Winter in Eden

by Harry Harrison

  Vaintè was beside the uruketo’s commander, on the summit of the fin, when they swam into the harbor of Ikhalmenets. With ponderous grace the great creature passed the row of other uruketo to reach its own place beside the docks. The enteesenat tore ahead in a torrent of foam seeking their reward. A small wave slapped off the wooden dockside, washing across the uruketo’s back, then it was close and secured. Vaintè looked down into the fin and signed to a crewmember in the uruketo below.

  “High-ranked Akotolp, presence desired.”

  Vaintè glared out at the barren dockside and hid her displeasure in immobility while she waited for the scientist. The Eistaa was aware that Vaintè was returning. She had sent for Vaintè and knew that she was aboard this uruketo. Yet none awaited her on the dock, no one of rank to receive her. If not an insult it was surely a warning. One that Vaintè did not need had made no secret of her feeling about the way the conflict with the ustuzou was going. There was much wheezing and panting from below, heard well before Akotolp appeared.

  “Such a climb,” the fat scientist complained. “Travel by uruketo discomfort-making.”

  “You will go with me to the eistaa?”

  “With pleasure, strong Vaintè. To give what aid and support that I can.” She rolled one eye to the commander, saw her back turned as she supervised the docking, before she spoke again. “Take strength from the knowledge that you have only done as you were ordered. Never did fargin or Yilanè ever err by following orders.”

  Vaintè expressed gratitude-for-understanding, then added, “I wish it were that easy, good Akotolp. But I command the forces so must take responsibility for any failures. Come.”

  That they were expected was obvious when they reached the ambesed. The Eistaa was there, sitting in her place of honor with her advisers grouped behind her. But the great open space was empty, the sandy floor smoothed and patterned. When they walked across it toward Lanefenuu they left a double row of footprints. Lanefenuu sat upright and immobile as they approached. Only when they had stopped before her and signed loyalty and attention did she turn and fix Vaintè with a cold gaze.

  “There has been failure and death, Vaintè, failure and death.”

  Vaintè shaped her limbs into respect to superiority as she spoke. “Death, agreed, Eistaa. Good Yilanè have died. But there has been no failure. The attack continues.”

  Lanefenuu angered at once. “You do not call the destruction of an entire force a failure?”

  “I do not. In this world it is eat or be eaten, Eistaa, you of all Yilanè know that. We have been bitten by the ustuzou—but we live on to consume them alive. I told you that they were a dangerous enemy and I never said that there would not be losses.”

  “You indeed told me that. But you neglected then to put a number to the Yilanè corpses, to give me a count of the tarakast and uruktop dead. I am very displeased, Vaintè.”

  “I bow before your wrath, strong Lanefenuu. Everything that you say is correct. I neglected to give you a number for those who will die. I give it to you now, Eistaa.”

  Vaintè threw her arms wide in the gesture of totality, speaking the name of this great city.

  “Ikhalmenets will die, all will die, this will be a city of death. You are doomed.”

  Lanefenuu’s advisers wailed in agony at the terror of her speech, followed her pointing finger to the great mountain, the extinct volcano that soared about the island, seeing but not wanting to see the snow that glistened there.

  “Winter is coming, Eistaa, winter without end. Each winter the snow is lower on the mountain. One day soon it will reach this city and never melt again. All who remain here will die.”

  “You speak above yourself,” Lanefenuu cried out, jumping to her feet with a gesture of great anger.

  “I speak only the truth, great Lanefenuu, Eistaa of Ikhalmenets, leader of her Yilanè. Death comes. Ikhalmenets must go to the land of Gendasi* before that disaster happens. I labor only to save this city. Like you I sorrow at the death of our sisters and our beasts. But some must fall so that all may live.”

  “Why? We have Alpèasak. Your reports tell me that it grows well and soon Ikhalmenets will be able to go to Alpèasak. If that is so—what need for all these deaths?”

