Etdeerg caught Vaintè’s eye and came at once at her gesture.
“Have you found what was killing the food animals?” Vaintè asked.
“We have, Eistaa. A large ustuzou, black in color, with deadly claws and long sharp teeth—teeth so long that they project from the creature’s mouth even when the mouth is closed. Stallan had traps set near the opening that it had torn in the fence. We found it there, dead, this morning. It was held by the traps on its legs so it could not flee, while one of them had circled its neck and had strangled the beast.”
“Decapitate it. When the skull is cleaned bring it to me.”
Vaintè signaled dismissal and caught Vanalpè’s attention at the same time. The biologist left the group she was talking to and came to join her.
“You will report on the new beach,” Vaintè said.
“Close to completion, Eistaa. The ground has been cleared, the thorn barrier is high, the coral offshore growing well—considering that it has only been there a short time.”
“Splendid. Then we can look forward to the new births. Births that will wipe away forever all memory of the deaths on the old beach.”
Vanalpè agreed, but also expressed guilty doubt. “Though the beach is ready—it is not safe.”
“Still the same problem?”
“It will be resolved in time. I am working closely with Stallan and we now believe a solution is close to hand. The beasts will be destroyed.”
“They must be. The males will be safe. What happened before will never happen again.”
The dark mood slowly passed as Vaintè talked to others, became involved in the vast work that was the new city. But her thoughts were never far from the hunter. When some time had passed and Stallan had not appeared she signaled to a fargi and ordered her to look for the hunter. It was close to midday before Stallan arrived and joined Vaintè in the leafy shade.
“I bring you good news, Eistaa. The beach will soon be safe.”
“If that is true then the shame of the city is at an end.”
“So are the alligators. We have found where they breed. I have fargi bringing all the eggs here, capturing all the young. They are delicious.”
“I have eaten them and I agree. Then you will raise them with the other meat herds?”
“No, they are too vicious for that. Special pens are being built for them beside the river.”
“Very good. But what are you doing with the fully grown adults?”
“The ones that are too big to trap are being killed. It is a waste of good meat, but we have no choice. Using nocturnal boats we approach them before they stir for the day, then kill them on the spot.”
“Show me where they breed. I wish to see for myself.” Vaintè had had enough of the ambesed. As the heat increased those around her grew torpid and dozed in the shade. But she did not want to rest; there was too much to be done.
A group of fargi followed after them as they walked slowly towards the shore. It was hot even beneath the trees and more than once they sank into the pools that had been dug for cooling purposes beside the path. Most of the swamp that they passed through had not been cleared yet. It was a tangle of heavy undergrowth and plants, foul-smelling, thick with small biting insects. It gave way at last to a sandy shore with dense brush beside it. There was tall grass and small palms, as well as strange, flattened plants each armed with immensely long needles. This land of Gendasi was a very different world from the one they knew. It was filled with an endless variety of new things to see. And to be wary of.
Ahead was the river, a slow-moving and deep stream. The boats were drawn up there and were just being fed by the attendant fargi. Blood trickled from their tiny mouths as the fargi pushed in gobbets of red meat.
“Alligator,” Stallan said. “It is better than wasting it. The boats are so well fed I think they are ready to breed.”
“Then starve them a bit. We need all of them in operating condition now.”
A multitude of trees grew along the riverbanks, rising up in thick profusion. There were gray ones with massive trunks, while close beside them grew high green trees covered with fine needles, as well as even higher red ones with roots arching out in all directions. Between the trees the ground was blanketed with purple and pink flowers, while even more plants grew above them along the branches. Great blooms of many colors. The jungle was bursting with life. Birds cried in its darkness and red-striped snails oozed along the tree trunks.
“It is a rich land,” Vaintè said.
“Entoban* must have been this way at one time,” Stallan said, nostril flaps opened wide as she sniffed the air. “Before the cities spread and covered the land from one ocean to the other.”
“Do you think it was really like that?” Vaintè struggled to understand this new idea. “It is a difficult concept to contain. One always thinks of the cities as having been there since the egg of time.”
“I have talked with Vanalpè about this on more than one occasion. She has explained it to me. What we see here in this new land of Gendasi might very well be what you could have seen in Entoban* at one time very long ago. Before the Yilanè grew the cities.”
“You are right, of course. If we grow our cities there must have been a time when there was but a single city. Which leads to the disconcerting thought that there may have been a time when there were no cities at all. Is such a thing possible?”
“I do not know. You must talk of this to Vanalpè who has mastered such head-disturbing concepts.”
“You are right. I will ask her.” She realized then that the fargi were pressing too close about them, their mouths gaping open as they labored to understand the conversation. Vaintè moved them back with a quick gesture.
