research carried out, the abundance of new species discovered — what a wealth of joy-in-discovery it must have been! But now you are here in Ikhalmenets. Why travel here to our islands when you had a continent of discovery at your feet?”

Akotolp did not answer, but instead turned to Vaintè for aid. Vaintè silenced her with a gesture of understanding and desire-to-aid before Akotolp could request her assistance.

“Unspeakable things have happened, Ukhereb, and Akotolp hesitates to tell you of them. It is my desire to answer your question if it is permitted, since I was a part of everything that happened. This is what occurred.”

Vaintè spoke in the simplest manner, without elaboration or asides; told the scientist, to her growing horror, of the destruction of distant Alpèasak. When she was done Ukhereb emitted a cry of pain and briefly shielded her eyes with her forearm in the childish gesture of unwillingness-to-behold.

“I cannot bear to think of the things that you have told me — and you have lived through them with strength incredible. What is to be done, to be done?” She swayed from side to side slowly, again a juvenile gesture of being moved without thought by strong currents of water.

“Your eistaa is now being informed of events tragic-beyond-understanding. When this has been done I shall confer with her. But you, Ukhereb, you should not be disturbed by events since-finished. We will talk of other things, objects of beauty, consideration of which will ease your pain. Such as the mountain on this island, black rock pinnacled with white snow. Most attractive. Is there always snow upon the summit?”

Ukhereb signed fear-of-novelty. “In the past it was unknown; now the snow on the mountain does not melt at all. Our winters are cold and windy, summer very short. That is why I expressed double-pain at destruction in distant Gendasi. There was hope of our salvation there as well. Cities have died — and Ikhalmenets grows cold. Now there is fear where before there was hope.”

“Hope cannot be destroyed — and the future will be bright!” Vaintè spoke with such enthusiasm and such assurance of happiness that both Akotolp and Ukhereb were warmed by the strength of her spirit.

Of course she was happy. Vague ideas were turning into positive plans. The details would become clear soon, and then she would be certain of just what must be done.

Not so Enge. For a Daughter of Life, death seemed too close to her, too often.

They had left the uruketo at dawn, had not been seen as they climbed the fin and slipped easily into the water from the creature’s back. But the seas had been heavy, waves broke over their heads and forced them under. It had been a long and exhausting swim to shore. The uruketo had vanished behind them in the dawn mists and they had been alone. At first they called out to each other, but only at first. After that they needed all of their strength to reach the beckoning sands. Enge, fearful for her companions, had pulled herself through the breakers first, had found the strength to go back into the waves and drag out one wet form after another. Until they were stretched on the sand in the warmth of the sun.

All except one. Now Enge splashed helplessly through the surf, first in one direction then the other, but the one she sought had never come ashore. Kind Akel, strong Akel, eaten by the ocean.

Then the others pulled her back, touched her with understanding and made her rest while they looked. To no avail. The sea was empty, Akel vanished forever.

Enge finally found the strength to sit up, then to stand, to brush the sand from her skin with tired movements. Before her the water stirred and foamed; small heads of an immature efenburu looked out at her, vanished with fright when she moved. Even this delightful sight did not penetrate the blackness of her despair. Yet it did distract her, bring her to herself, make her realize that the others depended upon her and that her duty was to the living, not the dead. She looked along the sand to the distant outline of Yebèisk at the ocean’s edge.

“You must go to the city,” she said. “You must mix with the fargi and lose yourselves among them. You must move with caution and remember always the terrible lessons that we learned in deadly Gendasi. Many of our sisters died there, but their deaths may still have some meaning if we have learned our lessons well. Learned how Ugunenapsa saw the truth clearly, spoke it clearly, gave it to us. Some were weak and did not understand. But now we know that Ugunenapsa spoke the complete truth. We have the knowledge — but what shall we do with it?”

“Share it with others!” Efen said with joy-of-tomorrow expressed with great feeling. “That is our mission — and it will not fail.”

“We must never forget that. But I must consider carefully how to go about doing that. I will find a place to rest — and to think. I will wait there for your return.”

With silent movements of agreement and perseverance they touched thumbs lightly. Then turned and with Enge leading went toward the city.