  “The need is to destroy the ustuzou. There must be a final solution to their threat. As long as they live they are a danger. You will remember that once they destroyed and occupied Alpèasak. That must never happen again.”

  Anger still shaped Lanefenuu’s body. Yet she carefully considered what Vaintè had said before she spoke. Akotolp took advantage of the momentary silence to step forward.

  “Great Lanefenuu, Eistaa of sea-girt Ikhalmenets, may I speak to you of what has been accomplished, what still remains to be done to bring Ikhalmenets to Entoban*?”

  Lanefenuu grew angry at the interruption, then stilled her feelings as she realized that anger would accomplish nothing this day. Vaintè did not tremble with fear before her as the others did—nor did this fat Yilanè of science. She sat back and signed Akotolp to speak.

  “There are only so many ways for an animal to attack, for a disease to kill. After each infection a good scientist determines the cause and finds the remedy. Once used, any particular attack on us will never succeed again. The ustuzou burnt our city—so now we grow cities that cannot be burned. The ustuzou attacked us at night in the concealment of darkness. Strong lights now reveal them, our darts and vines kill them.”

  Lanefenuu rejected past successes with a gesture of disdain. “It is not a history lesson that I need but a victory.”

  “You will have that, Eistaa, for it is inevitable. Attack and flee, bite and run is the bestial ustuzou way. Slow growth, inevitable success is the Yilanè.”

  “Too slow!”

  “Fast enough with victory inevitable.”

  “I see no victories in the deaths of my Yilanè.”

  “We learn. It will not happen again.”

  “What have you learned? I know only that surrounded by impassable defenses they died, all of them.”

  Akotolp signed agreement—but added strength-of-intelligence as well. “Stupid fargi may panic and run and talk of ustuzou of invisibility. That is the talk of ignorance. Science holds no secrets that cannot be unearthed through diligence and application. What an ustuzou can do, I can fathom. I made an examination, then used trained beasts with keen noses to track the ustuzou. I found where they had approached the laager, discovered the route they had used when they left.”

  The Eistaa was intrigued and paying close attention, her anger forgotten for the moment. Vaintè knew just what Akotolp was doing and was grateful.

  “You found how they came, how they left,” Lanefenuu said. “But how did they attack and kill—did you discover that?”

  “Of course, Eistaa, for bestial ustuzou must always fall before Yilanè science. The ustuzou observed that our forces always made laager in the same places. So, before the attacking force arrived, they burrowed like the animals they are into the ground and lay in wait. How simple. They did not come to us—we went to them. During the darkness of night they burst out and killed.”

  Lanefenuu was astonished. “They did that? They have that intelligence? So simple—yet so deadly.”

  “They have a bestial intelligence that we must never underestimate. Nor will this manner of attack ever succeed again. Our forces will stop at night in different locations. They will have creatures with them to smell out and discover hidden enemy, hidden entrances and burrows.”

  Lanefenuu had forgotten her anger as she listened, and Vaintè took advantage of her mood.

  “The time has come, Eistaa, to turn our backs on the snowy mountain and look instead at the golden beaches. Alpèasak has been cleared not only of the ustuzou but of all the deadly growths that drove them out. The defenses have been regrown and resown with plants that cannot burn. The ustuzou have retreated a great distance and between them and the city are our forces. The time is upon us to return to Alpèasak. It will be
a Yilanè city once again.”

  Lanefenuu was on her feet at this welcome news, raking her claws victoriously into the ground. “Then we leave, we are safe!”

  Vaintè lifted both rose-hued restraining palms. “It is the beginning—but not yet the end. Aid is needed to make the city secure, to assist its growth. But there is not yet food enough for the multitude of a city. But it is a beginning. You can send one uruketo of Yilanè and skilled fargi, two at most.”

  “A few drops where I wished for an ocean,” Lanefenuu said with some bitterness. “Let it be so. But what of the ustuzou, what of them?”