They were approaching the alligator breeding grounds, although by this time most of the great creatures had been cleared from the banks. The survivors were wary, sinking into the water and vanishing from sight when the boats appeared. The females were the last to leave, for surprisingly enough these primitive and unintelligent beasts cared for their eggs and their young. Boats were pulled up on the shore ahead where a working party of fargi labored in the sun. They drew up their own boats beside them and Vaintè turned to the supervisor, Zhekakot, who watched from the shelter of a large tree.
“Tell me of your work,” Vaintè said.
“Much progress is being made, Eistaa. Two boatloads of eggs have been sent to the city. We are netting all the young we can. They are very stupid and easy to catch.”
She leaned over the pen at her side and made a quick grab, then straightened up, holding out at arm’s length the baby alligator suspended by its tail. It twisted and hissed and tried to reach her with its tiny teeth.
Vaintè nodded approval. “Good, very good. A menace removed and our stomachs full. I wish all of our problems had such an agreeable solution.” She turned to Stallan. “Are there other breeding grounds?”
“None between this place and the city. When we have cleared here we will work upriver and out into the swamps. It will take time, but it must be thorough.”
“Good. Now we will look at the new fields before we return to the city.”
“I must return to the other hunters, Eistaa. Zhekakot will be able to show you the way if that is agreeable.”
“Agreeable,” Vaintè said.
The air had become wonderfully stifling hot as the wind died away completely. The boats pulled out into the river and Vaintè noticed that the sky had an odd yellow color to it that she had never seen before. Even the weather was different here in this strange part of the world. As they moved back downstream the wind began to rise again—but it had changed direction and was blowing from behind them. Vaintè twisted about and saw the dark line that had appeared on the horizon. She pointed.
“Zhekakot, what is the significance of that?”
“I do not know. Clouds of some kind. I have never seen anything like it before.”
The black clouds rushed towards them at unbelievable speed. One moment
they had just been a smear above the trees, then they rose up, came closer, darkening the sky. And with them came the wind. It struck like a sudden fist and one of the boats, caught sideways, overturned.
There were cries, suddenly cut off, as its occupants were hurled into the choppy water. The boat dived and splashed and managed to right itself, while the Yilanè in the water swam away in all directions to avoid the boat’s thrashing. None of them appeared to be injured as, with great difficulty, they were dragged from the choppy water and helped aboard the other boats. All were many years from the oceans of their youth and swam awkwardly. Vaintè shouted instructions until one of the more adventurous fargi, eager for higher status even if it meant risking injury, swam over to the still agitated boat and managed to clamber aboard. She spoke to it sharply, kicking it in a tender spot, and finally managed to get it back under control.
The wind howled viciously about them, threatening to swamp the other boats. All of the Yilanè now had their membranes drawn over their eyes and their nostril flaps closed against the driving rain. Then, audible even over the screaming wind, was the sound of a great crackling from the forest as a giant tree blew down, taking smaller ones with it.
Vaintè’s voice could not be heard above the wind, but they understood her instructions to keep the boats away from the river banks lest they be crushed by any more falling trees.
The boats bobbed wildly in the breaking waves; the Yilanè huddling close together in an attempt to keep warm under the cold, driving rain. It seemed a very long time before the wind began to be gusty, then lessened a slight bit. The worst of the storm appeared to have passed.
“Back to the city!” Vaintè ordered. “As fast as possible.”
The unbelievable wind had torn a track through the jungle, toppling even the largest trees. How widespread was this destruction? Had the wind struck the city? It must have. And the trees that formed the city were still young, still growing. But were they well-rooted? How much damage might have occurred! It was a terrifying thought yet one that could not be escaped. Vaintè had a terrible vision of destruction before her eyes as she kicked her boat into ever greater speed.
Stallan held the bound animal by the neck as she released the trap that secured its kicking limbs, then dropped it into the cage. So intent had she been on this operation that she did not notice the change in the weather until she straightened up. Her nostril flaps opened as she sniffed at the air. Something was familiar—and wrong. She had been with the first exploring party that had crossed the ocean to Gendasi, when they came seeking a site for the new city. When they had agreed on the shores of Alpèasak she had been one of the group that had remained behind when the uruketo had returned to Inegban*. They were armed and strong and well aware of the dangers hidden in the unexplored jungle. But it was the unknown danger that had almost destroyed them, wiping out their supplies of food and forcing them to either hunt or starve. It had been a storm of wind and rain of a ferocity they had never known before.
And it had begun in just this manner with yellow sky, the air unmoving and close. Stallan sealed the animal cage and called out “Danger!” as loud as she could. All the nearby fargi spun about at the sound, for it was one of the first words they learned.
“You, to the ambesed, you others spread out. Tell everyone. A storm with high winds is almost here. To the beaches, open fields, the water—away from the trees!”
