Vaintè paused. Until this moment she had not thought of what would happen after she had reached the city. Getting to this place, that is what had concerned her, the swimming, walking. She had known that a city must be north along the coast, knew that she must reach it. Now what?

What city was this? Who was the eistaa? She knew nothing, was as stupid as any fargi emerging from the sea. Looking back towards the ocean she saw an uruketo moving towards the harbor, small boats returning from fishing. A rich city, for all cities were rich. Fish and meat for the eating. Meat. She had not tasted it, not even thought about it during the timeless dark period that had passed. When she thought of it now she felt the taste of it in her mouth and wiped her tongue along her teeth. She would enter this city and eat. Then look at it, understand it, discover it. Just as any fargi would do. She would do the same. The paths all led to the city and she took the most direct one.

There were crowds of fargi ahead, then a file of them carrying bundles, two Yilanè walking behind, talking. Vaintè understood some of it as they passed and yearned to hear more. But first she must eat; she felt saliva on her lips as she thought of cool, jellied meat; she licked them dry. A group of fargi was coming towards her. She stopped in their path and they shuffled to a stop as well, gaped at her.

“Are you yilanè? Which of you speaks/understands?”

They moved aside, looking towards a larger fargi to the rear who signed small comprehension.

“Food. You understand food?”

“Eat food. Eat good.”

They were all plump, all eating well-and now it was her turn.

“We eat. You go. We eat.”

“Food, food,” the other fargi muttered excitedly. They may have just eaten, it made no difference. They were animated at the thought.

“Food,” the slightly yilanè fargi said, with a crude modifier of movement. They started off towards the city and Vaintè followed in their wake. Through the tree-arched streets, past the guarded hanalè, to the banks of a river. There was excitement and bustle here, silver fish and tubs of prepared meat. The fargi went to the fish, the only food they had known in their short lives, to be among their own. There were Yilanè near the meat, talking to each other, their conversation incomprehensible and confusing to the newcomers. Not so Vaintè. She walked to the vats, and every movement of her body signed strength and ability. The Yilanè of no rank moved aside for her and she reached in and ate. One of the Yilanè was looking at her, welcomed her and wished good eating. With her mouth full Vaintè could only sign appreciation and gratitude in return.

“What is this city?” she asked as she reached for more meat, her modifiers equal-to-equal.

“It is Yebèisk. The Eistaa of great authority is Saagakel.”

“Yebèisk and Saagakel are known in all of the cities of Entoban*.”

“You are a Yilanè of wisdom. And which is your city?”

“I travel now and know many cities.” This was an accurate statement. Vaintè took a bite of meat in order to avoid any amplification of detail. But she could not hide the overtones of strength and power that were associated with the cities she had visited and her listener was aware of this. When the other Yilanè spoke again it was as from someone slightly lower down to one a good deal higher up.

“The city welcomes the visitor.”

“Well spoken. I would see the ambesed and look upon the Eistaa who sits there.”

“Pleasure of guidance when eating finished. May honored visitor’s name be known?”

“Vaintè. And yours?”

“Opsotesi.”

The afternoon was warm so they took a shaded route through the streets and under the trees, wandered from the river to the foothills beyond, then back to the ambesed. By this time the midday heat was gone and the ambesed stirred with movement.

“Admirable,” Vaintè said, with qualifiers of great appreciation. Opsotesi arched with pleasure.

The ambesed was an open glade with tall trees forming a backdrop behind it. Through the center a stream of fresh water flowed, its course turning back and forth in gentle arcs. The stream was spanned by shining metal arched bridges that were decorated with loops of wire and set with glinting stones.

Vaintè and her new companion were standing on the public side of the ambesed along with many other Yilanè. Some of these bent over and drank from the stream, others splashed it on their limbs to cool them. But on the far side of the water there were no crowds. The grass there was green and untrampled. Small groups talked together, while the largest group of all was around the Eistaa who sat in the place of honor.

“An ambesed reflects its eistaa,” Vaintè said. “As I look at this my respect for your Eistaa grows.”

“Twice I have spoken to her,” Opsotesi said proudly. “I have skill at speaking and carry messages for many.”

“Appreciation of talents. Tell me of these messages for they must have been of importance if the Eistaa would hear of them.”

“Importance magnified. I stood on the dock when an uruketo arrived and there were those of high rank aboard. I took their names to great Saagakel.”

“Yilanè of importance, Eistaa of greatness,” Vaintè said, repeating the titles to hide her growing boredom. Opsotesi spoke well, but her only skill was in speaking; she would never rise very high. Yet she knew the city. “And what else did you speak of to the Eistaa?”

“Matter of darkness.” Her body moved in unhappy memory. “A stranger came to the city. I was told to bring notice of this stranger…”

Her speaking stopped, rigid, and she signed doubt, identification/clarity. Vaintè spoke strongly and curtly.

“Opsotesi, you address me with dark questions. What is the reason?”

“Apologies! Doubts of stupidity. You are a stranger — but you could not be as that stranger was. She was—”

Again she broke off, moving with fear. Vaintè signed friendship and curiosity of identification. She already had her suspicions. Opsotesi still could not speak so Vaintè encouraged her.

“I know of those who are outcast. Though I am not of them, despise them, I know of them. So speak — was it of a Daughter of Life that you were informed?”

“It was! Apologies for fear. Vaintè is above me, ahead of me in every way. That is the matter of which I spoke. There was anger, we fled.”

Vaintè calmed her, flattered her strength and speaking ability. Then decided what she must do.

“I have come a long way, friend Opsotesi, and am tired. But not so tired that I cannot do my duty and speak my gratitude to your Eistaa for pleasures enjoyed of your city.”

Opsotesi was wide-mouthed now like a fargi. “You would do that? Just speak to her without being summoned?”

“She will speak to me if she wishes. I will simply make my presence known.”

Strength of purpose straightened Vaintè’s back, fullness of knowledge glowed in her eyes. Opsotesi bid her farewell, lowest to highest and she acknowledged this with the slightest movement. When Vaintè now walked forward the Yilanè grew silent and made way for her. When she reached the shining bridge she stopped to admire it aloud, then went on. Those about the Eistaa saw her approach but did not move for they were proud of their positions and did not relinquish them easily. Vaintè made no protest, just sat back slowly onto her tail, beyond the circle, her arms formed into a sign of respectful attention.

Curiosity won in the end as they became aware of the stranger and her dignified presence. The nearest, a fat Yilanè with purple designs on her arms and down her chest, continuing onto the rolls of fat as well, looked at her with one cold eye. Then turned her head, wattles swinging and spoke a rude query.

“Explain presence, highest to lowest.”

Vaintè gave her one disdainful glance, then looked back to the Eistaa. The fat one’s crest flared because she was not used to being dismissed this rudely. Saagakel, who was indeed an Eistaa of intelligence, was aware of this exchange and enjoyed it. Watched but did not interrupt. Ostuku was fat and lazy and deserved a little reduction of status as well as of weight.