  “Consider them dead, Eistaa, put them from your thoughts. Akotolp needs some supplies, I will have more fargi. Then we leave. There will be no final clash of arms but rather a slow and inevitable tightening as a great serpent tightens about its victim. Though the victim may struggle—the end is unescapable. When I come to you next it will be to report this final victory.”

  Lanefenuu sat back and chewed on this concept, her conical teeth grinding lightly in echo of her thoughts. Everything was taking too long, too many were dead. But was there another way? Who could replace Vaintè? No one—that was an easy question to answer. No one else had her knowledge of the ustuzou. Or her hatred. She made mistakes, but they were not fatal mistakes. The ustuzou must be pursued and destroyed, she was convinced of that now. They were too poisonous to be allowed to live. Vaintè would accomplish that destruction. As her left eye looked at Vaintè her right eye rolled slowly up to look at the snow-topped mountain peak. This winter was the first time ever that the deadly white had reached all the way down to the edge of the green trees. They must leave before it reached the city itself. There was no choice.

  “Go, Vaintè,” she ordered, signing her dismissal. “Take what you need and pursue the ustuzou. I do not wish to see you again until you bring me word of their destruction.” Then her anger burst out again. “If they are not dead you will die in their place, that I pledge. Do you understand me?”

  “Completely, Eistaa.” Vaintè drew herself up and radiated strength and certainty. “I would not have it any other way. I see it clearly. If they do not die—I will. That is my assurance to you. My life. I promise you no less in your cause.”

  Lanefenuu signed acceptance and grudging admiration. Vaintè would do what must be done.

  Vaintè took this acceptance as dismissal, turned and strode away with Akotolp puffing after her, hurrying to keep up as Vaintè walked faster and faster. Hurrying to her destiny.

  Her victory.

  Nangeguavoq sitkasiagpai.

  PARAMUTAN SAYING

  The destination is of no importance, only the voyage.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Once the decision had been made, some of the madness left Kerrick’s eyes. It had been the unresolvable internal conflict that was tearing him apart. On one hand he and Armun were safe—while across the ocean the sammads of the Tanu and Sasku were under sentence of death. The better off that he was—the worse their position became. He blamed himself for this impossible situation, saw Vaintè as the spirit of death that he alone had released. He knew, without any doubt, that she was pursuing her course of destruction only to kill him. He was the responsible one. And he had fled. Only now had he stopped running. Like a trapped beast he was turning to attack. And, like that beast, he never considered for an instant whether he would live or die. He knew only that he had to lash out, to tear and rend.

  It was Armun who saw all too clearly the certain price of failure. When she watched him poring over his charts she wished that there were another way. There was none, she knew that. They must sail south into the unknown. Either that or stay here until he went mad. He was happy now, even smiling as he compared the charts, traced out the course that they must take. Although the future was dark and unknown, Armun was satisfied with her decision. Kerrick had filled her empty life, taken her from exile, from a life that was no life at all. He was not like the other hunters, could do things they could not do. He had led and they had followed him to victory against the murgu. But once the city had been taken they had rejected him. She knew all about rejection. Now, where he led she would follow. A small army of one. No, two really, she must not forget the little Paramutan hunter who saw wisdom in madness, sailed willingly into the blizzards of the arctic winter.

  Kalaleq was indeed very happy. He sang hunting songs to himself as he went over the boat’s sail stitch by stitch, sewing in more gut if there was any sign of weakness. He had done the same with the hull, checking and caulking. The first part of the journey south would be the most trying and every precaution must be taken before they left. Food stowed and lashed firmly into position—and the same for the waterskins. He knew full well what the fury of the winter storms could do. There would be two pumps instead of one for if they foundered they were lost. What fun! He laughed aloud as he worked, pretending not to see the jealous and envying looks of the others. What a voyage it would be!