They ran, none faster than Stallan. As the first gusts of wind hit, Yilanè by the hundreds were hurrying to safety in the open. Then the storm struck with its full fury and the driving sheets of rain hid the city from sight.
Stallan found a group of fargi huddled together on the riverbank and she pushed in among them to escape the cold rain. They stayed like that as the wind burst upon them, some of the younger ones hissing with fear until Stallan’s sharp command silenced them. Stallan’s authority kept them there while the storm raged about them, forcing them to wait until it had passed before she ordered them back into the city.
When Vaintè’s tired boat drifted up the debris-strewn shore Stallan was there waiting for her. Long before words could be spoken she signaled that things were good. Not perfect, but good.
“Tell me of the damage,” Vaintè called out as she jumped ashore.
“Two fargi dead and . . .”
Vaintè silenced her with an angry gesture. “The city, not the citizens.”
“Nothing major has been reported yet. A good deal of minor damage, branches torn down, some parts of the city blown to the ground. Fargi have been sent to inspect the new fields and the herds but none have returned yet.”
“Far better than I hoped. Reports will be coming to the ambesed.”
The damage was obvious as they pushed their way through the city. The living roofing had blown down in many places and the walkways were strewn with the broad leaves. There was a wailing from a foodpen as they passed and Stallan saw that one of the deer had broken its leg in panic during the storm. A single dart from her ever-present hèsotsan silenced it.
“It is bad, but not as bad as it could have been,” Vaintè said. “This is a strong city and growing well. Will the windstorm strike again?”
“Probably not—at least not until next year. There is wind and rain at other times, but only at this time of year does the windstorm blow.”
“A year is all that we need. The damage will be repaired and Vanalpè will see that all the growth is strengthened. This new world is cruel and hard—but we can be just as cruel and hard.”
“It will be as you say, Eistaa,” Stallan said, and her words were not simple agreement but were strongly colored with the knowledge that Vaintè meant exactly what she said—and would accomplish what she set out to do.
At any cost.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Alpèasak grew—and healed its wounds at the same time. For days Vanalpè and her assistants had clambered about the city making careful records of the damage done by the storm. Hormone applications speeded the new growth until the roofing leaves spread their overlapping patterns anew, while additional tree trunks and aerial roots strengthened the walls. But simple rebuilding was not enough for Vanalpè. Sturdy vines, tough and elastic, now twined up through the walls and across the roofing.
Not only was the city stronger, but it was growing safer with every passing day as the cleared fields bit into the surrounding jungle. This expansion, although it looked haphazard, was silent and efficient, carefully planned. The most dangerous part, the spreading of the larvae in wild jungle, was done by the Daughters of Death. Though they were protected from most of the wild creatures by armed fargi, there was no protection from bruises and accidents, wounds from the thorns—or snakebite from the serpents hidden there. Many were injured, some radically, a few died. The city was as uncaring as Vaintè at their fate. The city came first.
Once the larvae had been sown the death of the jungle was certain. The voracious caterpillars that emerged had been crafted for this single purpose. Birds and animals found their taste bitter and repellent; the caterpillars found all vegetable matter to their liking. Blind and insatiable they crawled up the tree trunks and through the grass, destroying everything in their path. Only the skeletons of trees remained after they had passed while the ground was foul with their droppings. As they ate they grew until the repulsive, bristle-covered creatures were as long as a Yilanè arm.
And then they died, for death was there waiting in their genes, carefully planted to assure that these creatures did not devour the world. They died and rotted into the bed of their own excreta. The cunning design of Vanalpè and the other gene engineers was evident even here. Nematode worms were already turning the repulsive mass into fertilized soil, aided by the bacteria in their gut. Even before the beetles had devoured the dead trees, grass had been sown and the thorn barriers planted. A new field had been eaten from the jungle, pushing it further away from the city, forming yet another barrier to the dangers hidden there.
Yet there was nothing un
natural or harsh about this slow advance. The Yilanè lived as one with their surroundings, were part of the environment and inextricably entwined with it: anything else would have been unthinkable. The fields themselves had no regularity of plan or design. Their shapes and sizes depended only upon the resistance of the foliage and the appetite of the caterpillars. The thornbushes formed a protecting barrier of varying thickness while many patches of the original jungle still remained to add variety to the landscape.
The grazing herds were just as varied. Each time the uruketo returned from Inegban* it brought fertilized eggs or newly born young. The more defenseless species were in the fields nearest the city center, the original fields where the urukub and onetsensast had grown to maturity. These armored—but placid—omnivores now grazed in mindless security at the jungle’s edge, twice the size of a mammoth and still growing, their great horns and armored hides rendering them immune to all dangers.
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