“I can only guess.”

“Then guess. Without knowledge that is all any of us can do.”

“I think that… they came for hèsotsan. They have their own stone teeth to kill with, but they like to kill as well with our hèsotsan. They came to steal them from us.”

“That was also my own thought. We must find out more of this matter. Three hunters vanished to the north, three Yilanè killed inside my city. Now, Akotolp, you were to search. What have you found?”

“Nothing. No evidence of ustuzou near the city — or even as far north as the round lake. The birds fly and I have images.”

“Then have the birds fly further. Those filthy creatures are out there and I want to know where. Find them. Should I send hunters to search?”

“That is not wise because these ustuzou are more cunning than any beast in the wild. They trap and kill our hunters. There was another thing that we did when they hid from the birds. There are owls that can fly by night, carrying creatures that can see in the darkness.”

“Do that as well. They must be found.”

“Have you found the ones we search for?” Fafnepto said as she pulled herself up onto the uruketo’s back. Sea water dripped from her as she carefully wiped the nostrils of her hèsotsan to be sure that it could breathe easily.

“They are not on the coast of this island,” Vaintè said. “Though they might have come here: it is important that we looked for them. It is a rich and fertile place. It was wise to search.”

“The hunting is very good as well. I found the small horned ustuzou you told me of, killed them. Their flesh is very sweet. She signed up to Gunugul who was listening to them from the summit of the fin. “There is fresh meat on the shore for you. Is there a way to bring it here?”

“Gratitude/pleasure of eating. It will be arranged.”

Crewmembers swam ashore, towing empty bladders to support the stacked carcasses. Fafnepto had outdone herself and devastated the local animal population. While they were waiting for the meat to be brought aboard Gunugul took out her charts and put her thumb on their exact location.

“North of us is the continent of Gendasi*. Here is the city of Alpèasak . It appears that this city is close to the tip of a great peninsula of land — is this true?”

Vaintè tilted her hand in agreement. “It is indeed as you describe. I have journeyed up the eastern coast, we landed and killed ustuzou there. But if you go far enough north it becomes cold and there is winter always.”

“Should we go that way?”

“My first reaction is a negative one. As Fafnepto has advised I try to think as those we pursue. To go north they first had to pass Alpèasak and risk discovery. After that the further they went, the colder it would get. I don’t think they went to the east. However there is warm ocean and a warm continent to the west, here where the blankness is upon your charts. I have gone that way by uruketo, and on land as well, and it continues for a great while. There is a large river here up which we journeyed. And all along the coast there are bays, beyond them forests rich with animals. I feel sure that they went this way.”

“Then so shall we,” Gunugul said. “I will take pleasure in adding to these charts.”

In this way they reached the coast of Gendasi *, sailing between the golden isles until they reached the sandy shores. Alpèasak was out of sight to the east and they sailed west. The coast moved by, a summer storm lashing the trees with rain, hiding them then revealing them again. The enteesenat jumped high, pleased with the variety of fish they could catch in these warm and shallow waters. Gunugul marked her chart, the crewmembers gorged themselves on the fresh meat that Fafnepto had provided. Vaintè was alive, watching the shore with infinite patience, looking forward with great anticipation to the deaths of all those who had opposed her.

Arnwheet was squatting in the shade blowing fiercely on his whistle. It was one that the Paramutan had made for him, with a moving rod at the end just like one of their pumps. But instead of spitting out water this whistle pumped out shrill and quavering noise that sliced through the afternoon heat. It was midsummer and the days were longer and hotter. Little could be done during the torrid afternoon, little had to be done. There was meat and fruit and all of the green things that grew in the earth, fish and wildfowl as well. There had been three full moons since Kerrick and Herilak had returned from the city with the new death-sticks. They had moved quickly and had not been followed. Since then no murgu had come out of the city that they knew of. The trail from the south was watched carefully, but none came. That incident was over. While two of the older death-sticks had sickened and died, none of the new ones had been affected. The sammads were well fed and at peace. A peace that they had not known since the long winters had begun.

The shrill wavering sound hung in the hot air: Kerrick marveled at the boy’s application. The sides of the tent were rolled up to let what little breeze there was move through. The baby was asleep and Armun was working the knots out of her hair with a comb carved from horn. Kerrick watched her with great pleasure. The whistle cut off abruptly, then started again even more harshly. Kerrick rolled over and saw that two hunters had joined Arnwheet under the tree and were examining the whistle. One of them, it was Hanath, Kerrick saw, was trying to play it, his cheeks growing red with the effort. He passed it over to Morgil who blew and worked the stem and elicited the sound of a dying mastodon from it. Armun laughed at their efforts. Kerrick rose, stretched and yawned, walked out blinking into the blistering sunshine. Morgil panted and gasped and handed the whistle back to the boy when Kerrick joined them.

“You have so little to do than to come to steal Arnwheet’s toy?” Kerrick said.

“Hanath… told me of it,” Morgil panted. “It makes an awful noise. And was it made by the Paramutan you told us about?”

“It was. They are very clever and carve bone and wood. They make another thing like this, only bigger that they use to suck water out of their boats.”

“And they live on the ice and hunt fish in the cold and there is snow?” Hanath said with great interest. “You must tell us more about them.”

“You have heard the stories, you know as much now as I do. But what do you care about the Paramutan? Does not your brewing of porro keep you even too busy to hunt?”

“Many others hunt. They trade all the meat we need for porro.”

“And we have drunk enough porro for a while,” Morgil said. “It is good when it is good, but terrible when it is bad. I think the manduktos do the right thing, drink it only when something special happens. You told us the Paramutan come south to trade. Do they come this far?”

“No, they hate the heat, they would die here. At the end of the summer, those that want to trade go to the shore to the north where the great river meets the ocean. That is the only place where they go.”

“What is it they want to trade?”

“They bring cured hides, furs sometimes, rich eating fat. What they want in return are flint knives, spearheads, even arrowheads. They make their own kind of bone fishhooks, certain kind of spearheads, but they need our knives.”

“I have the feeling that I need some furs,” Hanath said, wiping sweat from his forehead with forefinger.

“I too,” agreed Morgil. “We think that the time for trading has come.”

Kerrick looked at them both with astonishment. “I think that the last thing you will need here are furs.” The whistle wailed shrilly as Arnwheet blew it for his attentive audience. Kerrick thought about what they had said and smiled. “I don’t think that it is furs that you want, but maybe a long trek, some hunting, cold weather and frost.”