  Even when all of the preparations were complete they had to wait, for now in the depths of winter, the winds blew their worst, banking the snow outside the paukaruts and screaming continuously overhead. Now they could only wait. Some of Kerrick’s dark mood returned with every day’s delay and he fought to control it, knowing that nothing could be done. The work completed Kalaleq slept and harbored his strength. Armun remained calm, resigned, and this had a salutary affect on Kerrick. They would leave when the weather permitted.

  When Kerrick woke he knew at once that something was very different. The shrieking wind that had torn at the paukarut for endless days was gone. Everything was still. Kalaleq was ahead of him, opening the lashings to admit the bright sunshine.

  “What weather! How good!”

  “Then we leave?”

  “Now, soon, at once, no delay! The spirit of the wind has told us we must go at once while he is resting. He will not rest long, and we must try to be across the bay of storms before he returns. To the boat!”

  With the end of the blizzard everyone knew that the long-delayed voyage would now begin. The paukaruts emptied, and the shouting, laughing mob converged on the boat. It was lifted clear of the snow and rushed to the ocean’s edge. Waves still broke in a cloud of spray and rushed far up the slanting length of the flensing ledge. There was much loud argument as to the best manner of launching, but agreement was quickly reached. Ready volunteers hauled the boat into the surf, laughing and shouting at the cold soaking, held it there in the crashing waves. Still others seized up the three voyagers, sat them on their shoulders to keep them dry, then staggered forward into the water. The instant they were aboard Kalaleq raised the sail as willing hands pushed them into the breaking waves. As the boat surged forward the helpers were tumbled over by the heavy surf and washed ashore, laughing until they were exhausted. Armun watched with amazement; she would never understand these strange, furry hunters.

  With the prevailing wind from the west they had to tack very often to make any progress to the south and west. Kalaleq knew that the coast to the south of them ran from east to west and they would never turn the headland west of the bay if they allowed themselves to be carried toward the land. Watching both the sail and the sky he took the bobbing, tiny craft on a course that should keep them well clear of the shore.

  Seasickness struck Armun almost at once and she lay sprawled, damp-skinned under her fur covers. Kerrick seemed unaffected by the swooping rush through the waves and helped with the lines whenever they had to go about. He was smiling too, even laughing like the Paramutan while the spray froze on his hair and beard. Kalaleq shared his enthusiasm and only Armun seemed to understand the risks they were taking, the utter insanity of the voyage. But it was far too late to return, far too late.

  The good weather held for the best part of two days, fair winds and clear sky. When the storms returned they were not as fierce as they had previously been. They sailed on for three days more before the ice on the rigging became so heavy that they had to go ashore to clear
it away. They pulled the boat far up on the sand of a small beach, hacked at the ice until they were soaked and chilled, then huddled close to the fire Kerrick made, teeth chattering, their soaked clothing steaming and charring as they tried to dry it.

  They had passed the murgu base during the storm, had seen nothing of it, nor did they expect to find any of the heat-loving creatures in these cold northern seas at this time of year. But with each day’s voyage south there was an improvement in the weather. The storms seemed to have lost a good deal of their fury as the tiny craft moved slowly, ever southward, along the rocky coast.

  It was foggy at dawn and a thin rain soaked them, chilling them more than the cold dry winds of the north. Kerrick stood in the bow peering as well as he could at the shore. A rocky headland rose above the fog ahead and they moved swiftly toward it, swept forward by wind and current. Kerrick looked from chart to land, chewing nervously on his lip. It must be, there seemed little doubt. He turned quickly and called out to Kalaleq.

  “Put her over, take a heading as far west as you can. I am sure that we are coming close to Genaglè, the current is fierce there, rushing into the other sea.”

  “Are we there? This is wonderful!” Kalaleq shouted aloud and laughed as he pushed the tiller over, secured it then rushed to adjust the sail. “Oh that I should see this, a whole new world—filled with murgu. Will the murgu be sailing in this sea now?”

  “I don’t think so, not this time of year. But after we cross the mouth of Genaglè we will come to the great continent of Entoban* where it is always warm. There we must be careful.”